Race reports for races that I've done before tend to descend into simple route descriptions. That is not the case with the Davos 78k and even if it were it would still be worth writing. The course here is stunning. This race is the first foreign one that I would like to do every year forever.
Last year was pretty special. I was introduced to mountain running for the first time (I'm not including the hills you find in the UK). I was amazed by how hard but how rewarding it was to scramble up a mountain, stagger across the top on a knife edge sometime and then bound back down. There is something very humbling about standing near the bottom of a mountain, equally it is quite liberating to climb onto their back and stamp all over them. I was really looking forward to this race.
My plan was simple and based upon a mistake of last year. Last year I took the first 30k (mainly downhill) a bit easy and got caught up in the crowds while going up the mountain. This year I was going to nail the first 30k and then hopefully be able to have a clearer run up the mountain.
The run starts in a stadium in the town. We are all penned into the starting area while helicopters roared above. The loudspeakers were playing "Conquest of Paradise" by Vangelis at full volume, it was hard not to get excited by such a fitting song, I sure was hoping to conquer paradise today. For the first time since I watched Black Hawk Down I thought to myself "helicopters are cool".
10-9-8 etc and the horn goes, Vangelis gives way to U2's "Beautiful Day" and 1000 runners pile out of the stadium and start a lap of the town. The first 3 miles are on road and the streets are lined with people clapping and cheering, every hotel has people hanging out of the window yelling. After a little twisting and turning we are into the trails and heading for the mountains.
The rain that threatened but never really came
Davos has 6 races running through the day. The K78, K31 and C42 start at the same time and follow the same path until the K31 finishes. The C42 diverts before any hills arrive. The K42 joins the K78 at around 40k and sticks with it for most of the rest, taking in the same mountains. The K11 and K21 start and finish somewhere else. A great thing about this was that I knew people in all the races and was expecting to see them over the course of the day.
After about 5 miles there is a small climb (Parliament Hill x 4) that takes you from the open trail into the woods. Rob and Jamie passed me at this stage and started to fade in the distance. I was going at a fair pace still but was having the usual stomach problems. Perhaps I shouldn't have had so much beer the night before. As soon as we were in the woods I did what the Pope allegedly does there quite a lot and managed to get moving again. I was trying to keep Rob and Jamie in sight but I had lost them. I ran through a food station at around 8 miles and was told "well done James - wait a moment". I looked round to see if I'd dropped something but then realised that the route was closed at a train crossing. We all gathered behind the barrier as a train carried lots of spectators down to the village where they would be cheering us on later. That was ok.
The first 20 miles of the course are generally downhill. There are a few small climbs, Londoners would call them hills but the locals here and most Europeans would probably not even notice them. There were some significant down hill sections that were great to run down, just the right gradient for a crap downhill runner like me to not fall over. Often when I run down hills like this it is hard to gauge how far I've gone down. This is not particularly important except that it will be the distance I have to come back up again at some point.
After 31k you run into a small village with roaring crowd support. This is where the K31 runners veer left and finish. Some of them look quite exhausted but not as much as I was, I'd took the first 31k hard and was going to pay for it, I still have 47k left. Shortly after the field is thinned out by the departing K31 runners we are joined by the K42 runners. Here I was expecting to see lots friends overtake me as they would have just started the marathon.
My memory of last year was quite poor. I deliberately didn't look at the course profiles before as I wanted it all to be a surprise, and it was. A I can really remember from last year was than there was a mountain some time just after 20 miles then lots of mountain top trail which was quite hard but really enjoyable to run on. I remember joining in with all the K42 runners and getting a bit caught up hence why I went much faster this year. I thought the mountain is going to kill me anyway, I may as well be nearly dead when I get there.
Before we met the K42ers we had a long climb up a winding road. I did not remember doing this last year, I was expecting the mountain. Instead I climbed up 2 miles of steep road, half running half walking. Then it was back into the woods for more trail, the mountain was surely just coming up? No?
near the top of the highest point
Ben was the first to overtake me, looking fresh and telling me to keep my head up. I was shortly followed by Dave Ross who did the K78 last year. I chatted briefly with him and he told me he'd just got engaged to his girlfriend Mel. I congratulated him and he said to watch out for Mel who was not far behind, also doing the K42. As we started to climb up but still not steeply Mark Bell and Gareth Jones passed me. At that stage I had already run a marathon. Soon after Lars Olsen, Jenny Bradley and Andrew Taylor jogged past, looking like they were really enjoying themselves. It was really great to see smiles on all of their faces though I suspected that my change as soon as the mountain comes.
The weather turned out to be perfect. The previous day it baked, then later that night it poured it down. If either of these weather conditions prevailed then we were in for a hard time. When it came to race day the sun took it easy and every now and then there was a fine rain shower. It was almost as if you could just switch it on when you were feeling a bit warm. I think a lot of people would have struggled without that rain.
The mountain threatened to appear but again was stalling. More people overtook and I felt like I was getting in their way. Jany Tsai came past, stopped to take a photo of me looking exhausted then ran off in the distance to take more photos. Shortly after the mountain finally came, 28 miles in. I was exhausted and new that I had more than the proverbial "mountain to climb".
The climb finishes of what was started about 8 miles ago. Over 8 miles the course gradually ascends from 1000m to 2000m. The mountain climb then tops it off with 600m in about 2 miles. This is done on a track that switches back onto itself over and over so you can't see the top. A well know "rule of thumb" in running is that if you can't see the top of the hill, walk. This is what I and all those around me were doing. My pace had slowed in comparison to everyone else. I was getting overtaken by lots of people both marathon runners and the ultra runners, I tried my best to step aside when I thought someone wanted to pass but sometimes it was impossible. I was in exactly the opposite situation I was last year, instead of wanting to get past runners who were going too slow for me I was that slow person getting in everyone's way.
another of me looking knackered, and nipples bleeding
Despite doing this hill before I still underestimated how long it was. There comes a point where you can see a lot of sky and then assume you must be on top. Then it swings round into some more trees and then up again. At this point I was overtaken by Alex Pearson who looked like he was having the time of his life. "Thank you Davos for your wonderfully taxing calf stretching mountains" he entusiatically chuckled as he went about finishing the hill. It was almost over, at the top is an aid station with a lot more aid than usual.
The aid stations in this race are frequent and fully stocked. There is plenty of water, energy drink, sweets, cakes, coke (later on), soup, bananas and lots of medics braced for a refugee crisis. Many runners including myself took this as an opportunity to sit down for a minute and regain breath. I was feeling a bit queasy and short of breath, I assumed it was the exhausted effort of climbing a mountain when knackered. This is about the 32 mile point and the next 8 miles are at an altitude of about 2500 meters and along some fairly tough trail. It is quite technical running and this alone would justify wearing trail shoes. I saw lots of road shoes and they seemed to be going fine but I was happy to be as close to the ground as possible in this section.
I had long since departed from any idea that I was going to do this quicker than last year. Once I'd let go of any competitive finish I decided just to enjoy the spectacular trails, even though I was still feeling sick. I walked most of the 9 miles as I couldn't get going without feeling ill. This was strange as I didn't feel this last year. I recommended this to so many people as a race where it didn't matter if you had to walk large sections of it. Because it was so spectacular and quite difficult walking. It was really great seeing the guys overtake me and look like they were really enjoying it. I was enjoying it too even though I was struggling with exhaustion and sickness.
There is one more peak which the K42 runners do not do, this is where they start their decent. The climb is much smaller than before but takes you to the highest altitude. At the top of this one is another tent braced for a disaster. This one looks more like a proper destruction scene though, there were runners lying down in the tent, others sat on the rocks. The marshals were handing out foil and ponchos. I remember feeling cold having been so high and making quite a few snowy passes. I took the chance to drink some of the soup, it was delicious though it could have just been salt water at that point, I didn't really care.
39 miles in the descent starts and it is quite a spectacular one. It is quite hard and steep but if you can run downhill (and I can't) then it can be the most enjoyable of stumbles. I decided to really go for it anyway as I'd not run for some time and did quite well, overtaking lots of people which is unheard of for me on down hills. The sickness abated as I got lower and I knew that there was little in the way now in terms of hills between here and the finish line. There is a checkpoint at 40 miles that dispenses Coke. This was most welcome and taken advantage of. What lay ahead now was 9 miles of beautiful and fairly easy trail running. It is a straight line into Davos and runs through some towns full of friendly people. No more hard rocks and stumbling all over the place, I was on the home straight now.
50 meters later into the "easy" bit I tripped over a rock and went arse over tit and rolled into the ground. I was pretty shocked and a spectator was kind enough to look really worried and come running to me. It's funny how lying on the floor after an embarrassing fall turns you into the rudest person in the world. There I was in a heap on the ground and this lady was only worried about my welfare as the fall must have looked pretty bad, however I had little more to say to her than "Yeah Yeah, I'm fine thanks. Merci, Danke" and scuttle off. As I walked on and inspected the damage she called me again and gave me the sun glasses that I had dropped. I was more grateful this time as the last pair I had I lost in a fall. I thanked her again and walked on. She then shouted again and handed me back my Garmin which has come off and smashed on the floor. I was even more thankful this time, those are quite expensive. By this point I was smiling and I hope she appreciated my thanks.
finishing with beer
I jogged on and saw blood dripping down my legs from a nasty gash on my knee. There was also cuts on my arms and my nipples were bleeding too though this was due to my stupidity in not putting anythin on them. I didn't really mourn the loss of the Garmin though, it was not very accurate on the mountains, it understates the distance travelled. Something to remember for next year.
There are markers every 5k and now they were appearing a lot more frequently. The sun started to shine some more and peoples pace picked up as they could sense the finish. I bumped into Ryan who's video I watched before the GUCR last year. It was really helpful and it was good to see him at races again this year. Near the end I was overtaken by Owen Barder who looked to be in good shape. With about 4k to go there is a cheeky little hill that leads into the woodlands that skirt Davos. At the top of this hill I saw Jamie who told me that he set out really fast too and spent some time in a medical tent. Despite his struggle he was really enjoying himself and said to me the best thing I heard all weekend. "Fuck Ironman, I'm selling the bike, I want to do this all the time". This alone made the weekend worth it.
We ran together and came out of the woods into the town where we saw Gavin and Lou taking photos. I ran past and then into the stadium where this all began over 9 hours ago. In the crowd was Rob who handed me a pint of beer. I was going for a sprint finish but decided that keeping the liquid in the glass was far more important. All about priorities.
I ended up having a great time regardless of the not so great time. I was most pleased by the others who enjoyed every minute of their adventure. I felt like Davos had converted some road runners into trail runners and some triathletes into ultra runners. There were about 25 Serpies here this year. Next year I'd like to try and get 100.
Many of these are a copy and paste from the run 100s website. Others I just pick up along the way and will post.
"Ultra Distance is all about keeping the body in good enough condition for the mind to do it's job". Phillip Howells 2010
"There was no one chasing us. Distance has it's own reward". - Unknown
"BTW, I still think the WS trail is one of the most beautiful places that I have vomited." - Mary Gorski, 1999 WS attemptee and 2001 finisher
"It's very hard in the beginning to understand that the whole idea is not to beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is against the little voice inside you that wants you to quit." - George Sheehan
"Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so." - Douglas Adams
"The thing I don't like about Western States is that you show up at the starting line in the best shape of your life and a day later you are in Auburn in the worst shape of your life." - Andy Black, on Western States
"Perhaps the genius of ultrarunning is its supreme lack of utility. It makes no sense in a world of space ships and supercomputers to run vast distances on foot. There is no money in it and no fame, frequently not even the approval of peers. But as poets, apostles and philosophers have insisted from the dawn of time, there is more to life than logic and common sense. The ultra runners know this instinctively. And they know something else that is lost on the sedentary. They understand, perhaps better than anyone, that the doors to the spirit will swing open with physical effort. In running such long and taxing distances they answer a call from the deepest realms of their being -- a call that asks who they are ..." - David Blaikie
"You're not puking and nothing's broken so get going." - Vivian McQueeney to her husband, Scott, in the middle of the climb to Whitney Portal during Badwater 2000
"Just go out there and simutaneously piss in your shorts, fart like a foghorn and drink from your mud-caked bottle. While you're at it let some liquid dribble down your chin onto your shirt, look up at the starry night and laugh like a raving lunatic. Fook em all. You're doing what you love to do and no one can stop you." - Michael Musca, as told to Will Brown
"Running fast requires conditioning your body, absorbing proper mechanics to the point where they're second nature, and then forgetting the details and letting it rip. It may sound funny to someone who hasn't been there, but the more you can let go, the faster you can go. Look at films of Mohammad Ali in his prime and you'll see how he had that little wrist flick on the end of his jab; if he had to think about doing that, he couldn't have done it. People have things inside them they don't know about until it comes out. When somebody asks me how fast a human being can run, I tell them that however fast they think it is, it'll be faster." - John Smith, UCLA track coach
"You can be out there having your worst day, but at the same time the person next to you is having their best day. So there's really no room for crankiness in the sport. At least I try to minimalize it" - Suzie Lister, after '98 Western States
"You'll be wistful for the "wall" of the marathon, when you hit the "death grip" of the ultra." - Bob Glover
"Why couldn't Pheiddipedes have died at 20 miles?." - Frank Shorter, 1970 "A 50K on trails is easier than a marathon on the road." - Unknown
"If you can't see over it, walk it." - Unknown
"If you under-train, you may not finish, but if you over-train, you may not start." - Tom DuBos credits Stan Jensen with this one
"Nobody should ever run a race where they are lapped by the sun." - friend of Alex Swenson, referring to 100 mile races
"Any idiot can run a marathon. It takes a special kind of idiot to run an ultramarathon." - Alan Cabelly
"Decide before the race the conditions that will cause you to stop and drop out. You don't want to be out there saying, Well gee, my leg hurts, I'm a little dehydrated, I'm sleepy, I'm tired, and its cold and windy. And talk yourself into quitting. If you are making a decision based on how you feel at that moment, you will probably make the wrong decision." - Dick Collins
"When you're afraid of failure you're more likely to do it." - Gordy Ainsleigh
"No matter how well you know the course, no matter how well you may have done in a given race in the past, you never know for certain what lies ahead on the day you stand at the starting line waiting to test yourself once again. If you did know, it would not be a test; and there would be no reason for being there." - Dan Baglione
"In ultrarunning, the pain is inevitable, but the suffering is optional." - Al Bogenhuber
"I like those people. They are calmer and cooler, I think. Personality- wise, they are rich. An ultra runner is not somebody who is normally going to wish you bad. On the contrary if you are down an ultra runner will help you." - Michel Careau
"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go." - T.S. Eliot
"The race continued as I hammered up the trail, passing rocks and trees as if they were standing still." - Red Fisher, Wasatch '86
"Security is mostly a superstition; it does not exist in nature. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing." - Helen Keller
"If you can't fly, then run. If you can't run, then walk. If you can't walk, then crawl. But whatever you do, keep moving." - Martin Luther King, Jr.
"I never met a carbohydrate I didn't like." - David Lygre
"Never judge a day by the weather." - Dave Nelson
"That which does not destroy me makes me stronger" - Nietzsche
"When you run there are no mistakes, only lessons. The art and science of ultrarunning is a process of trial, error and experimentation. The failed experiments are as much a part of the process as the combination that ultimately works." - Keith Pippin
"I never met a hill I couldn't walk." - Larry Stice
"If you start to feel good during an Ultra, don't worry - you'll get over it." - Gene Thibeault
"It hurts up to a point and then it doesn't get any worse." - Ann Trason
"If you get tired on a trail run, lie down in the middle of the trail in such a way that no one could pass you without waking you up - it will insure your finish line position." - Glen Zirbel
"It used to freak me out when I threw up, now I don't even slow down." - Unknown
"Your biggest challenge isn't someone else. It's the ache in your lungs and the burning in your legs, and the voice inside you that yells 'CAN'T", but you don't listen. You just push harder. And then you hear the voice whisper 'can'. And you discover that the person you thought you were is no match for the one you really are." - Unknown
"Your biggest challenge isn't someone else. It's the ache in your lungs and the burning in your legs, and the voice inside you that yells 'CAN'T", but you don't listen. You just push harder. And then you hear the voice whisper 'can'. And you discover that the person you thought you were is no match for the one you really are." - Unknown
"Some people dream of worthy accomplishments while others stay awake and do them." - Unknown
"Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed. Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve. It doesn't matter whether you're a lion or a gazelle - when the sun comes up, you'd better be running." - Unknown
"All things in moderation, including moderation." - Unknown
"Ultras, where the athlete pays and the spectator gets in free.""I refuse to tip-toe through life only to arrive at death safely."
"You can never run a hill too hard, you will collapse before hurting it."
‘Sometimes when you run, you might think you hear footsteps
behind you, but this is only your old self trying to catch up’
I've never really believed the common "Marathon Legend" of Pheidippidies. The most common version of the story being that a battle was won in the city of Marathon and our hero ran to Athens and upon announcing this victory he collapsed and dies. It never really was believable before I started to run and got less so the more I did. How could a professional dong distance courier collapse and die after 4 hours work? That would qualify him as one of the worst at his job in Greece. That is nothing for thousands of people each year to celebrate.
A couple of years ago I became aware of a story about Pheidippidies running from Marathon to Athens and then from Athens to Sparta (150ish miles), not to tell of victory but to raise an army for the struggling Athenians who were about to be invaded by the Persians. It was upon his arrival here that he died. This seemed much more believable, long distance couriers would have been expected to comfortably cover distances of 50+ miles at the drop of a headdress. A 150 mile run in 36 hours seems like a big enough journey to both make historical significance and also to die from.
But the plot thickens the more you read into it. I found stories about the run from Marathon to Athens not actually happening, running from Athens to Sparta and back again, Athens to Sparta, back again, To marathon and back again (close to 400 miles) and obviously stories that none of this happened at all.
So, in summary of what the story could possibly be;
Version of Events
How likely do I believe it to be true
How much I want it to be true
Implications
Pheidippidies ran from Marathon to Athens to announce victory and in doing so collapsed and died
Very Unlikely
Not much
If this is true then we can all relax safe in the knowledge that each 26.2 miles we are running we are reliving a historical event
Pheidippidies ran from Marathon to Athens to raise an army. He then ran back having failed to do this and died.
Very Unlikely
Quite
If this is true we should all be running double marathons as our standard distance.
Pheidippidies ran from Marathon to Athens to raise an army. He then ran to Sparta and in doing so collapsed and died
Unlikely
Lots
This would seem more sensible and mean that the standard historic distance would be 179 miles. Nice.
Pheidippidies ran from Athens to Sparta, covering 150ish miles in 36 hours, sent the request for help and then collapsed and died.
Fair
Lots
This will mean the race that I am about to run has huge historical significance.
Pheidippidies ran from Marathon to Athens then to Sparta, sent the request for help and then ran back, collapsed and died.
Unlikely
Lots and Lots
Imagine a historical run of nearly 400 miles? That would be worth doing.
None of this happened at all
Fair
Not at all
Could it be that all of this is false? I'm happy with the marathon being a myth but I would like to think that I am re-tracing history when I start the Spartathlon in Athens in 7 weeks.
From scanning the available sources on the interweb it would appear that there are 2 very interesting possibilities to consider. One that the marathon as we know itnever actually happened. The account given by Herodotus (the "Father of History" and responsible for the account of Pheidippidies journey does not mention Marathon at all.
The Athenian generals sent Pheidippides, a professional runner, to Sparta to ask the spartans to help fight the Persian army, who had arrived by ship at Marathon. Pheidippides completed the 145 mile journey and arrived in Sparta the day after he left Athens. He delivered the Generals' request, then returned to Athens with the Spartan's reply - which was that due to observances they could not leave Sparta until the full moon. Upon receiving this news the generals decided to attack the Persians anyway, the result being an Athenian victory against seemingly overwhelming odds.
Having been beaten in the field, the Persians returned to their ships and set sail for Athens - to attack it while undefended. However the Athenians marched the 25 miles overland and succeeded in reaching Athens before the ships, at which the Persians thought better of their plan and beat a retreat by sea.
After it was all over, 2000 Spartan troops arrived at Marathon and were much impressed by the Athenian victory. Their hasty journey along Pheidippides' 145 mile route took them three days.
A second possibility is that whatever running he did he managed to stay alive after doing so.
So, "The marathon" never happened and if it did it certainly did not kill him. These two ideas are retold by thousands every year as they line up for the "ultimate" feat of human endurance. I've seen a T-Shirt that said "couldn't Pheidippidies have died at 20 miles?" It is very unlikely that he died at 26. He may even have lived after 150 miles, or even 400.
Whatever is true I will still feel that I am running part of history as I take to the trail in Athens. I'll imagine that I am the messenger given the task of requesting an army in 36 hours. There will be a real sense of purpose as I run through the night and run myself into despair and pain. My run obviously won't be so critical as the one that may have taken place 2500 years ago.
No one will die if I don't finish and I certainly don't intend to die if I do.
I said I'd painstakingly blog the details of my vegan experiment but I haven't. I think the reason for this is that it wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. It's not something I really think about too much and hence don't have a lot to say. I find it interesting in itself that there is nothing to report as that demonstrates what a small change it was.
It's now been 5 weeks. My diet is now more simple (mainly due to lack of culinary flair) but much healthier. Typical changes in the diet are;
Breakfast used to consist of toast with eggs and bacon, often a full fry up. Now tends to be just toast with beans and hash browns. I eat more baked beans that when I was a student.
I now tend to run/cycle to work on an empty stomach and eat when I arrive, rather than eat before and after
Lunch used to be Subway, Wasabi (stodgy curry) or pub lunch. Now found a couple of great places. Hummus Bros and Just Falafs (second best pun ever).
Eating and drinking a lot more fruit than normal. Curtousy of innocent and Graze. Drinking less coffee and drinking more water.
Dinner is as usual (rice/pasta/wrap) based with tofu or fake meat instead of meat. Lots more veg than normal
Alcohol absorbing snacks tend to be chips (when I can find a chip shop in London, they are rare) or I just get home and destroy a tube (or 2) of pringles.
It's hard to say whether it's made any difference. I've lost about 6 pounds and to feel a bit lighter. I looked at the photo of me at the start of the GUCR this year and I looked a bit of a porker. I feel a bit better when actually running too. The important thing is that I am a bit more mobile when I'm running as it dawned on me by the end of the GUCR that I was not in a fit state to even finish the Spartathlon within the cut off time.
There are a few times when it is a bit tricky though
I have found eating out hard (resorting mainly to chips when I don't know what to have) and I have relaxed the beer counting. I find it hard to remember all of the beers on that list that I am allowed to have and as soon as I encountered a bar with none in I just went for what everyone else was having.
I have found it difficult when I forget to take food to a race. I usually forget because I am hungover. This happened in the Tanners 30 where I had several tubes of pringles at home and didn't bring any. I could not eat the cake on offer from a friend who made it especially
I'm going to be pretty difficult to cook for in the rare instances where I am invited to be cooked for.
Going abroad is going to be hard. I am off to Switzerland this weekend and am not sure about how I'm going to eat. I obviously need to as I have 49 miles of mountains to run but it will be difficult in a country famed for cheese and meat. (and little knives, clocks and fence sitting)
Other than that everything is all good. Looking forward to a proper kebab in Sparta though.
This time last year it meant everything to me. This time last year I would have crawled out of bed at 5.30 this morning and cycled to a train station to catch the 7.12 to somewhere in Hertfordshire, navigate my way to the start of a marathon or LDWA event, run the event and then brace myself for a long journey home. On a good day I'd get back at 6pm. On a bad day it might not be till it was dark. I could have gone for a long run from home, had more sleep and been able to go to the pub in the evening. But none of that mattered to me so long as the weekend resulted in me adding 1 to my "number".
I was a bit obsessed last year, not with running but with a number. I thought a bit about what 100 would mean. I've known a few people now who have reached this landmark while I have known them and wondered what it means to them. No one stops at 100 or even slows down in the rate at whcih they do them. 100 is a great milestone but in the end it is just a fairly arbitrary number, just like 26.2.
The question of whether a race should "count" now is fairly irrelevant to me. I was discussing a race in a forum which may "count" as 64, may "count" as zero. The race in question was a run from the southern most point in Europe to the most northern. This is an obscene challenge that has gone on to my "to do list" for reasons that do not involve clocking up a number. If this did "count" then you could get two thirds of the way to the 100 club within 2 months. It was suggested to me that it would be pointless doing it if it didn't "count". It really depends what you are "counting", number of 26.2 mile finishes or incredible experiences. I'm now "counting" the latter.
I've enjoyed having more weekends of not running races this year, while still doing as much running as I like. True I wish I lived somewhere that had mountains or forests on the doorstep. Hangar lane and Gunnersbury Park don't quite cut it, but I've cut back the numbers of "counting" events that I am doing now, so I can have more of a life.
Still, the question of what race to choose for my 100th is still something on my mind. Though it is a fairly arbitrary point in what I hope to be a long and enjoyable running life I am well aware that it is a good excuse for a party. Where and when I have this party are obviously very important questions. There are two questions I want to consider when deciding which event to do as my 100th. How spectacular will the race be and how many friends can I get to come and share it with me.
This represents a trade-off, since the more spectacular you aim for the further away you need to get and hence the fewer people you could get along. When I was still hoping to get the 100 done before I'm 30 I was looking at the Portland Marathon as a possibility. It is fairly scenic, not too diffucult to run or to get to, In January so it should interfere with the marathon schedule and there is a half and 10k for the little ones. However I'm now not going to get that many done in time. I could still reach that target if I was obsessed with the number 100 as I was, but I've grown out of that now.
Three Forts Marathon (May) became the next idea on the way home from the race this year. It is a beautiful race on the South Downs, understated but very well organised. A half marathon too and easy enough to travel down to on the day. It would be easy to get a load of people there and that would make the day amazing for me, a good run and lots of friends, maybe a piss up in Brighton afterwards.
The rate I am running them makes this a close thing too, now I'm doing more ultras I don't have much time to do all the doubles/triples I might like to. I don't know if I can make it by then, it would be a great party if I could. If I don't then there is not much going on in the UK over the summer (runners in the UK use this time to run silly short distances and events that involve mincing around on bikes and in wetsuits). Apparently when the temperature reaches 25 degrees that is the time to head straight indoors and recalculate your training spreadsheet, there is no way you are meant to run in this heat. I suspect there is a correlation between this behaviour and their really poor performances when race day is very hot, as was London and Edinburgh this year.
So, with not a lot going on in the summer I thought I could use the UTMB as another way of "celebrating" number 100. This will be one of the hardest races I will ever do and finishing would feel like a big deal. I hope to get a crowd of friends there too though obviously I'd struggle with getting loads. There is a marathon, 100k, 50 miler and the 100. Not sure what the appetite among my friends is for the minimum being a marathon. Would be my choice though if I didn't get there in time for the Bank holiday Monday Brighton piss up.
So, in summary, reaching 100 doesn't mean as much to me as it did a year ago. It may mean less (or more) to me in a years time. I often think about how aritrary the whole time/distance thing is. Why is the number "100" important? Why not 10 or 1000? If the Babylonians had their way we'd be making a big deal of 60 or 360. I might celebrate my 360th marathon by running one which is a perfect circle. That would involve observing something that has never been seen before, a perfect circle is merely a representation contrived to make things easier for us to understand, like the decimal system. The Babylonians got there way with time though and we still obsess about that. 3 hours being the common one for runners. 3 Babylonian units of 60. 10800 seconds. Why don't we all aim for 10000 seconds for a marathon? The distance itself is pretty meaningless too, based on the journey of an ancient war-courier and then extended to please the King of England.
This weekend I'm off to Davos to run a spectacular race and to celebrate Ian's 100th. There will be more than 30 people I know there and that will make it an amazing weekend. I doubt Ian plans on stopping when he gets to the bottom of that mountain and into the stadium. Not sure whether 100 means too much to him other than a good excuse to throw a party. So, whenever 100 comes for me I'm sure to make a big deal of it. The clicking over onto "number 100" will be artificial, the amazing party or amazing race however will be very real.
Even if all the theories are correct and it is proven beyond doubt that we are supposed to run without any supportive footwear, the worst thing you could do is kick off your trainers straight away and really go for it naked. I've been running in a variety of Asics, Nikes, Brooks and Saucony's for 10 years. My whole running style is based on what I have under my feet. This isn't going to change overnight. Taking that support away from me for all my running will lead to injury very soon.
I feel like I am in a position when I can learn to run from scratch again. Whenever someone asks me about "starting" to run I suggest picking a distance you know you are comfortable completing, even if it involves walking. Say a lap of a local park or round the block. Then just aim to get round it, running as much as you can but walking if needed. This shouldn't be more than about 20 minutes. Then, maybe try it again in a few days and then again and again till you can run the whole lot. Then, try running a bit further. It's won't be long before you all of a sudden consider yourself a runner.
I'm now back to square one with the Vibrams. The key is to start slow and short, within half a mile I can understand why.
My first run was a half mile run to the supermarket. I was running on roads which is not the intention but I immediately felt like I was performing an alien action. I instictively started to run almost on my toes as making heel contact with the ground was really uncomfortable. I could feel every contour of the ground, especially those bumps on the pedestrian crossings. The half a mile to the shop felt like really hard work and I walked back (mainly due to the weight of the shopping).
After that I did a few run/walks in them, never more than a mile. The main thing that was holding me back was that these are incredibly difficult to get on. My toes didn't seem to want to seperate and trying to get my little toe in the little toe compartment was impossible. Has wearing shoes and trainers for all these years squashed my toes in? I got a size 10 (my trainer sized is 10.5, shoes are 9). I am not sure whether the ones I have may be a bit big. Maybe when I can get them cheaper I'll go for some size 9's.
I put them away for a while as I was doing lots of road running, then on Sunday just gone I missed a marathon in Kent (out of pure laziness rather than a hangover or illness). I couldn't be arsed running a long one that day but wanted to do something useful so I finished my MDS report and went for a second run (25 minutes) in these. My calves hurt a lot, like I was doing hill sessions and my knees ached a bit. I had to respect the fact that I was using different muscles with every step and over-doing it could result in damage. I finsihed about 3 miles and returned, feeling a bit achy but ok.
The next morning I felt like I'd done some hardcore hill sprinting session the day before. I could barely flatten my feet on the ground while walking in the house bare foot. My calves were killing me and I had to put on some trainers to ease the pain. Having done that I felt fine again and ran to and from work (about 18 miles), calves still sore but able to run.
Yesterday I upped the mileage and braved a third run. I use the word braved as this was in public view of everyone at the club. If it went wrong not only would I have to suffer the effort of walking back to the centre but also the humiliation. I did get lots of comments of looking like a gimp/hobbit/triathlete/twat. I loved them really.
Much of the Hyde park run is on hard path but wherever possible I ran on the softer trails, feeling everything beneath me. It was great, like having constant reflexology performed on me, not that I believe in that stuff. I started as I always do by running on my toes, overcompensating for not wanting to touch the ground with my heel. After about a mile I naturally eased into a mid-foot strike where my heel would contact the ground more but it felt comfortable. I could still run at a decent pace, around 8mm without any discomfort but bursts of speed felt unnatural. That may just be a case of getting used to them.
I was suprised by the grip these things offered. It was pouring it down with rain and some of the pavements were quite flat and slippy. They handled the corners well. At the end of the run I felt fine, calves still a bit sore but less so than 3 days ago. The next morning they felt better and the heel thing was not so bad.
If you’re interested in trying out barefoot (or nearly barefoot) running, keep in mind that it will take your body some time to get used to it. Here are some tips from the experts to get you started.
Start slow, with quarter-mile runs at most, and build up very gradually.
Listen to your feet. Don’t try to run with the same gait you use in shoes — shorten your steps and land on the forward part of your foot.
Keep your head up and your body vertical. Your feet should be hitting the ground almost directly underneath you, not in front of you.
Keep barefoot running to no more than 10 percent of your weekly regimen, especially at first.
If you’re running completely barefoot, run on a mix of soft and hard surfaces to give your feet time to toughen up.
Finally, don’t try this if you suffer from diabetes or another condition that would affect your ability to feel and respond to sensations from your feet.
“Like any part of your body, you have to build up very, very slowly,” says Lieberman. “If you really pay attention to your body and build up slowly, you’ll be fine.”
It is easy to fall in love with the idea. Man has run and run for 4 million years and only recently have we shoved large chunks of foam under our feet. These blocks of rubber are the cause of all our injury woes. The foot has evolved over millions of years, as has the rest of our bodies to cope with all the stresses of running. In fact that is how we gained advantage over the other primates from which we evolved, our abilities to run for hours and hours, days and days and chase animals to exhaustion. It is a wonderful thought and one that will give me some great rocks to hurl at those idiots who constantly ask me "isn't it bad for your knees?" and so forth.
However, it might not be that clear cut. The world isn't the same place it was a million years ago. There was no tar mac or gravel paths. Were humans really supposed to run around all day or is that just a conspiracy to discredit Nike? Didn't these super runners of a million years ago die before they were 30? And I can't believe that the answer to our running woes involves wearing a product that sounds like a sex toy.
I first heard (and saw) about the Vibram Five Fingers when Christopher McDougal came to speak about his book "Born To Run" to our club. The book endorses this theory that humans were runners. Or that running made us human. I could easily get carried away with the idea, I'd love to be able to say to people that running is perfectly natural. It would save me a lot of time. "Why do you love running?" They'll ask. "Why do you love sex?" I'll reply.
An article appeared this week in Wired magazine, rather sloppily written and poorly referenced but containing many of the arguments for (and in the comments - against) the idea that we should be running barefoot, and indeed running lots and lots.
The main points of the argument are;
Humans have been on their feet for 4 millions years and only in trainers for about 40 years. We managed to survive up until now? What has changed?
Children run quite freely in barefoot and don't get injured. That is because they are running as nature intended
Humans actually scored an evolutionary advantage from being able to run long distances, running other animals to exhaustion. In contrast humans are really poor sprinters in comparions to anything with 4 legs and most things with 2 legs
All these "developments" in running shoe technology have not stopped masses of people getting injured
The foot is actually an incredibly efficient piece of evolution, build with impact dissipation and spring mechanisms that adjust perfectly to each step whereas trainers force an unnatural large stride, heel strike and mask the foot from responding to the ground
The counter arguments mentioned in the comments
Little research has been done in this area, certainly not enough to draw conclusions on. The experiment to discredit the need for cushioning looks shaky at best
There is not sufficient fossil evidence that humans really did run as much as suggested, or at all. This is still all conjecture
Even if we did run as much as is suggested, humans only had a life expectancy of 30 back then. Human bodies may be designed for 30 years of running, but not 90.
Pavements and tarmac did not exist a million years ago. Now it does, and feet were not built to cope with such hard surfaces
They make you look like a twat
I am currently reading some of the articles about this. I've not yet formed my own view but am excited enough by the thought to go out and buy a pair.
I want it to be true, I really do and I know I'm biased in favour from the start. Nevertheless I'm going to try and stay objective as I test these things out. What's the worst that could happen? Apart from being told that I look like a twat?
I'll start from the beginning of the running bit, which represents a small proportion of the whole MDS experience. I'll return to the other bits during the course of the report.
Day 1 - Dunes Day 34k
We arrived at the start by coach, which is unusual as normally we would have camped the night before at the start. This was not going to be a normal MDS year. The flooding had cancelled the first day and was hanging over the rest of the race. We were all just relieved to get to the stage where we could actually start running.
Some way into the sand dunes, everyones enthusiasm for running had diminished
Day 1 was meant to be day 2, the dunes day. This involves at least 17k of running/hiking through sand dunes and about the same distance over tracks. The dunes day is probably the second most feared of the MDS stages (after the long day) at it is over the hardest terrain and tests ones ability to keep sand out of their shoes. The fact that we were starting with this without the 20 mile “warm-up” the day before didn’t really faze anyone, we were just so relieved to be able to start running.
The coach did not take long to arrive at the start point. We were all pushing our heads against the windows of the coach to try and see the dunes that we will be crawling over in a few hours. Finally they came, from a distance they looked quite intimidating. They were bigger than any I had seen before (in Wales) and were much more golden than I imagined.
The start line was farcical. Patrick Bauer and a bad translator bumbled through the course changes which involved very precise bearing measurments (most runners did not have a pen) and the helicopter roared above us and drowned out the sound. I thought this helicopter was here for saftey reasons, it's presence was actually stopping us being able to hear whatever the race director was saying. I wasn’t planning on winning, so I’d have to rely on following everyone else.
After too much pomp and ceremony the race finally started, 2 years and 3 weeks since I signed up for it. A horn went and we all staggered forward over a rocky path towards the big dunes that we’d been looking at for hours.
Waiting for the French to show up
I find the starts of multi-day races very amusing. We are all running with backpacks, frontpacks, things strapped to our arms, legs, shoulders and waists. Everyone is wearing varying levels of clothing and tubing that could mistake the scene for a school play about robots were the kids have made the costume. One of the most important “rules” for multi-day racing is to test all of your kit lots and lots before you actually use it in the race. No one ever does.
The first few miles are a melee of people dropping bottles, adjusting straps and rearranging stuff in their bags. I quickly discarded my front pack as it bounced around and had to carry my water bottles in my hands as they kept hitting me in the face. I didn’t really have a sense of the direction I was running as there were too many people around.
The first 3k was along a rocky track. Much of the terrain is the same, flat dirt tracks with little rocks strewn all over the place. It’s a bit like running through Shepherds Bush only instead of rocks it’s broken bottles and litter. It was fairly easy to run on now but once it becomes harder to lift your legs these rocks become really painful.
We then hit the sand dunes, everyone was really enthusiastic and still running up and down quite difficult inclines. I think the rain over the previous days had made it a bit easier, steps would form in them where others had placed their feet and it was like running up stairs. There were cameramen everywhere and often you’d almost run into them, they didn’t make any effort to get out of the way.
I worried before this race that the dunes would be impenetrable. I had a vision that I’d try to get up them and just sink, however they were much easier than I imagined. They were still tough and some of the downs were very steep. This is where everyone’s gaiters get tested.
The gaiters are probably the most thought about piece of kit for any MDS runner. The measures taken to avoid getting sand in your shoes is the most thought about thing in the whole race. I’d super-glued silk ones on and added a huge amount of gaffer tape. I’m not sure how well they were working, it is something you never know until the end of the day. Every time I ran down a sand dune I’d feel sand hit the backs of my legs and slide down, I had no idea whether it was getting in. I’ll just have to wait.
The sand dunes came to an end and we hit the first checkpoint. At each checkpoint you are required to run through the timing sensor and have your card stamped for bottles of water. Normally 2 were on offer but most were just taking one, it wasn’t too hot at that stage. The route then took us onto a fairly uninspiring long straight track. Time to pick up the pace, or so I thought.
The temperature picked up a bit and I’d describe it as an uncomfortably warm British summers day. I was told that bone dry heat is not too hard to run it and that humidity would not be a problem. The first rain in the MDS for 15 years however made humidity a problem and I suffered.
The track was flat and not too rocky, there was no reason why I shouldn’t run the lot of it and run it well. As soon as I started running at any kind of pace I was stopped by coughing. I had hoped that some dry air would clear my cough (there was no medical basis of this hope). The moisture and the sand just made everything worse.
I’d run-walk-run-walk for about a minute at a time but the length of time I could run got smaller and smaller. I eventually gave up and started to walk the whole time. This was incredibly frustrating, not just for the day in question but for the rest of the week. I was still kidding myself into thinking the cough would go away, if only it got hotter. I had written off today and was ready to go for it the next day.
Having no expectation of finishing well I thought it would be a good opportunity to take pictures and admire the scenery. I don’t normally get the chance to do this as I’m looking at the floor trying not to trip over. I had spent the last few months mocking the majority of people who do this for approaching it as a trekking holiday. This was now the only way I could do this race. At least there was something to look at on this day.
I plodded over the line in about 5 hours, I didn’t really enjoy it because I don’t like walking. I later joined another queue for the doctors and told them about my cough and asked for some codeine. They informed me that by taking it I’d then fail any dope tests and would be eliminated from the race. Looks like I was in for another few days coughing to get the medal for this.
The coughing seemed to get worse once I stopped. There were so many frustrating things about this event, my own condition being only one of them. Because the route had completely changed we had no idea what was coming up tomorrow, if anything. Whereas normally everything is decided long in advanced and we know what is coming up, this time we had no idea. Rumours would be rife, my favourite was that they were going to make each day longer to make up for the lost miles on the first day. Another was that the race was going to keep the same distance each day, another was that the race had just ended. I started to think about the last one and wish that was true.
a rare shot of me running
Message after day 1
"Marathon Des Aster - bet simon already had that pun. I'm feeling pretty low now. just walked 33k in 5 hours and feel like ive been hit by a train. my throat infection got worse and the humid sand dunes nearly finished me. The doc said te only thing he can give me would break the doping rules. I cn't run without coughing and wheezing, i had 2 coughing fits in the run and get them every nighr. i hope it gets better but probbaly wont. the long day could be very long. On the positive side i get to take lots of pretty pictures and wathc the wildlife, bugs and ants mainly. I had high hopes for this race but now i just need to finish. its going to be a long week. Badger seems to be enjoying it though. you may have heard the 1st day was canned cos of floods. this was the dunes day and wasn't too hard terrain wise. Id have liked to have run a bit of it. Anyhoo, ill stop moaning now and try to barter for some codene, which is illegal but im not that bothered. hope you have a better week than im going to have".
The Flood
The heat hit me as soon as I got off the plane. We spent a while in a queue to passport control and I could feel the sun slowly cooking me. I wasn't suprised by this, someone did mention that the desert can be quite hot. It was around mid day and I was looking forward to running in this heat. We stayed in a 5 star hotel for about half a day and then set out in the morning for a 5 hour transfer to the point in the desert where we were to start the race. On the way there it started to rain very heavily. I thought 2 things, one was that this obviously happens all the time in the desert and the sunshine will get rid of the water and secondly that this is a very local and short lived rain storm and once we got into the desert proper we would be in the baking bone dry sunshine. I was wrong on all counts.
The rain continued for hours and hours, the coach journey took 8 hours and none of us could believe what we were seeing. The coach would stop for the occasional toilet break and the wind and rain would make this very hard. Finally as night was falling we arrived at the point in the road where we were transfered to army trucks and sent bouncing over the rocks of the desert, still pouring it down. After about 20 minutes of spine shattering driving we arrived at the first camp and did not quite know what to think of it.
There were 100 soggy tents in various states of collapse. We were told just to find anywhere that was dry and sleep there rather than being assigned a tent. The floor of the desert is not good for drainage and all of the water that had fallen was still sat on top of the surface. Each bivouac only had dry space for 1 person and even that was shrinking. We all scrambled to find somewhere where we could put our stuff and for it not to get wet. This was difficult because the water was still moving in. Some started to dig moats around their sleeping areas. Only half of the Brits made it to the camp that night, half were stopped by flooded roads and the other nationalities didn't even set out.
I was bracing myself for a night where I'd probably wake up soaking and have my kit ruined before I'd even start. We all went to the food tent to have our pre-race rations of bread and pickled cabbage and then stood around in the soaked sand and laughed at the whole predicament. Then a word got around that we were being taken out of there to a hotel not too far away. This was a relief to some but a disappointment to others. I wouldn't have minded staying, it would have added to the "challenge" of this race.
The flooded Bivouacs. We struggled to find a spot that wasn't wet
The next few days in the hotel were really frustrating. We'd wake up each day and not know whether there was a race to run. We were told that the organisers were plotting another course but could not guarantee that there will be one. The most frustrating bit was not knowing. There was the realistic expectation that there would be no race.
Day 2 – 36k
We were told in the morning that we were going to run a 36k loop along trails. Though I wasn’t feeling any better I still hoped for a good day. Alas it was not to be. Day 2 went exactly the same as day 1 minus the sand dunes. Read that again if you want.
Message after day 2
"This is no fun. today went pretty much like yesterday, i ran for a bit, coughed then walked for hours. Its really frustrating. stage 3 was a loop of about 36k back to where we started. they are having to put the course together day by day. tomorrow is the long stage which should be 80k but i can't see that happening. If it did happen I'm going to take a long time. Legs are a bit sore now from all the walking though the terrain is not that bad. 60% is trails like you get in lanza/watford. there are quite a few dunes. The desert all looks the same after a whil, maybe cos we are staying in the same place. maybe we'll go to a running track in marakesh and do 200 laps tomorrow? Anyhoo, still hoping i can run tomorrow for a bit at least. might trade some antibiotics for a spag bol later. Its quite warm but no where near as hot as it should be. Have a pint for me in the wargrave tomorrow for me serpies, I'll probably still be walking in the dark. Not dead yet."
STUFF YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THE MDS PART 1 - TRAINING
I constantly got asked (and still do now) "How do you train for something like that?" My response was that I run marathons and ultras most weekend and had already done something similar but harder than this. I also would get asked about the heat and I said I was planning on running for a week in Lanzarote with jumpers on and all the kit to try and simulate the heat. It pissed it down all week in Lanza, I can't decide whether that was a week well spent or not.
When you sign up to the MDS your name and email address will be sold to a multitude of unscrupulous companies who try to extort money from you by playing on your fear of the heat. I got dozens of emails about running in oxygen deprived chambers, saunas and all sorts of aclimatisation things. These are very expensive and unessessary. Though I didn't experience the heat in all it's glory I never met anyone, vet or otherwise who said these things were worthwhile (unless of course they had a vested interest).
This race is not nearly as hard as is made ou by the organisers or the press generally. Most people finish. Though I can't comment on how to run a great race I did feel that I was more prepared that most for this. Many of the other competitors had barely runa marathon before. For me this this sums up up this whole event. The majority of the people here are not those who love running and want to take that to another level by takling something really tough like a 150 mile run through the desert. Instead most of the people are here to get a medal and then go back home to say "Look what I did" and probably never run again. It's a shame.
Despite feeling better prepared than most (though much more poorly) I would in retrospect have gone about the training in a different way. Something like this;
18-12 months to go - Start practicing your queueing techniques. In total I spent 24 hours in a queue in the 9 days of this event. 1 hour at Gatwick,2 hours at quazzazatte while the officers got confused by passports, 1 hour for hotel check in 1 hour waiting for idiots who were late for the coach, 1 hour again queuing for second hotel, 2 hours queuing for kit checks, 6 hours locked in a courtyard in a hotel while everyone else registers (all nationalities) because New Balance insisted everyone was there to hear Patrick Bauer announce the race was on (something we already knew) just so the DVD can show us all cheering, 1 hour waiting for the coach to get out of there, 30 mins each day queueing for water at the start of the day, 30 mins each day delayed start while the french turned up later and Patrick and his bad translator spoke for ages telling us nothing, 3 hours on the last day waiting for the coach to take us out (The brits are first in, last out), 2 hours at airport. I make that 24.
I would suggest buying lots of things from the Post Office, on Thursday morning in a run down area so that you are in amongst all the Giro crowd. This is all about time on your feet and the mental preparation of standing around.
Scary Rain Clouds
12-6 months to go - Develop Queue manovering skills and introduce static standing. In the race to minimise time on your feet you will need to develop some queue pushing in skills that the French competitors seem to have a natural born talent for. It does not help to be British when you are in a queue in the desert. Go to crowded bars with obnoxious arseholes (Anywhere in the City, Camden, Soho or Shorditch should suffice) and try and get served. Try and distance yourself from any thoughts of empathy for the others around you, they'll do the same to you. If you manage to get drunk you are doing fine.
The standing is key here. Each day you are tormented by a comedy double act of Patrick Bauer (race organiser) and a really bad translater as they read out the list of those who have dropped out, tell you (incorrectly) how much water is at each stop, point out (vaguely) if there are any deviations from the road book and remind you to keep your running number in full view. It is quite difficult to keep the number in full view on the raidlight packs. It is quite easy to keep it in full view on the New Balance packs. Hmmmmm.
I would suggest attending any local Punch and Judy events or other childrens shows which involve standing up, craning your neck and trying to comprehend mindless drivel. I hear the Chuckle Brothers are doing a world tour next year.
6-3 months to go - Doing it in the heat, with back pack and introduce form filling. By now you should be able to queue for 2 hours comfortably and your head should have similar rotational abilities to an owl. Now is the time to step it up and do the same things in heat and with the kit on. Perhaps take a rucksack onto a tube train in rush hour and crane your neck a lot. You may get hauled up by the British Transport Police for this and may have difficulty explaining all the vasaline and freeze dried food in your bag.
To do this race you will be required to fill in a lot of forms. Mediacal, Admin, Security, Media, Insurance, Passport Control etc etc. If it's been a long time since you were in school then this wrist breaking activity may seem a bit daunting. Don't panic though, there are plenty of ways of exercising your wrist. Try signing up to market research panels where they send you stuff to fill in each month about your attitudes to baked beans or your preferences for types of tree in some park you never go to. Alternatively do what I did and sit some marketing exams. Not only do you get some intensive 3 hour sessions of hand writing but you also get valuable practice in reading and writing absolute drivel. Plus you get some funky letters to add to your name. I'm now James Adams B(Econ)Sc, MSc, CIM, Dip Digm, MRS Cert. My business cards are on sheets of A3.
Now is also the time to cut down on your alcohol intake and general frivolous spending, not because it will help you in the race but because you will soon be billed for £1500 to pay for half of the race.
3 Months to go - Do some running (optional). Most people don't bother with this bit but are still fine.
Stuff you should know about the MDS part 2 - Equipment and food.
I discovered 2 universal truths about this when I got out there in the desert, both were given to me before I went out there but I disregarded them anyway and went ahead. The first one is that everyone takes too much food. The second is that no one has ever figured out how to drink through those bottles with the straws sticking out of the top.
My pack weighed about 9kg, this was on the light side especially for a Brit. The lower limit is 6.5 kg and some of the elites were bang on that. Mohammed Ansul had a pack that was even less and had to add a couple of cans of red bull to get the weight up. All of his compusary equipment fit into a tiny pot and his food was all crushed up nuts.
My food consisted mainly of nuts, bombay mix, some sweets and expedition meals. The expedition meals are suprisingly calorific, each with 800 cals and weighing only 130g. I also took Beef Jerky, energy drink sachets(which don't count as calories in the registration process) and some Kendal Mint cake but the latter was dumped on the second day as it was too heavy. During the course of the week people will be ditching food. Burning 5000 calories a day you are only required to take 2000 per day. This is enough, you may as well accept that you'll be burning off fat.
My Kit
I used a raidlight 30L rucksac with a frontpack. This is what 90% of Brits use and it does the job ok. The front pack takes practice, especially when it's full. I got rid of mine near the start of the race because it kept bouncing up and down. I also used the bottle holsters and those bottles with the straws sticking out of them. I didn't even take them out of their packaging till I got out there. I asked others who I was sharing a room with how exactly you are supposed to drink out of them but no one could. In the end I just cut off most of the straw and used them as normal bottles, having to take the lids off whenever I'd drink. I was tempted to take a bladder with me but worries about what I'd to in the case that it broke.
I decided not to take a sleeping mat with me and only took a very light sleeping bag. I'm still not sure as to whether this was a good idea. The bivouacs are laid on the desert floor with no clearing for rocks and stuff. You will bascially sleep on a blanket laid over loose rocks. With only 1cm of soft material seperating you from rocks it can be very uncomfortable. I struggled to sleep anyway because of the cough, I imagined that I'd be able to sleep on anything after the days exertions.
One piece of equipment I would recommend would be the all in one tyvek suit. You look like an idiot when wearing it at home but lots of people out there wear it. I found it was really good at keeping the sun off me in the day and was a useful extra layer in the night. It gets quite cold in the desert at night. I took a 7 degree sleeping bag which was fine with the suit.
Day 3 – The “Long” Day – April fools day.
There were rumours going around the British camp that the French organisers like to play tricks on us on April Fools Day. Practical jokes such as pissing in the water or moving direction signs were the most common rumours. I was already convinced that this whole week was a joke and wasn’t really worried.
This is the day (or 2 days) that most of the entrants fear. Few people run this far at all let alone in the middle of a week of hard running. There is a 36 hour cut off for covering about 50 miles. It seems like crawling but so many fear it.
The night before we were told by our concierge to expect a run of “between 70 and 80k”. I had doubts they could do a long day as the weather was still unpredictable. Later on at night we were told that the actual distance was going to be 91k. This was the longest the MDS have ever done.Despite still being ill I was looking forward to this. This was going to be the bit I enjoyed more than the other stages.
It started really well. I had started near the back this time but was making good progress at getting though the field. For the first time since I’d been here I felt like I was running through a desert. There was still some residue from the rain but the whole run was punctuated with things to see rather than a track against what could have been a TV studio backdrop.
Start of a sand storm
I was determined to keep running for longer today as I wanted to take advantage of the “rest” day tomorrow. All those who can finish this in one day get to spend a day at leisure. All those who cannot have to suffer all week.
The first 40k was really nice. The weather was picking up and the course consisted of windy paths through trees (yes there were many more than I expected) and large salt plains against a glorious rocky backdrop. This is what I paid my money to do. The feeling of actually running is a desert probably kept me going for longer than I could do on previous days.
We hit a minor sand storm going through one of the passes. There was a huge salt flat in between two gebels. The sand hit me but it was fine, I started to feel good about the day and ran on. There was a checkpoint after about 40k which was partly hidden. I did the usual stamping thing and carried on.
I prematurely got excited about how far I had run and that I was not coughing yet. I was at the checkpoint for 40k in about 5 hours and thought I could get this whole thing done in about 12 which would be a vast improvement on the previous days. I wasn't too bothered about my times or positions anymore, I had come expecting to finish in the top 100 just by running most of it. But, like most of the field I was reduced to walking large sections of it. For the first time the sun started to make it hard work and we headed out of the checkpoint into a long straight stretch.
My previous excitement turned to frustration as soon as I jogged out inot the open terrain. I inhaled my first lungfull of sand and had to stop to cough it out again. I spluttered on like a car on it's last legs but to no avail. It was like having shards of glass in my lungs and making my lungs do more work than was essential was very painful. I tried putting my buff over my mouth but that just restricted my breathing which had the same effect and the sand was already in.
I had kidded myself on both days previously that this would not last for the rest of the leg and each time I was wrong. I was the same here, as soon as I get this flat windy bit out of the way I'd be fine. Obviously this did not happen.
I walked along as many people walked past me. I had not done any walking training as I had not planned on walking any of this and was abysmal at it. There is a technique to walking which I did not have and the dozens of people walking past did, kicking up more sand as they went by. I had several coughing fits where I'd have to stop and hold onto something and cough, one time I coughed so hard my nose started to bleed.
I sat down on a ledge facing the runners coming past and tried to stop the bleeding. I watched a small pool of blood and snot form right underneath me and then insects gather round to feast. Didn't look very appetising to me but I guess there is not a huge amount of food in the desert. By chance I looked up to see the Ansul Brothers running straigh at me and then passing either side. They looked very comfortable running and I could not get a "well done" out in time. They started 3 hours after me and this was the first of a succession of runners who cruised past me. I had hopes of being in this 50 at the start of the race but now I was looking at last 50.
The nose stopped bleeding and I continued, being overtaken by faster walkers and even faster runners. Hopes of getting this done before midnight had evaporated, unlike some of the moisture that was still in the air. I had some time again to admire the scenery and it really was spectacular, there was a huge ridge to my right which I would normally love to have a go at climbing. It looked like we were going to go round it but then as the sun was starting to disappear behind this magnificent piece of geology I saw the path and a line of walkers heading straight into it. Fuck.
It wasn't the biggest or the hardest climb I've had to do but the idea of getting myself up any vertical distance seemed a struggle. As I started to climb I saw the 2 Chris's, people I was sharing a bivouac with. They were both doing quite well in the race and I new at this point I was at least in the top 3rd still, despite the walking. As we climbed into the dark pass we switched on the glow sticks that we were provided with. The climb was horrific. There was no sand in this crevice but the effort of scrambling up was still so hard to take. I would climb on my hands and knees and then have to stop every few seconds to try and extract oxygen through some pretty violent coughing. My legs were trembling too. I had to stop and plan the next few steps of any climb, taking into account what would consume the least energy and oxygen so that I could at least get to a higher place and stop again. I would have to think about where to place my hands, what I could grab hold of and where to fall if I needed to. I fell several times. Fell runners do a similar thing when bounding down hills at lighting pace, they carefully (but very quickly) consider where exactly they are going to plant their foot each time. The costs of getting it wrong for them could be broken legs but they take that risk because those races are won on the down hills. I had less time pressure but the cost of getting this wrong for me was that I'd still be in this crevice come sunrise.
There was no one else around me while I was making this climb. It almost felt like people were standing back to watch. I could see glowing at the top of the pass but luckily there was no one immediately behind me for me to fall on. I can't remember how long it took or how many times I stopped or slid back down. I do remember getting to the top, falling down on my knees and thinking about whether I'll make it to the end.
I spent about 10 minutes sat at the top looking back down at what I'd just climbed up which is probably a silly thing to do. I looked back down on the short but significant climb that just nearly broke me, I should have turned the other way, like when someone gets pulled out of the water, the first thing you do is make sure they are facing away from the water while you do all the other stuff. Stops them panicking. I'm glad I was facing back down though as I saw a chap skipping up the rocks. I was not hallucinating at this point, it was in fact one of the elite runners. He got to the top in a fraction of the time I did, stopped to say hello, asked me to activate his glow stick and then skipped on. It was only at this point I looked the other way and saw what was coming up.
Absolutely Fucking Exhausted
I watched the glow stick bounce down a path similar to the one I had just climbed and then continue and join this amazing line of other glow sticks that spread as far as the eye could see. It was a spectacular sight that I tried to get a picture of but it wouldn't come out. A photo wouldn't have done it justice anyway, it was truly amazing.
I was drawn in like a moth to a flame, wanting to join this army of glowing walkers lifted me out of despair and got me climbing back down onto the sand. The next 10k or so were over sand dunes.
The next few hours were also incredibly tough but for a short while I managed to forget about the discomfort I was in and concentrate on moving forward. My head torch would show the grains of sand flying across my head, it would also reflect against the others ahead of me. If I turned my head to either side I could see nothing, there was no life here, nothing for the light to reflect off. The sand dunes varied in height and incline, some were much easier to get up than others. I think I was still coughing but by this stage I think it had become an inconscious action. I no longer had to think about coughing, I was just doing it.
The tops of the sand dunes are concave, like volcanoes, which means you can't see what is immediately beneath. I'd be looking ahead at the huge line of dim light ahead and when I'd start climbing a dune this line would disappear. I could still see the one behind me but then when I was on top of the dune the whole lot would disappear. One time I was on top of a sand dune I felt like I was the only person in the world, I could not see any humans or any sign of civilisation for 360 degrees. I've done plenty of races where I feel like the only one around even when there are people right next to me, it is a strange but liberating feeling. This time I felt alone because I was alone. It was an amazing 5 seconds or so before the isolation was broken by someone else clambering up the dune. From then on I tried to recreate that moment by adjusting my speed so that I was ascending them alone. It never happened again, it was always spoiled by the polluting light of others trying to make their way towards the next checkpoint. I wished they would all disappear.
First Sleep of the long day
I was quite calm during this section, between 60-70k. The feeling of isolation and the fantastic site of all these annonymous glowing backpacks crawling through the desert made this a new experience that I was enjoying enough to forget about the struggle. I would still find myself short of breath getting up the sand dunes but when that happened I'd just stop, sit down and look at the stars. It was a perfectly clear night and looking at the stars in the sky was a very relaxing and calming thing. I don't get to do this very often in the smoke back home. I thought about how people would have used these to plot their course instead of the glowing waymarkers that we were following. I counted myself lucky that I got to see such a thing and started to feel like the expense and the faffing around was worth it.
The next checkpoint came a bit quicker than I was expecting, probably because I no longer had any sense of time. The checkpoint looked like a refugee camp, there was a medical bivouac and a sleeping one. All of a sudden I became very aware that I was covered in blood and coughing like a dying man on an anti-smoking advert. I feared that I may get pulled from the race if anyone saw me like this so I held my breath and walked past the marshalls and headed for the sleeping tent. Just after getting there I saw Dan Ashfar, who was one of the leading Brtis but was not having the best of times also. He took a power nap of about 10 minutes before heading off. I stayed for about 45 minutes, hoping to catch my breath before heading out again.
The terrain from 70-80k was more of the annoying rocky path fo the previous days. By this stage I was walking pretty slow and had no walking skill. I think I tried running again but it just wouldn't work. I started to feel pain in my heels, something I'm not used to as I had never walked so much before. I knew I had some blisters on my heels and each step was pretty painful. My legs did not hurt at all. I wish my legs did hurt though, that would have involved some running.
I was falling back into the despair I was feeling a few hours ago. People were just walking past me like it was no effort at all. Most of them had walking sticks though (which are allowed but really is cheating).The sky had clouded over and I could no longer see the stars, I was on a flat piece of trail and could see people all around me. I was feeling a bit claustrophobic, I just wanted everyone to go away again. I was starting to get worked up again and had no outlet. I tried to listen to music but that too was ineffective. Some of the spacy prog/post rock music I came with would have been ideal for this kind of adventure. The likes of Sigur Ros, Mogwai, Death in Vegas, Tristeza, Theta Naught, Always the Runner (??), This Will Destroy You were the ideal sound track to marching along the sand and feeling like I was at the end of the world. This had to give way to more upbeat rock music to try and lift me. When that failed I hastily went for the last resort and played "Hella Good" by No Doubt. For some reason the thought of Gwen Stefani thrashing about in the water usually gets me going. Even that didn't work.
I was starting to get really frustrated and angry with myself and everything. The path is flat but has loose rocks the size of bricks strewn everywhere. When I was walking I felt like I was tripping over every one of them. Each time I did I would stop and curse. Sometimes I'd kick the rock out of the way, once I even picked it up and threw it. I was staggering from side to side, in pain from the blisters, still coughing and most of all frustrated that I was having such a bad time and could not see how it could get any better. I left the previous checkpoint about 9.30PM and thought I should not take more than 2 hours to walk this stretch. There was a huge green laser pointing out from what I thought was the end of the stage. I could not see the source but it's light seemed to curve right over where we were running.
Edging slowly forward felt like it was using an incredible amount of energy, each step was an ordeal and all I could focus on was the time passing and the checkpoint not coming. The 2 hours I'd given myself came and went. At 11.30 there was no sign of the checkpoint, at midnight there was still no sign. The green light now was directly above my head and it felt like I was walking through a tunnel, the sky only a few feet above me. The rage I felt from kicking bricks turned into an admission of defeat. By now I was no longer angry at these inanimate objects in my path, I just accepted them and tried to move on. My brain felt like it was frying. It gets quite cold in the desert at night but I didn't feel the need for long sleeves. I had put on my warm top but overheated after a few minutes and went back to the T-shirt.
12.30 came and went, still no checkpoint. I'd been on this stretch for 3 hours and in this stage for 15 and a half. I was thinking about everything and nothing, like some nights when you can't sleep. There was something nagging me inside my head that I couldn't get out. It wasn't important but it was consuming me, like a broken record playing the same 3 seconds of barely audible noise over and over. I was not physically tired nor did I feel sleepy but was really struggling being in the state of awakeness. I lost hope of finding this checkpoint, I thought all the others around were going the wrong way too. I'dnever felt this bad in a race before, I had long forgotten the moments I enjoyed just a few hours before. 1.00 came and finally I could see something up ahead. I could not believe that what I'd just traveled was just 10k, nor could I really believe that the checkpoint was finally here. I saw the source of the green light which I thought would be at the end. I collected some unneeded water and headed for the bivouacs.
11k/7 miles to go. This is quite a significant distance for anyone who belongs to the Serpentine running club. 7 miles is the length of the most popular club run "the 3 parks" which involves a lap around Hyde/Green and St James' Parks. It is also significant as many will use this to reference the last 7 miles of a race that they are in. I know for many a marathon I have reached the 19 mile point and said "only 3 parks to go". The same applies in longer races and the longer the race the more potent the effect. 43 miles into a 50 miler or at Perivale in the GUCR I can easily visualise the end of the race because all you have left is a distance that you have done 100 times before. I can take myself out of wherever I happen to be (A canal path, an Alpine trail, Canadian forest or Rotherham) and put myself at Speakers Corner in Hyde Park and think about jogging around familiar surroundings with people that I know and looking forward to the pub at the end. This always helps but in this instance it just didn't occur to me.
I could not think of anything apart from whatever was rattling through my brain, I could not get it out. I had not slept well all week and felt sleep deprived but not sleepy. I knew that one of the key functions of sleep is to clear your brain cells of all the crap they build up over the course of the day. The cells build connections which normally get reset when you sleep and those that don't become memories. Right now I was building up bad memories that were clogging up my head and stopping me from fuctioning properly. I knew vaguely what was tormenting me here but had no idea until I looked it up on my return that this branch of neurobiology had such a cool name. Synaptic Homeostasis is a theory that the brain only has a certain capacity to "learn" in a particular time period before it becomes full and needs refreshing. Sleep does this. It was hardly as if I was attending any lectures in this time but I felt like I'd reached the limit to what I could mentally deal with for that day. Any further progress I would have to do as a zombie, oblivious to any external influence, possibly not reacting to and external stimulus or even my own internal state. It still seems ludacrous to this day but with only "3 parks to go" to the end of the long day I got my sleeping bag out of my bag and crawled inside. I needed to sleep, just to forget.
Finish line for the long day
It wasn't the first time I'd woken up still wearing my shoes. I didn't take them off for fear of not being able to put them back on again. I looked at my watch and it was around 4am. I'd been asleep for 3 hours, completely out of it. I could have stayed there longer but for the first time in ages remembered why it was that I was there. There was a stage to get to the end of and I had to get up and walk it again. It was still dark, I was still coughing and it was cold. I was pleased that it was cold, it meant I was no longer roasting myself from the inside. I left the checkpoint as annonymously as I arrived. Funny thing this race, there are hundreds of runners and organisers and no one really gets to know anyone. It felt like I was just leaving some service station in the middle of the night, no one cares where I've been or where I'm going, I just got up and walked.
The participants (none of them are runners at this stage) were spread out much more thinly now. I had to start looking out for the occasional markers to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I knew this was going to be a long and painful finish but I at least felt myself again. The track was the same as before and as the sun came up I could at least see in front of me and not trip up on all the rocks. I hadn't imagined that I'd be finishing the long day in daylight. I was looking forward to this day more than any other, my only previous multi-day race I nailed the long day, this time the long day nailed me. The sun was starting to heat the desert floor up again as I crossed the finish line. I felt nothing as I walked through the banner, collected my water and headed for my tent. Half of the people were already there, some sleeping and others just milling around. I wasn't sure what to think about what I had just done. That was undoubtedly the hardest day of effort I have ever had, 21 hours of running/walking/staggering and sleeping.
Message after Day 3
"That could have been the hardest day and night I've ever had. They extended the "long" day to 91k to try and make up for the earlier loss. I ran about 40k and was feeling quite good but then some sand in the breeze killed my lungs. I was reduced to my usual walking wheeze. with headaches, nosebleeds and bubblewrap feet. Parts of the night were spectatular though. The point where i was completely alone in the desert in the dark was exhilirating, probably worth the entry for that. The miles of rocky track were less so. I was so hard stumbling in the dark for 12 hours not being able to breathe properly. 7 hours for half way then 14 hours for the rest, my heels have some corking blisters on, massive. Feeling pretty shatterd now, only a marathon tomorrow. I think they are canning the last day too. Thanks for all the messages, see you all soon. I'll have to come back and nail this one year"
Stuff you should know about the MDS part 3 - Bivouac Life
"Bivouac" is a French word for "Some sticks with a blanket on top". Each day a crew of locals would erect a village of bivouacs in a circle that would sleep 8 competitors. We were assigned a number which would be ours all week and the bivouac would be in the same relative position.
They are not ideal for sleeping. There is only a rug seperating you from the rock and as I didn't have a sleeping mat I suffered in the night, constantly having to lie in different positions to stop rocks going into me. The windat night would ensure that there was a constant stream of sand flying over my head and making me cough. I didn't get any rest from the cough even at night. I felt sorry for the others I shared a tent with as I was making such a racket. I requested to sleep near the end so that I could get up if I needed to. Several times I did get up just to walk around a bit and get away from everyone else. Once I coughed myself sick. I don't think I got a proper nights sleep all week, this includes the times spent in a bed in the hotels.
The sunrise always looked spectacular, one of the benefits of sleeping almost outside is that you get to see the great panorama of the sun starting the day. I'd always feel quite sleepy at this point after an exhausting night of spluttering and tossing. As people got up and started their pre-race rituals and faffing I'd look around and see one by one the bivouacs collapse. They would not wait for you to wake up or get out, the blankets and sticks were just hoisted over you and the rug pulled from under you. You were then exposed to the sun and to the ground where you had to carefully tread so that you wouldn't get sand in your shoes.
Day 4 - The Marathon Day
This was to be the last day. Normally the last day is a 10 mile showboating exercise but instead it was going to be quite a long run. I was looking forward to getting it over with. There were a couple of marketing things we had to do for the DVD in the morning, one was to stand around for ages in a roped off area that spelt the number "24" to denote that this was the 24th MDS. Also we were given new running numbers to put on as it was considered important by the sponsors that their name looked nice and clean for the many photos that would be taken that day. I kept my blood splattered number I'd been wearing all week and threw the others away. I could not be arsed spending my time making sure that the DVD looks good and that the race organisers look like heroes.
start of the marathon day
After the usual start line nonsense and the French turning up late again we set off on the final stretch of the MDS. I started this day as I started each day, running and expecting the moment to arrive where I could no longer do this. The marathon day actually turned into the best of days. I could run for most of it. The terrain was quite challenging but all great to run on. There were plenty of smaller sand dunes, a few rocky passes, some track and roads and lots to look at. Finally we got some of the heat that we had been threatened with for 2 years. While running and enjoying the atmosphere of the last day I felt a strange sensation that I had not felt at any stage in the race until now, I was sweating. The combination of the heat and my running actually convinced my body that I was in need of cooling down and was making me sweat. It was lovely.
There were quite a few spectators in this leg, at least 20, more than I am used to in other races I have done. I wonder where all these kids come from, there are no houses near by. I wonder what sort of curfew their parents impose of them? How far are they allowed to wander into the desert before they have gone too far?
Towards the end of the stage there is a significant climb up a rocky pass. At this stage kids are around telling you there is only 2k to go and asking if they can have your water bottles/hats/buffs etc. They are not aggressive or anything but at that stage I didn't belive that there was only 2k to go and kept hold of everything. Then at the top of the climb I saw the finish, it really was just 2k away. I scrambled down and started my final approach, still running. This was the only day where I ran most of it and was the day I enjoyed the most. As I got to the bottom of the slope I had to give some water to a Spanish guy in distress, he looked pretty dehydrated and I could only give him warm water.
As soon as I got near the end I gave the fastest sprint finish that I have ever done for a race though it was missed by all of the cameras. I got a lot of cheers and comments afterwards. It's a shame there is no photo evidence of my finish, just one of me looking exhausted. I reckon I'd have given Usain Bolt a good race in the last 100m of that one. As I steamed through the finish a loudspeaker was playing "Won't get fooled again" by The Who.
Stuff you should know about the MDS part 4 - Communications
At the end of each stage you can go to a computer tent and send an email to the outside world. I didn't think much of this before starting the race but as the week went on this became really important for me. I'd think about what I'd write as the story was unfolding in the sand. This is something I do anyway and gets me through a lot of tough times. It's like a projective technique where you imagine that you are not actually you but someone else looking at you and giving commentary. In doing so you can be as complimentary as you like, which is easy to do when you are thinking about yourself in the third person. Years of daily Facebook status updates have trained me well in this, I never thought I could say that hours on Facebook have made me a more resilient long distance runner, but they have.
The daily email was my outlet to the rest of the world. I wanted everyone to know that I was suffering just to see what they would say. I found the emails were a great way to let off steam at the end of each stage. There was a word limit but I never really pushed it, I managed to keep the words down, unlike in my race reports.
By far the most enjoyable part of each day though was getting a piece of paper with all of the emails which have been sent to me. I was quite suprised by the numbers of them. I felt a bit bad for the others in my tent that they would get a handful of messages and I would have pages and pages. Not my fault for being popular :)
I got messages from all sorts of people, some I didn't even know (but made sure I got to know afterwards). It was amazing. Most messages would either be words of support in response to my distress messages or general updates on what was going on back at home. Some of them made London life seem pretty mundane, which was nice. I thought about being out here doing a "crazy" race while everyone else was back at home going to work on the tube. It seemed like such a stark difference but I just couldn't wait to get back there and join them, this week did not pan out well.
Message after Day 4 - Box Ticked
I had a good day, at last. I ran the marathon in about 6 hours, not very fast but i ran most of it and felt good. That's it, it's all over now. Have no idea where i ranked and have not looked all week though i hear my rankings are being glibly announced back home each day so you probably all know better than i do. Nikolai will be in the top100. It certainly was an experience, the long day will haunt me for a long time, i've never felt anything like that before. I'm sure i'll bore yu all with the details over several kegs of guinness. I'm off to treat myself to a clean pair of pants, I've been wating for this all week. still in camp tonight and being fed bread and pickled carrots. sorry to dissappoint anyone who was hoping I was actually going to die, though ther is still time, i've not started drinking yet. it was great to finish on a bit of a high, am going over now to watch the last runners come in, it's amazing to see some of these guys. Thanks everyone and see you all soon x.
Box Ticked
So there it was, all done. Well all that we were given to do anyway. It's hard to sum up this week (hence the 10000 words previous) but it was hard for so many reasons that have nothing to do with the challenge of running. I felt like I was taking part in a corporate challenge rather than a test of endurance, everything about this race reeked of marketing and PR. Fair enough there is little they could have done about the flood but the focus seemed to be on making a great DVD rather than putting on a great race. I didn't like all of the faffing and queueing involved.
This became more of a challenge for me because of the illness. It was one of the least enjoyable weeks of my life and even at the end I felt nothing. No cause to celebrate or sense of relief, just a feeling that I'd ticked a box and could get on with other runs that I really wanted to do. I've just read back a comment I made about having to come back one year and nail this, I won't be doing that. I'm not coming back. It's hard to see this as anything more than a large dent in my credit card. There is other stuff out there, harder, better organised, less needless ceremony and a lot less expensive. I still didn't feel like I had finished, I knew 2 more days of queues and hotels awaited. I wasn't going to consider this over until I was back in the UK. Plenty of stuff to look forward to, a running race along a canal then a running race around Greece.
Still, I doubt I'd get another chance to be the only person in the world like I was at the top of the sand dune. That was pretty special.
Pictures paint a thousand words, which is lucky as it means I won't be banging on too much in this race report. I'm only really writing one to say that yesterday I had my most enjoyable run of the year. Well actually that's unfair, this is a spectacular run in the countryside and one to add to the list of ones to do again and again.
Last year I did this in fairly miserable conditions and it was my first long run after the GUCR. I felt OK that day and bundled home in about 5 and a half hours. This year I had done several long runs since that same race and felt shit every time. Rob, Mark, Ian and Alan (who we converted from the idea of running the 20) seemed to be up for a nice jog. That was fine by me.
It was a glorious day and I was really looking forward to hours in the sun. I even remembered the sun cream this time. I had tried to run as much as possible in the week on the assumption that the sunshine would not last forever. I felt a little stiff from yesterdays handicap but had the unusual advantage of a "good nights sleep" the day before. Anything could happen.
Mark, Rob and I had decided to wear our silly hats we got from the Picnic Marathon. Perfect day to wear them, as the swear built up you could just take it off and wipe your face with your own cold sweat, lovely.
This event starts at the Leatherhead football club which is a leisurely 10 minute walk from the train station. The runners start at 10 which is easy on the train. Hats off to the organisers for making this easy once again, apart from the actual run.
I had forgotten just how hilly this run is. Harder than 3 forts or the south downs marathon. The path is on quite smooth trails without all those annoying rocks of the 3 forts but the hills are non-stop. I ran the first half with Ian and Mark wanting to keep a consistent pace and was doing quite well, feeling strong and enjoying a good run, something that has not happened much this year.
The second half is much hillier than the first and has a bit more cover. Just as it was getting really warm we enjoyed a 5 minute shower that cooled everything right down. Soon we were running up some pretty long hills and between 20-23 miles there are some spectacular valley views that you get to enjoy close up as we descended down them and then back up the steps. There is a checkpoint at 23 miles and from the an incline that seems to last forever. At least a mile anyway.
I finished running with Alan who I shamelessly allowed to do all the map reading and Phil who I've known for a couple of years and has run the same GUCR's as me.
An important thing to note about this event is that is does not have food at the checkpoints. It is something the LDWA are famous for but this isn't strictly an LDWA event. Still, for £4 who's complaining.
Hope the pictures give an idea of what it was like. Just wrote this really to remind myself that I like running sometimes.
I'm often made to feel a bit like Forrest Gump when I turn up to some races, and rightfully so. I am often unshaven, I often sport a silly hat and yes I have a reputation for running long distances. However I was not expecting to feel like him for being unable to understand instructions. I registered with great confusion as I was told to give my 10k time and take a number and an "x".
"So what do I do" I asked
"Well, your 10k time determines your handicap"
"Oh, say 40 minutes"
"Ok - Start at 20 minutes since this is your first time and scratch times have a 10% loading"
"Say What?"
"As it's your first time you don't count in the points and your time in fairly meaningless except it will determine your start time for next time, though you'll still be a scratch runner"
*Confused look*
"We don't allow points to be scored in the first 2 runs as so may people ended up winning on their second go"
"But what do I actually DO?" - Starting to panic
"I suggest you take it easy this time so that your next handicap is not so tight, even with the 8% loading"
"No seriously, what to I actually DO?" - Still no idea
"Just put £2 in here, wait for someone to shout your name and then run two laps around that pond".
"Ahhhhh, Gotcha. Now you're talking my language". Though I did forget to ask which way around the pond.
I am assured the rules of this race series are all perfectly sensible and vital for a fair competition where the consistently improving runners have the best chance of winning. That sounds like a great premise for a competition and the organisers should be saluted for that. However the cognitive load involved for me trying to figure out what the hell was going on felt like listening to a game of Mornington Crescent.
The start was very well ordered, all of us having our names called out and lining up to depart in 15 second intervals. I had 6 people in my slot which was cosy. So long as there were plenty of people ahead of me I was pretty sure I wouldn't get lost.
I was told to go and I did, forwards, following a red top. This was the easy bit.
It was a baking hot morning. I'd spent all week running in the glorious sunshine and was loving the chance to take advantage of an unusually long spell of sunshine. There is not much cover around the Serpentine and I was heating up pretty quickly. At least I knew this would last about 30 minutes, rather than 2 days when I last encountered this weather.
I started overtaking people quite early on. I think the intention is for everyone to finish at the same time. Heat affects people in different ways and some struggle more than others. This was clear as many runners were having a bad day here. Along the south side of the Serpentine a long queue of red and yellow formed and snaked through the cafe where a guy was putting out chairs right in the way of the running line.
I had no idea what pace I was supposed to be running 4.3 miles at, I didn't take a watch and think I started a bit fast. I wasn't overtaken by that many people(that being the point I think) and managed to catch up with quite a few.
As usual I suffered a barrage of "isn't this a bit short for you" comments. I think 20 laps would be much better, an idea I might put in there for the next committee meeting. I am counting all the times I hear that phrase along with their names. When the number reaches 1000 I will be demanding £1 off each of them an I shall use the money to fund a triathlon (that should cover the entry fee and the lycra). So far I'm on £27.
The race finished in a realtive flash, on the same day that it started, same hour in fact. I did it in 29 minutes which I think is 6.45 minute miles. It's been a long time since I've thought about that ratio.
Everyone then shielded from the sun and clapped the others in. There was some discussion as to who "won" and what the implications were for some table that was going to define who was winning overall and then there was discussion as to how that was going to affect the results for the whole year. I just concentrated on getting to the cafe.
This is a great way to spend a saturday morning and I shall certainly try and do this more. Basically I get to run 4 miles as fast as I can around a course that I'm almost certainly not going to get lost on and get to have brunch later. I don't think I am even going to try to figure out the rules. Who knows? Ignorance could work in my favour? I doubt it. Good on Mark/Jon and all the others there organising this though.
“But you’ve done this before so you know what to expect. It should be a doddle this time?”
This is a line I heard from every other person I spoke to about this race this time. In some respects I was inclined to agree. I remember vividly some of the darkest moments of last year’s race and even more the euphoric ones. I have relived and retold my experiences time and time again to all that would listen. There was a part of me that nodded in agreement at the thought of this being routine. I've done it before, I've done a lot since, what could go wrong.
Then again, what can be routine about a 145 mile race? 30+ hours, 500000 steps, 15000 calories, sleep deprivation, hallucinations, exhaustion and pain. Anything can happen in that time. Many people succeed several times then don’t make it. Many more just don’t make it. Each year this race indiscriminately eliminates 60% of all those turn up at the start line.
I could not decide which one I wanted to be true. An easy 145 jog back home leaving half of the sunny bank holiday left over to enjoy beer and lounging like everyone else seemed appealing. However if I really wanted that then I wouldn't have bothered turning up for this?
I felt a lot less sick in the morning than I did last year. I was getting a lift down to the start with Nick and Drew and Nick's girlfriend Amy who had signed up to support him all by herself. That was going to be a tough job. I couldn't imagine staying awake that long unless I was running. I didn't get much sleep the last night. The sickness soon came though as soon as I scoffed 2 Mcdonalds breakfast meals. The guys and the drive in seemed a bit confused that we were walking through the Drive-Thru.
I recognised a lot more people at the start this time and had done in the pub the night before. It seemed a bit like a family reunion. I got at least one "J-Lo" comment. Dick Kearn had sent my race report of last year to all entrants and insisted they read it beforehand. It was nice to hear so many people enjoyed reading it. They would know exactly why I am back here again a year later and the number of others here to run this again was staggering. You may think this was the sort of race that people would finish and say "never again". It's not like that at all, the second I crossed the line last year I wanted to do it again. Not right away mind, a years rest was needed. There were 85 people on the start, the maths here tends to be quite uniform. About 40% of these guys will make it to the finish line, 60% won't. Some will have the run of their lives, others will battle to the finish, others will chance upon bad luck and suffer the agony of dropping out. Some just wont be ready to finish this. Last year I was in the first category, but that was no guarantee that this year I would avoid being in the last.
I looked ahead waiting for Dick to sound his horn, recalling fondly the low bridge straight ahead that you have to duck under and can get a bit crowded with 85 people heading for it. Off it went and so did we. It's amazing that I've only been here once before yet every bridge seemed familiar. Not so familiar that I didn't go wrong within the first mile again, only slightly though and this time 6 people followed me. I did warn everyone not to follow me and most of them obliged, running off ahead.
This'll be a doddle
The first few miles of long distance races are usually a collection of brief conversations with people you don't really know until you run out of niceties and then want to speed up/slow down into your own run. There is plenty of time. The running order of questions is always the same too. Have you done this before? That's great, when did you do it? Wow, how did you do? Cool, what was it like? Oh my God, and yet you are back here doing it again? Brilliant, my name's Dave by the way, what's yours? Kind of like a cliched chatting up conversation, Do you come here often? Oh, so what do you normally do then? WOW I find [boring thing she just said] really interesting, how did you get into that? Oh excellent I find [thing she just said but can't quite remember because you weren't really listening] is really tough on the elbows, what do you do about that? I prefer the ultrarunning conversations though, I rarely get slapped in them.
The first checkpoint is as busy a melee of runners and helpers as I will see for the rest of the race. Only 10.7 miles into the run the field has not broken up too much by choice. There is a glue that holds runners together in races that dissolves when exposed to youthful exuberance and competition. The competition does not start for at least another 24 hours, if at all. The exuberance is subdued by apprehension. As for the youth, I'll leave that one alone...
I stopped to fill my barely depleted water pack up, eat some cheesy biscuits and move on. As I did I noticed water dripping down my back. I took my bag off and made sure the cap was on the water then carried on but it still dripped. I took it off again and gave it a closer look to find a large but neat gash in the top of it. My water pack was now useless and I had to run back to the checkpoint, passing everyone as they left. I had a hard time explaining to all those that I passed in 0.8 seconds or less what was wrong. I laughed it off and said my bladder had burst, people were genuinely worried that something bad had happened. I got back to the checkpoint and asked Dick if he had any water bottles spare. There were none so instead he emptied a bottle of lemonade and filled that with water. A flimsy 2 litre bottle was to be my water carrying device for the rest of the race. I am very greatful to Dick though, there was aat least 15p worth of lemonade in that bottle.
The complete loss of my hydration systems was a good cause to panic. From now on it was going to be an inconvenience to have to unload my bag every time I wanted a drink but I was really quite good at keeping it under control. I was very aware of how easily little hic-cups can snowball into huge mental neuroses and then potentially ending the race. I just laughed it off. 10 miles in and my race could be fucked already, he he he.
Don't Panic
I was now way back in the field and chatting to people as I passed. Last year I saw no one between 10 and 60 miles. I was now right in the middle of it all and enjoying it. I spoke to a chap called Andy who was doing this for the 4thtime. I mentioned wanting to do the Spartathlon later in the year and his one piece of advise for me on that is not to do what every other Brit does and run the Ridgeway 85 four weeks before. Damn it, that was exactly what I was going to do.
Hatton Locks appeared in about 4 hours. The marshals at the checkpoint nearly threw away my battered Sainsbury's lemonade bottle and were surprised to hear that it was going to get me along the entire canal. I explained that my bladder had broke at the previous checkpoint so that they didn't accuse me of being under prepared.
The sun picked up as I started out again towards the third checkpoint which was another 13 miles away. I started to feel a bit knackered and hot and had forgotten to put some sun cream on when I had my bag at the checkpoint.
Supported vs Unsupported?
Last year I managed to recruit four friends who were silly enough to endure this adventure with me. I decided not to be supported this year as I wanted this to be a different experience. There are pros and cons of both.
Being supported means that you have people carrying your stuff near you all the time. Rather than checkpoints with 15 mile gaps they can bring you things whenever you need them. 15 miles is a long way to go at slow pace and you may need more things than is comfortable to carry.
However there is something to be said for being unsupported. This year I was using all the checkpoints and eating the food there and as a result felt more a part of the race. Last time I barely stopped and didn't really take in the opportunity to enjoy the checkpoint experience.
That said, I know that if I had a support crew this year they would have made me put on sun cream, now.
I spent the next few miles running close to Nick Lewis. I think he was following a run/walk strategy, as does Pat Robbins each time he smashes the course record. Typically it's 25 minutes at 9 minute miles and then 5 minutes walking. It seems like a slow way to do it but the times Pat gets and the time Nick got this year certainly prove it is possible to get a good time doing this. I doubt I'll ever have the discipline to do that. Run till you can't run. walk till you can't walk, crawl till you can't crawl, sleep and the try running again.
I couldn't remember many of my spli times from last year. My “Plan” was to get to 100 in 19 hours like last year and then not fall apart in the last 45. It became clear even before 40 that I was not going to achieve this. I recall from last year that there was a hill after about 44 miles which I ran up with ease. I was told by my team that I looked in a better way than those ahead and I felt that I had not even got started yet. This time it was the opposite. I staggered up this time and someone overtook me looking very fresh. That was me last year. I continued down back onto the canal had had to come to terms with the fact that I was not even a third of the way into the race and I was already exhausted.
I'd been running for nearly 10 hours. Chances are I'd have at least 24 hours to go if I wanted to finish. I tried to completely detach myself from this being a race now as 24 hour more exertion is something I could not come to terms with. I didn't even try the good old “chunking” method of breaking everything down into smaller pieces because I would never be able to forget just how many pieces there were.
Ultrarunning over the past few years I think has allowed me to distance myself from the panic button, not just in running but in other situations too. Not many things get me worked up nowadays and I have events like this to thank for that. In years gone by the bladder incident at mile 10 would have been still on my mind and grating through my brain but instead it was almost forgotten. I knew I felt bad right now but knew in time I could forget about it. I just needed to keep running and it would sort itself out. Don't Panic.
The sun was merciless, hanging in the middle of the sky unobscured by clouds and bearing down on a canal that also had no cover. The humidity was high next to the water and it was really taking it's toll. I would frequently overheat as I ran in the sun and would stop frequently to guzzle water. I would explode in sweat regularly and have to stop to cool down. I felt like I couldn't breathe properly, like I was trying to run with a sock stuffed in my mouth. I spoke to a guy who suggested that I ran all the sunny sections and walked in the shade to cool down. This seemed crazy to me at the time. Why would you put more effort in the sun? I was the perfectly sensible thing to do and I tried it. There were stages where I could not run more than half a mile without having to stop and drink/cool down. I'd forgotten the sun cream again.
On the plus side the sun meant that the canal became a carnival all the way down. Everyone was out enjoying the weather, drinking, BBQing and walking. I get comments all the time about the boredom of canals but this was great. Every now and then I'd get a comment asking what I was doing. Typical conversation goes something like
Boatman - “Hey, are you in a race?”
Me “Yep”
Boatman “Where did you start?”
Me “Birmingham”
Boatman “F**king hell, where are you running to?”
Me “London”
Boatman “Jesus. Where abouts do you sleep?”
Me “I don't”
Boatman – *Falls off boat.*
At about 62 miles the canal goes underground into Blissworth Tunnel. At this point you get to enjoy a nice 2 mile stretch of road and take your chances against the boy racers who tear up and down it. I’d been running for over 13 hours and was really starting to feel exhausted. It was 7 pm and the sun was still beating down on my head. I passed lots of very nice houses with very nice gardens and all I could think about was sleeping in them. The lawns looked fantastic and I just wanted to lie down on one.
I was running and walking at this stage, stopping frequently to drink out of my lemonade bottle and trying to force myself to stay awake. I’d never felt like this in a race before, it was actually an effort to stay awake. Sometimes I’d drift into the centre of the road and have to force myself back and walk a bit to regain my composure. I was not even half way in and I needed to go to bed. How on earth was I going to make it through the night? And then run on the next day? I tried not to think about it, which was easy to do since my brain was falling asleep and was thinking of those random abstract things you think about just before nodding off.
Don’t Panic.
I arrived at the Grand Junction Arms, the 70 mile checkpoint just as night was falling. Last year I was here about 2 hours before and I didn’t stop. As soon as I got onto the bridge I slumped into a chair and held my head back and closed my eyes. I could have stayed there all night.
There are not many rules in the Grand Union Canal Race. That’s what I like about it, it’s all about the running and not the admin. The only rules are that you have to stick to the route, always have your number on the front and that you are not allowed to stop for more than 40 minutes at a checkpoint.
That last rule was going to be hard for me to follow. I was ready to go to sleep. I could probably have just napped for 3 hours and then been right as rain. I wasn’t sure why I was so tired, I suppose I didn’t get enough sleep the week before. I was about to fall into a deep slumber when I received a prod from an organiser.
“You want some hot food?” He asked as I was scanning the scene, not quite sure where I was.The food I took (and that cheeky little scamp)
“What are the options?” I said. I had beans and mashed potato followed by a fruit salad and a cup of tea. I was in no rush to get up or to wolf the food down, I just took my time, updated my Facebook status and checked my messages.
Of all the moments in both of the years I have done this race I think this was the point where I was closest to quitting. I was not even half way and I could barely open my eyes. It was very different from last year. I thought about how I got out of the chair at Springwell Locks (120 miles) last year. Back then my body was broken, this time it was fine. Nothing hurt I just could not stay awake. When I was prodded a few moments before I was half expecting to be on the tube at Heathrow Airport or West Ruislip or some other place I ended up because I drunkenly missed my stop.
I fumbled around in my bag for some red bull and all of a sudden up popped Miffy. I had spent the previous week joking about taking this cute little rabbit toy on the canal with me and here she was hiding behind some Pringles. She really does like salty snacks.
I laughed out loud as I saw this and forgot for a while that I was in dire need of sleep. I sent a message to Katie who had obviously put the mischievous rodent into my bag and said it really cheered me up. It did, I was ready to get out of the chair again and do some running. And that I did.
I was looking forward to passing the half way mark, even though I wouldn’t really know where it was. For a while I forgot to be tired and started running along again at quite a pace. During the next 10 miles I overtook 5 people who looked like they were suffering going into the night. I was bouncing. Boing boing boing boing
The etiquette on overtaking runners differs according to the race. Normal mass road races I would just ignore anyone who I overtook or who overtook me unless they were a member of my club. With trail marathons and ultras I tend to be a bit more friendly and say a few words at least. Often I’ll run for a few minutes with someone and then let then go ahead/fall behind. This is easy when there are not too many runners in the event.
I’d always maintain that this is unlike any other “race” that I’ve done in that the competitors are not really “racing” each other. It would be disastrous to try and run someone else’s run in an event like this, to try and keep up with someone who is going a bit faster than you. However it is very similar to a race in that you have an effect on other runners as they do on you.
I was aware of the potentially destructive consequences of just bounding past someone like I wasn’t even trying. I was enjoying a rare moment of free running as we were heading into what many find the hardest part, the sunset. It can certainly have an effect on someone when they see another runner looking in much better shape. I know it does on me sometimes.
I didn’t want to appear rude as I went past people but nor did I want to lose any momentum as I knew this wouldn’t last forever. These moments are among the best in running, when you find reserves you didn't know you had and can really get moving. I overtook them without really saying much. I was fairly certain I was not chanting “boing boing boing boing”.
It got darker and I started to recognise some parts of the canal that I thought were quite nice from last year. I stopped to ask someone how far I was from Milton Keynes and he surprised me by saying I was already in Milton Keynes. I’d run 7 miles in no time at all. I was past half way and almost at the 3 marathons stage and feeling quite good. I got to 80 miles and saw another runner's support crew on top of a bridge. I said hello and carried on, by this point almost into complete darkness. I was putting off wearing my headtorch, but now I had to, otherwise I’d be falling over.
Beautiful Nightfall
I put on the torch and couldn’t quite believe what I saw. The light was reflecting off moisture coming off the canal that almost blinded me. It was as if the canal was on fire and I could not see for more than 5 meters. The sun had long since stopped beating down on my neck but its presence was still here in the dark. Not only was it giving me a hard time from above but it had also had been drowning me from below. I just couldn’t believe how much moisture there was in the air, there must have been even more earlier in the day. That would explain the sock in my mouth, I could take it out soon.
Before the race I thought quite a lot about the possibility of running through the night on my own. 2 concerns mainly, falling into the canal and meeting some unsavoury youths. I thought the latter was going to happen, there was a lot of activity on the canal even after night fell. While heading towards Leighton Buzzard I was startled briefly by a pit bull charging at me out of a crowd of bewildered kids. The dog just seemed friendly though as did the girl (can of Carling in one hand, plastic glass of wine in the other) who asked “are you running this for charity?” No I said, I’m running for me and carried on.
As night fell I started to feel sleepy again and slowed right down. Fighting through the mist I just focused on getting to the next checkpoint at about 87 miles. When I got there I was ready to go sleep but Henk (one of the marshals and organiser of the Caesars Camp 100) would not let me. I sat in the chair and chatted for what seemed like 5 minutes but was soon to be declared half an hour. Time moves fast when you are sat down it seems. I chatted a bit to Phillip who I had just passed. He suggested it may have been a mistake doing the Marlborough Downs 33 miler the week before. He is a silly boy.
I left the checkpoint almost against my will and was thrown back into the darkness, still wanting to fall asleep. At this stage everything looked like a bed. The benches outside the pubs and in the parks, the grass at the side of the towpath, I would even look at spaces in the bushes. I was not concerned at all with getting wet, bitten or hypothermia from lying down on the floor but I prevent myself from doing so because I was worried someone would see me and think I was dead. After only a couple more miles I just sat down on a pub bench and set the alarm on my phone for 15 minutes then collapsed into my hands.
I’m not sure what I was thinking here. What difference would 15 minutes make? At least in the MDS I had the option of sleeping as long as I’d liked so long as I made the finish before the cut off. Potentially I could fall asleep for hours and get pulled out of the race. I guess I just needed to get the fact that I was tired out of my mind. It was stressing me and probably making me more sleepy and slower. I was woken up by Nick M catching up again before the 15 minutes were up.
Nick was still looking amazingly well, he was run walking 5 on and 5 off. I walked for a bit and let him run on.
The Tesco in Leighton Buzzard is a landmark for me. It is probably a landmark for hundreds of the residents in Leighton Buzzard too but for completely different reasons. I vividly recall this being the place where my support crew met and fed me a burger last year, it was also the point where Pat Robbins flew past me like he wasn’t even making an effort and it was the first point in the race where I felt like I was struggling.
This year was very different. I’d been struggling for 50 miles. Pat was probably nearly finished and I was hoping to be many more miles further than I was. I saw Nick M again and he was waiting for Amy to come and feed him. I decided not to stick around and carried on.
Running ultramarathons gives you a weird sense of romance for places that are otherwise shit. I was not running through Maccu Pichu, looking at the Great Pyramids or taking in historic sections of the Great Wall of China. I was not in the wilderness, on a glacier or in the middle of a jungle, no I was in a Tesco car park in Leighton Buzzard. The Tesco wasn't even open. This was the place last year when I realised that I was struggling. About 90 miles in I was starting to feel the damage and about to start on the night section. This time I was already well into the night and had been struggling for a long time. This place has become a reference point for me marking the stark difference between the two races. I'm sure some of the residents of Leighton Buzzard have sense of romance about this place too, I suspect many a young boy has put his hands somewhere where that hadn't been before in this car park. Probably with a girl called "Shazzernay". Probably in a car made by Fiat
I wasenjoying the deserted A-road underpasses and bridges of the canal when I heard a guy from the other side of the canal shout for me. He looked lost but then said that he was meeting a friend of his to run through the night with and asked if I had seen him. I said no and ran on, he headed back in the opposite direction. Then, would you believe I bumped into the guy who he was trying to find, sat down on the grass. I said I just passed his friend and he ran the opposite way. This guy then started running in the opposite direction and I had to stop him. "There is no point adding miles to this" I said and offered to run with him for a while. We did and soon his buddy caught up and they both legged it off into the distance. I felt a bit bad again, only one of those guys has an excuse for being fresh.
Hallucinations are a very normal thing to happen in this kind of event and I don't get freaked out by them anymore. In fact they happen to me quite a lot when I wake up in the dark. You get presented with objects that you don't instantly recognise and your brain organises them into what seems to be the most logical thing at the time. For example I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and see some shapes in the corner. My brain usually resolve these into living things like someone watching over me or a dog. After (sometimes a few minutes) I gain my focus and see the objects for what they are, which might be a guitar with a coat hung on it. At this stage I've woken enough to realise that I was silly to think it was someone in the first place. The exact same thing happened here as it did in Canada. I'd see things along the canal and think they were something else, I saw flowers that turned into Umper-Lumpas and I'd pass lamp posts that I thought were other runners. My headlight would reflect on the water in a way that made it look like a cavernous drop. I'd get a bit worried that if I fell in that I'd plummet 30 meters rather than hit the water.
Hallucinating is different from completely disconnecting with reality, which is something I often do while sleeping. I sometimes enjoy short moments when I know I'm dreaming and then use that to get away with things that I wouldn't normally get away with. Usually jumping off tall buildings or killing sprees. I have yet to suffer that kind of lapse while awake, and running...
The days second sunrise started. I got rid of the light as soon as I could and felt more awake as the sun appeared. I had been cursing the sun all of the previous day and spent the night wanting it to return. I didn’t really recognise where I was and was trying to compare what I was running in daylight to what I ran last time in the night. All I remembered from last time was spending ages trying to get to Tring. I tried not to think about it. Sure enough Tring came, 99.5 miles in 23 hours.
I arrived at Tring in good spirits and terrible pain. I’d made a schoolboy error of not putting enough Vaseline on and stride by stride I was grating parts of my anatomy off. I had to run in a waddling style so it hurt less. Every now and then I’d feel 10000 volts shoot up right through me, I’d never had anything like this happen before, the pain was incredible and random. A constant grazing which depended on how fast I was moving and the occasional shock which knocked me sideways then stopped me each time.
I took my time at the checkpoint again and enjoyed a bacon sandwich. I knew that I had hours and miles to go and I knew that I was in for a hell of a lot of pain but I didn’t let that get to me at all, I let go of any idea of finishing this well, I just wanted to finish. I wanted another medal so I could use the 2 as dumbbells.
The marshals at this point commented on me being quite chirpy in comparison to all the other miserable gits who had been in so far. I felt quite good about that. Despite the sleepless night, sun stroked head and shredded bollocks I was still keeping a still upper lip. I ate a bacon sandwich and then saw the marshal was taking a call about who not to expect at the checkpoint as they had retired. I asked after Drew, Carl and Gavin and heard that they had all retired. This saddened me but I was still really pleased that Nick was still going strong. He was about 3 miles behind and we were exchanging messages quite frequently.
I asked whether there was a toilet around and the lady there said there was but that I’d have to use the disabled toilet. I said that I would have anyway, I was pretty disabled by that point. Without wanting to go into too much detail I discovered as I was finishing off in the toilet that I was bleeding quite a lot.
I plodded on and felt at home as soon as I passed the 100 mile point proper. I was now running on canal that I’d done lots of times before. Berkhamstead and Hemel seemed to pass a bit quicker than they did last year. I laughed again at the point where I remember Ben trying to feed me some warm salad pitta thing. I don’t think I found it funny at the time but was laughing now.
I was struggling without a support crew, that much was certain. Though it is impossible to say how much. While running the net 20 miles however it was like I had a ghost support crew. I’d remember certain points from last year, such as the salad pitta incident. I remembered chatting to Campbell before getting to Tring and the buildings that looked like scary robots as well as the 2 sharp uphill paths by the locks and some very steep downhill bridges. I remembered being sssshed as we stopped outside someones house for a food break. I remembered the exact bridge where I came off the canal last year to look at a road sign to see if we were out of Hemel yet and then being disappointed I remembered blaming it on Ben.
Many of the people I knew were doing the Green Belt Relay this weekend which involves running 6-13 miles on Saturday and then something similar on Sunday. They would all just be getting up now and probably complaining about having to run again, poor things. I was hoping to have this finished before many of them started their run. I fact I would finish after their second run having started before their first. I saw some early morning walkers and dogs. Another day was about to start. I’d been on my feet now (mostly) for 24 hours and still had at least 12 left. At least I didn’t feel sleepy anymore.
Second sunrise
For the next 40 miles I was running just ahead or just behind a guy called Jan. I didn’t mind when he went on ahead but he didn’t seem to want to let me go, it was like he was worried about getting lost. When I walked so did he and when I ran so did he. We didn’t speak that much, I did let him go ahead and then about half an hour later passed him when he was sat down on the grass with his eyes closed. I decided against prodding him, I was pretty sure he was not dead.
The sun came out and continued what it started the day before. By this point I was drinking lots. Every half a mile I’d stop and take my bag off to access my water bottle. The distance between Tring and Springwell locks was 20 miles and I had 3 litres of water. It wasn’t enough and I had to ask a man on a boat to fill my bottle back up. It wouldn’t have been a big problem, I could always have stopped in a café and got water, and maybe an ice cream.
It’s funny how simple maths can feel quite difficult when you are exhausted. I remember back in the days when I cared about what pace I was running marathons in the difficulty of extrapolating pace into times. “I’ve done 16 miles in 2 hours and want to break 3.20 then the remaining 10 I need to do in, ermmm 8 minute miles, oh but shit there is that stupid 0.2 at the end”. Simple maths like that is hard.
It was the same here except I was using distance measures to work out how far I had gone. Braunstone Locks is about 44 miles into the race. From then on there are distance markers saying how many miles it is to Braunstone. So, it’s pretty easy to know how far you have gone? 44 plus whatever you read equals total distance. It would seem easy, except for when the numbers are over 66, or are odd.
There were a few times when I thought I was 10 miles behind of where I was because I forgot to carry the 1. Only for a second though. 44+59=93? No wait, I’ve just passed 100 that can’t be right.
Don’t Panic
Finally I arrived at Springwell Locks and had another sit down. Jan had overtaken me earlier and was already there. It was approaching noon and I was thinking about being in the pub later that evening. This was the moment last year where I discovered my hideous blisters, this year there were none. I had a cup of tea, all very civilised and probably stayed there for about half an hour. I was feeling close to home now, which made it easier on the mind if not the body.
I used the mile markers to try and figure out my pace. I was running something like 11 minute miles while I was running but I was stopping a lot, getting water out or being electrocuted from underneath. From Tring there are a lot of small downhill slopes that are agony to get down, I had to go down them sideways. I ran under another mental landmark (the M25) and carried on towards home. I was still in contact with Nick and he told be he was still moving but had hurt his ankle and was struggling. He was about 3 miles behind me.
I’ve known Nick for about a year and a half. I met him not long after he ran his first marathon. It was almost 2 years ago to the day that he would have been nearing the end of the Edinburgh marathon, now he was 120 odd miles into a run that he started 30 hours ago. Not many people progress that fast.
I feel responsible for getting Nick into this, I’d been going on about it so much since last year and said to him that he could do it. Not only was I certain that he could do it I also thought he’d get more out of doing it than anyone else I knew. Last year really changed me and made me feel great about myself, now he was experiencing the highs and lows that I did last year (and this year) and was well on the way to the final high.
There is no skill to finishing a race like this, no natural talent or tactical mastery required. All I think are needed are a genuine love of running combined with a lack of fear. Nick has both of these in spades. There are many runners I know who chose to be afraid of everything they can. Worryingly there are “runners” I know who fail the first thing too.
I spoke to Nick lots before this race and it got me really excited about it. I’m certainly not the authority on ultra running but felt like I could give advice on how to run this race which I hope he found helpful. I thought about how much joy he’d get from finishing this and that gave me a lift.
I managed to get through this race with no major emotional moments like last year. It was much harder this time but I felt in total control (most) of the time. This was a great validation of my own resilience in dealing with the problems that I had but in a way I wanted to break down in some way. The race felt a bit sterile, I knew I was hurting and knew what the problems were but I also knew how to deal with everything.
Nick was a few miles behind, perhaps he would finish a few hours after I did. I was looking forward to sitting on the wall in Little Venice with a pint in my hand and waiting for him to cross the line. If it meant as much to him as it did to me last year then that was a moment I wouldn’t miss for the world, even if it happened at 3am. I looked like I was going to escape my race without any emotional moments, and I decided that if I was to have such an episode then it would have been when watching Nick run under the finishing banner.
This thought lifted me a bit more and I continued to slowly chip away at the miles. I was 125 miles into 145 but knew that more had been added due to a diversion around Southall. Whether it was 20 or 23 didn’t really matter in the big scheme of things but it is something to think about. After over 30 hours of sleep deprived movement you are limited in the sophistication as to what you can think about. When basic addition eludes you I would suggest that now is not the time to be asking yourself “Should I go long on basic fixed income derivative hedge funds?” or “Is all this stupid running some latent manifestation of suffering earlier in my life than I subconsciously want to repeat?”.
Instead you allow yourself the luxury of thinking about things that really don’t matter, such as “how often to canal boats crash and is there canal rage?” or “Why does the circle line have only 1 stop with disabled access?” Trying to guess the extra distance I’d be running through Southall was a pointless exercise but a low level distraction.
Not a cloud in the sky.
I was just ambling along the canal, enjoying my car crash of a race but looking forward to getting it over with. Jan was always just in front or just behind me, looking absolutely knackered. I still didn’t chat too much unless another passer by asked what I was doing. I was keen on making them fall over. Continuing to dwell on the things that really don’t matter I decided to get my phone out to bore the world via facebook on how I was doing and check my messages. I opened a message from Nick saying “I’m done”.
This knocked the wind out of my sails, or not so much a wind but a barely recognisable breeze. Whatever it was it felt like it had just been turned the other way. I stopped, sat down and tried to call him but there was no response. I walked on for a few minutes and called again but again no response. I was devastated for him, and for me too, I was looking forward to his finish so much.
I don’t know what I would have said if he had picked up the phone. He was probably in a state when anything anyone said would have just sounded patronising. I imagine he wanted to just curl up into a ball and for no one to look at him or speak to him. I could have said “well done” and “you got further than most” and “you were really unlucky”. The fact is that none of those would have made any difference, if it were me I’d want to just be on my own for a while. Nick finishing became one of the things I was really looking forward to and really spuring me on and that had now been taken away. I decided to wait till he wanted to talk to me and just get on with my race in the meantime.
I caught the sight of a London Bus. A red double decker crossing a bridge somewhere near Uxbridge. This was a lovely sight and was another sign that I was headed home. Somehow is it a psychological lift to know that if I dropped out of the race right now I can get home by using my Oyster card. (Assuming there was enough credit on it).
One of the best bits (if not the best bit) about this race is the left turn at Bulls Bridge Junction (132 miles). I don’t think anyone has made it this far and has not continued to Little Venice. On crossing this bridge and then running under it you feel like you are a quantifiable distance from the finish. At no other point in the race can you begin to imagine how far you still have to go. After this left turn you feel like you are on the home straight.
Unfortunately this year part of the towpath had collapsed near Southall and we had to follow a diversion through the town. It was everything I expected from Southall on a warm afternoon, the choking smell of exhaust, crowded streets and a guy begging me for bus fare. I explained that I had no money and that I was in a race but he didn’t seem to get it. I ran/hobbled on and ignored him. I had loads of money on me but wasn’t going to take my bag off my back for a crack head.
Jan and I navigated Southall together. It seemed like a long way round but there were signs in the streets pointing out the official diversion. After what seemed like forever we were back on the canal and could see the next checkpoint. The final checkpoint.
I got to the checkpoint and looked behind to see Jan sat down with his feet in the water. The sunstroke may have made him mad, even at that stage I wouldn’t have touched the water in the canal. The final checkpoint is just under a bridge and I saw Henk again, the guy who kept prodding me to stay awake in the middle of the night. He was equally helpful this time, telling me to “F**K off out of his checkpoint”. He had a point, there was no use waiting around here when I was so close to the end.
I ran on and Jan ran ahead again. He didn’t leave my side for about 50 miles, it was like having a pet Scandinavian. It was nice having someone to run near and at the same time not feeling obliged to talk much.
Around now is a good time to think about what I had done today (and yesterday). I came here much less nervous than last year, much less afraid and with as good a chance of winning a race as I would ever likely to have. I’d been stung badly by lack of preparation and some bad luck. Now I was paying for it, every step was still painful. I was hoping to have been finished long ago but I still had 10 miles to go and they were going to take up to 3 hours.
I started to think about how I’d “sum up” this experience to anyone who asked but was short of time. For this I’d usually reference some inspirational quotes from historical figures or other runners. This time I thought about 2 quotes from one of my favourite films – Apollo 13.
Gene Krantz (played by Ed Harris) is the head of operations for the Apollo 13 mission and is being grilled by his superior about this” failed” mission whilst the astronauts are still up there and in danger. He yells how does he expect to deal with the biggest disaster that NASA have ever faces to which Gene replies “With all due respect sir, I think this will be our finest hour”.
And this is what it felt like now. Lots of things had been thrown at me to get me off of this canal, some my fault, others not. It wasn’t going to look as polished as last time and it was a hell of a lot slower, but getting to the end of this was going to be my finest hour (or 37). I wasn’t going to accept that crossing the finish line was a failure of any kind.
It was turning into another glorious day and people were out on the canal in force. I felt like I was getting in the way of toddlers wanting to bound around on their bikes. I started to get messages from Lou who was going to meet up with me with Gavin. I was looking forward to that, she promised ice-cream. I was trying to explain to Lou where I was on the canal. I said about 4 miles from bulls bridge junction. This meant nothing to her. For the first time in the race I got my map out to try and find where I was so Lou could find me, then I took a photo of a sign and sent that.
It was about 5pm and it was getting a bit cooler. Lou popped up as promised on her bike with Gavin and a load of goodies. sausage rolls, a really stodgy cake and a kit kat ice cream. The ice cream was very welcome and Lou and Gavin were even more. I suggested they took my bag off me and cycle up about a mile and I would run to them. Taking the bag off my back felt so good and was ready to run again. I run to Lou like a toddler running to Mummy, each time being rewarded with water and stodge. The last few miles felt like we were on the canal path for a sunday walk. At some point I nearly forgot that I was very near the end of a race. I snapped back into it and keen to finish, more to stop these guys getting bored than anything else.
Crossing the North Circular was another romance in a shit hole. Everything about the whole scene is wrong, however I started to appreciate the unique sound of London. I'd spent nearly 2 days running through the unfamiliar and now I was almost home, literally as my house was about 2 miles away. I passed Jan again and another chap who had been walking since 2 AM. There is not really much you can say here, it won't matter as he was so close to the finish. I just said "we are sooooo close to the finish". We were, I passed a bar that I went to for a friends birthday drinks where I spent the night talking about how much I loved this canal. I then ran along the road that the car was parked in last year, I new I was about 100m from the finish. There it was again, less of a suprise than last year but no less welcome. I didn't speed up for a sprint finish, I just plodded through. It seemed fitting to the whole race.
Shaking Dick's hand at the end of this run and having him hang a huge slab of metal around your neck is worth every minute of the pain and suffering. The mass of the medal is probably equal to the amount of flesh I discarded along the way. I wouldn't for a second suggest that he was Shylock, quite the opposite, the man is a Saint as were all those who helped make this event possible, even Henk who made sure I got up and finished this.
I faired much better in the post race drinking this time, I managed 2 pints of Guinness without feeling sleepy. Last year half a pint put me in a coma. I'd lost the need to sleep which was great, when you are feeling this good the last thing you want to do is fall into your subconcious. There are times for that during a race but certainly not afterwards.
As so it ended quite unlike how I expected. I thought long and hard about how this matched up to expectations and that got me thinking about the guys in the spaceship again.There is another scene in Apollo 13 where the media are treating the whole exercise with indifference. It’s not really headline news. One of the journalists asks Jim Lovell (Played by Tom Hanks) “Isn’t this all a bit routine now?” Jim replies “There is nothing routine about space travel”.Here I was trying to rate my race based on expectations and then I realised that expectations mean nothing in a race like this. It’s so big and over so long that each time I do this is a new experience.For that I am glad. I see myself doing this run another dozen times in my life, it’s incredible. I don’t want any time to be the same as the last, regardless of times and positions so long as each time throws up something new and I still finish I’ll regard that as a success.
I got bored of road running for a number of reasons, one of which is the repetitive nature of it. Whether it’s a 26 mile road through Paris, Berlin, Deptford or Luton it’s still the same. You can compare races all around the world directly with each other. Here you can’t even compare the same route I ran only 1 year apart with itself.
I loved the disorder and unpredictability of this year. I can’t get that elsewhere. Running performance is increasingly getting broken down into systems of equations. These equations can then be optimised and used to churn out a training programme which can be followed exactly by soulless robots to achieve a pre-defined target. All very predictable, all very prescribed. I don’t want to be part of this.
I was so pleased that the race had so much more in it this time than last time. The extra 7 hours, the sun induced delirium, the night time hallucinations and narcoleptic moments. The crippling pain in sensitive areas and constant thirst and dehydration. Feeling drained, hot and bursting out in sweat while nearly wondering into oncoming cars. Yes this year was a lot more difficult with a lot of bad things thrown in, but it could have been much much worse. It could have been a doddle.
The first week was actually much easier than I expected. I'm not yet bored of the few things I've figured out I can eat and am looking forward to finding out more. I don't feel weak and feeble and am not craving meat at all.
The hardest part of the week was coming to terms with what beer I could drink. This was a quiet week socially and I only drank on wednesday. Of the beer in the pub the only one available to me was Heineken. Most beers use Isinglass, an extract from fish swimbladders for clarification. There are plenty of beers that don't use this though. These lists have been my shining light this week.
Wednesday was my first potentially "socially awkward moment". Normally on a wednesday I'd go for a run with the club, have a kebab on the way to the pub or a burger in there, have several pints of Guinness and then depending on how drunk I was stagger into the chip shop/Ealing Kebab and gorge myself on something filthy. I didn't really bother when all those around me ordered pies and burgers, I was fine with my average lager.
I have learned a lot about food this week though and long may it continue in the coming weeks. So far I have learned;
That fish have special bladders for swimming
Tofu gives you man boobs
Soya milk is not as bad as I thought but is not healthy
3 Flavours of pringles are vegan friendly, oddly Taxas BBQ being one of them
Waitrose do these lovely 3 packs of snack sized hummus
Badger Beers are Vegan friendly too and they have a fantastic website and you can buy T-Shirts and go and visit their brewery
But I still get asked quite a lot why I am doing this and I feel like I should have an answer but I really don't know. Anyhow, I've though of another possible one.
EXPLANATION FOR ALL OF THIS NUMBER 7
I need to eat heathier, that is a fact. I never want to be super healthy, I still want to drink and eat some crap but I have recognised that I don't really know how to eat heathily even if I wanted to.
So, instead of "cutting back" or "moderating" the bad things that I eat I've decided to rule them out completely for a few months which will then force me into learning pretty quickly how to eat healthier. With no option of animal products I am going to hit a really steep learning curve on nutrition, being thrown in at the deep end as it were. If I were to gradually get into it I would too easily back out and not learn a thing.
Kind of like being thrown into the desert. You'll quickly learn what it takes to suvive there (or die). The correct way would be to practice in a sand pit, then a sand pit on a warm day, then maybe a beach, then maybe a beach on a warm day. Then tackle a sand dune in winter, then a sand dune in winter with a jumper on, then a sand dune in summer, then a sand dune on in summer with a jumper on. Charting each of these experiences and logging every possible piece of data.
I was suprised (and a little disappointed) when Dr Robert (Masochistic race organiser) asked the starting field how many had done this race before and only 3 people raised their hands. I did this 2 years ago and it had remained my favourite race in the UK. I aslo recall it being quite hard. Not that this should bother me, I've done some big runs in the two years since I did this, surely it would seem much easier this time?
This year nearly 150 people were at the start line, comared to only 50 the time before and 14 the time before that. It only happened once every 2 years which is a shame, I suspect it's to give those who do it more time to forget how hard it was before deciding to do it again.
The race description would go something like this; Very steep hill, less steep hill, down loads of stairs, round some woods, UP the stairs, nice downhill section, up another sharp hill, downhill into a cow field then back uphill out of it, downhill in the woods cross a road then tackel the Eiger Steps (lots of really big steps), across a field then over a fence, very sharp uphill then a downhill so steep you have to hang onto trees to stop yourself flying into the road.
At the bottom of that hill is a table with lots of goodies on, well deserved and much needed as you then have to turn around and do the whole thing in reverse. The downs become ups and the ups become downs and what happened to flats is irrelevent because there are none of that. So that's back down the Eiger steps, over the hills back to the first staircase then down and up again. Down the really steep grass hill you remember at the start and then through the finish line.
Except that this is the finish line for those doing the half marathon. Sure enough you have to turn around and do all that again. But it's OK, at the end there are carrots.
The race briefing reminded us that this was an "astonishingly difficult race", it was almost as if he wanted some of us to give up before the start. We then all sung the national anthem. Well, I na na naaaed most of it as I didn't know the words, the Daily Mail will be fuming.
Most people run up the big grassy hill the first time. I ran ahead to take a photo and let everyone else go about their business of racing while I plodded along taking photos and chatting. The steps come after about a mile and are hard work going down. Around a woodland and over a stream via some stepping stones and you are back by those steps and have to go up.
I am unaware of any "way to do" steps. It's not normally needed in any race but in this one there are probably about 1000 of them. Are you supposed to hold on to your knees and wade up? Or do you work your arms at the side. I tried everything and nothing worked. It always hurt.
And here I was again, 2 years on at the same point, 1.5 miles into a marathon and unable to breathe. I thought of all the pointless times to wear a heart rate monitor, this was it. So I decided to wear it, just to see how funny the lines would go on the graph. I'm sure someone could look at the output and tell me that my work rate was often inconsistent with the power needed to climb the elevation and as a result I was spending too long in the anerobic zone which would results in premature depletion of glycogen and build up of lactic acid. I would call such a person a boring c**t. All I wanted out of it was a funny graph.
Somehow I (and about 10 others) managed to miss a turning (it wasn't marked very well). We ran down a nice path at great pace. In races like this always be suspicious of long downhills, either you've gone wrong or you are about to emerge from the woods to see a mountain. This time it was the former, we all ran back up the hill and met the rest of the runners going the right way. At this point I was almost last.
One of the many great things about this race is that it loops back onto itself a few times and you get to see everyone, the leaders and the ones at the back. I was suprised to see Mark and Rob 2 miles ahead of me after only 5 miles. How wrong had I gone? I later found out that many had took a shortcut as a result of it not being marked very well, I took the short cut too but came back and ran more.
I reached the first switchback after about 1.10. Not too bad and was convincing myself that I'd dont the harder part of the course since I had gone up 2 staircases and down 1. I only had to go down 5 and up 4 from here.
Heading back I started chatting to a guy who was complaining about the extra distance he did. I said I was happy with it since we'd paid a lot to run this race and the extra miles were free. He laughed and carried on.
The Mid Summer Munroe race starts at 4pm, 2 hours after this and is only half of the race the picnicers have to do. On my 3rd staircase I encountered lots of these runners, all looking fresh and not really knowing what was ahead of them. I crawled back up those stairs again and then ran down the big grassy hill to the halfway point.
Dr Robert warned us all to save something for the second lap. I suspect everyone gets a significant negative split in this (mine was 2.30/2.46) however I think most people do worse than that. I overtook quite a lot of people the second time round, many of whom had stopped to lay on the floor and deal with cramp, or had just given up altogether.
There is a debate to be had here as to whether it is better to know what is coming or whether it is better not to know. I'm not too bothered, my memory is too poor anyway to really notice what happened a few hours before. The stairs do get much harder though.
It was all over in 5.16. I didn't break 5 hours again and I was much slower than last time, it was however the first long run I'd done for a while without the return of my chaffing issues so I was really pleased with that. I am going to suggest that Dr Rob makes this into an Ultra next time, that would leave most people crippled.
I remember now why this was called "The Hardest Marathon In Britain", the reason being that it is. I thought Exmoor or the Jurassic Coastal marathons might top it but they did not come close. My Garmin said that this was over 10000ft od ascent. Not for the feint hearted, or even most of the normal hearted either.
At the end of the first day of not eating animals I actually feel a bit stuffed. I may have overdone it food wise today, Tofu and rice, Hummus and falafel wraps, lots of fruit juice and half a can of pringles. Not sure whether this will have the weight loss effect I was hoping for.
I have received mixed reactions from peope I've been speaking to about doing this. Mainly derision from people who know me and encouragement from those who don't. As I've mentioned before I am not completely clear as to why I am doing this, I just want to try something radical and see how it goes.
My decision to go completely vegan has been influenced by two things (at least). My inability to moderate and my desire to not cut down on my alcohol consumption. There are plenty more reasons that may fall out of my unconsious brain over the coming weeks.
I find it harder to moderate than I do to switch things off. I know that I could lose weight, get faster, run better etc by eating less of the things that are bad. This is something I can't really control though. I live in constant danger of thinking "one kebab won't hurt" and "well I'm out now I may as well have the biggest burger on the menu". I know that one will always lead to more. In this respect fast food for me is just like nicotene, trans-fats and reality TV; the only safe level of consumption is zero.
And I just don't want to give up alcohol or even cut down much. I love that I have the chance to drink and socialise so much. My alcohol consumption is probably higher than the 28 units suggested by whoever, maybe it's closer to 40. I wouldn't say it's out of control. I do like to get drunk and stupid.
So whenever I say what I am doing the two most common "Why don't you just" responses I get involve cutting down on the beer or moderating my food. "Why not be just a normal vegetarian?" Because I'll binge on cheese and eggs. There is a chance I may do the same with falafel and hummus.
And where is the experimental experience of moderating? Like saying "I won't bite my nails". I wouldn't expect any life changing experience from that.
I've just been assigned a mentor from the Society of Vegans which is quite exciting. They offer help to any new starters. I think the first questions I'm going to be asking are about beer.
Anyhoo, loads to write but no more time today. Us celery eaters need our sleep.
I’ve just emptied my fridge and cupboards of anything containing traces of animals, including the spider that has been living there for some time. All this food is now sitting in a pile on my kitchen table waiting for my housemates to dive in.
I have just been shopping and bought some of the vegan foods that I would normally ridicule. Soya milk, tofu, carrot batons and so forth. Luckily there are lots of foods that I really like in there. Pringles (Lime and Chilli flavour), falafel, hummus, coco pops etc. I’m currently finishing off the chicken I have left and then that’s it.
I have decided to attempt 3 months eating as a vegan. During this time I plan on running more than I ever have done before and the 3 months will cumulate with the Spartathlon; a 153 mile road race in Greece.
This is something I put about 20 minutes thought into on Wednesday morning before I decided on doing it. I’d just been reading “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougal and was getting ideas about how to enjoy running more. He made a great case for saying that humans are naturally able to run long distances and without having to eat animals to do it. A year ago I would have laughed, now I really want to put it to the test.
Why Not?
I decided to do this before I really thought about why. All conversations I’ve had with people since are demanding answers to this question. “Why not decide what you want to achieve, think of all the options, weight up the pros and cons and then make a decision?” is the usual response I get. Instead I’ve made the decision and feel I have to retrofit a justification. There obviously was some reason, conscious or otherwise as to why I’m doing this. Some thoughts that don’t quite add up to a proper explanation are;
· I can’t think of a time this year so far that I’ve really enjoyed a run. I can think of lots last year, regardless of time where I’ve actual just loved the fact that I was running. This year everything has been a disaster just because each run I have done I’ve wanted nothing more than for it to finish. I suspect this has something to do with the shit I put into my body.
·I want to lose some weight. I am 13.5 stone and want to get down to 12. I’ve admitted defeat in every being able to “moderate” anything. I know I can’t just “cut down” on fatty foods, booze or sugar, I need to have some strict rule that eliminates this. I still plan on eating a lot and drinking a lot too. The last thing I want to do is curb my drinking. I hope that by completely changing my eating habits I can do this.
·I kind of want to prove a point made in the book. The author suggests that we don’t need meat and the best ultra-runner in the world would agree. I could read more books about it and talk to more people about it, or I could just experiment on myself. If nothing else it will at least be an experience.
·I want to nail the Spartathlon.
The best that could happen is that I could lose 2 stone, feel healthier than I ever have done before, run better and enjoy it more and have a great race in September. The worst that could happen is that I mess up my race and feel a bit miserable. Small price to pay. Actually I am aware that this may make me ill, or just look like a dick but I’m not too worried about that.
The Bonehead Questions.
Since running long distance I have had to suffer a constant stream of stupid questions. Maybe stupid is a bit harsh but I get fed up of answering the same things over and over again...
1. Isn’t it really bad for your knees? - NO 2. Don’t you get bored when running? - NO 3. You must get through lots of trainers? – Well, yes. Obviously. 4. What was your average pace in [Insert trail ultra here]? – Dunno. Don’t care really since “average” does not really mean anything here. 5. Do you stop to eat and go to the toilet? - Well yes obviously. No actually, let’s say no. I just carry on running and shit myself to save a few seconds.
I feel like I’ve got the answers sussed to these, however I am now being exposed to a new series of questions for which I don’t yet know the answers. I’m confident that the answers are there though. So far I’ve had...
1. How will you get enough protein? 2. How will you get enough energy for all the running you do? 3. How will you get enough nutrients? 4. Won’t you get bored?
So..... Day 1 tomorrow. I’ve already cooked my tofu/pepper/rice thingy to have for lunch. I’m looking forward to it.
OK I've been asked quite a bit for advice on how to run this race based on last years success. None of this is about training, more things to help you through the day(s) of the race. If I have forgotten anything then let me know.
Enjoy...
I’m hardly the authority on long distance ultra-running, however for what it’s worth here is some stuff in no particular order that helped me the first time round and some stuff I’m going to do differently next time.
Don’t take every little set-back personally. After a long time on your feet you start to suspect that the whole world is conspiring against you. It is easy to start thinking that it is raining because the clouds hate you, that a dog gets in your way because it hates you, a gate is a bit stuck because the guy who was supposed to fix it hates you and your support crew forgot the jaffa cakes because they really hate you. Thinking this way will make things worse (and possibly your friends to desert you)
To combat that try to take pleasure out of everything that goes your way, no matter how small. Like when a dog does not attack you, or someone stands aside or opens a gate, or some path that is nice and flat and not covered in mud. Smile when these happen, it helps.
Eat what you want to eat. You may get told that the absorption rates of the high protein content of your food may not be optimal for the blah blah blah. Hit that person with the large boring textbook they were reading from. Sometimes a burger or some piece of greasy saturated fatty meat just feels good, and that is more important.
I took crisps, pepperami, pot noodles, jaffa cakes and sweets. I also got sausage rolls, a burger and a subway. I carried protein bars from point to point without eating them. I knew they would do me good but like a kid who does not want to take his medicine I didn’t eat it. A big reason why people don’t finish races like this is because people don’t eat, and not because they eat the wrong things. Absorption rates, digestion and carb/protein rations are irrelevant if you are unwilling to put the stuff near your mouth in the first place. Think about what you may look forward to eating and take that.
I did drink huge amounts of High-5 4-1 energy sachets. Drink lots and early. If you have a crew get them to mix the stuff before you need it and then just pour it into your bladder/bottles.
A flask with hot water/tea/coffee is always useful to have for a support crew. At the time of writing the facebook group “A cup of tea solves everything” had 211,299 members”.
Don't stress too much about the sleep. You'll probably not sleep much on the friday night (this doesn't mean you shouldn't try..). Humans obviously need an amount of sleep to function normally but we are also are designed for occasional sleepless periods (such as mammoth hunts). I took some caffeine drink as it got dark on the first day and at no point did I feel like falling asleep. I did no night running beforehand.
Don’t try too hard to avoid things like water/mud. If it rains you and your feet are going to get wet, don’t fight it by wasting energy jumping about all over the place trying to avoid the water.
Don’t try to guess the exact distances you have covered using the maps (or even gps and things). You will naturally slow down a points when you are exhausted and your perception of time will be different. Don’t think too much about whether you’ve done 95 miles or 96, just concentrate on how you feel.
Support Crews – Try and resist giving exact distances unless you are sure. Saying “3 miles to the next checkpoint” when it is 4 will only lead to resentment. Try to make them feel better but not by lying. Imagine you are telling a friend that his new pair of pink lycra shorts look ludicrous. It hurts at the time but it’s for his own good.
When in pain and suffering think about the people who are not doing this race. Feel sorry for them, they are suffering much more than you, they just don’t know it.
Remember that this will be a learning experience for the crew too. They are likely to get things wrong, not be in the right place all the time. Think about the time they are dedicating to you, be thankful of having friends like that.
Similarly for the crew, remember that your runner may not be themselves at some stages. Don’t get offended and just accept it for now. There will be plenty of time after the race to play their tantrums back to them.
Fresh shoes/socks and T-shirts were a joy to put on, like sleeping in freshly laundered bedsheets.
The course leaves the canal twice. Once at about 45 miles and again at about 62 (check this). Otherwise no navigation is required. Try to remember these points and know where to go, neither are difficult but the paranoia of running some extra meters can reduce many a man (or woman) into a gibbering wreck.
2 days before this race I went to the supermarket and bought a weeks worth of food. I then spent the next 2 days pretending I was Rik Waller.
Take with you memories of races/runs where you felt really shit at some point and then turned out ok. Concentrate on how you felt rather than times/pace/positions etc. A few examples of the things I remember are;
The Jurassic coast challenge, 3 marathons in 3 days. The start of the third day I would barely walk, yet I could run most of 30 miles over huge hills. I learned not to trust my legs too much when they told me to give up
Dunwich Dynamo 200k bide ride. Done in the pouring rain in the middle of the night I spent the whole ride paranoid (completely unjustified) that my chain was going to snap and I’d have to find a barn or something to sleep in. It was freezing regardless of how much effort I put in. I learned from this not to take too much notice of my brain when under stress.
Round Rotherham 50. Again, freezing cold, wet and with indoor checkpoints that called me like sirens. They were so hard to leave, as soon as I stepped out I froze and wanted to go back indoors. Each time I’d feel better once I got moving. I learned not to focus on how I was feeling now but on how I could potentially feel in the future. It is often very different to now.
Shakespeare Marathon. I got a marathon pb the day after running a 24 mile fell race. I learned from this that sometimes stuff just doesn’t make sense.
Remember – The Tesco in Leighton Buzzard is NOT a 24 hour one. They won’t open at 3am, regardless of whether you explain why you are there.
The “importance” of Planning. I’m going to labour this one, it wont be relevant to most, but it may be for some, including me. No doubt you will have read running books and magazines that spout auto-rhetoric about “planning makes perfect” and “failing to prepare is preparing to blah blah blah blah....”. While many do seek confirm and find use in careful preparation, others may find the process of planning difficult, stressful and ultimately counter-productive. When I was meeting my support crew a week before with the intention of “planning” my run I could not tell them anything, it was too hard. The thought of thinking that far ahead as to what I may require at different stages was making be more stressed and more resentful of the race. I only paid lip-service to a “plan”. On race day I arrived with no idea of how exactly I was going to do this, but I did know that along the way I’ll have to deal with stuff that I have dealt with before and with stuff that I hadn’t. I had no plan of how to deal with it, I just knew that I could. I winged the whole thing. I’m not saying that this is the approach that everyone should take. In fact I suspect that 90% would benefit more by planning, which is fine. It’s not fine for running coaches/books/magazines to say that those who don’t/can’t plan are consigned to failure. It’s like saying that left handed people can never succeed.
Getting bored while running? If you have read this far you are not easily bored so you’ll be fine.
If you have a support crew at all it means that there are people who love you more than you may realise. That must make you feel better?
Remember during the race how far you have progressed as a runner in the time that you have run. It is humbling to recall the time I thought 4 miles on a treadmill was enough to kill me. How terrified I was of my first marathon, how I could not walk the day after my first ultra. These all sound silly to me now and I looked forward to the time when my apprehensions of this race seem silly.
Receiving the race number made the race a very real thing for me. Until I got the number and instructions through the post the GUCR was just some crazy thing that I had to do in the future sometime. I went from wanting to talk about it constantly to not wanting to talk about it. From being excited to being nervous. From dreaming about a glorious finish to actually wondering how the hell I was going to do this. There is no real advice in this paragraph, just some weird thing that happened to me.
Think about the finish constantly (from today until the second you finish). At some dark moment on the day(s) you may forget why you are there. You are there to experience the amazing thing that is the finish line. It becomes really easy to drop out if you can’t remember that.
Take heart in any “performance” results you may have had in the lead to this race. The times themselves are unimportant, however feeling like you are in the shape of your life is important. I got pb’s in the marathon, half and 10k in the build up to this. It helped me believe that I could do anything.
Think outside yourself if you are struggling with keeping your mind together. Think about what your friends may say if they were describing your race or imagine watching yourself talk at the end of the race. Thinking about yourself in the 3rd person is a great way to escape. 3 years pissing around on Facebook has made James very good at this. If you want a real ego trip then why not plan your own funeral? Who would be there? What would they say? Who would get really drunk and divulge some sordid secret about your past to others who didn’t know?
Blisters – Don’t have a lot to say on them as I just run with them and slash them at the end. I suggest that if you can run on them then do, but don’t try to change how you run as this will cause injury.
Take a phone and programme a list to send texts to. The constant drip of replies was uplifting.
If you get a chance to talk to passers by about what you are doing. Some dumbfounded looks and remarks you get are priceless. I’ll never forget the guy who nearly fell off his boat when I told him, and that was just a 50 miler.
Try to remember everything, the good and the bad. It will be part of you forever.
It is an interesting race format. Start of near my home in London, run to nowhere in particular, stop over in a hotel and the next day run back.
I'm always going to be sentimental about this canal as it was the scene of my first ultra and of my best race ever. I was not placing too many expectations on this after my collapse in Portland last week. I'd have liked to have taken both days fairly hard but was probably going to be restricted by my recovering body.
Many were in two minds about entering this as the price had doubled to £95 for the two days and last year the course was only 37.5 miles instead of 40. I decided to do it as it was so close to where I live there were no travel costs and there was nothing else on this weekend. Plus the organisers promised to make it 40, which was nice, I don't like wearing T-Shirts that big the wrong impression.
The start was a bit of a mess. Nick and I arrived before most and suffered a full equipment check. It's easy to get a bit complacent nowadays about stuff, though I'm still not sure how useful a whistle will be on a canal. They grumbled a bit about taking my bag to the finish (something that was included last year for half the price) and at first they said that the run will start by running to Kew Bridge, over it then along the river and back over.
The few of us who knew the area quite well knew that there was no way back over the river to the canal and could not quite understand where we'd end up going, then as we were outside ready to start word got around that we were running straight for the canal and not Kew Bridge. Not a great start and confirmation that it would be 37.5 miles again this year.
The start was fairly pedestrain. Ian and a group set out in front but were not going particularly quickly. I quickly realised 2 schoolboy errors that I made in packing my bag. Firstly I had forgotten all my food. Secondly I had not rinsed out my bladder and was essentially drinking washing up liquid.
I ran for a few miles with Drew and Nick but didn't like running on their heels so I ran off ahead. The first day was pretty uneventful. I was most worried about not having enough energy to get me round as I'd forgotten my food. When I arrived at the first checkpoint all they had was water (the website said there will be energy drink). I spent the time between the next checkpoint looking for a place where I could buy some food as I was unlikely to be able to run 37.5 miles empty. I could finish and it may be a useful fat burning excercise but it would do me no good training.
Fortunately the second checkpoint did have some chocolate and sweets and I took quite a few. I still was not confident on getting through without feeling hungry.
I managed to keep a fairly constant pace and overtook a few guys who had set out too fast. I got chatting to a guy who recognised me purely because of what I was wearing, my beige shorts and red top. The infamous runners world shot (July 2008 pg 107) of the Exmoor Marathon was etched onto his mind in a way he did not know. First time I have been recognised for my dress sense. He said he'd done the Exmoor Marathon and that it was his first. That is pretty hardcore. I'll never get to do my first again but if I did I doubt I'd do something like that.
It got much harder that I thought towards the end. I didn't remember feeling this bad last year. Technically the first day is "uphill" but only by a few hundred feet. There are regular locks that involve a short but steep incline. These hurt my back. Having run this course a few times now it has become familiar and I was waiting for a muddy grassy stretch followed by an area covered in trees. That was when to make the turning off the canal.
The finish was fairly unspectacular. I managed to avoid running into Tring like I did last year and finished at the hotel in 5.28. 6th place I think. I thought when I turned off the canal that it was not clear where to go once I was on the road. I knew where to go from previous times but others might not. I them discovered that the yellow arrow pointing people off the canal had now fallen and several people were running past it.
Day 2 was far more interesting, for me anyway. It was a trip down memory lane where I got to enjoy in the daylight the times when I really suffered last May. My legs felt fine and up to the task. I was looking forward to seeing everything again.
It started with where it nearly ended, the canal entrance from Tring. This is exactly 100 miles of the gucr route but I thought it was 100.5. Seems silly now how I'd let something like that really get to me but it did.
As I passed a lock near Berkhampstead I had a falshback of meeting Ben and Gowan who were gathered there with much of my food. I recall Ben offering me some sort of salad pitta which I dismissed instantly. Giggling about this to myself I managed to run over a bridge that I was supposed to run under.
I little while later I had to regret the very large cooked breakfast I had in the morning. In fact I didn't regret it at all. I tasted really nice and I wanted to get my moneys worth from the expensive hotel we were staying in. In reality it would only have cost me a few minutes. Well worth it to avoid eating porridge.
The most significant part of the whole weekend for me was passing springwell locks. I've passed them so many times but it was only now I was actually looking out for them. The last time I recall being there was when I sat down for 20 minutes and considered pulling out of the GUCR. It was odd seeing it in perfect daylight and without the tent. Last year I didn't really know where I was at this moment. This time it was easy to see. I looked at the sign for "Springwell Locks" and smiled. Remembering that the next 10 miles were to be the best running of my life last year I enjoyed a lift that sped me up for a while.
I didn't really have much of plan for this race (as usual) given that I'd been ill for a while. I wanted to try to get both days done under 5.30 but that was when I was feeling fine. I would have liked to do today in the same time as yesterday but I realised from the start that this was not going to happen. I was slowing from a lack of running recently.
I did have a reunion with some old friends. The Geese. Right now they all are grown up and without children and are fairly docile. They will get out of the way if you come running through and not make hissing noises. However I knew that soon these geese will all have chicks and will see me as a specific threat. I stared right into the eyes of those that will try to eat me come may.
The snow that was forecast for monday looked to be coming early as the end was nearing. Fortunately it only lasted a few minutes but was enough to start setting. The next day it was to snow moderately and bring London and much of the UK to a standstill.
The Glaxo building is the most distictive feature that signals the end of this race. Soon after seeing that you run under some enormous empty corrogated building and then off the canal onto the road. Finished in 5.54 or something. Came 6th again but 4th overall.
I was really pleased with the way this race went. I was not pleased with how it was organised. Ambition Events double the price and offered less for it. They grumbled when I asked them to transport a bag and the checkpoints were minimal. Many speculated that the high price tag was to fly 4 of them over from South Africa to bungle a race along a canal. Both races were again short even though I had assurances from them that this woulf not happen. I doubt I'd do this again despite being so local. I could do it myself. Begs the question though, If they make an arse out of a race along a canal near London then what on earth will they mess up when they send people to Namibia?
Gordon Brown (Prime Minister at time of writing) has told us that we have to tighten our belts. Given that most runners are using the very first holes in their belts I can only assume that for us specifically he means we should spend less money.
Marathon running can be expensive. The entry fees are going up all the time. You insist on buying shiny new trainers so that the photos (which also cost a bomb) will look good. You spend the evening in an overpriced italian restaurant where they charge £2 "corkage" for tap water. You walk through the expo and insist that you need a pair of toe socks or another long sleeved running top to add to the other 12 air-tex billboards that you parade when running through your local park. Before you know it you have dug a hole in your pension fund that you may regret in the extra years you are exercising yourself towards.
But is does not have to be this way, there is an alternative. One that will not require you to re-mortgage your house or sell one of your livers. And it is much closer than you think.
The Long Distance Walkers Association www.ldwa.org.uk is a goldmine for challenging runs. Every single week there are events ranging from 10-50 miles up and down the country. Though primarily aimed at walkers they usually welcome runners to all their events. These events are very different in nature to other "races" that you may have done. In fact they are not classed as races but as challenge events where the objective is to get around and have fun rather than to post a great time.
So, with a recession looming and destitution a possibility, why not try one of these great runs. Here is how they differ from the normal marathons that you may be more familiar with.
Cost
A typical marathon costs £30, has to be paid online long before the event, is not refundable or transferable and often incurs another credit card payment fee and requires you to recall one of the 17 passwords that you use for online payment. LDWA events cost less than £10 or much less if you are a member and you can pay on the day with the extra spare change you now have since you stopped going to Starbucks every morning. Zero interest rates mean that your money is currently more value to you stashed under a mattress and therefore cash payments on the day are the way forward. Joining the LDWA will save you a further pound on entries.
Travel
Do your bit for the environment and sit on trains that would otherwise be empty. You’ll often have to get up in the dark and navigate yourself to a London station and get a train to the middle of nowhere and then try to find the small clubhouse in which most of these events are based. Trains are very cheap at 5.37 on a Sunday morning and makes a great change to flights and hotels with their hidden wi-fi charges. There is less time spent in airports and the temptation to buy needless electronics and perfume branded in some "celebrity" chav at some semi abandoned train station in Kent is much less.
Expo
Marathon expos, like Ikea and Selfridges are cleverly designed so that you wander around in circles trying to find an exit that is not marked. By the time you finally exit you realise that you are carrying an electric skipping rope, 20 energy gels in a flavour you don't like and an innovative running top with extremely tapers sleeves that cause your hands to expand so you can paddle through the air costing £49.99. LDWA events on the other hand sometimes have a small box of sew-on badges that you can buy for £2.
Food and Drink
For your £30 in a marathon you get up to 12 cups of water or orange flavoured energy drink. If you are lucky you may get a gel or be able to snatch some sweets of small children along the course. LDWA menus are often extensive. In 4/5 checkpoints along a typical course you can expect home made cake, biscuits, sweets, sausage rolls, Bombay mix, tea, coffee, crisps, cheese and pickle sandwiches, soup, marmite on toast, bananas and juice. The end normally has bacon sandwiches or burgers. If anything you are probably going to put weight on running marathons with the LDWA. No need to tighten that belt just yet.
Equipment
Though you may take more stuff on an LDWA event the chances are that you already own most of it and so really you are only justifying previous investments. You don't need things like a waistband specific to the brand of overpriced sugar you consume every 30 minutes as suggested by the manufacturer. All you need is a rucksack to shove your rain jacket, compass, light, food and phone in.
Distance
Marathons are run in miles. Everyone knows that and these are usually displayed as you run so you can obsess about you split times and generally make yourself miserable. LDWA events are actually run in paragraphs.
At the start of each event you will be given a few sides of A4 (plastic cover not included so remember to take one) which become the equivalent of mile markers. You navigate yourself through the English countryside and one by one the paragraphs fall. Some are obviously longer than others and some are made longer by poor navigation but that is part of the fun. You can mark your progress without having to look at your watch every 3 minutes. The last paragraph is a landmark, and you can often smell the bacon.
Route
Marathons are great for the first and last miles where it is actually in the city of interest. The remaining 24 miles if all too often on A roads or though dodgy industrial estates. Not that you are really looking, since you are too busy looking at your watch.
LDWA events take you on a journey through our very underrated countryside. Route descriptions often force you to look up and take note of some of the beautiful hill views and forests. There are often hidden treasures such as castles and villages that you would never have noticed from running 26 miles of road.
It is normal to study a road marathons profile before the race and commit to memory every slight distortion in the 3rd dimension. LDWA events you don't know where you are going until you get there so this is not an issue. You often end up running further than the advertised distance but don't panic. The LDWA will not charge you extra for this.
Terrain
Lots of grass and trail but that makes your shoes last longer. Off road runs such as this are great training without smashing yourself up too much. Running on soft surfaces up-hill is great cross training and will reduce chances of further injury
Atmosphere
Running is a truly social sport, there is no doubt about that. It is easier to socialise on these races because at no point is anyone really busting a gut. It is difficult to judge whether to talk to someone or not in a road marathon as you never know how they might respond. They may not be able to speak, or be really annoyed by your chirpiness as you overtake.
This is not a problem in the countryside. Everyone is out there for a nice brisk stroll through the mud and are happy to talk all day (and all day is what you have).
There are 365 days in the year to go out and get drunk on. Though I don't do so every night I have found it tiresome how there is so much emphasis placed on just one of these nights. New Years Eve is always an anticlimax, overpriced understaffed bars meaning I usually end up drinking myself sober and then the last thing I remember is an arduous journey home.
I'm not sure exactly how I found out about this race but it seemed like a good idea from the start. Why not see in the new year doing what I like most? Also an interesting bonus was that if I'd finished as the first Brit I'd get a certificate that says I was the faster British Marathon runner of 2009. Seemed like a nice gimmick, only I'd accidentally invited Simon and Ben along and they were faster than me.
Zurich was freezing. We arrived around noon on new years eve and found it difficult to believe that it was colder than London is right now. It was about minus 3. While we had a couple of hours sleep in the evening it snowed and covered the ground with several inches of think snow. It was the perfect kind for making a snowman, unfortunately we didn't have the time.
The start of this marathon is quite low key, in a school in west Zurich. It was nice to get out of the cold but we knew it was only getting colder and we would have to go out there soon. Ben and I were the only ones who were wearing shorts, everyone else opting to wrap up much warmer. Part of me thought that I was making a mistake by not covering my legs in the cold, but I decided to settle on the opinion that is was just the Europeans being soft.
There was some sort of countdown before the start of the race when everyone gathered outside. It was in German and I could only pick out a few numbers. As soon as we started running we realised that this was not going to be a normal run. The snow had covered the whole paths and as we ran on it we compacted it to ice. There were a few slips in the first mile.
After about 5 minutes we realised that it was 2009 and wished each other a happy new year. Zurich bring in the new year an hour ahead of the UK. I thought about people at their parties right now and wondered if I'd prefer to be doing the same.
The marathon route was fairly basic. It is a 3 lap course that follows the river along tarmac path. At least I thought it was tarmac, it was covered in ice so you could not really tell. We went under bridges which almost caused people to slip in the river. There was a point where you could almost slip into a fire.
Though the route was fairly uninspiring it was quite cool running through little camps with fires and warm energy drink. I never thought that I could stomach warm energy drink but it really hit the spot.
After an hour we said happy new year again as it was that time in the UK. Soon after that is rained and we really felt the cold. It also made the ice slippier and much harder to run on. It seemed that even though we were putting in the same effort the pace just slowed. There was a spell when it rained and it got very cold. It was short lived.
After seeing the same bridges, the same cabin parties and nightclubs 3 times each we approached the end. It was a welcome sight as our bodies were getting cold and legs starting to freeze.
We ran round together and were going to finish together and get a good photo as we crossed the line. We stayed together and cross together however when the chips recorded the times they recorded mine as being 0.2 seconds ahead of Ben. I honestly didn't stick my leg out :) The photo proves it.
Getting into the warm was something we looked forward to for nearly 4 hours. Our time of 3.38 was very respectable and 15th overall. The winner got 2.55. I think someone who was used to running on ice would not have deviated too far from their normal marathon time here. We struggled a bit.
We all entered coughing fits as soon as we got into the warm. We were not too sure how to get back home and had no desire to stay up and drink. We got a cab back to the hotel and managed half a beer before going for breakfast at 6 and then collapsing in bed.
I'm really glad I did this. It makes a change from 3 disappointing New Years in London. Probably won't do it again any time soon but perhaps it may be worth organising one in the UK? I know a few people who'd be up for that...
Just saw this on the BBC that debunks common "myths" about health. Most of it seems fine however I do believe that there is a cure for a hangover and it is as simple as running a marathon.
Though this is probably never going to make it as a mainstream cure it has always worked for me. I've probably run about 6 marathons with some sort of sore head and by the end of them I have always felt fine.
On a more serious note I've just been made aware that Simon Singh is being sued by the British Chiropractic Association for writing an article where he suggests that there is no evidence that Chiropody helps cure things like depression, ear infections and betwetting.
Perhaps the BBC should target this type of pseudoscience? It is easy to spot whether something is likely to be scientific fact or a load of bollocks by the reactions of those who practice it. If you were to dispute the theory of evolution or plate techtonics you would be met with a sea of scientific evidence that would argue that you are wrong. You have the freedom to accept or reject any of this.
If however you were to dispute the claims made by chiropractitioners or scientologists you will not be rebuked with the same sea of evidence and facts but instead you'll be intimidated by lawyers and legal action.
The rain that threatened but never really came
near the top of the highest point
another of me looking knackered, and nipples bleeding
finishing with beer
100 next year....
