Tomorrow I’m off to Sweden, to take part in the 500k Lapland Arctic Ultra. I’ve wanted to do a multi-day Arctic ultra for more than a decade, and I’ve finally managed to arrange things at work so I can. Training and organising kit and logistics have taken a lot of time and energy in the last six months. It feels strange that it’s now so close. I’m alternating between excited and worried. This blog is an attempt to gather and park my thoughts.

Arctic ultras first came onto my radar in 2011, when I read Mark Hines’ classic Yukon Arctic ultra book on the train to and from that year’s LDWA 100. At that point, I didn’t want to do one myself; I was struggling to finish 100 milers with trashed feet and stomach issues. That changed 3 years later when I finished the (full Winter…) Spine and realised that multi-day ultras were my thing. The difficulty is that Arctic ultras take place in February and March, when I can’t usually take time off work. In 2020, I squeezed in a long weekend trip to Finland for the Rovaniemi 150. But it wasn’t until I got a research fellowship (which ‘buys out’ a large fraction of my lecturing) that taking 2-3 weeks’ annual leave in term time became viable.

I’ve never been fast. Physical and mental robustness are, or were, my strengths. As medical and fitness professionals like to remind me, I am now in my 50s. And my body is showing signs of the years and miles on the clock. A minor niggle, which first showed up in Spring last year, escalated to a significant injury in Summer, just after I’d entered the Arctic ultra. The 8 months since have involved lots of physio exercises, strength and conditioning work at the gym, and increasing my tyre pulling mileage very carefully. The injury has largely faded. But after a long walk, my leg aches more than it should, and in everyday life, I occasionally get twinges of pain if I put weight through it at an odd angle.

A muddy trip to the Miner with Tyree

A very ill guinea pig prevented the really long back-to-back days I’d been planning over Christmas. Nonetheless, in early January, I was fairly happy with my fitness and feeling optimistic about the final month or so of training. I went to Aviemore for an Arctic skills training course run by Mark Hines (the aforementioned Arctic ultra expert). It was fun and informative (and it was neat that half the participants were 50-something women). A few days after I got home, I got a cold. It wasn’t too bad, and I took it easy and backed off my training for 2 weeks. However, over a month later, I’m still coughing occasionally, which is a bit worrying.

Arctic skills training weekend in Aviemore

More generally, I’ve been finding lots of things to worry about. Over the years, I’ve learnt to manage my stress-muppet tendencies, largely by being organised. However, long Arctic ultras involve lots of logistics. And multiple major work stresses have elevated my baseline stress levels. (Now is not a good time to be working at a UK University, in particular the one I’m employed by, and things are particularly bad for astro- and particle physics.) Various things that shouldn’t have been too complicated (medical certificate, getting my gear to Sweden,…) have turned into significant headaches.

At Rovaniemi, the rental sledges weren’t great, and (IIRC) no one who rented one finished the longer 300k race. So, when a Finnish outdoor gear shop had a sale a couple of years ago, I bought myself a Fjellpulk, not realising how difficult getting it to Sweden would be. After a frustrating phone call to SAS customer services, where I was initially told that pulks/sledges weren’t on their long list of allowed special sports baggage, it’s added to my booking but not yet paid for. Hopefully, SAS will let it on my flight tomorrow; if not, I’ll have to try to rent or borrow one.

In general, I hadn’t realised how heavy and bulky all the kit was going to be. I’m now wishing I’d rented at least some of it, instead of buying it in sales over the years. Getting my bags under the weight limits has involved a lot of repacking and standing on scales, holding things. I’m sad to be leaving some of my M&S Colin the caterpillar sour foot stomps at home. But on the other hand, I don’t know why I thought taking 1.5kg of cashew nuts to Sweden (rather than buying them there) was a good idea.

from L to R: thermos flask and fuel bottle wrapped in (purple…) Duck tape, 1 page of my 5 page kit list, loaded pulk, packed pulk and gear

Another worry has been my toes getting cold (and the risk of frostbite). Keeping myself, and in particular my extremities, warm has got harder over the last few years. When battered old waterproof socks leaked on the Aviemore trip, I ended up with cold feet. I’ve bought toe warmers, but my feet are so wide that finding footwear that has room for them and multiple pairs of socks has been tricky. I decided to do the Lapland event rather than one in the Yukon, since really cold temperatures (i.e. below -30C) are usually rarer in Lapland. This winter in Lapland has been really cold, however. Temperatures have now risen, but will potentially rise too much (cold, wet snow is slow and hard to move through, and also increases the risk of hypothermia).

On a more positive note, I’m happy that I’ve got to grips with using a liquid fuel stove. The stove was one of the first bits of kit I bought, back in 2014. But every time I got it out and read the instructions (in particular the bits about football-sized flames), my childhood fear of fire resurfaced. Over Christmas, I knew I had to face and overcome the fear. My initial attempts at lighting it failed as I was too cautious and didn’t let enough fuel into the primer cup. I then got the OH to give it a go. He went to the other extreme, and we ended up with a pool of fuel on fire on our garden table. But somewhat paradoxically, this actually helped disperse my fear. Trying to get to grips with using a she-wee while wearing multiple layers of clothes also led to several ‘fluid where it shouldn’t be’ incidents. The she-wee is not coming with me to the Arctic.

I’m hoping that once my pulk and I are safely at race HQ in Jockfall, I’ll feel calmer. Closing my email and disconnecting from work should help. Completing events is usually my goal. In this case, my aim is to embrace and, as much as possible, enjoy the adventure. My body (in particular, the leg and cough) may or may not be up to finishing. But all I can do is play the cards I’m dealt.

In terms of injuries and races, 2025 was very definitely not a good year. A leg injury started in April, flared up badly in June, and messed up my (3rd…) ‘400 miles in 6 days’ attempt. Race-wise, I just managed to walk-shuffle 100 miles slowly twice, at the Viadal 6-day and the LDWA Flower of Suffolk 100. The latter was my 5th LDWA 100, halfway to my target of ten before I turn 60. I’m not feeling too miserable about the year, though. There were some fun ‘on foot’ mini-adventures. While in Kitzbuhel for work, I had an early morning dash up and down the Hahnenkamm. And during a holiday in Japan i squeezed in a 2-day hiking sidetrip, which involved a night bus to Kamikochi, camping on a boulder field at 3000m, and getting the last local train out of Shinjuku on a Saturday night. I’ve also, somewhat unexpectedly, discovered a love of playing gongs and singing bowls.

Leg permitting, in March 2026 I’m taking part in the Lapland Arctic Ultra 500k and fulfilling a long-term dream of doing a multiday Arctic race. I did the Rovaniemi 150 back in 2020. However, that was a single 40-hour push, without any camping out or snow melting. This will be a very different, and much bigger, adventure. Training has involved tyre pulling (to the bemusement of dog walkers), long walks, cycling, and bi-weekly weights sessions in the gym. The gym is not my happy place; I’d far rather be on my own, up a hill, talking to sheep. But I’m finding slowly getting stronger very satisfying (at an age where my body is otherwise declining rapidly…), and it seems to have helped various long-standing niggles. I’ve also done lots of gear shopping and got to grips with using a liquid fuel stove.

The only other event I’ve entered is the LDWA Hunneypot 100. Partly because I don’t have any annual leave left, and partly because I’m going to be sensible and focus on getting back to running comfortably before entering another multi-day race. (I’ve been very good and sat on my hands/credit card as entries for the 2027 Oslo-Bergen trail opened and filled.)

The period bit at the end

Having a coil fitted has vastly shortened this section of my blogs. I’m now getting 10 days of intermittent 'spotting' and mild cramps every 3-6 weeks. The unpredictability is a bit frustrating. However, it’s vastly better than what I’d been experiencing for the last few years: heavy bleeding, bad cramps, and a period starting on day 2/3 of any multiday race, regardless of where in my cycle it was. (Spotting is one of those terms that doesn't quite capture the reality. Rather than a few drops of liquid, it's gungy dried blood that sanitary products don't absorb.)

As expected, the Viadal 6 day didn’t go well. I walked the first 60-ish miles, and my speed dropped from 14.5 min miles to 17ish min miles more quickly than usual. On the first afternoon various aches and pains flared up, including my lower back. However, as I’d hoped, they eased off. Two weeks later my back is still much better than it’s been for months (I’d like to credit this to ultra-running, but I suspect that actually it’s due to less driving and sitting at a desk…)

As planned, towards the end of the first day I deployed my multi-day shuffle. I started by just shuffle-running the steady gentle downhill section of the loop. That didn’t cause any problems, so I gradually increased the shuffling until I was only walking the ‘steep’ (in relative terms…) sections of the loop and back averaging 15ish min miles. For a little while I thought that maybe I could keep this up for 6 days and rack up a decent distance.

After 24 hour I’d only done 72 miles. On day one of previous 6 days I’ve managed between 79 and 87 miles (the 79 was at EMU 2019 where I walked most of the first day). Beforehand I’d thought that anything in the 70s would be OK, since I knew I’d be walking more slowly, however 72 felt a bit disappointing. It could still project to a decent distance though, if I executed the remaining days better (i.e. wasted less time) than at EMU where I finished with 361 miles. I didn’t have a fixed number in mind for ‘decent distance’, but I think I’d have been happy in the ‘not being able to walk without trekking poles 6 weeks ago’ circumstances with anything above 350.

a rare outbreak of running (credit: Viadal Ultra)

Not long into day 2 it became apparent that my shuffle wasn’t functioning as well as usual. Doing it continuously was hard work, and I switched to alternating 2 shuffling laps with 1 walking. More significantly both my legs, and in particular the injured right one, started aching. Not the injury itself, but the other side and back of my leg, presumably from compensating for the injury. The first couple of hours of the post-lunch and dinner blocks both went OK, but mostly it was a struggle, both mentally and physically. Six day races inevitably have low patches, but this was too much too soon, and I decided that it just wasn’t worth it for the sort of distance I’d be able to manage. There was also the risk of making the injury significantly worse, or causing other issues. So I decided to get to 100 miles and stop.

After doing my celebratory lap with the black 100 mile hat I told the timing people I was stopping. ‘For the night?’. ‘No, forever’. However I decided to hang onto my timing chip just in case. I slept extremely badly that night. Even after painkillers both my legs were very painful and any movement woke me up. The next day, walking was awkward and I didn’t question stopping being the right decision. After 2 largely sleepless nights (I never sleep well during the first night of a multi-day event) I was really tired and spent most of the day dozing, eating and surfing the web.

The location, in the Swedish countryside, was pleasant, and the weather was hot and sunny (far hotter and sunnier than ideal for six day running), so I settled into reading my big pile of books. People were sympathetic and, unlike Six days in the dome (where I was in a far worse state), no one tried to tell me I should have kept going. I do regret inadvertently being dismissive of distances that I later realised other people would be happy with (“My PBs 393 miles, so there’s no point suffering 4 days of pain to end up in the low 300s.”).

I’m not very good at doing nothing. Therefore having four days with nothing to do but eat at fixed times, read books, and hang out with other runners’ support crews was probably good for me. However there was a lot of time for navel gazing. I pondered if I’d given up and stopped too soon, but eventually convinced myself that stopping was sensible. The most sensible option would, of course, have been not to even start the race. However if I’d applied similar logic to the Kauhajoki 6-day then I wouldn’t have a 393 mile 6 day PB. My big mistake was not seeing a physio in the Spring when the initial niggle didn’t clear up.

Inevitably my mind turned to aging and future plans. There are people (including several at Viadal) doing impressive things well into their 60s, and beyond. While I know that I’m lucky to be (in the grander scheme of things) very healthy (and alive), my body is clearly declining and my window for ‘doing big things’ may be closing. Do I really want to spend the next few years obsessing about an arbitrary milage goal (400 miles), that in fact I’ve already got close to? It’s easy to think in black and white terms, but 393 miles is actually a fairly light shade of grey, especially since my initial target was 350-400 miles. I made a decision I’d been pondering for a few weeks: I wouldn’t give up on 400 miles per se, but would ‘park’ 6 day running for the next few years and do other things. Lately there haven’t been other races (apart from a multiday arctic ultra) that have really appealed to me. However during the 6 days I discovered that in 2025 the Oslo Bergen trail allowed solo runners and also heard about the Gotland Run 511k (a Swedish Last Annual Vol State-esque journey run).

In an attempt to focus positively on the future, I booked a Strength and Conditioning appointment with a physio. Partly for specific strength training for the Lapland Arctic Ultra next year, but also to hopefully help prevent injuries in future. For the past year I’ve benefitted from being much more careful about my energy levels. I need to do the same thing for my ‘chassis’. I also spent a lot of time (and a large fraction of my mobile phone data allowance…) researching potential trekking holidays to the more remote parts of Nepal or Bhutan for Sping 2027 (to make the most of being able to take annual leave during term time then).

Over the four days my legs recovered to ‘not much worse than they were are the start’, so I decided to put my running gear back on and walk the last few hours. I’d wondered whether joining back in for the fun bit at the end was a bit cheeky, but everyone I mentioned it to seemed to think it was a good idea, so I did. It was sufficiently slow and uncomfortable to confirm that stopping had been a good decision.

When I left Viadal I thought I’d come to terms with not just the outcome of this race, but also taking a break from 6 day running, after 3 years of unsuccessfully chasing 400 miles. However once home I felt deeply discontent. I eventually realised this was because taking a multi-year break from 6 days, would mean effectively giving up on breaking 400 miles. So in the end I settled on a ‘middle road’ plan: I focus on other races, but with the idea of entering a six day at short notice if I find myself in good shape. The Oslo-Bergen and Gotland races are both in July, so the Czech 6 day in early May could work well. Viadal was really well organised though, and if I ever want to do another 6 day in mid-Summer, it would be my first choice.

The period bit at the end
The race did have one positive outcome: the coil did its job! I just had one day of light spotting and no cramping (it wasn't noticeable above the leg pain at least…)

I haven’t had the best luck with six-day races in the last few years. In 2022 Covid messed up my training for Kauhajoki, but to my surprise I still managed a more than decent distance (393 miles). In 2023 I went into Six days in the Dome fit and uninjured, with lofty goals. However 3 and a bit days and 200ish miles in I had to stop due to a badly swollen lower right leg that wouldn’t bend at the ankle, plus a hacking cough that was stopping me sleeping and making me puke. In 2024 a flight cancellation stopped me getting to the start of the Viadal 6 day, but saved me from digging deeper into the chronic fatigue hole I’d not yet realised I was in.

I spent the Autumn and Winter walking and then cycling, as anything that made my heart rate go above 160 bpm wiped me out for days. By Spring 2025 multi-vitamins and HRT (plus being more careful about not overdoing things at work) had sorted out my energy issues. I entered the Viadal 6 day in August again, and got back to running. The first short run was slow, but otherwise no cause for concern, until the next day when my right lower leg was very sore. The pain faded over a couple of days, and I was able to go ahead with a short backpacking trip on the 2nd half of the Dales High Way that weekend.

Sunset and sunrise on the Dale High Way (separated by a chilly night in an ice encrusted tent)

The pattern of ‘fine when running, sore for a few days afterwards’ continued for the next few months, but overall things seemed to be going in the right direction. The short runs got a bit less slow, slower than they used to be, but at a level I could live with (and attribute to aging). I built up the weekend long walks and run-walk-jogs to the level I’ve been managing for the last few years. Somewhere along the way the niggle evolved into being a constant ache which eased off after a mile or so of moving.

In late May I did the Long Distance Walkers Association 100, as part of a long-term goal to finish 10 of their 100s before I turn 60. Given the goal was just to finish, I decided to copy my 2022 post-covid LDWA100 strategy: walk the first ~30 miles and then shuffle the flat-ish bits after that. My legs were initially achy, but they eased off by the end of the day. I finished comfortably in under 32 hours, which I was fairly happy with. I was behind some walkers, but ahead of some people who’d run from the start.

I recovered fairly quickly, and eased back into training. However things went badly wrong in late June, a few minutes into a short treadmill run. The initial aches eased off as usual, but after a minute of running normally my gait became awkward, and then my right leg suddenly ‘went’ and I came to an abrupt stop. My right leg wouldn’t weight bare while bent at all. I had to drag myself (literally) up the stairs to bed. In the midst of a sleepless night where I mentally cancelled all my running and hiking plans for the foreseeable future, I booked the next available appointment with a physio I’d been recommended for foot and leg issues.

The next day I could only walk with trekking poles, and had to take stairs ‘two feet per step’. Things initially improved quite rapidly. After a couple of days I ditched the poles and within a week I was doing day-to-day stuff fairly normally, but walking was somewhat slow and uncomfortable. The physio diagnosed me with a weak ankle (one of the joys of hypermobility…) placing strain on my tibialis anterior, and dispatched me with some exercises.

Over the next few weeks I got back to walking long-ish distances at a reasonable pace (about 20 seconds per mile slower than my usual sustainable long distance walk). The original injury didn’t ache too much, but I developed various other aches (most significantly my lower back), presumably from compensating for the injury. I tried jogging on a couple of occasions, but it felt awkward and my leg was sore the next day, so I gave up on getting back to running.

My plan is to go to Viadal, walk the first day and see how things go. The best case scenario is that my multi-day shuffle still works and I can rack up a not-too-embarassing distance while trying out some potential fixes to issues: baggy shorts to avoid chafing, new sources of calories for when I’m feeling sick on days 2-3, and a coil to stop heavy bleeding (more about this in ‘the period bit at the end’). Anything over 100 miles will be an ‘over 50 distance PB’, so that’s a very low initial target to aim for. Unfortunately my brain can only get my body to do my multiday shuffle after 24+ hours of runing or walking, so I don’t know how much it will be affected by the injury. In 2019 I managed to shuffle my way through the EMU 6 day without running more than 3 miles in one go beforehand, so it’s not impossible that it’ll be OK. However it’s very possible that the compensation niggles, in particular the lower back, will grind me to a halt. All I can do is play the cards I’m dealt (and pack lots of books in case my ‘race’ comes to an early end).

I’m not as miserable about my ‘400 miles in six day’ plans getting derailed yet again as I would usually be, as I’ve already got one eye on 2026 and a very different adventure. Various things (including a Leverhulme Trust Research Fellowship) have aligned so that I can fulfill a long-term dream and enter a multi-day Arctic race (the 500k Lapland Arctic Ultra). I did the Rovaniemi 150 in 2020, but a multi-day race is a very different challenge, and something I’m really looking forward to.

The period bit at the end

With heavy, painful periods having become a significant issue in everyday life as well as during multiday races, I decided to get a coil fitted. When a menopause specialist initially suggested this I was reluctant as I’d had a painful, failed attempt at getting one fitted by my GP in my 20s (apparently my womb/cervix points in a funny direction). However I was sufficiently desperate to give it another go, and hopeful that getting it fitted by a specialist at a sexual health clinic would go better. It was still painful and not straight-foward (the nurse said she ‘could see your GP meant') but eventually it went in and stayed in. Since then my periods have been extremely light, and less painful, so fingers crossed the coil will also resolve the ‘heavy period arrives early during multiday race’ issue.

quote: L7, Electric Ballroom Camden, 16/06/24 (they actually said 21 rather than 18, but I've modified it to make it fit better).

2024 ended as it started, with a Zwift route completion habit, but in the middle things went somewhat wrong…

I started Zwifting in Summer 2023, while recovering from the injury which wrecked Six days in the Dome. 'Getting a Tron bike and completing every single Zwift route' was then the crutch which got me through the aftermath of my Dad's death in Autumn 2023. Thanks to slightly more cycling than was probably sensible, I got the Tron bike by the end of January, and by mid-February I'd done every route apart from the longest one, the PRL Full in London. It was a while before London was available at a weekend when I had sufficient time and energy. I gave up 5 hours into my first attempt, when I realised I was going to be finishing late and knackered before a busy week. I finally managed it (taking 8 hours and 13 episodes of Killing Eve) 10 days before my first race of the year, the Pennine Bridleway Trail Challenge. I'd entered the Pennine Bridleway as a fun multi-day warm-up for the Viadal six-day in August. Overall it was fun. However, my middle-aged (female) body threw me some fairly big curveballs: the heaviest period I've ever had, long-sightedness making navigating at night in a storm hard, and difficulty staying warm (when moving slowly due to the navigation issues…).