2013
Looking back at 2013
29/12/13 15:32
After crashing and burning on my overambitious 2012 goals
(10 hours off my 100 PB!?) I decided to be a bit more realistic for 2013: finish the Spine Challenger, finish GUCR, and chip 35 min off my 100 mile time, to finally get it under 24 hours.
The Spine Challenger went fairly well. I took it very easily, spent the first day nearly last, but plodded my way up to mid-pack and my first ever race win (there was only one other woman...).
The Thames Path 100 was supposed to be my first shot at the sub 24 100. But I was never going to be in shape for it that early in the year and the weather turned it into a mud plod.
And then came GUCR. The first ~130 miles went pretty well and I cruised into the Grand Junction Arms checkpoint at ~100 miles in 23.10, accidentally taking over an hour and a half off my 100 PB. The wheels fell off towards the end but my 37.17 finishing time was far quicker than I thought I was capable of.
Post GUCR I had a niggling knee injury, which I kept running through for the British Ultra-fest 24 hour Track Race. With the sub 24 100 already in the bag I fell into the ‘overambitious goal setting’ trap. It was a bit of a struggle towards the end but I managed to sneak PBs at 50 miles (9.59), 100 miles (22.52) and 24 hours (103.3) and another 1st place woman finish (there were slightly more women here, but the field wasn’t particular deep).
And that was more or less the end of my running year. Partly because of the multiple minor issues I now had with my knee, and partly because I finally committed to starting the Spine Race and running wasn’t the best preparation for that. I’d entered the Winter 100 in a fit of boredom post GUCR, but withdrew to avoid exacerbating the knee issues.
(10 hours off my 100 PB!?) I decided to be a bit more realistic for 2013: finish the Spine Challenger, finish GUCR, and chip 35 min off my 100 mile time, to finally get it under 24 hours.
The Spine Challenger went fairly well. I took it very easily, spent the first day nearly last, but plodded my way up to mid-pack and my first ever race win (there was only one other woman...).
The Thames Path 100 was supposed to be my first shot at the sub 24 100. But I was never going to be in shape for it that early in the year and the weather turned it into a mud plod.
And then came GUCR. The first ~130 miles went pretty well and I cruised into the Grand Junction Arms checkpoint at ~100 miles in 23.10, accidentally taking over an hour and a half off my 100 PB. The wheels fell off towards the end but my 37.17 finishing time was far quicker than I thought I was capable of.
Post GUCR I had a niggling knee injury, which I kept running through for the British Ultra-fest 24 hour Track Race. With the sub 24 100 already in the bag I fell into the ‘overambitious goal setting’ trap. It was a bit of a struggle towards the end but I managed to sneak PBs at 50 miles (9.59), 100 miles (22.52) and 24 hours (103.3) and another 1st place woman finish (there were slightly more women here, but the field wasn’t particular deep).
And that was more or less the end of my running year. Partly because of the multiple minor issues I now had with my knee, and partly because I finally committed to starting the Spine Race and running wasn’t the best preparation for that. I’d entered the Winter 100 in a fit of boredom post GUCR, but withdrew to avoid exacerbating the knee issues.
British Ultra Fest
14/10/13 15:33
After a near miss at Run 24 last year, one of my main goals for this year was a sub 24 hour 100. I'd originally planned to take my first shot at the Thames Path 100 at the end of March. However I was nowhere near fit enough and decided to just use it as a training run for the Grand Union Canal Race (GUCR) at the end of May. The weather was horrid and in the end it was a barely sub 27 hour mud slog. So I entered the British Ultra Fest 24 hour track race in August, thinking a track race would be an easy way of nailing it (Ha, Ha, Ha!).
In the meantime I focussed on GUCR, ramping up the milage until I was doing back-to-back long runs of 20 and 30 miles at the weekend. The wheels came off towards the end, but I unexpectedly cruised into the Grand Junction Arms checkpoint at 100 miles with ~23h 10 on the clock. Goal accidentally met, with room to spare! This led to some somewhat overambitious goal inflation: "If I can do 100 miles in just over 23h, on grassy, stoney canal tow-paths, carrying a rucksack, at the start of a nearly 150 mile race, surely I can run at least 105 miles in 24 hours on a smooth flat track with food and drink to hand. Lets aim for 110..." However as my feet and legs recovered it became clear that I'd done some damage to my right knee. Nothing major, but a niggle which wouldn't go away even with a couple of week rest (from running at least). And then I went to the US for a fortnight's holiday and acquired a couple of kilos of extra weight. Post holiday I ramped up the training, but only as far as 15 and 25 mile back-to-back long runs. The original knee niggle eased, but running through it produced a new one (which is still with me months later...).
In the run up to the race I did my usual google-stalking of the entrants. Usually the goal of this is to find someone who might be slower than me, to assuage my fears of finishing last. But I discovered something surprising. The other 5 women who'd entered weren't any slower than me, but they weren't any faster either and I seemed to have the most experience over 100 miles/24 hours. So (OMFG) I might, for the first time in my life, be the favourite to win something sporty. Provided my knee held up.
I drove down to Radley college the night before the race and pitched my tent, just as it started to rain. The ultra fest had 48 hour and 6 day races as well (24 hours was the 'fun run'...) . All 3 races were scheduled to finish on Sunday morning, so the 48 hour runners were ~12 hours in and the 6 day-ers on day 5! I ate my favourite pre race foods, cold Dominos pizza and potato wedges (too many it would later transpire) and then tried to sleep. I didn't do too well; the timing mats constantly beeped as runners passed over them, one 6 day runner was singing and a support crew (briefly) turned on a radio. By the morning the rain had eased off, but it was still drizzling. At the race briefing I had the unusual experience of not being one of the least ‘runner-shaped’ people there. And then I had to dash to a portaloo as my digestive system objected vigorously to last night's food.
By 11am it still wasn't warm so I started wearing 3/4 length tights, a t-shirt and sleeves. The tights were at least partly to conceal the taping on my knee. Everyone charged off on the first 400m lap and even running 2:10 I was, I'm fairly sure, almost last. I quickly settled into running 9 2:45 laps followed by one lap walking to eat and drink every half hour, giving me a 5 mph average. I'd been tempted to wear a small rucksack to carry food and drink but this seemed like a really silly idea when supplies would never be more than 10m away. So instead I set up a small table by the back straight with food on and relied on the organisers' water supplies by the start-finish line. Initially this worked fine. I settled into a routine: grab a cup of water, drink it, put cup in bin, pick up an hours worth of food from my table, eat half, carry rest in hand. But as the afternoon wore on the Sun came out and it became very humid. I was struggling to get enough water on board and had to stop and stand by the water table and slam down multiple cups.
With the 48h and 6 day runners also on the track it was a bit chaotic. The race rules said individuals could run or walk in lane 1 and if you wanted to overtake or run/walk side by side you had to move out. However in reality there was no lane discipline. People, in particular some of the 24 hour guys who'd gone out insanely fast (running 3 laps to my 2), were weaving in and out of tiny gaps. I'm amazed no-one, in particular the more ‘out of it' 6 day runners, got knocked over. Initially several of the women lapped me at least once, but it was far too soon to worry about position, especially given my one-speeded-ness.
Early on my knee was unhappy. Occasional twinges became multiple twinges per lap. About 20 miles in I started wondering if I should drop out, however it eased off and I even speeded up a little bit. Initially I thought I’d lost the ability to count when I repeatedly made it 11 laps, rather than 10, per half hour. I took my first look at the leader board 6 hours into the race. I had (as I thought) covered 31 miles and was roughly 2/3rds of the way down the overall field (of 25) but, to my surprise, was leading the women.
The hours passed and I changed my run-walk-eat strategy to walking one and a bit laps per half hour so I could grab a cup of water at the beginning and end of each walk break. About 9 hours in I realised I was going to take a significant chunk off my 50 mile PB (10.22) and could perhaps, if I pushed it, break 10 hours. So I pushed it. The resulting adrenaline rush was fun, but when I crossed the timing mat to see 50 miles for the first time the clock said 10.02 (I later realised, on doing the maths properly, that the 50 mile point would have come close to the start of the lap and therefore, I think, just under the 10 hours).
It was getting dark at this point, so I had my first sit down break, putting on night gear (a long sleeved top and a head-torch), changing to larger shoes and trying to eat something more substantial. Surprisingly, and worryingly, my feet were already developing sore spots on the sides, where my GUCR blisters started. Getting back going was hard and I regretted my (I thought at the time) unsuccessful push for the sub 10 50.
The night passed slowly. Usually I'm surprised at how short the night seems when running through it. But with no navigation and no check-points to focus on, this one dragged. I convinced myself I was cold as an excuse to stop and sit down while putting on a slightly warmer top. At some point, I can't remember when, running 9 laps in a row became a struggle and I switched down to run 4, walk 1.
Watching the 6 day runners and the strategies they were taking was fascinating. The fastest two guys were consistently banging out 3 min, or faster laps, and only taking very short breaks. Behind them there were very different approaches. Some runners were dragging themselves around the track slowly for 20+ hours a day, while others were almost maintaining a normal sleeping and eating routine, but running at a decent pace when they were on track. At one point I nearly fell over the feet of a runner who was trying to set a US 6 day record. She wanted to stop and sleep but apparently her support crew wouldn't let her, so she laid down on the track to have a nap, with her feet in lane 2.
It wasn't possible to see the score-board from lane 1, and at this point I was still being good and not stopping to check it. However the lines corresponding to the people who'd crossed the start-finish line in the last couple of seconds were highlighted in blue. And in the 6 hours blocks when we were going anti-clockwise you could see roughly were in the field those people were. After a while I realised that the blue line corresponding to me had plodded its way up to roughly the top quarter of the field (thanks to most of the speedy men having stopped).
Eventually morning came. Normally the last few hours of an ultra pass fairly quickly even if I'm moving really slowly (I can't believe the last 12 miles of GUCR took me 4 hours, or the last 20 miles of my first 100 nearly 10!). But the last five hours of this felt like the longest five hours of my life. Normally the incentive to keep putting one foot in front of the other is that it makes the finish come faster. But here the finish remained fixed in time. There was the incentive of getting more miles on the board. However while my original 100 mile goal and finishing first woman was, barring disaster, still on, 110 miles definitely wasn't. And (I don't know how much of this was mental rather than physical) running at all became too difficult. My 'not checking the scoreboard' discipline also went to pot. After seeing 83 miles, when I'd expected to see 85 I switched to checking every 4 laps to see if I'd clocked up another mile. Eating had become a struggle, but as I'd consistently got down ~150 calories an hour for nearly 20 hours I wasn't too worried about fuel. There was, however, a large volume of fluid jiggling around in my stomach.
As usual once I switched to straight walking the balls of my feet blistered. I stopped to take some painkillers and promptly vomited a large amount of black fluid all over the edge of the track. I got back going straight away, hoping that no-one had noticed. No such luck. A couple of laps later the Italian who was leading the 24 hour race asked (as he overtook me) whether I was OK. I told him I was feeling better for it, which was sort of true.
With a few hours to go I was in 5th place overall and the bloke in 4th had stopped at 100 miles, and was sitting by the track wearing normal clothes. 4th place overall should have been a nice carrot, but I just couldn't make my legs run. 4th place's support crew cajoled him back onto the track. 6th place (who I'd been evenly matched with all day) was holding it together better than me and leap-frogged me. I went through 100 miles in 22:52 a small PB which I celebrated with a sit down to drain my blisters. I wandered around half-heartedly for the remaining hour, finishing with 103.3 miles (415 laps of the track).
Running on the flat might take less effort than running up hills, but mentally this was probably the hardest running thing I've ever done. In the end I set PBs at 50 and 100 miles as well as 24 hours, and finished 1st woman and 6th overall. But the PBs should have bigger (given how GUCR went) and the placings are a reflection of the (lack of) depth of the field. (At the more competitive Tooting Bec 24 hour track race my distance would've got 4th woman and 18th overall.) On a good day I think I could manage 110 miles, and I will definitely give it another shot next year or the year after. I might even (for the first time ever) find myself a support crew, as I think having someone to hand me drinks etc. and monitor the scoreboard would have made a big difference.
Grand Union Canal race
14/06/13 15:34
Grand Union Canal Race (GUCR), from Birmingham to London, 145 miles, 45 hour time limit.
I first heard about GUCR back in 2008, just after I started running ultras. A former colleague, Jim, ran it that year finishing in 40.23. At that point, having never run more than 32 miles, it sounded completely insane. As I finished longer races it began to seem less silly. I thought I’d give it a shot at some point; as a Brit you’ve kind of got to if you want to consider yourself a serious ultra-runner. But 145 flat miles didn’t really appeal, my running heart was in the hills and UTMB was the big goal. However after the LDWA Games 100 and Run 24 last year I finally realised that I’m better (strictly speaking, less bad) at long and flat than hills. So I decided to focus on long and flat in 2013: a sub-24 hour 100 and a GUCR finish were the goals.
Training went OK. I ran the Thames Path 100 as a training run (finishing a bit slower than I’d hoped) and fitted regular back to back long runs around work/life. I spent most of May in Santa Barbara for work, trading my usual 90 min car commute for a (power) walk along the seafront. I ran lots while I was there, but lost two weekends to the long journey there and back. Overall I didn’t manage quite as many long runs as I’d hoped, but I felt relatively fit, with no niggles.
My main goal was just to finish. Looking at past results people who finish 50-100 mile races in the same times as me typically finish GUCR between 40 hours and the 45 hour cut-off. So I set 40 hours as my ‘if everything goes to plan’ goal, with a rough break-down of 11 hours for the first 50, 14 for the next 50 and 15 for the remaining 45 (in fact, rumour has it, 48). Somewhat optimistic given my 50 and 100 mile PBs of 10.22 and 24.33. At some point I thought about what the ‘fastest time I could ever dream of’ was. I pulled 36 hours out of thin air (largely because that’s what the time cut-off for the 150 mile Spartathlon is). And then put it back again when I realised that would involve running a 100 mile PB, and then keeping going at the same speed for another 45 miles...
I was fairly laid back up until a couple of days beforehand, when the enormity of 145 miles hit me. In a 100 things usually get tough after 70-80 miles. Gutting out 20-30 miles is doable, but 60-70? I’d been practicing a 25 min run, 5 min walk and eat strategy in training. In training this translated into 5mph for back to back long runs up to 30 miles. At the Thames Path 100 I’d kept the run-walk routine up to 70 miles, before switching to ‘try and run as much as possible’ (i.e. not much). So the big question mark was how long I could keep the run-walk up, and how slow I’d be after that (the final 30 miles of my first 2 100s degenerated into 2mph death plots).
After reading numerous race blogs complaining about sleepless nights in noisy hotels in Birmingham I’d spent hours agonising about where to stay the night before. I even considered spending a small fortune on a 4 star hotel. In the end I booked the bargain budget Comfort Inn at the back of the train station (down at heel but away from the pubs and clubs) on the grounds that I’d be less pissed off at spending 40 quid on a bad nights sleep than 100. I often struggle to get to sleep (full stop, let alone the night before a big race), but after stuffing myself with cold Dominos pizza I was exhausted and fell asleep not long after 9. I guess jet-lag can sometimes be an advantage...
Getting up at 4.45 wasn’t too much of a struggle, and I managed a couple of cheese rolls before heading off to Gas Street basin with my drop bag for the start at 6.00. I’m used to being right at the back for the first 30+ miles, but the start was more restrained than usual. I’m don’t know how many were behind me early on, but I’m fairly sure it was more than the usual one or two (or zero...). It took a while for the field to thin out. There was a lot of back-and-forth overtaking, as people took walk breaks at different points and supported runners met their support crews. I stuck to my 25:5 run:walk-eat plan, with short breaks at the first two checkpoints, at 11 and 22 miles, to refill my water bottles and restock my food supplies (hula hoops, Mule bars, and blackcurrant and espresso GU gels). The only issue early on was my bowels. With the early start and no coffee for breakfast I hadn’t had my usual morning trip to the loo and now I needed to. However the urge never coincided with the availability of toilets and I didn’t want to waste time finding a suitable bush at this point.
Fortunately the weather was a lot drier than it had been for the past few days (and I needn’t have crammed my drop-bag with multiple changes of clothes). However as the morning went on it felt far hotter than the forecast 15-16 degrees. Up to 30 miles I’d been averaging 5mph, but it was beginning to feel like hard work so I backed off a bit. The canal was far more interesting to run along than I expected, however it was also a bit harder. I had a mental picture (even though I’d seen real pictures...) of relatively smooth gravely paths. However in many places it was grass, or stoney single track.
At Braunston at 44 miles my first silly mistake became apparent. There are taps with water at various points along the canal, however you need a key to unlock them. The organisers would supply one at race registration, or you could get one from eBay. I decided to order it from eBay, so I knew I had it. When the key arrived I was surprised by how big it was, but didn’t think too much about it. Since the taps were there I’d decided to only carry two 625ml bottles. Given the heat I was rattling through the water and had nearly run out when I spotted one of the taps. However its lock looked nothing like my key. A passing canal boat owner pointed out that my key was for opening locks on some random canal in, I think, Lancashire and kindly unlocked the tap for me. This solved the immediate problem, but water supplies were going to be a recurring problem. Otherwise things were going well, my maths brain was enjoying doing pointless calculations about exactly how far through each running block I was and I started overtaking quite a few people.
At Norton junction I wussed out of the shorter ‘cross a lock gate’ option and took the slightly longer bridge crossings.
50 miles passed in about 10.30, not too far outside my PB.
At checkpoint 4 at 53 miles I nearly forgot to take my headtorch from my drop bag and had to reclaim it from the baggage van. The checkpoint crew told me I’d make it to the next checkpoint at 70.5 miles before dark. I wasn’t so sure, and took the headtorch, but they were right. Once there I
sorted myself out with night gear (merino wool base layer, hat and gloves and a windproof jacket, plus a thin fleece in my rucksack) and had a few mouthfuls of quiche and beans (before I realised the quiche had ham in it...). There were a handful of other runners there and I felt well and truly out of my depth as they discussed their past runs at Spartathlon (which has a 50 mile cut-off an hour inside my PB...) and the Viking Way. I grabbed a handful of Ritz biscuits and headed out into the dusk.
Throughout the support for (support-crewless) unsupported runners like me was overwhelming. In the later stages my drop-bag was usually waiting by a chair and the checkpoint crew (which included the course record holder and four time winner Pat Robbins...) would wait on me like a King. I usually try and avoid stopping for too long at checkpoints, setting off again as soon as I’ve finished organising kit and eating, but I felt far perkier immediately after these short breaks.
During this stage mistake number 2 became apparent when the battery on my super-duper-flashy Suunto Ambit GPS ran out. I bought it for it’s 40+ hour battery life. However when I set it up for the race (removing altitude from the data fields, since it’s a bit superfluous on a canal...) I forgot to set it to 1 min recording intervals. It had served its main goal, monitoring my pace in the early stages, but it turned out I’d miss it later on.
A few miles before checkpoint 6 at 85 miles I felt really cold as the temperature dropped to just above zero and I struggled to run for the full 25 minutes. I forced down some pizza, and decided to switch to 10 min run, 5 min walk. At checkpoint 6 I had some soup and put on my fleece. Once I got going again I felt a bit hot, but decided this was better than cold, and kept the layers on. I was checking off the bridge numbers, so the sequences of bridges around Milton Keynes with a,b,c,d suffixes were really dispiriting. Occasionally I thought trees in the distance might be a bridge, but I don’t think this really counts as a hallucination (more like simple wishful thinking). Sore patches were appearing on my feet, on the edges of the balls of both feet and on the tops of 2nd toes and my usually comfy running tights were chafing, but otherwise I was feeling OK. I kept the 10:5 run:walk up through the night and passed some more people.
The final few miles into checkpoint 7 at Grand Junction Arms at 100 miles went on forever, but I got there just after dawn at 5.10ish, 23.10 into the race. A PB by 1.20 and my first ever sub 24 hour 100. I ditched the fleece, and switched the hat for a buff, but it was still quite cold so I kept the rest of the layers on. I managed some beans and bread for breakfast and drained a blister.
The next 20 mile stage took about 6 hours, but it didn’t seem anywhere near that long. The temperature rose rapidly and I peeled off layers. I also ran out of water again, but luckily begged some off a support crew who were waiting for their runner. Eating was beginning to be a struggle (one packet of hula hoops took an hour) and my running wasn’t much faster than walking, but I stuck to the run-walk strategy. I was trying not to think about potential finish times too soon (since if things go wrong you can rapidly lose a lot of time), but sub 40, and potentially substantially sub 40, looked like it was doable. As the morning went on the tow-path got busy and having to weave my way around wayward people, bikes and dogs was hard-work. At one narrow point a walking group were walking 3 abreast, filling the path. There was nowhere for me to go (apart from into the canal), so I stopped. And not one, but two, of them walked straight into me.
At Springwell at 120 miles I drained another blister and taped that foot up, slathered on sun-cream and ate some Ritz crackers and tinned fruit (the only food that appealed at this point). Drop-bags aren’t available at the final checkpoint, so even though it was midday I took my headtorch (just incase).
The next few hours went quickly again, and I kept run-walking. But somewhere around 130 I started struggling, and exchanged the run-walk-eat strategy for simply walking. I ran out of water and had to stop at a pub and buy some (undrinkable sweet and fizzy) lemonade so I could fill my bottles up in the toilets. I also kept getting the urge to wee so I had to keep an eye out for suitable bushes to clamber into. During one of these stops I belatedly noticed that the label on my running tights was at the front. I’d put them on back to front on Saturday morning (mistake number 3). This explained the chafing issues. I didn’t fancy taking my shoes and tights off in a bush by a busy path, so I left them as they were.
A bit later I came across some some nice looking benches, so I stopped (largely as a excuse to sit down) and drained and taped the blisters on the other foot. By now my stomach was really bloated and I felt a bit sick. Just before the final checkpoint at Hamborough Tavern a stinky factory made me retch in a bush. Throwing up would probably have helped, but it didn’t happen.
At the final checkpoint I deliberately took my time to get some food down, more Ritz crackers (I should add them to my running food list) and fruit. Someone asked how I was feeling. I moaned about my stomach, but they told me I looked/seemed quite perky. They may have been lying.
It was a bit demoralizing watching two runners I’d passed in the night (including Mimi Anderson in the final stages of her double GUCR) pass through without stopping. But with 33.30 on the clock and 12 miles to go, the sub-40 was going to happen, provided I didn’t do anything silly. I left the checkpoint right behind a runner (and his pacer) who I’d caught just before 100 miles and had been running fairly close to ever since. My goal was to keep them in sight. I managed it for a while, but eventually they pulled away and I succumbed to repeated one minute sit breaks. There weren’t any benches so I sat in the silliest of places. On a branch. Not a proper tree trunk, but a ~5cm diameter branch which only touched the ground at the ends and bent as I rested my weight on it. Even on the ground (getting back up again was fun). I stopped in another bush and tried, and failed, to empty my bloated stomach from either end. While I was in there, another runner zoomed past (he looked pretty fast from my viewpoint in the bush at least).
The full consequences of mistake 2 (the GPS dead battery), and mistakes 4 and 5 then became apparent. The organiser had provided laminated maps, but they were a bit awkward to carry, so I’d printed the maps onto waterproof paper. The night before I realised the final section hadn’t printed, but I didn’t think this was an issue as there was no navigation required beyond `keep the canal on your LHS’. However without a GPS or map I had no idea how fast I was moving or how far I had to go and no way of setting goals apart from picking objects in the distance to focus on.
Mistake number 5 was forgetting to take my hard-skin removing device to the US with me, allowing hard-skin to build up on the balls of my feet. The blisters that had formed earlier were under thin skin, easily drained and not particularly painful. But with the extended walking big blisters had formed deep under the leathery skin on the balls of my feet. They hurt, and I couldn’t drain them.
At some point I came across the runner I’d been trying to keep up with, sat on the verge with his pacer, suffering from heat stroke. After a quick chat I pressed on, and miraculously, started feeling a bit better. The canal signposts started counting down the miles to Paddington. I even tried to run again, but it felt slower and more effort than walking so I stuck to power walking. I even set myself an arbitrary time goal: taking 3 hours off Jim’s 40.23. Finally the end came into sight and I broke into a sort of run, finishing in 37.17 in 27th place (out of 88 starters, 54 finishers).
Dick Kearn, the organiser, gave me the very impressive finisher’s medal and thanked me for coming so far to take part. This confused me. Not just because it should be me thanking him (and I did) but Chesterfield to Birmingham isn’t far. Had he confused me for one of the European entrants? [The penny dropped a few days later: when I’m tired I regress to speaking in broad bumpkin.]
I spent a while at the finish eating and waiting for my finish bag (which had got separated from my drop bag) to arrive, before waddling off to my hotel. I’d chosen somewhere with a 24 hour reception in case I finished close to the 3am cut-off. As it was I got there, showered, phoned home and was in bed before dark.
I’m really happy (and surprised) to finish well under 40 hours. Most of the people who finished between 35 and 40 hours have marathon PBs between 3.00 and 3.30. My marathon PB is 4.18. I don’t think I could run much faster than that; I’ve never run a sub 8 minute mile (not even downhill...) and I can count the number of sub 9 minute miles I’ve run on my fingers. However I’ve spent a bit of time beating myself up about the time and places I lost in the last 15 miles. In particular because I’m used to passing people towards the end of ultras, not being passed. And my stomach problems were probably due to dehydration, caused largely by my key screw-up. I keep telling myself that that goal is to get to the finish as fast as I can (not to pass as many people as possible) and I think I did that as well I could on the day.
36 hours doesn’t seem so far-fetched any more. Will I be back to give it a go? It’s tempting. But apart from the last 15 miles things actually went pretty well. If things went wrong earlier on (e.g. rain induced trashed feet) I could lose a lot more time, and end up outside 40 hours. Maybe it’s best to take the 37.17 and run...
I’m pondering races, like Viking Way and the Thames Path 250, which I previously thought were beyond me (Spartathon still is unless I somehow find some new ‘go faster’ legs). And I need to find a new goal for the British Ultra Fest 24 hour track race in August, since the sub-24 hour 100 is already in the bag...
Thames Path 100
18/04/13 15:35
I entered the Thames Path 100 last Summer with one eye on a sub-24 time. Being fit enough for that in late March was always a bit over-ambitious. Spending the Autumn plodding through peat-bogs with a big rucksack on my back preparing for the Spine Challenger rendered it impossible, and I’d downgraded my aspirations to ‘GUCR training run’.
Race week arrive and I got a cold and it rained lots (and the race was rerouted to an out and back) and snow was forecast. I didn’t run at all all week and was wondering whether it was worth going down to London. But my cold faded and, since the train down and hotel were already booked, I decided I might as well give it a shot.
Lying in bed on Friday night with the rain lashing against the window, and heavy snow forecast for Saturday I thought
there was no way the race would go ahead. But come Saturday morning it wasn’t too bad, a bit chilly, and constant drizzly rain/sleet, but much better than I was expecting. I stuck to my planned ‘run 25, walk and eat 5’ plan from the outset. Despite setting out slightly too fast, at sub 11 minute miles, I was close to the back of the field, with only a handful of people behind me at the first checkpoint.
For the first 20 or so miles the mud wasn’t too bad, but my legs were stiff and achy (probably due to the cold induced week off). Just before Windsor there was the first stretch of really gloopy mud, but at this point it was still runnable, and almost fun. Just after the Windsor checkpoint there was a choice between running through a huge puddle of indeterminate depth or climbing along a fence. I followed the blokes in front and inched along the fence, trying to keep my feet as dry as possible.
Out to Cookham and back I stuck to my run-walk-eat plan, cycling through Mule bars, gels, hula-hoops and pizza, averaging 150 calories an hour, and steadily overtaking people. Increasingly I had to walk through patches of mud but, for now at least, I was subtracting it from the walk breaks. A blister became apparent on the ball of one of my feet. A bit worrying this early on. This was the first time my feet had blistered since discovering Hydropel and Drymax socks, and in the past with wet feet one blister quickly become completely trashed feet. Somewhere along the way a marshal asked me how I was finding the conditions and was surprised by my ‘not that bad, could do with less mud, but I was expecting far worse’ response. I refrained from reciting my hard-core Northerner list of ‘races I’ve done with far worse weather than this’: 2008 Lakeland 50 and Round Rotherham 50, 2010 Hardmoors 55, 2012 Fellsman, 2013 Race the whippet (in a flat cap).
I made it back to Windsor (officially 48 miles, but 50 according to the GPS) in just under 11 hours. A bit slower than I’d have liked, but not surprising given the mud. I changed socks, drained the blister and put on a warmer baselayer. Leaving the checkpoint I was suddenly ravenously hungry, so I quickly ate several large slices of pizza. Mistake number one. At the next checkpoint I decided to have a coffee, thinking that it’d help me keep warm through the night. Mistake number two. Black instant coffee is pretty rank at the best of the times, poured into a stomach that was struggling to digest pizza it made me feel very sick. I like the independence of running without a support crew, but I’d love to have an ‘espresso wizard’ to provide me with coffee on demand.
Setting off again I kept retching and thought the pizza and coffee were going to end up in a bush. Eventually, aided by some crisps from a ‘car boot checkpoint’, it settled and I kept the run walk strategy going through to Walham at ~65 miles.
At this point a ~25.5 hour finish wasn’t out of the question, but the wheels were about to wobble. I’ve never had problems running through the night before, but I was getting decidedly sleepy and (due to the lack of past problems) didn’t have any caffeine gels or tablets on me. The run-walk schedule became ‘try and run as much as I can’ and, generating less body heat, another layer was needed.
I had some pasta and sauce at Windsor at ~82 miles, but my appetite had gone astray somewhere. Having eaten well for most of the race this didn’t seem to affect me too much though. By now it was clear that my finish time was going to be outside 26 hours whatever I did, and I made a deliberate decision not to push hard. 26 or 27 hours really didn’t make much difference in the grander scheme of things. The out and back to Cookham had got really churned up (with ~100 runners going back and forth on it) so I was walking lots. The original blister gave me no more problems (I’m guessing it was due to grit or something in my shoe), however another larger one appeared on my other foot and needed draining. Just after 100 miles passed on my GPS I felt really cold, as if the temperature had dropped lots, although I suspect it was actually just me not moving fast enough. I put on a 3rd layer plus warmer hat and gloves. And from somewhere summonsed the energy to run most of the remaining 4 miles (partly motivated by the urge to keep 2 blokes who’d short cut a dog-leg in the route behind me).
It didn’t occur to me that with the finish around the corner I didn’t need to worry about my feet getting wet anymore. So, like a gert big numpty, I inched along the fence a final time, rather than splashing through the big puddle. I thought I was going to be just outside 27 hours, but in fact finished in 26.58 in 58th place out of 90 finishers, having moved up 99 places since checkpoint one (165 people started).
27 hours is a lot slower than I envisaged when I entered, but given the mud, my cold and the extra miles I’m not too disappointed (and 12 months ago I’d have been ecstatic with that time).
Spine blogs: 2012 and 2013
26/02/13 15:36
link to main Spine race blog index
2013
Race organisers/crew
Official report
Joe Faulkner
Paul Shorrock
Spine race
Ian Bowles
Jin Cao
Thomas Ehmke: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Michael Frenz: 1, 2, kit
Jenn Gaskell
Annabel Gates/Cremin
David Lee
Richard Lendon, kit
Andy Mouncey
Gary Morrison
Spine challenger
Anna Buckingham
Philippe Gatta
Anne Green
Simon Smith
2012
Race organisers/crew
Paul Shorrock: 1, 2
Spine race
Richard Lendon
Gary Morrison: 1,2,3,4
Spine challenger
Mark Brooks
2013
Race organisers/crew
Official report
Joe Faulkner
Paul Shorrock
Spine race
Ian Bowles
Jin Cao
Thomas Ehmke: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Michael Frenz: 1, 2, kit
Jenn Gaskell
Annabel Gates/Cremin
David Lee
Richard Lendon, kit
Andy Mouncey
Gary Morrison
Spine challenger
Anna Buckingham
Philippe Gatta
Anne Green
Simon Smith
2012
Race organisers/crew
Paul Shorrock: 1, 2
Spine race
Richard Lendon
Gary Morrison: 1,2,3,4
Spine challenger
Mark Brooks
Spine challenger
22/01/13 15:41
(photo by John Bamber)
108 miles from Edale to Hawes along the Pennine Way, the tamer younger sibling of the 268 mile Spine Race covering the full Pennine Way from Edale to Kirk Yetholm.
With all my recceing and kit checking I felt I was fairly well prepared for this, but the weather was the big uncontrollable variable. My plan was to treat it like the first ~2 days of the full race and arrive in Hawes feeling like I could continue (for another day at least).
The weather in Edale was pretty mild, but on top of Kinder Scout it was cold and windy. I initially thought I could ‘gut it out’ keeping moving fast, but it quickly became clear that extra layers were needed. Windproof gloves and trousers were necessary, in retrospect the extra upper body layer probably wasn’t. I was very cautious on the slabs after my previous fall, walking gingerly rather than trying to run. At the start a lot of the field hared off into the distance at high speed as usual. I’m used to being at the back at the start of ultras, but was a bit perturbed that I could only occasionally see one person ~10 minutes in front of me (although I later discovered there was actually someone else behind me). Unlike my numerous Bleaklow recces, the sky was clear, the views were stunning and the navigation was straight-forward.
I eventually caught the guy in front on the descent down into Crowden. The weather had warmed up a bit and I should have stopped to remove a layer, but I was rattled by how far off the back of the field I was (and randomly paranoid that the organisers would pull me from the race for being too slow). So I plugged on, and soaked my upper body layers with sweat. I had dry clothes waiting at checkpoint 1 and the RAB meco baselayers lived up to the ‘warm when wet’ hype, but this could have been a bad mistake.
I caught the next person just as dark was falling at Wessenden lodge. And then a pair of head-torches appeared on the moors just ahead, and I set about hauling them in. Not long after dark the mist came down and I worried about missing a junction where the Pennine Way turns right off the ‘main path’. After a bit of faffing I got my GPS out and pretty much walked straight into the marker stone. The head-torches in front had disappeared but I eventually caught them just after the M62 crossing. When I’d recced the next bit I’d started descending too much after the Blackstone Edge summit. I resisted the temptation a bit longer this time but then made the same mistake and had to use the GPS to climb back up and find the wall crossing.
At the next support point I was surprised to be told that there was a lot of people stopped in the pub just ahead. Feeling fine and with checkpoint 1 only 10 (albeit slow) miles away I kept going. I ran a fair bit of the tracks around the reservoirs. Soon lots of headtorches appeared behind me, one group of three, plus a larger group. I expected them to stream past me. In fact it took until Stoodley Pike (which appeared out of nowhere from the mist) for the first 3 to catch me. And then with the aid of my ‘local’ knowledge I led the way down to Callis Bridge and up the other side of the valley. With a bit of uncertainty about exactly where the checkpoint was I pulled away again (but only took the left turn down to the checkpoint thanks to a supporter waiting for another runner pointing it out for me).
At the checkpoint I wolfed down a meal (I usually struggle to eat during and immediately after ultras, but here the slower pace seemed to make it much easier), changed into dry clothes and settled down for a few hours sleep. I wasn’t feeling tired (I’m used to running through a single night), but I wanted to stick to the ‘take it easy, treat it like the first 2 days of the full thing’ plan, and also this was the only indoor checkpoint before the finish. I must have got to sleep at some point, because I didn’t notice the occupants of some of the bunkbeds leaving and being replaced by serial, synchronised snoring. I really can’t sleep through snoring and after an hour of tossing and turning I decided to cut my losses and head off again.
Heptonstall moor was as wet as usual, but I just avoided going into the bog above the tops of my waterproof socks.
Shortly afterwards I started catching another headtorch, but they took a wrong turn and disappeared. At the point they turned off I wasn’t 100% sure they were wrong and even if they were they could’ve easily corrected it by doing ‘the other 2 sides of a rectangle’. However in retrospect I probably should have tried to shout them back. One of my shoulders had been becoming increasing sore, I’d lubed it up with Sudocream at CP1 however it was now reaching the verge of pain. On closer inspection my bra strap had folded up under my rucksack strap. A quick rearrangement of straps and a tightening of the rucksack straps fixed the problem for good though.
The Sun rose just before Top Withins to another beautiful clear, but cold day. Soon after I started feeling a bit tired, but 400 calories of food soon sorted that out. At the next support point I was amazed to hear that a significant fraction of the field were now behind me, and I crossed Ickornshaw moor with a big smile on my face.
The sections either side Gargrave aren’t my favourite, lots of boring boggy fields. Coming down from Pinshaw it clouded over and the temperature dropped. Keen to avoid yesterday’s overheating mistake I delayed stopping to put another layer on, but the descent was boggy and slow and this was another (small) mistake, and it took some determined power walking to warm up again.
After Gargrave it started snowing, making the navigation across the boggy fields tricky and I did a bit of backing and forthing trying to find gates and styles. I was never more than ~20m off route, but it certainly wasn’t efficient navigation. Along the way I caught another runner, we chatted for a bit, but he was struggling a bit and I pulled ahead.
Bivvying at some point was in my provisional plan, and the CP1.5 tent at Malham tarn was the obvious place. The continuing snow sealed the decision, I really didn’t fancy going over Pen-y-ghent on my own, in the dark in snow having not slept for ~24 hours. And the fact I’d started making silly mistakes, not just the navigation, but also dropping a glove (thankfully my foot prints in the snow allowed me to back track and retrieve it) sealed the decision.
I hatched a plan to leave CP1.5 in time to reach Pen Y Ghent for dawn. In which case I had time to stop in Malham for a meal at the pub. Felt a bit strange being there in my running gear in the midst of the Sunday night crowds and the veg lasagne was too hot to eat quickly, but it was definitely worth stopping.
Back out into the trackless snow I made a couple of minor navigation snafus, initially missing the turn up to the top of Malham cove and then taking a somewhat non-standard route across the Limestone pavement at the top. The deep gaps between the stones freaked me out a bit and I sat down and put my spikes on before inching onwards. I’ve done a lot of work on my balance in the last couple of years and it’s much improved, but there are still circumstances where my brain freaks out. I think I need to build some elevated planks in the garden and practice.
The climb up to the tarn took forever, and I started getting paranoid that the race would be suspended due to the (actually not particularly heavy) snow and I’d have to drop out to get back to work in time for the exam for my cosmology course on Tuesday. When I reached the CP1.5 tent at Malham tarn it was business as usual. The guy I’d passed earlier was having his feet dressed and I had a cup of tea before setting up my bivy. I got a few hours sleep, waking up occasionally as other people entered and/or passed through the CP (including a minor commotion as, what I later discovered was the police, delivered a dropped out participant to the CP). At one point I was desperate for the loo (note to self: always go before climbing into bivy bag), but with some contortions managed to go while keeping my feet in the bag (removing the need to put my boots back on). By this point a small cluster of tents and bivy bags had appeared.
I’d originally planned to leave at ~3.45, but at 2.30 I was wide awake so packed up to leave. The one problem I had was batteries. The cold temperatures were reducing their lifetime, and both my headtorch and GPS were running low. I had 5 AA batteries, 2 sets for my GPS and 1 for my emergency charger (the headtorch should theoretically have lasted both nights on one set). This should in fact have been enough for both the headtorch and the GPS, but the battery in the phone charger was flat (I don’t know if it was a dud or whether the charger had run it down unconnected). I really didn’t want to ask the CP staff if they had a spare battery (and admit my mistake) but it was better than setting out and risking my GPS running out. So I swallowed my pride, and fortunately one of them did and kindly gave it to me. Lesson learnt: carry more than enough batteries and/or change them at each CP even if their lifetime seems OK.
As I was leaving what I thought was the other woman in the Challenger event (there were 4 women in the full spine race) was arriving and setting up camp. In the past year I’d managed 3rd woman in the LDWA 100 and 2nd in Run24, but I’d never, ever won anything athletic (apart from, I think, the 3 legged race at primary school). 1st out of 2 isn’t exactly a triumph, but I’d had it at the back of my mind from the outset that this might be my chance to officially win something. And now it looked like a case of ‘just’ keeping going and not doing anything silly.
On my rece, on another snowy day, I’d been lured onto a track which cut the corner of the Pennine Way rather than following the banks of the tarn. And I did exactly the same again. I tried to use my GPS to get me onto the Pennine Way, but in the boggy, snowy conditions with the GPS direction indicator reacting slowly (as I was moving very slowly...) I ended up going round in a small circle. Eventually I cut my losses, got back on the track and rejoined the Pennine Way a couple of hundred metres further on. Definitely a situation where a compass and bearing would have been better, and I’ve got to grips with doing that.
During my sleep the snow had stopped and a handful of people had left the CP leaving footprints. This still didn’t stop me making another minor error when the route crossed a field diagonally just before Fountains Fell (again I was never more than ~50m off route, and only lost a couple of minutes, but better navigation, with a compass, would have avoided this). Only 1 of the sets of footprints took the correct route through the next farm, although if I’d not been there before I wouldn’t have had the confidence to march straight through the farmyard ignoring the barking dogs either.
Crossing Fountain’s Fell was straightforward, but it became very cold on the road before Pen-y-ghent. This time I got the stopping to put extra layers on right though. Having set off early I arrived at Pen-y- ghent just before dawn, and spotted a headtorch loitering on the path just ahead. Paranoia (or, if I’m being completely honest, wish-full thinking) set in again, and I wondered if it was one of the organisers waiting to tell me that it was too snowy to climb Pen-y-ghent. It was in fact another runner, David, feeling very sleepy. I led the way up the initial steps, followed him up the two more technical bits and then pulled away a bit towards the summit (but kept looking back to check he was following). It was far, far easier than I’d been worried it would be (I’d told myself that if I got there and didn’t like the look of it I’d drop straight down into Horton, finish the route and DQ myself), but none the less I was glad to get it out of the way. At this point the sun was just coming up to a wonderful cloud inversion.
David charged off down the descent while I inched down, wishing I had some YakTraks on me (I bought some at the end of last Winter, but hadn’t had a chance to test them, so hadn’t brought them with me). We joined up again on the new short cut path which cuts-off Horton and chatted for a bit. I stopped to remove a layer and refill my (ice-slush filled) waterbottle and when I eventually recaught David he was feeling tired again and told me to go ahead.
The tracks between Horton and Hawes are tedious at the best of times. In the clouds, with snow on the ground, the never ending featureless whiteness was excruciatingly boring. But with ice under the snow and rutted tracks, concentration on foot placement was still required. And regular stops to knock the ice balls, which were forming on my laces, off. I kept looking at the horizon (which due to the cloud was actually not very far away) and mistaking tufts of grass for sheep or other features. I’ve never hallucinated (and was secretly hoping I might on this race), but I don’t think this really counts.
Eventually I reached Cam High Road where the photographers and some of the race crew were waiting. A quick chat and a top up of water and I headed off again. Several more miles of rutted tracks before the descent into Hawes. As I started jogging the descent I rapidly started closing in on another runner, with a high number on, and hence taking part in the Challenger rather than the full race.
Convinced he was going to try and repass me (in fact he was struggling with a nasty injury) I jogged all the way down to the valley and through Hawes . Where the race organisers were waiting for me with what I think (judging by the fluorescent jacket) was a policeman. I had my photo taken lots (not my favourite thing) and (after eating another big plate of food) was presented with a rather large glass trophy.
I’m really satisfied to have fulfilled my goal of finishing comfortably (even though, at 53+ hours, it was a few hours slower than I’d hoped). I’m also happy to have won something, although it feels a bit fraudulent as the leading woman in the full Spine Race (who went on to be the first woman to ever finish that) got to Hawes over an hour before me. Part of me is wondering if I would’ve got there before her if I hadn’t stopped to sleep at CP1.5. But at the end of the day I think I did the right thing. Of the 18 people who started the Challenger 12 finished, and I was 7th which isn’t bad (the first 4 racing snakes came in in 32-36 hours, the rest of us between 52 and the cut-off at 60).
The big question now is ‘do I want to enter the full race next year?’ And I’m really not sure what the answer is. I’d definitely need some more experience in winter conditions and navigation, and ideally multi-day races. And I’d need to work out how to sleep at checkpoints with snorers. Definitely need to give this some careful thought.
Spine kit
22/01/13 15:38
I ended up with a ~10kg pack (including food and water). Big and heavy compared with many other people’s (my priority was comfort rather than speed) but not the biggest by any means.
Feet
Hydropel, Drymax socks, knee length SealSkinz socks, Rab Latok mid gaiters and Inov8 Roclite 286 boots.
This combination did a great job of keeping my feet dry-ish and blister free. The boots were good for grip and stability but probably didn’t have quite enough cushioning (judging by the intermittent ‘being hit with a hammer’ feeling I got for several days afterwards, just like after running the first ~30 miles of the Games 100 on tarmac in trail shoes) and the uppers have begun to split after only ~250 miles, which is a bit crap (and would be a problem for the full Spine Race).
Sleeping
Rab Ridge Raider bivy bag
Plenty of room for a midget like me and all my kit and a lot easier to pitch than a tent. Now I’ve got used to this my usual tent, a Terra Nova Laser Photon (got to love kit with a random physics name) is going to feel like a palace.
PHD custom made sleeping bag
Based on the Minim 400 with 100g extra down and midget length and width to give a comfort temp of -10. The race rules stipulated an extreme rating of -10, but I feel the cold.
Rab silk liner
Exped SunMat Ultralight 7 short
A bit bulkier and heavier than a Thermarest NeoAir, but a lot warmer and comfier.
This lot kept me warm when I bivied in the snow at CP1.5. A bit bulky possibly, but (for me at least) worth it for the comfort.
Misc
OMM Jirishanca 35 litre sack and OMM front pack
I’d originally bought a 32 litre OMM classic to use, but it just wouldn’t sit right, chafed my shoulders and made my back hurt. I didn’t really want to buy another sack, so used this one I already had. Bigger and heavier than most, but it was comfortable for me and the extra room meant I didn’t have to squeeze stuff into it. Front pack was pretty much essential for carrying map, GPS, snacks etc.
Black Diamond Z-poles
Lots of Ultrasil dry bags in various sizes
Trekmates flameless cooking system
Thanks to the checkpoint food and my pub meal on Sunday light, I didn’t use it, but it can get water to almost boiling point in a bivy bag.
Petzl Myo XP
Workhorse headtorch. Good compromise between brightness, weight and battery life. Should have used lithium batteries though.
Camelbak insulated bottles
Water didn’t freeze but the squirt valves did. Probably need something better for significantly sub-zero temperatures.
UVEX Active Vario Sunglasses
Got these post Fellsman for protection against the wind in overcast conditions. Had more heavy duty glasses in my dropbag for bright Sun + snow..
Kahtoola microspikes
Used these for the crossing of the limestone pavement at Malham Cove and subsequent climb. Probably didn’t need to. YakTrax would have been much more useful, in particular for the descent off Pen y Ghent.
Food
BeWell Expedition meals
Didn’t eat these, but their veg meals are pretty good (if they were cheaper I’d eat them at home!).
Mule bars
Got a bit hard in the cold, but I didn’t have to resort to the ‘stick them down the bra’ trick.
Hammer gels
A small number of these were good for the occasional quick boosts.
Hula Hoops
My favourite running food, just wish they weren’t so bulky.
Dominos margherita pizza
Was moving slowly enough that this went down easily, should have put some more in my drop bag for day 2.
Clothes
Rab Meco baselayers
Really do live up to the ‘warm when wet’ hype.
Raidlight Stretch Raider top and microfleece jacket
Old workhorses, but they fit me and I like them.
Gore running and North Face winter tights
X-bionic Energizer Boxer Shorts
Boxer short style pants don’t fit me properly (TMI: they bunch up around my thighs and it feels like I’m wearing a nappy), but minor lack of comfort is worth it for the warmth and wicking.
Haglofs Actives Warm Q Knicker
Switched to these knee length shorts for day 2, a bit warmer and avoid the bunching problem.
Patagaonia Ultralight Down Shirt
An emergency layer bought after this year’s Fellsman. Very light and compact (but more or less useless if wet). Didn’t use it.
Marmot Womens Variant Jacket
A more robust but bulky extra layer. Didn’t use this either. Carrying this and the Patagonia was overkill.
Icebreaker 260 gloves
Love these so much I’ve bought two pairs. Fine on their own down to below zero (provided it’s not windy).
Mountain equipment Epic Glove
Bought these after seeing people use them to satisfy the UTMB ‘warm and waterproof’ requirement. Less bulky than the Sealskinz 4 seasons gloves (which I had in my drop bag). Did the job perfectly, but I might try a pair of Buffalo mitts (saw a lot of these in action).
X-bionic Bondear headband and X-tremities light hat
Kept my ears warm and my head warm and dry throughout. To my surprise didn’t need to use the thick X-tremities hat or the X-bionic balaclava I was carrying.
Waterproofs
OMM Kamleika pants
Love these.
OMM Cypher jacket
Keeps the water out but can get a bit sweaty on the inside. In retrospect the Kamleika jacket would have been a better choice.
What I didn’t have but should have done
Something to protect my nose/top lip (short of the balaclava).
Spine training
09/01/13 15:42
Lack of light, time and energy make training in Autumn a bit of a struggle for me. But this Autumn I had the big target of the Spine Challenger to motivate me. The plan was to get out on the route as much as possible at weekends to get used to the terrain and the kit and learn the route.
iv) Wessenden Lodge to Gargrave
My first weekend trip, Marsden to Ickonshaw moor on Saturday (with a bivi on the moor after the campsite in Ponden was closed) and then on to Gargrave and the train (and rail replacement bus) home. Useful for fine-tuning bits of kit and getting to grips with some fiddly field crossings on the way to Lothersdale.
iv) Gargrave to Horton-in-Ribblesdale
My original plan was Gargrave to Hawes on Saturday and then back to Horton on Sunday morning. But things went a bit pear shaped before I even started. I dragged myself out of bed early to get the first train out of Chesterfield, on which I dozed off, slept through the train stopping at Leeds and woke up as it pulled into York... Back to Leeds and a long, wait for the next train to Gargrave. By the time I got started it was almost mid-day and my (probably always overambitious) plans weren’t really viable. At least not without a very long day. And the other half was on his way home from a work-trip with a heavy cold. So I decided to try and make it to Horton in time for the last train home. The snow from Malham onwards slowed things down and I was half an hour too late. Spent the night at a slightly unusual (but very hospitable) campsite in Horton, putting up my bivi in pouring rain which melted the snow overnight, and then headed home on the first train in the morning.
v) the Snake towards Bleaklow
The day before our Christmas holiday I decided to head back to Bleaklow and try and solve the mystery of what on earth I’d done the last time I was there. I was very tired.
It was a comedy of errors. I left late. What I thought was the last car park before the Snake in fact wasn’t (which I only realised when what I thought was the path to Doctor’s Gate clearly wasn’t and I got my GPS out). I’d forgotten my main head-torch and my emergency spare one was useless in the heavy fog so I ended up turning around before reaching Bleaklow, my route not having met up with the ‘out and back’ of my earlier trip.
While queuing for security at Manchester airport the penny dropped. On the earlier trip I’d in fact done a ‘double circle’: I’d deviated from the Pennine Way before Bleaklow and then rejoined it at Bleaklow but going in the wrong direction. And shortly after completing the circle I’d turned around and reversed it. I was happy to have solved the problem which had been bugging me for months. But somewhat embarrassed. GPSs don’t lie and if I’d looked at my track more carefully I could have spotted the doubling back. And even though Bleaklow is famous for causing navigational problems it was a pretty numpty thing to have done in the first place. A timely lesson that while my navigation is OK in good conditions, I need to use the compass and GPS more in bad weather, even if the route seems obvious ‘on the ground’. Especially when in the middle of a peat bog in low visibility.
vi) the Bleaklow circle revisited
When we got back from holiday I had to go back to Bleaklow and work out how I’d managed to go around in a double circle. It turns out that when heading South there’s a point where the Pennine Way descends to cross two fairly major streams in a gully. However I’d missed this as there was a major path on the ground bending around and staying high, which also leads to Bleaklow. And then the Pennine Way signs at Bleaklow took me back in the direction I should have arrived in. Take away lesson: check the map/compass/GPS rather than blindly following paths on the ground.
viii) Horton to Hawes
The weekend before the race I went up to Horton to finish the route. A slightly unorthodox taper, but I wanted to get my legs back moving after the Christmas holiday and fine-tune a couple of final bits of kit. The weather on Saturday was a bit miserable and I really didn’t like the rock steps up Pen-y-Ghent, and they’d be nagging at the back of my mind for a lot of the race (in particular what they were going to be like if icy or snowy). On Sunday it was miserable in the valleys but I saw a fantastic dawn and cloud inversion on the never ending tracks past Dodd Fell and Cam End.
- i) Edale to Snake Pass and back
- ii) The Bleaklow circle
- iii) Crowden to Wessenden Lodge
iv) Wessenden Lodge to Gargrave
My first weekend trip, Marsden to Ickonshaw moor on Saturday (with a bivi on the moor after the campsite in Ponden was closed) and then on to Gargrave and the train (and rail replacement bus) home. Useful for fine-tuning bits of kit and getting to grips with some fiddly field crossings on the way to Lothersdale.
iv) Gargrave to Horton-in-Ribblesdale
My original plan was Gargrave to Hawes on Saturday and then back to Horton on Sunday morning. But things went a bit pear shaped before I even started. I dragged myself out of bed early to get the first train out of Chesterfield, on which I dozed off, slept through the train stopping at Leeds and woke up as it pulled into York... Back to Leeds and a long, wait for the next train to Gargrave. By the time I got started it was almost mid-day and my (probably always overambitious) plans weren’t really viable. At least not without a very long day. And the other half was on his way home from a work-trip with a heavy cold. So I decided to try and make it to Horton in time for the last train home. The snow from Malham onwards slowed things down and I was half an hour too late. Spent the night at a slightly unusual (but very hospitable) campsite in Horton, putting up my bivi in pouring rain which melted the snow overnight, and then headed home on the first train in the morning.
v) the Snake towards Bleaklow
The day before our Christmas holiday I decided to head back to Bleaklow and try and solve the mystery of what on earth I’d done the last time I was there. I was very tired.
It was a comedy of errors. I left late. What I thought was the last car park before the Snake in fact wasn’t (which I only realised when what I thought was the path to Doctor’s Gate clearly wasn’t and I got my GPS out). I’d forgotten my main head-torch and my emergency spare one was useless in the heavy fog so I ended up turning around before reaching Bleaklow, my route not having met up with the ‘out and back’ of my earlier trip.
While queuing for security at Manchester airport the penny dropped. On the earlier trip I’d in fact done a ‘double circle’: I’d deviated from the Pennine Way before Bleaklow and then rejoined it at Bleaklow but going in the wrong direction. And shortly after completing the circle I’d turned around and reversed it. I was happy to have solved the problem which had been bugging me for months. But somewhat embarrassed. GPSs don’t lie and if I’d looked at my track more carefully I could have spotted the doubling back. And even though Bleaklow is famous for causing navigational problems it was a pretty numpty thing to have done in the first place. A timely lesson that while my navigation is OK in good conditions, I need to use the compass and GPS more in bad weather, even if the route seems obvious ‘on the ground’. Especially when in the middle of a peat bog in low visibility.
vi) the Bleaklow circle revisited
When we got back from holiday I had to go back to Bleaklow and work out how I’d managed to go around in a double circle. It turns out that when heading South there’s a point where the Pennine Way descends to cross two fairly major streams in a gully. However I’d missed this as there was a major path on the ground bending around and staying high, which also leads to Bleaklow. And then the Pennine Way signs at Bleaklow took me back in the direction I should have arrived in. Take away lesson: check the map/compass/GPS rather than blindly following paths on the ground.
viii) Horton to Hawes
The weekend before the race I went up to Horton to finish the route. A slightly unorthodox taper, but I wanted to get my legs back moving after the Christmas holiday and fine-tune a couple of final bits of kit. The weather on Saturday was a bit miserable and I really didn’t like the rock steps up Pen-y-Ghent, and they’d be nagging at the back of my mind for a lot of the race (in particular what they were going to be like if icy or snowy). On Sunday it was miserable in the valleys but I saw a fantastic dawn and cloud inversion on the never ending tracks past Dodd Fell and Cam End.
Looking back at 2012
03/01/13 15:45
I started 2012 with some pretty bold (i.e. unrealistic) goals:
I) finish either the Lakeland 100 or UTMB
2) run a sub 24 hour 100
3) run a sub 10 hour 50
1) finish either the Lakeland 100 or UTMB
I didn’t really manage this. I’m not going to claim to have ‘finished UTMB’ until I go back and finish the proper route. But I finished the race that was run this year. The (huge) route modification was frustrating but I can understand why they did it. I got off to a decent start and was comfortably (by my standards at least) inside the time-limits, but complacency set in, I made some silly mistakes with food & drink and I finished a bit slower than I probably could have done. I’ll almost certainly go back to put this one to bed at some point, but it doesn’t obsess me quite as much as it used to-the atmosphere in Chamonix this year was a bit too much like Ironman. Looking on the bright-side my solo training loop of the route in July was one of the highlights of the year.
4 hours at Run 24, leaving me tantalising close with 24:33.
Chipping those remaining 33 minutes off is one of my main goals for 2013, the Thames Path 100 is the first attempt and then maybe a 24 hour track race later in the year.
On paper I didn’t really manage any of my goals. But I’m very happy with my 100 times (and the ‘2nd place solo woman’ trophy which is sat on the mantelpiece).
I) finish either the Lakeland 100 or UTMB
2) run a sub 24 hour 100
3) run a sub 10 hour 50
1) finish either the Lakeland 100 or UTMB
I didn’t really manage this. I’m not going to claim to have ‘finished UTMB’ until I go back and finish the proper route. But I finished the race that was run this year. The (huge) route modification was frustrating but I can understand why they did it. I got off to a decent start and was comfortably (by my standards at least) inside the time-limits, but complacency set in, I made some silly mistakes with food & drink and I finished a bit slower than I probably could have done. I’ll almost certainly go back to put this one to bed at some point, but it doesn’t obsess me quite as much as it used to-the atmosphere in Chamonix this year was a bit too much like Ironman. Looking on the bright-side my solo training loop of the route in July was one of the highlights of the year.
- 2) run a sub 24 hour 100
4 hours at Run 24, leaving me tantalising close with 24:33.
Chipping those remaining 33 minutes off is one of my main goals for 2013, the Thames Path 100 is the first attempt and then maybe a 24 hour track race later in the year.
- 3) run a sub 10 hour 50
On paper I didn’t really manage any of my goals. But I’m very happy with my 100 times (and the ‘2nd place solo woman’ trophy which is sat on the mantelpiece).
Goals for 2013
03/01/13 15:43
- 1) finish Grand Union Canal
- 2) run a sub 24 hour 100
- 3) finish the Spine Challenger
GUCR is the obvious target in terms of far (and I was lucky enough to get a place in the draw) and the sub 24 100 carries over from 2012.
And then for something completely different: the Spine Challenger, 108 miles along the Pennine Way, in January with a big rucksack full of kit. Entered to ward off the post UTMB reroute depression. The goal here is just to finish comfortably (and then maybe think about doing the full Spine Race in 2014...).