Tuesday 25 November 2014

White Rose Ultra

It’s been a busy year for racing in the respect that I’ve done 4 ultras this year. They’ve been a step up in distance and elevation to some tune. After a satisfactory but bumpy start with the Highland Fling and Lakeland 50, I realised that the Ladybower 50 would be my A race in relation to a high finishing position and a solid time. This race is beneficial in a number of respects; it’s hugely runnable, easy navigation and being local allows me to arrive at the start line feeling ready and fresh. And this certainly paid dividends with 2ndplace and beating the previous years course record. This was great for a runners high, justifying all the training and effort, but as always leaves that hollow feeling of the end of the journey and ‘post race blues’.

Which leads me to this anomaly; the 4th ultra. White Rose Ultra would provide 2 UTMB points to add to the other 4 I’d already accrued and provide a new distance not yet reached (60 miles). Which would be a great confidence builder when pushing up to the 100 miler next year. Unfortunately I’d struggled to muster much motivation for the race. My legs just felt flat in the 10 or so day taper I’d endured and my enthusiasm for a beasting wasn’t really there. The benefit of this being that I wasn’t feeling any great pressure to perform or produce my ‘best’. Of course there’s always the external pressures of expectation from friends and family, but I put these to the back of mind, rather storing this information to use as a motivator late in the race when I might want to take my foot off the gas!

The kids and me just before the start


To fuel this dilemma the weather on the day looked pretty grim on the forecast, we would be starting and finishing in a downpour. I could be looking at around 8 hours of freezing, wet conditions to endure with maybe a more pleasant dry spell in the middle. This all added to the dampening of my motivation. Still as we arrived in Marsden, in the Colne Valley I couldn’t help but get a flutter of excitement at the dramatic hills surrounding us. Check in at the Cricket Club went smoothly enough and I managed to clarify some kit logistics before jumping back into the warmth of my car with the wife and kids. We waited until just before the 8 o’clock start time when I pried my tired body into the chilly wind and rain to muster on the start line. 250 runners had entered (a sell out race) including some sponsored folk so I expected some decent competition. Unfortunately the race had both a 30 and 60 mile option and we were to set off together. The issue with this is differentiating who’s who when trying to gauge a sensible pace to set off at. I didn’t want to get dragged into a frenetic early pace with the 30 milers and have nothing left for the second lap.
As we were set off, I’d made my way to the front with no issue and only a couple of fast looking guys seemed keen to lead off. Out the cricket club we went onto a steepish descent down a tarmac road, which had me breaking early on when I should be letting myself use gravity to get an advantage. About a quarter of a mile down the road though we turned right and began a pretty decent ascent, initially still on road up to the Wessenden trail. This section was pretty good, after first the steep road bit we went onto a nice flat trail where I could maintain a good cadence but easy effort to settle into the days running. I ran a short section of this with Alex Loach, a Twitter runner I’d been put in touch with via another Twitterite. He was running the 30 and was keen for a sub 5 hour finish, which in my mind was going to be too quick if I was to complete the 60 in a fairly even time (over the two laps). So after a short while I eased off and let Alex go. I’d settled into a nice position and pace as we ascended the trial by a reservoir and into the local hills. I was already enjoying the impressive scenery and looking forward to what I was going to see throughout the course. I thought I might be in first place for the 60 and inside the top ten if I was running just the 30 at that point. As we reached the top of Wessenden hill I passed an aid station without stopping. We’d only done 5 miles so it seemed madness to stop for refreshments so early on. Back onto road we reached another steep descent which I tried to push on but was actually struggling for traction with my New balance MT110’s. It was here a guy came past and I could see from his number he was a 60 runner, and oddly seemed to be in convoy with cyclist?? (Odd as no pacers were allowed). Still it was a long race and I just didn’t feel like racing hard yet. As we reached a red pillar box I’d seen on Facebook as a turning point we were back onto moorland and trails which I thoroughly enjoyed the respite from the steep road.
The miles ticked by and I eventually dropped in with a 30 mile runner (I think his name was Chris) who seemed to be somewhat similar paced to myself. We chatted away as we ran over various bits of trail and probably a little too much road for my liking. The course markings were fantastic though. Every bend and turn was marked with large yellow arrows and even repeaters on longer straights to reassure runners they were still on the right path. Although an easy effort at about 12 miles or so I was surprised to see some runners catching us. A 60 miler, who I’d guess to be about 50 odd years of age came past looking strong initially, but after a steep ascent we reeled him back in and past him fairly easily. This whole section with Chris (?) was enjoyable and I never felt I was pushing excessively. Food particularly for me was going down pretty well. I was mixing GU gels with the aid station sweet treats and bananas as well. My stomach never felt like it was rejecting anything which I would attribute to my improved racing performances recently. If anything I could maybe have drank more water, but with the cool conditions I wasn’t feeling dehydrated.

Chris and me running out of the second aid with Cameron in pursuit!

Highlights over this section were a comedy ‘bog from hell’  we were warned about by a walker and plenty of tasty enough elevation changes to prevent me getting frustrated with the roads. After the 15 mile mark we hit a decent ascent and a female 30 miler joined us. As we started to stomp up the incline I could tell you Chris was flagging a little and much as I’d enjoyed his company I started to push on. Head phones in – Mumford and Sons singing the first track up – and I stepped things up a little before hitting a really fun descent where I let myself go somewhat. After this highlight it was back to a short bit of road drudgery where me and the female runner had a route decision to make, which was successfully negotiated before hitting the next aid station. Another 60 mile runner caught up here, a dude with flopsy hair. He looked to be moving well so after seeing the family who were stood waiting about 100 metres after the aid I took the decision to let him go and have a little coke. Onwards and upwards through some muddy tracks before another longish road section. Although I knew I was moving fairly quickly along here with a nice fast cadence, I wasn’t enjoying the pounding and my right hip was flaring up pretty badly now. 
Over the next section to the 25ish mile point I remember another fun descent playing with a few 30 milers that had caught up, but subsequently were left on this fast section. As I hit the aid a guy caught up with a green dyed Mohawk. He also looked to me moving good as I felt I was beginning to slow a bit. I think this put me in either 3rd or 4th place. The last 5 miles of the first lap comprised a cracking climb up first a really steep gradient on tarmac before moving onto a similarly vertical trail. I enjoyed this part just for the relief on my hip while I progressed into a fast power hike. My hiking in sections like this is getting better over time and something I aim to keep working on. I believe that even with the carb-catastrophy I suffered at the Lakeland 50 this year, with a now more efficient hiking ability my finish time would be much stronger. In the last 3 miles or so there was another steep climb into a bit of boggy farm and moorland where I seemed to be amongst a lot more runners. It became apparent most if not all these were 30 milers some suffering more than others. So after a long flat trail towards the finish, I could see the switchback down to my left which led onto the cricket ground for the end of lap one. This gave me a significant lift with the promise of seeing my family again and knowing I wasn’t running on terrain I would be retreading. Which is always the psychological downside of these lapped ultras. On the final sprint down to the ‘finish’ area Alex Loach bobbed alongside me again. I’d been totally in the zone a couple of miles earlier and flown right by without even noticing it was him.  Quick apology for my apparent ignorance and me and Alex sprinted the last loop over the line for his 30 mile finish. Turns out we were in 7th place for the 30 miler in a time of 4:37 I think, which coincidently would have been enough for a win the previous year. I was happily greeted by Emma and the kids before briskly going inside the race HQ for something savoury. I was gutted to see a small platter of sweet stuff including some kind of heavy chocolate slice which was all that vaguely fit my taste requirements. Miserable for the lack of some savoury stodge, I ran back out onto the road to repeat the route I’d just run.

Alex loach and me finishing the first 30 mile lap

By this time my hip was tight and painful so the initial descent and subsequent ascent up to Wessenden was painful and laborious to say the least. The climb had a convoy of 4 60 mile runners changing position all the way up the valley. One of these runners was the guy from the previous lap with a bicycle in convoy. My wife had mentioned this and that she was annoyed that this guy essentially had a pacer which offered certain advantages. Myself, I wasn’t that bothered prior to this encounter. However now he had 2 cyclists riding along with him which presented a couple of glaring facts. Firstly, it appeared he’d premeditated a number of pacers throughout the day in blatant disregard for the rules. Which in itself wouldn’t have been so bad if one the cyclists were now making it incredibly difficult for me to pass said runner, or even worse the runner was now carrying none of the mandatory kit! So having passed him and had a chat with one of the other runners, as we hit the aid station we pointed this out to them so he could be spoken to. We were carrying about 8kg of kit which was giving him a serious advantage on the ‘final stretch’.
3 of us left the aid relatively close together leaving the paced runner behind. After a couple of miles I naturally dropped in with the guy with the Mohawk who introduced himself as Kelvin. If I’m perfectly honest I was grateful for the company, it would take my mind off my sore hip and the long grind ahead of me. And so the lap was repeated, me and Kelvin running together assisting each other to keep moving with a solid tick over.

Kelvin and Me loving the pain some 40-odd miles in

As we arrived at the now 45 mile checkpoint, Emma was waiting armed with pork pies! We gratefully received the fat filled snacks which our bodies had started to crave now the intensity of the first lap had dropped. Emma informed me we were 3rd and 4th, with 2ndmaybe 10 minutes ahead. This information rejuvenated me a little so I grabbed a handful of Doritos and trudged on with Kelvin trailing a little. We hit the next ascent together, but I just got the impression Kelvin was less inclined to run some of the slighter gradients. As the incline kicked again, I got my head down and started to march a bit harder. The lure of 2nd only 10 minutes ahead was too much to keep me back. Unfortunately at this pace I looked back and saw Kelvin was falling behind a bit. I shouted back to check on his welfare, to which he replied and gave me the thumbs up to move on.
Music back on for inspiration I summit’ed the climb and started to run hard. The same descent I’d enjoyed earlier greeted me with open arms, and it occurred to me I’d left Chris on the first lap on exactly the same climb of the route. Hitting the road I reminded myself Kelvin had informed me he was a 2:44 marathoner so fully expected to see him again shortly. However it was a mile or so later the wheels came off when I realised I’d missed a turning somewhere along the road and was off course. I’d been sorting my coat and headlamp out and must have missed a direction arrow. I initially ran back along the road to see if I could see Kelvin’s headlamp to no avail. Next I tried my Suunto Ambit nav, but this was also presenting a problem as I was so far off course on zoom mode I couldn’t even see the route, just a lonely arrow in the screen with no sense of direction. I took the decision to try running further along the road to see if I could converge back on course. A bit further along and I just caught a glimpse of the route line on my watch in the corner of the screen. So with an extra little climb and a detour I finally got back on route. This would have been fine but about 200 metres later I realised there was an aid station further back along the section I’d missed! I looked back into the fading light and could see the aid station in the distance. Quick decision was to ring the race director and seek some advice. However as I pulled my phone out Emma was actually ringing me. She informed me she was at the aid with Kelvin and was wondering where I was. Kelvin confirmed to the marshalls’ I’d been in front of him and with a flash of my headlamp and a call to the race director I was given the go ahead to continue my pursuit of 2nd place, Mark Davies.
The rest of the race was hard, but also massively enjoyable. My legs came back to me in places where I could really push. I felt super strong on the trail descents and still had a good climb left in me. This didn’t stop me regularly checking backwards to see if any headlamps were coming. But I was also looking forward for any glimpse of a light in front and the opportunity to place higher. This proved my mindset could still be positive and competitive late in a long race like this. It truly felt like a war of attrition at this point, but I had the strength to push on and keep fighting.
The final section with the switchback view down to the finish confirmed I wasn’t catching second, which may or may not have been a different story had I not gone on my merry detour and added to the route! But as I hit the last little road, I really picked up my pace just to secure a solid finish. The run around the ‘track’ at the cricket club was great. Emma and the kids shouting and clanging the cow bells.
I’d finished in 10:16:42, which was a minute quicker than last years 1st place (previous course record), which put me in 3rd place. The most pleasing aspect of this was clambering onto the podium and my son, Cameron pointing out that Daddy was now like Valentino Rossi in Moto GP.

The podium

As a season closer this was satisfying a time and position in a race I wasn’t sure where I might fall in the rankings. It’s given me some great motivation and confidence to continue to progress into 2015 and try and push for some good results.
Roll on 2015.








Monday 20 October 2014

Ladybower 50 - 2014

Ladybower 50 - 2014



There's something inherently terrifying about failure. It grips me in it's vice, anxiety being the symptom, disappointment the final evil. It's only now that it truly looms large on my horizon. Every ultra I've run to date has been a first time of one type or another - a first new distance, elevation, elite field, championship event; unbeknown to me these factors all worked to remove any real personal pressures. My only mantra being 'don't DNF' throughout these events, I had little fear of disappointment as they generally resulted in a PB or some other goal amongst other factors dictated by the terrain, environment or competition. Yet Sunday 21st September brought me a fresh challenge, a repeated event, same course, similar weather, yet a full years training to justify. It was time to find the proof in the pudding. had all my hours spent in the surrounding hills made any difference at all? I managed 5th place last year in 8:41 minutes. A result at the time I was thoroughly pleased with but anything but a marked improvement this year would fall well short of my own expectations. At times like this I don't really need external pressures as well, but I could hear family and friends suggesting certain aspirations as to my finishing position. Position is something that while satisfying I try not to attach to much relevance too. At the end of the day I could break a course record, but if Killian Jornet turned up he would surely make me look very silly (amongst other elites I'm sure). So my expectations had to be held within some level of control. This is the remedy for fear, give yourself as much control as you can, then just let go of the rest. Why worry about what you have no power to alter?

With the 'fear' in relative control, I set myself the heady goal of knocking 41mins off my time from the previous year. The way I saw it, 8 hours got about 3rd place last year so should stand me in good stead to improve my time and maybe grab a podium place. The build up this year has been good on the whole; some actual tempo runs to reflect the speed of the course and the mountain ultras would put the hills into perspective on race day. A marathon distance training run about 2 weeks before the event revealed a weak IT band crippling me over the last 6 miles or so. Adding to the fear! However the time was 3:37 I think which is well above the pace I would need for the 8hour goal. All I'd need was that ever absent discipline to hold off early on with the pace...



Race morning began with an early rise, not a bad nights sleep. All the better for being at home, one of the inherent advantages of this particular race. Peanut butter and jam on toast would kick start my metabolism, and a banana before the start meant I was loaded with sugars. I'd also done the prerequisite Cost Co pizza the day before, so hopefully my glycogen stores were overloaded at this point. A brisk but gentle leg warmer to the toilets at Fairholmes and I could tell my legs were ready for this. Last year I was nursing a badly sprained ankle which meant I had to hold back on any sort of early charge.

As we lined up it was cool, yet I could feel the day would warm as the sun rose along with my heart rate. As the start kicked off I pulled off in front and after a few hundred metres I could feel a couple of runners nipping at my heels. I was keen to keep the pace relaxed and manageable, having been stung too many times by an early frenetic charge. 50 miles is a long race to play out and if I could ease into this thing all the better. But neither did I want to let any whippets disappear into the distance. So with some runners at my heels I just tried to control the pace for the first lap. Nobody seemed desperate to pass but clearly want to keep in touch. Eventually holding the speed back a notch was unsustainable and a guy in an Ironman cap came past. As we crossed the bridge on the A57 I dropped in next to another guy whose name I failed to get. We discussed our previous races and other running related topics. He revealed to me he'd achieved a sterling 17th place at this years TDS. At this point another dude came past but didn't really want to chat. His name I later learnt was Gareth Bowden. As we came through the first 5 mile loop I grabbed my race vest, a banana and trogged on. In my haste to not lose too much time to the leaders I managed to stop my Suunto GPS when throwing my vest on. As I tried to settle into a comfortable rhythm I slowly gained on the TDS guy and Ironman who were running together line astern on the single track towards the A57 bridge. As we rounded the end and began the first full climb to Slippery Stones I let the two in front go a little, now in fourth place myself with Gareth Bowden a little ahead of those two.



As we gained ascent I could see the race unfolding a little with Gareth Bowden, TDS guy next and Ironman behind them with a 50 metre or so gap between all of us. I just tried to be disciplined with my pace and effort, holding back but still trying to keep in touch somewhat. As we did the last ascent towards Slippery Stones I could see Ironman coming back to me. His gait appeared a little laboured showing he may have bitten off more than he could chew with the early pace so far (about 7:30m/mile). As we dropped the last little descent to Slippery Stones I took the incentive and moved past with a positive move, pushing up the little climb past the bridge to make the move stick. As I sorted the gate I glanced back to see if I needed to hold it for him, but to my surprise he'd already dropped off in the space of 30-40metres. It reinforced the psychological factors in racing, once I'd come past he immediately slowed. Another lesson learnt, maybe...



And that was it. All of a sudden I was running, 15 or so miles into an ultra, comfortably in a podium position. I also felt strong and confident I could hold it to the finish unless someone unforeseen pushed from back in the pack or my ITB flared badly. I continued to hold my pace back a little, concentrating on flow and the "just don't walk". It was early for this, but I was determined, that no matter what, I wouldn't submit to aches and pains until after 35 miles. At which point I would pick up my pacers and maybe they could push me through any problems. I also ensured I stayed on top of my nutrition, a gel every 30 minutes or so, salt caps and a banana planned at every 15 mile loop. As I neared the 20 mile marker I could tell the ITB was threatening, but not yet crippling. As I passed Fairholmes I saw my Mum and Dad 50 metres from the aid station walking the dogs. It's always a lift when family and friends make the effort to come and support, and this was no exception. My Dad (a cracking half marathon runner in his day) had only seen me at one ultra, so I wanted to show him today that I was working hard to make him proud of me.

As I hit the aid station, it was a hive of activity. The race organiser, Steve King and his team told me to ease off. They said the two leaders looked in a bad way and the pace was unsustainable. This was in all honesty a weight off my mind. I saw Emma and the kids, grabbed a nana and moved on quickly, but this time consciously knocking maybe 30 seconds a mile off to maybe 8-8:30 min/miles. I'd come through 20 miles in 2:38, which for me was pushing for a 50 miler, so backing off seemed logical, and maybe the two in front would come back to me. Slowing a little seemed to correlate with my ITB flaring up. It was at this point I did the only logical thing - I necked some anti-inflammatory drugs. I wouldn't normally advocate the use of pain killers but I could tell it was going to get worse if I didn't intervene. The rest of that lap was fairly uneventful - Mainly in that it didn't seem like torture like it had the year before. I was happy with my position, I was enjoying my tunes on the iPod and the sun was getting a little warmer (but not too hot).

Then I arrived at the 35 mile mark and Stan was waiting for me with Emma to pace me round the last 15 lap. I was really happy to see them both and ready for the company. I also had some surprising news that TDS had dropped, putting me in second place. I asked for the gap to 1st, Bowden, only to be told "he's gone, don't worry about him". But part of me, in this for the competition, wanted to have a crack anyway. So I dumped my vest and charged on. Emma and Stan struggling to catch me over first quarter of a mile or so. However as we rounded the bottom of the reservoirs the ITB got much worse again. I slowed to a walk a couple of times along this stretch, but when we saw my parents at the water station by Derwent dam my Dad asked how long it might take us to finish. I gave a conservative time, which I can't remember, but it gave me the last push I needed to just go for it. So again I charged off, up the hill this time, but all of a sudden the adrenaline erased the pain and I managed to clip some decent miles off again. As the final few miles passed Emma and Stan amused me the best they could, both trying to find toilet stops - typical, lol!



The final section of rolling road that stretches maybe 5 miles is a little past Slippery Stones. As we hit the road, Emma and Stan stopped to top the water up. All I could think about was how strong I felt, against everything I expected at this point in the race. All I could think was how much effort and determination it took at this point in 2013 to muster any sort of running. With this in mind I took what I thought was maybe a selfish decision to run on, but I 'd put myself in this position to do the best I could so the decision was made. I pulled my shirt off to make myself as comfortable as possible and just concentrated on a smooth and sustainable running form.

It was apparent that Emma and Stan were struggling to catch me, but this just pushed me more. Eventually Stan managed to close the gap, but i told him to go back to Emma to make sure she was okay. I'd previously agreed with Emma that if I felt strong I was going to go for it, so it wasn't anything she didn't expect, but I still felt guilty. A few minutes later Stan returned again, under instructions from Em to come and pace me (he also had the water at that point the poor guy). So me and Stan charged together for the last 3 miles or so, pushing out 7 or so min/miles, but it never felt really hard. This was a revelation to me and probably the most pleasing aspect of my day. I was improving as a runner, all the training was paying off. Time to cash in!




I finished with my usual sprint finish (maybe showing I'm still leaving a bit out on the course?!). Also after finishing I immediately turned around and ran back down the hill to find Emma. To my delight she was about 200 metres down the road, so I met up with her and a 35 miler and ran in as a group back to the finish line. Love coming over the line with my wife, she's the best and always inspires me to give my best x.

The final result - 2nd place and a course record (other than the winner this year) in 7:15. A full hour and 25 minutes faster than 2013 and 45 minutes faster than my ideal goal race time. A great days work, and something to build on I'm sure.


I'm completing this report nearly a month after the race, and although still buzzing in general from the performance, I think I've got more in me. And the 2nd place, despite my rationalisation of performing to time not position, still irks a little. I've entered for 2015, after I'll have run my first 100 miler (Lakeland 100), so looking forward to pushing that time back a bit more maybe -
Cue fear of Failure...

Sunday 17 August 2014

Lakeland 50

The British Trail Championships at the Lakeland 50 loomed large on my schedule. With nearly 11,000ft of elevation spread over 50 miles this was to be my toughest ultra to date, and thats without any weather intervention to spice things up...


                                                               Start line for the 50

After the Highland Fling I thought it important to step up my hill training so as not to get caught short with the elevation in the Lake District. Amongst runs in the fells, longer and flatter tempo efforts and kicks over 'cardiac hill' into the next valley near my house I supplemented this training with some hill repeats on a brand new trail near the house. Getting upto 10 miles with 2500ft of ascent I felt this training would adequately prepare me for the race.

As well as training, this race brought new challenges where kit was concerned. After a couple of races where I'd lost both my big toenails from my Salomon Slab Ultras I thought it would be a worthwhile gamble to revert back to more minimal footwear in the New Balance MT110's. So a fresh pair in size 10 was purchased and on the day proved to be a great choice and I didn't suffer underfoot at all (or lose any toenails!). In addition to footwear the race rules dictated a huge amount of equipment was to be carried.  On reflection now it would have been a good idea to have road tested carrying the extra weight, but I survived and the Salomon Hydro 12 pack I purchased proved to be a revelation. The soft flasks were great all day, plenty of room for kit and a great fit. I'd go as far as to say I pretty much forgot it was there. The only sticking point was after the race I noticed both my collar bones were bleeding where the pack had rubbed me raw. A bit of KT tape would fix that next time though.

Packed and ready to go, I dragged my family out to Coniston where the school field there had been allocated as a campsite for the weekend. We were lucky grabbing one of the last pitches on the 'site'. We quickly went to the start area, initially for the start of the Lakeland 100 (I have to be honest and say I was a little jealous these guys and girls were setting off on such an epic journey). Immediately after it was time for the lakeland 1 for the kids. This was a wonderful addition to the weekend, giving the kids a chance to get involved. Both Ava and Cam did great running the 1 mile out and back with me and Em. They both managed to run the whole course without stopping to walk. Tent set up I went for my weigh in and kit check. Everything finalised I cooked up some chicken on our shitty little bucket BBQ which produces the heat equivalent of a warm fart. After nearly an hour we ate what turned out to be undercooked and slightly raw chicken! I feared this may come back and firmly bite me on the arse...

The following morning my tummy was ok but a little delicate. It was the rising heat that was potentially the biggest obstacle of the day. Jumping on the bus to Dalemain for the start I managed to bump into Mark Richardson (the guy I ran part of the Ennerdale 50k) and his friend Stuart Percival. I also met another guy on the bus called James Turner. So the four of us chatted on the long journey, which gave me opportunity to get into Mark's ribs for info on the course. When we arrived at Dalemain I had my now obligatory last minute 'download' in the toilets before gathering on the grass with the other guys and Emma with the kids.


                                                              Prepping kit at Dalemain


                                                Should've considered chaffing at this point!


                                                From left to right - James, Mark, Stuart, me


                    Stu, Mark and me - worth noting me and Stu are looking at the 100 next year


                                                                    Ready for the off

We were then corralled into a starting pen where we checked in our dibbers before lining up under the starting arch. It was good to see the likes of Marcus Scotney and Stuart Mills lining up alongside me at the start. On the shout of go we were away, the initial loop a four mile lap of the Dalemain estate. The terrain here entailed clumpy grass with a steady rise for maybe the first couple of miles before dropping back down to near where we started. Already the heat was noticeable at 11:30 in the middle of the day and was forecast to only get warmer. Equally worrying was the leaden feeling in my legs, maybe nerves or a result of over training on the run up to this race?? But maybe worse was a knot in my abdomen, signifying an upset tummy. This would prove to be the theme of the day for me. I tried to settle down and proceeded to run and chat away with James for the next 10k or so. We progressed through Pooley Bridge before we hit the start of the first significant climb. The incline here was enough, but with my training should have been runnable (douche grade??).  Instead I told James to crack on while I backed off and tried to sort my stomach issues out. Unfortunately as the heat rose and my inability to really eat continued I only felt weaker. As we rose up onto the moorland I just tried to maintain a steady rhythm and not lose too much time so early on. I must have ended up down to about 30th place or so by now so I wasn't keen on losing anymore ground before Howtown.

The Howtown aid station was a welcome sight, it was on a short downhill out and back section where I nearly followed a runner who'd already been into the aid and was continuing! Into the aid I completely dowsed my head in water and took to getting plenty of water in before continuing. In the theme of a day where it didn't yet feel like anything was going well, as I left the aid a wasp lodged itself under the shoulder strap of my pack and promptly stung the crap out of me. Feeling rather sorry for myself I soldiered on only feeling mildly better for the cooling at the aid.



I proceeded into the valley and significant climb of Fusedale Beck which rises all the way up to High Kop (the highest point of the course). I was keen to get this beast out of the way so I could maintain a reasonable pace. Sadly, not feeling on my game and the valley acting as a pressure cooker for the heat it was a slog from start to finish. I was conscious of preserving water here as it would be easy to drink both my soft bottles within the first mile. It was this climb where once again I was reminded that although I'm a competent climber as a runner, when the gradient gets to a steeper walking incline people were passing  me frequently. Something to work on!! Eventually the top did arrive and assisting a fellow runner called Andrew (one of the guys I would continue to see throughout the day) by pointing out his dropped Lucozade bottle, it's fair to say I might have saved his day.



The following descent went relatively well under the circumstances. Only one person passed but it seems the hip exercises I've been doing have paid off as I didn't feel any IT band pain (as I did at the Highland Fling) and this continued through the day.  Unfortunately, as I descended towards Hawesmere res the temperatures once again climbed with little to no breeze to offer respite. The trail skirting the edge of the water was technical and engaging which helped although I really started to feel off with the heat. Stumbling into the aid at Mardale Head I did something I can't ever recall doing in an ultra - I sat down. I'd topped up the water bottles and grabbed a couple of flat cokes and a water. Sitting under the gazebo out of the sun helped, but only momentarily as the coke hit my stomach it came back up to say hello. Heaving my guts up in such stunning surroundings was a strange dichotomy. I love this shit, but good Lord it was hard today! Having given up all my fluids and salts, I grabbed another coke and water combo before trudging off straight up the next incline. The intimidating twisting climb of Gatesgarth Path, reminiscent of some imposing climb to Mount Doom in Lord of the Rings. I resigned myself to walking every step of the ascent to sort my stomach out, although in reality I don't think I had much choice the way my body was responding to the heat. It was on this ascent that a guy called Jon paced past me fully armed with walking poles. It crossed my mind at this point I was being a snob where poles were concerned and certainly looking to the 100 miler they could have their place. Suffice to say I later caught and passed Jon when the terrain returned to more runnable conditions.



The descent off the top felt pretty good, my MT110's were holding up well and my feet weren't suffering at all. Technical and rocky, I allowed myself to 'fall' down the mountain side passing the clunky Hoka wearing runners who were struggling with the uneven footing. Feeling strong and vindicated I had a fairly good couple of miles before finally reaching Kentmere Village Hall which served as the third aid.

I entered the Hall and again grabbed a coke and sat down. A fellow runner sat down and declared he wasn't moving till he started to sweat again. It was then I was aware that I also had stopped sweating in the last few miles signifying dehydration. So plenty of fluids and a smoothy which seemed like a good idea, were all taken onboard. Unfortunately I wandered outside armed with the knowledge I was again going to chuck all into the bushes. A kindly member of the aid staff wandered out and got me some more fluids. She then refused to leave me while I consumed the liquids and set off feeling rather sorry for myself. As my stomach settled though I started to pick up a bit of a rhythm and made some running progress up the next incline. I passed a runner sat eating a banana, he later commented at the finish that after seeing me heave my guts up he'd thought I would have dropped. I think it was around this section somewhere I had a chat with myself and resorted to a plan B for the day. Racing was clearly out of the window with all the time lost at the aids and finishing did seem unlikely under the circumstances. However with just finishing as the goal, the self applied pressure was immediately lifted. This caused two affects, a realistic pace and eating strategy could be adopted, and secondly I really started to enjoy the moment.

                                             
                                                 Grabbing Cam in Ambleside - family time

So feeling a little better I moved on a little quicker with some real confidence that I could recover something from the day. As I dropped into Ambleside I was sure this would be the aid where I'd get to see Emma and the kids which is always a lift.  That in itself would have been enough to lift my spirits but the crowds in Ambleside came as a surprise. Shoppers, motorists and pub dwellers all erupted into applause as I passed, really helping me pick up the pace. The first site of the family was a great lift and I grabbed Cam who then ran down to the aid station entrance with me. It was nice to share my plight with Emma, a problem shared and all that. I think I ate a bit of a sandwich here and had some more coke. Unfortunately as before I couldn't sit in the aid all day so off I went with the comforting knowledge that I only had 16 miles or so to the finish. A quick pep talk from Emma telling me to get my fast legs going helped pick up the pace as I left. My mindset was slowly returning to racing, maybe not so much the other runners, but I was looking at hitting something semi-respectable as a time goal.

Out of the town and the next climb allowed me to take some more scalps. However over the climb I managed to tag along with a guy called Tom who had recce'd and nailed on the nav. After a painfully flat section that begged to be run at a decent click for the next 3 miles I ended up picking up a small group of runners on the next climb. After passing the group one of them tagged onto me, a guy called Nicholas. He was also good with navigation and had a Garmin GPS handheld to supplement my Suunto. And with a compulsory dibber it allayed my fears of missing it and DQ'ing.

With good company the next few miles ticked by quite nicely, especially after the dibber where hitting Chapel Style aid station it was pointed out that we only had about 10k to run! So another quick sit down, but this time with a cup of sweet tea I got up and set off. My mindset being that although I was racing those around me I was also looking after my body. What I found quite profound was how little pain I had in my legs at this point, but looking at the pace I'd been resigned to early on I'm not surprised. On reflection I can't remember whether the dibber or Chapel Style came first??? Something I'll check on later and edit this blog - devils in the details!

The next section was a climb up towards Tiberthwaite aid where the last climb and descent faced me. A section regarded as hell with some 'killer steps' on the way up. On the climb to the aid though the rain started, but after a day in blistering heat it was a welcome respite for a time. but in only a vest I needed to be careful to maintain my core temperature. At the aid the darkness also descended rapidly. I'd had aspirations of finishing in daylight, but with 3.5 miles to go this was a reflection of how the day had gone. I dug out my head lamp and batteries, sweet tea on the go and a handful of Doritos as finally my body wanted to eat something substantial. A lady in the aid took it upon herself to order everyone to put on their water proofs as she wouldn't allow us to leave without them on. So I grabbed my jacket, but the left the leggings off - I've run in -13 degrees in shorts before, a little rain on a summers evening wasn't about to force me to up the leg wear.

Out onto the surprisingly short stairs where I could get in my last section of racing for the day. The ascent went well, marching and running interspersed, but all with a purpose picking off more runners as I climbed. As I neared the top a young lad named Matt asked if he could tag along as his nav was poor. Ironically so is mine but the Suunto Ambit was doing its job in grand fashion. So as a pair we headed to the summit chasing headlights along the way. Someway to the top Matt pointed out we might sneak under 11 hours if we pushed it. Well this was motivation enough for me, 10 hours something sounds better than 11 hours something everyday of the week! So it was the most satisfactory section of the day was us racing the clock. The descent was interesting with technical terrain in the dark, but nothing was slowing me at this point, even Matt repeatedly sliding onto his arse.

So the push continued through a storm on a mountain!

What a day, from stifling temperatures to driving rain over the tops in the pitch black. I guess this is part of why I signed up to these sorts of races. It's about a journey, its an adventure and it's overcoming adversity. That's where the satisfaction will come from, knitting memories that will last me to the end of this wonderful life. I've learnt through running to truly appreciate the moment in life, to never take anything for granted. Every day on this planet is a gift - I've got everything to be happy about and cherish each and every second as it passes. If I can instil any lessons in my children, this will be it, to be present and appreciate what you have.

But journey aside I'd made a deal with myself to sub 11 this chuffing race and as we dropped into Coniston down a fast double track where we really got the legs spinning. The lights from the town piercing into the night gave the promise of warmth and my family awaiting my return to the campsite. As we turned the last corner to return to civilisation a spectator cheered us into the town. Questioned how long to the finish he replied "about 3 minutes". Matt's watch check gave us 2 to sub 11. Bugger - time for a last sprint... In usual fashion for my finishes I stretched out the legs, responding well with an influx of adrenaline. I shouted to Matt to run and told him to take the next left after the garage so he could get home. But as I left him the finish came into sight and Emma and the kids were once again a wonderful sight. As always the emotions flowed strong but I almost forgot to dib in. But this revealed a time of 10:59:12 - I'll take that under the circumstances. My next thoughts were Matt, and as he came round the corner and dibbed in I told him we'd done it. More proud of him than myself at that point. From there after a hug with the wife I made my way into the main hall for my medal and a solid meal.


                                                           Finish line with Ava and Cam


                                                          In the hall for tea and medals

Lessons learnt? I think first it's fair to say although I got 51st place in the British Championships I expected a better time, and certainly on an A day would have taken at least an hour off, probably more. So lessons aside I need to reflect on what I did achieve. On a day where a DNF was a serious prospect I found I could draw from a resource that kept me on my feet and moving forward. The cliche 'relentless forward progress' rings true here. It's nice to achieve the position, but I must be thankful for the journey and the personal battle throughout. I'm not naive to the fact that position feeds the ego, and come Ladybower 50 I will be looking for another top 5, hopefully a bit higher, but I must accept what hand I'm dealt on the day. It's the challenge that counts, not the victory. Each race is a battle, but the ongoing quest to improve is the war. I will endeavour to practice patience as my performance and experience improves in the following years.

Oh and I must eat better the day before - muppet.

Link below to video of the race

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_bkR7KnWds

Tuesday 17 June 2014

Hoka Highland Fling 2014 and update

Big gap in the blogs again. I really need to get disciplined in this thing. A shiny new Mac courtesy of my wife might encourage more regular updates now I've got a computer that loads quicker than a snail on an ultra. Enough said on that though.

Late last year following the ladybower 50 I battled with some minor niggles (achilles, shin splints etc!) before joining Dark Peak Fell Runners in order to crank up the intensity of my training. Well it turned out to be a good idea as following a couple of meets with DPFR member Ian, I entered a club road run. It was an evening run with a good 1000ft or more of climbing over about 6.7miles. A fast sprint start in the low 6min miles (unusual for me at the time) led to a long climb out of Midhopestone. this is the same climb the Tour Du France are using as the King of the mountain event on the route this year. Suffice to say I was hunted all the way to the top by fell running legend Nicky Spinks (holder of many of the records over the rounds; Paddy Buckley, BGR, Ramsey etc). Anyway I eventually fell over the line in a modest time, but having done no training at speed I shouldn't be surprised really.

I followed this with the Bradfield Boundary run with the club. This wasn't to be a race but merely a club run over the Peaks and fells for a distance and elevation of 48 miles and 6500ft respectively. Held between Christmas and New Year the weather would be a concern but ultimately proved to be pretty glorious for the time of year, if a little cold at times. The route commenced at 6am with a 12 hour schedule before I was to rush home and commence a 10hours night shift. In retrospect this was a ridiculous idea and I was suitably punished with a horrendous night shift that involved a run!!!!
It was great to meet some more of the club in a relaxed environment and the route proved to be a revelation. My ultra experience proved invaluable in making for a pleasant day, only marginally scuppered by a tight IT band.  For the first time I discovered that holding a firm core reduced the pain allowing a comfortable finish. The biggest discovery for me though was how easy the effort felt through the day. I would attribute this to two things, one being a very relaxed pace and the other was a healthy appetite fulfilled at each of the 'aid stations' the club provided in a roving van. Food consumed included sandwiches, beans and sausages, bananas and pork pies. The most important lesson learnt on the day was the importance of eating in ultras. I didn't suffer a bonk at any point as I have in all my previous ultras. From now on I will place much more importance on eating whilst racing!

Rolling into 2014, I started the year with a cracking training regime. Injuries seemed to melt away, pace started to come easy, my breathing was improving, consistent miles week in week out and elevation training was also on the up. It felt like a fresh start and the build up to the Highland Fling couldn't really have been much better.

Saturday 26th April 2014 and up at 4am. Quick snack of Nutella on tortilla, grab a banana, lube up and wake up the family before heading over to Milngavie from our hotel in Glasgow. As a side note, next year I will look to get a hotel in Milngavie to reduce some of the stress on race morning. Arriving at the venue I put my drop bags into the relevant vans before heading to the start line with Emma and the kids (my ever faithful ultra crew). Then following a pleasant meet up with Mike, Gia, Andrew and Martin (twitter running friends) I got near to the front of the start under a rather inconspicuous looking underpass, where I was surrounded by some serious looking runners. I was probably behind about 40-50 runners and felt I would be okay to start from this position and see where I fit into the scheme of things as the race unfolded.

As the start went off the crowd of some 850 runners set off like it was a 10k, bolting up the 20 something stairs that lead out of the underpass. The route then turns down onto the pedestrianised centre of Milngavie making for an odd start to an ultra. However we quickly turned off the High Street down a nondescript bridge onto the start of the West Highland Way proper. The trail at this point was quite unimpressive and reminiscent of something found in the flat lands of my birth place Doncaster, so not what I had expected. However as the miles began to tick by and I found a comfortable pace, the terrain began to get a little more interesting with some small rollers thrown in which I felt I was well trained for. During this spell I met a guy called Chris who I continue to stay in touch with following the race. A nice dude and interesting conversation passed a few miles. I also bumped into another guy called Simon who was a fellow Dark Peak Fell Runner. So as a group we continued as the elevation started to crank up in a couple of places.

 The first 'aid' was 12.5 miles in at Drymen which I arrived at in a relatively spritely 1:33. Feeling good here I pressed on, safe in the knowledge that there was still some runnable miles before I hit Conic Hill. I lost Chris here but pushed on with Simon as company. The cloud cover came in here obscuring any hope of the spectacular views I was promised on this route. And as we ascended the foothills the visibility dropped down to about 20 metres with cloud and flag surrounding us. As we hit Conic Hill proper and the angle steepened, under Simons encouragement (didn't need much incidentally) we power hiked some sections here. It was disheartening to be passed by several people at this point on a climb I knew I could comfortably run to the summit, preservation was of the essence though and common sense won through with a conservative ascent. As we hit the peak the views opened up providing a stunning vista of Loch Lomond and the surrounding landscape. Worth every step to that point!
This unfortunately is when the wheels started to come off slightly at about 18 miles. The sizeable and steep descent off Conic proved my undoing as almost immediately my IT band was grumpy. I tried holding my core, but I still made a steadier descent than I'd have liked pain free. Still at 19.8 miles I rolled into Balmaha to the greatest sight I could have had. Emma and the kids, who I only expected to see at the finish line had made it to the aid station. It was the biggest lift I could have had and strengthened my resolve to continue at a strong pace.

The next section started with a stiff climb and then started to skirt along the waters edge on occasions. After a soft pebble beach run, which while picturesque, only served to make me realise my legs were fatiguing and my hips were beginning to tighten. I started to feel like I was hanging on rather than pushing forward in the race. A steep climb in the woods saw a group of runners pass me which again felt demoralising. This was swiftly followed by a mild descent along a newly constructed trail which had me panicking I'd taken a wrong turn for a time. In addition my hips were deteriorating further.

It's been a few weeks since the race so some sections have merged into others in my mind but I do remember battling some long, open and quite inclined trails. This saw some passing and being passed over several miles before eventually reaching Rowardennan and moving towards Inversaid. Somewhere between these sections was the part described as the 'unrunnable hell'. With my hips falling apart at the seams I was dreading this stretch, but as it turned out it was a revelation. The technical, rooty, rocky rolling terrain suited my skill set perfectly. Not only this it seemed to slow everyone else down to a snails pace meaning I could take some places back I'd lost earlier.

The blur of these sections led to the final aid at Bein Glas Farm at 40.9 miles. I reached this section in 7hours 9minutes with 12 miles remaining. Again the lift of seeing the family here helped immensely, but not only this some quick mathematics gave me the confidence I might be able to sneak in a sub 10 hour finish. despite my hips protesting otherwise!

So off I went on my final stage, full of confidence, push through the pain. What was it I said last time?; Just. Let. Go. And push I did, with the legs feeling great on the climbs, which by this point everyone else seemed to be reduced to a walk.

A highlight of this section was seeing my car travelling about a mile away parallel to my location with the horn blaring. Emma had seen a runner in the distance while she travelled to the finish and hoped it was me to receive her further encouragement. I've heard some corny, cliche about love helping you run, but on reflection this statement carries great truth. Passion, love, togetherness are positive emotions that serve to drive the negative energy generated by fatigue and hours of pain endurance. I need my crew to keep giving me this energy...

This final section was punctuated by a series of painful rolling hills before crossing under a bridge onto cow shit alley. A long ascent with ankle deep mud blended with fresh cow pat. Strangely it was here I managed to pick off a couple more runners with the legs feeling surprisingly spritely. Following this section was a memorable, but significant ascent and descent. Again the climbing legs served me well here picking off another runner, before nipping past another young lad who was having a toilet stop. At the bottom of this descent we turned through a farm with a sign promising bacon sandwiches. Unfortunately I was in a rush to finish a race and the sardines would have to wait! After a pretty good charge through this flatter section I slowed a little for the final couple of miles where I found a guy with a blown calf. I checked on his welfare before charging on to the finale. As I saw the bag piper, he began blowing out a traditional Scottish tune. Very emotive and inspiring this late in an ultra when feelings are generally magnified. I applauded the piper as I ran by before I heard another sound of equal or greater importance - "Come on Kirk!". It was Emma, but I couldn't see her anywhere. As it turns out I had to round the corner, up a small incline to be confronted with a red carpet lined with the biggest crowd I'd yet seen at an ultra. Head down, collect myself before launching into my obligatory sprint finish just to check I still had something reserved in the tank. My logic being that while ever I have these finishes I'm still leaving something out there on the course, meaning that I've got better performances to come. Mental strength, accompanied with smarter and more consistent training will serve to push my results to better places each and every race.

The finish was an emotional and redemptive feeling. The family waiting, a pleasing time of 9:33:21 (well under 10hrs!) and to later learn I'd snuck into the top 50 with 49th place. Good work all round, but the best part? Doing a cartwheel over the finish line for my daughter Ava, after she'd learnt them during our trip unto Scotland. Will I be doing this race again next year - definitely!


Me and the kids near at the start 


In the start tunnel awaiting the gun


Finish line with with Ava and Cam


Final, red carpet sprint


Goofing around at the finish line


Another cartwheel shot to close with...