Badwater

"When is the heat going to kick in?" Mark Woolley quipped at around the 5 mile mark. It was just before 9am, we started at 8 and were still laughing and joking with the people around us. "Doin' this for the first time? Good Man" echoed around the floor of the worlds hottest place. It's true, the heat had yet to kick in, it was merely 40 something. Within a few hours it would be over 50. This was the time to enjoy a few miles and the unique experience of running arguably one of the worlds toughest and most pretigious events.When is the heat going to kick in?

I chatted to Mark about what we were about to do today (and tomorrow and possibly the next day). What we wanted and why we were here. There were 80 starters in the 2010 Badwater Ultramarathon and with that there are 80 different stories as to why they got to the start line and then 80 more about the race. I have read so many reports from others that have made an attempt at this race and was talking to Mark about how we were going to remember this experience as we both did for the Spartathlon last year.

"I don't really know what I'd write about this race?" said Mark. I was about to correct him with the obvious when he interupted to do it himself. "I guess that's because the story's not been written yet?" He quickly responded to himself. Spot on. Along the famous white line of the road through hell there were 80 unique chronicals of the event being typed as we ran. This is mine. Dave, Laurie, Me, Debbra, Debra

Summer sometime 2006 (it was a Tuesday)

I can't remember whether it was a slow day or an exciting day at work but I guess it didn't matter. I was probably counting down the hours until could leave and go to my track session. Tonight was Yazoos, running 800m reps with 400m rest each time. Your minute time for the 800m was supposed to be a good predictor of your marathon time as well as doing something or other with my lactate threshold. I didn't really know and I didn't really want to go either, but you have to do these things when training for a marathon don't you?

A friend of mine sent me an email with a link to this race with some sarcastic message such as "how about this one?" We were vaguely aware that some people ran further than 26.2 miles. I had just heard of the London to Brighton road race and thought I might have a crack at that one day. All I thought was "F**k, that's more than 2 marathons, back to back. How do people run all that?"

The email about Badwater was just ridiculous. I had never heard of anything like it or known anyone who had done such a thing. It looked like a joke but from that moment I could not put it down. Somewhere out there there are humans who can actually do this kind of thing. I'm a human, could I do such a thing?

The thought stayed with me for the track session that night, which went very well. I was yazooing at not much more than 3 minutes and later that summer I improved my marathon PB from 3.34 to 3.12, beating the target that was written in my spreadsheet by 3 minutes. However with this success came little joy, I followed a program and got an output. I got exactly what I trained for, I felt like a dog fetching a stick. Finishing this marathon confirmed what I had suspected for a few months now, chasing times was not my thing. Finishing a super-human race though, that might just give me enough joy to put the work in. I decided I had to do it, I gave myself 5 years.

Tim Welch. Before the race we all had our IQ's measure. Can't remember which scale they used.

I started in the 8am wave at the Badwater Basin. We drove down to Badwater along a 17 mile stretch of road from Furnace Creek, where the pre-race HQ and all the runners stay.  We drove carefully as the runners from the 6am wave made their way back up to the top of the road. I felt sick as we slowly descended to 282ft below sea level. I wasn't sure whether it was pre-race nerves or the heat already getting to me.

The ceremony is huge, about 30 runners, 30 support vehicles, 150 support crew members, 50 race staff and dozens of media people. The event is imense and the majority of the people here are not here to run but to get a runner to the finish. There was the familiar 10-9-8 countdown and then everyone broke out of the crowd and formed a single line along the road, rather like the start of a 800m race, though a little slower.

Almost as soon as we started running we saw a coach tour coming the other way. I can only imagine what the tour guide was saying. "We are now approaching the Badwater Basin, the hottest and most evil place on earth. And on the left you'll see a load of idiots, who thinks it's a good idea to run through it".

I found the first 17 miles fairly comfortable, we all took it quite slow except one guy who was half a mile ahead after a few miles. The first section ascends slightly back to sea level then drops again into Furnace Creek where the first checkpoint is.

It's amazing what you can find on the internet nowadays. I managed to find a crew of 4 people who I had never met before but had committed to kicking my arse from the start line to near the top of Mt Whitney. The rules state that each runner must have a minimum of two support crew and one vehicle. Most people have between 4-6 crew and 2 cars/vans. Only 1 vehicle can be leapfrogging you at any one time and typically would do so at mile intervals.

That was uphill, the camera made me run.

My amazing crew consisted of Laurie, who had crewed twice before, Debra Haaland who was keen to see death valley and Debra and Dave who were friends of Laurie. I was thrilled that people who had never met me had agreed to take this on. I was going to get to know them a lot more over the next 2 days or however long this was going to take.

I said before the start that my needs were fairly simple. I can pretty much eat and drink anything which is an advantage with this kind of race. I gave no instructions on how I wanted to do the race as I didn't know myself. All I said was make sure they put electrolyte in everything I drank.

taking some refuge from the sun

I stopped briefly in Furnace to use the facilities and ate a few turkey sandwiches that Debra made. They were very nice indeed. It was now around 11.30 and the heat was really picking up. The 26 mile stretch from Furnace Creek to Stovepipe Wells is often regarded as the most critical part of the race. It's hot, flat and with little breeze. Most people manage to make it to Stovepipe however if proper care isn't taken during these miles it can have dire consequences later on.

The roads through Death Valley are decpetive. It's hard to tell whether you are going uphill or down. Looking ahead gives you no idea and looking behind makes everything look like uphill. I'd sometimes be aware that I was working a lot harder for some reason but it was hard to seperate whether it was an incline or a sudden increase in my body temperature. Whenever I saw the crew I would be sprayed with water and given more to drink. My temperature would have been up and down all the time. Adjusting your own pace is so difficult when you don't know what kind of slope (if any) you are running on. If I do this again I'm bringing a spirit level.

I passed the first marathon in around 5 hours, I thought I'd gone much further than that but I decided no to make anything of times and distances here. I was not even wearing a watch and I rarely asked for the time and was only vaguely aware of the distance. Just put one foot in front of the other, and don't die.

Not long into the race I got a headache. It was painful enough to be frustrating but more worryingly it was a sign of dehydration. I was checking the colour of my piss and it was holding up ok but it was clear that the sun was beginning to do it's work, my right side was burning. I had not put sun cream onto the parts that were covered with my UV50 running top but now was the time to do so. I started to wonder why this place has been picked as the place for the sun to hate. All over the world the sun brings life and vitality, here it just scorches everything and we were no exception. Soon after I passed Tim Welsh who I'd met in Spain a few weeks prior. He was in good shape. Mark and I discussed that Tim had the best chance of finishing this. Having seen him fearlessly climb Spains highest mountain as night fell after running 45 miles on roads without any suggestion of stopping made it clear to us he was going to do ok here. I decided that day not to do the mountain, I slept in the car.

Early afternoon and the heat cranked up, to 50C. A few hours into the race I was starting to recieve ice-bandanas to rest against my neck. I could not even feel ice against my skin, it was too hot. Every 3 miles or so I would remove my top and dunk it in ice cold water and put it back on. If I did this in the UK I'd probably pass out with shock but here it felt so nice for my skin to be so cold, for about 10 seconds. Half a mile later it was dry again.

Every mile I'd get a fresh drink that was mostly ice. I was drinking about 500ml every mile and alternating between water and Gatorade. I started measuring the temperature by counting how long it took my bottle to stop rattling. early on it wouldn't for the whole mile but after about 2 the ice would melt pretty quickly. Water and Gatorade were starting to get a bit tiresome so I tried a protein shake. It's important to take protein when going for this long but it's not really the temperature for milkshake and beef jerky. I tried anyway and felt sick. I ran for a few miles feeling sick and gagging before I finally threw up. It felt so good, I've never been sick in a race before. Recommended.

I continued running with or near Mark until just before Stovepipe Wells where I went ahead. I decided to stop a while and lie down out of the heat. I got in and went to the poolside and lay down in the shade where my crew covered me in wet towels and cloths.

Around 3 years ago I cycled through Death Valley with a group for a landmine charity. It was in March and was not difficult at all. In all honesty I signed up because I wanted to see the place that I hoped to run in 3 years later. It was all coming back to me, these random towns on a road in the middle of nowhere. Stovepipe has a nice pool, a saloon, gas station, general store and rooms. It was only founded in 1923.

I recall lounging by this pool before, that was at the end of a day of cycling about 50 miles. Here I was having run 43 and with 92 to go. I was going to be on my feet for at least another day without sleep. Last time I was here at a similar time of day and was just lounging by the pool to wait for the bar to open. No such luxury this time. I did have a can of coke though, my first treat so far (apart from the turkey sandwiches of course).

I generally try to avoid looking into race maps and profiles before I have to do them. I just turn up and do whatever is there. I don't usually know how high a hill is or how far it's supposed to go, I just carry on. Having studied this one for four years though it's hard to not take in some of the facts and I knew what was up ahead, a 5000ft steady climb over 18 miles.

A shallow incline would normally not be an excuse to walk but 18 miles is quite a long way to go so I would not imagine I would run all of it. In the heat of this race any slight increase in exersion will cause your own temperature to rise and increase the possibility of overheating. "You can't control the sun" was a key message from the briefing. Going up a 5% incline uses about 20% more energy than on the flat, it would be easy to overheat. This was not the main issue in this climb though, it was the wind.

Badwater has it's fair share of stories and tales that may have been exagerated in their re-tellings. So far I had not had the massive feet swelling that is warned by many who tell the story, nor did my shoes melt for not running on the white line. I was hoping the same was true of the "hairdryer" hill that I was about to ascend up to Townes Pass, alas no, it was by far the hardest conditions I have ever run/walked in.

The wind was strong and hot. it would just blow right down my throat and dry me from the inside as well as the outside. The temperature was still 50C but I could no longer protect myself from the heat, it was going right inside me. I drank so much water but it did not stop my throat burning and my lips and eyelids were drying out. Only the elites were running up this, everyone else was staggering and stopping regularly to get hosed down. It took 9 hours to run the first 43 miles, it took about 7 to do the next 18. It was really frustrating as I still had a lot of energy and wanted to press on. At this point Pam Reed went past while I was stood at the car. I yelled well done and that I loved her book. I plodded on, and started to think about my old cat.

Ascending Townes Pass in the tumble dryer

I must have been about 10 when I have this vague recollection of my cat getting put in the tumble dryer. I remember the noise it made for the few seconds it was getting spun around in a heated blast and now finally I can appreciate what that was like. Then I wondered, how did it get in there in the first place? I always thought that it was resting on some clothes and the door was just closed without really looking in. But why would it rest on wet clothes? And if the clothes were dry I can understand why the cat would sleep on them but why then would the tumble dryer be turned on? This confused me for a little while before I decided not to think about it anymore as it was too hard. I just wanted out of the tumbledryer.

At 7pm we are required to wear Hi-vis jackets and blinking lights. It's still very light (and hot) so it can feel a bit silly but the darkness does fall quickly. We are surrounded by large rocks which the sun can disappear behind us in an instant. The sun did finally set and let the stars come out, it had done it's job on me for the day. I thought I came off quite well but only time would tell, the effects of dehydration and hat exhaustion could still hit me in the night.

I finally arrived at the top of Townes Pass (61 miles) sometime in the night whereas I'd hoped to be there in daylight. After climbing 5000ft over 7 hours and 18 miles in a tumble dryer wind in a furnace it was then time to undo all of that and almost run back down to sea level. 9 miles of downhill were a welcome reprieve from all the walking. I asked the car to only stop every 2 miles or so now as I was going to try to keep moving.

Panamint Springs was the next stop at 73 miles and I was going to have another prologed stay there. The sun had made me sleepy and thought a powernap, a shower and a complete change of clothes was in order. I could see the lights of Panamint from miles away and a stream of car and runner lights leading to it. I was keen to get there as soon as possible and started overtaking some other runners. "Check you running up the hills" I heard. I had no idea I was running up a hill, it was those deceptive roads again. I really needed that spirit level.

On arriving at Panamint I was taken into the car park and the roll mat was set up. My idea of having a shower quickly evaporated as I realised I had to climb over a load of people sleeping on the floor in the dark to get to it. There is no way I was going to be able to do that without falling on them and waking them up. I settled for a change of clothes and asked my crew to wake me up in ten minutes.

I first powernapped during the GUCR 2009 and it worked a treat. It does not cure exhaustion but it can help snap you out of a malaise. I was suffering with bad thoughts of the things that were not quite going right in the race. Complaining that my water was too icy and feeling pain in my feet more. My throat was still dry and sore from the wind and I was having to go to the toilet a lot. I hoped that a quick nap might flush all this out of my head but it didn't. I got up again and still felt quite grumpy. It didn't even occur to me that I'd long passed the half way point. I had another large climb to do now. 4000ft in 13 miles.

I've always had plenty to think about when slogging through some difficult races. Stupid question #2 when I tell people about this kind of stuff is "don't you get bored while running?" or "What do you think about?". I never got bored while racing before, I've always had Badwater to think about.

Every single race and run I have thought about this end. Every struggle I've fought through thinking that it could be much worse when I came here. When I ran the Marathon Des Sables with a chest infection I figured, "well you could end up coughing like this in Badwater, and you are not going to drop out of that are you?" Last year I was suffering heat exhaustion and fatigue on day one of the GUCR. While struggling to stay on my feet and coming to terms with the fact that I had another 24 hours of running left I thought about Badwater. Every shit moment I've suffered but got through in a race has been to finish Badwater. HTFU.

Even the races that went well I thought about how they were going to add to my chances of finishing this. The last day of my 300k 6 day race in Canada was on an uphill stretch of road that looked alive with a burning mirage. After 180 miles of running in 5 days I wondered if this is like the end of Badwater. After my first ultra of 45 miles I thought after the finish that all I have to prepare myself for was another 90 miles, and quadruple the temperature. And add hills. After finishing the GUCR in 2008 I was overwhelmed with my ability to step up like that and go from 55 miles to 145 miles with relative ease. That was the time when I realised I could finish anything, and by "anything" I meant Badwater.

However what was I supposed to think of when actually running Badwater? There is no "next" for me here, nothing to go onto. This is it. I had nothing to look forward to after the finish line. That made it hard for me to think myself through the race, made it easier for the demons to get in.

It became very dark, I decided against using a headtorch as I find them a distraction and only had the dim glow of my flashing red lights to show me where to go. There are a lot of twists and turns on the ascent and for some moments there is no unatural light at all, like you are the only person in the world. I love this feeling of isolation. The huge rocks beside me became invisible and all I could see were the stars and the road. This made me think that I was running on a road suspended in space. I feared falling off the road as I thought I'd end up floating off into space so I ran in the middle.

I could not find a picture of a road through space. But this is nice.

I loved looking up at the stars, there were so many. Somewhere around one of these there must be another planet similar to ours with intelligent life. And if there was intelligent life I am sure they would have discovered the joy of ultra-distance running, which probably comes somewhere between the spear and the wheel on the order of invention. I thought about another being way up there struggling along as I am in a similar race in similar extremities on his own world. I'll never meet him or even know for sure that he exists but nonethleless I wished the space alien good luck and got on with my run.

Whenever my mind did wander I would start to stray to the side of the road and I really didn't want to fall off and float away, not sure whether my support crew had bought a long enough rope. I was getting frustrated by the slow motion up the hill and was worried that I might not be able to get into a run again when it flattened. I waited and waited for just a small let up in the vertical so I could try a run but it was not coming. I continued to worry and it took its toll until I had a great idea. I just turned around and ran down, only for about 20 meters. I could still run, that made me feel better, that made me go faster.

As day broke I was still climbing up the slope. There were more cars now and I could hear thier engines struggling up the hills. I had not seen many other runners for a while. The sun barely made it over the rocks before it started burning me again, I was not glad to see it back, it was trying to kill me.

The panamint pass ends at around 90 miles and there is another checkpoint on a junction in the middle on nowhere. I was starting to get frustrated by not knowing how far I had gone. was it 86 or 88 miles? By now I was getting really hot, feeling the heat much more than I did on the previous day. This was making me grumpy and I just wanted the CP to come so that I could sit down and have my blisters dealt with, I felt quite a bad one on my left heel and left instep.

At this point I saw a lot of James Elson's support car and figured he was only a couple of miles behind. He started 2 hours after me in the 10 wave and I was looking forward to seeing him as I had not managed to see him before the race. He had his luggage lost on getting into the US and was doing incredibly well to scrape everything together to be able to even start the race.

It had been a long time since I saw Mark and I was worried. I knew from my support crew that he stayed a while in Stovepipe wells (43) but thought he would have caught up with me by now, or at least I would have seen his support car at some point. Half of my crew went back in the spare car and I asked them to find out about Tim and Mark as they did. On finally getting to the CP at 90 miles I sat down and they said Tim was still going strong and was not far behind but Mark had needed a prolonged stop and left Panamint 8 hours after I did having lost 11lb since the start. The race organisers weight everyone at the start, I was 186lb. The only other time I was weighed was at Stovepipe where I managed to put on 1lb. My hydration was generally very good and Mark had a lot to do with that, when Tim and I visited him in Spain a couple of weeks before I had never used any electrolytes before and not doing so in a race like this was suicidal. Previously I relied on salty snacks but on actually reading into it I realised these were giving me 1 of the 4 salts in abundance and lacking in the other 3.

I was told that Mark was moving again and looking ok. I thought at this point he was unlikely to get the Buckle (sub 48 hours) since he lost a lot of time but really hoped he'd finish.

Leacnig Owens checkpoint at 90 miles.

At the CP I sat in a sun lounger in the shade of a gazebo. It was the first time that any shade was available, the sun was directly overhead and even the van could not provide any protection from the sun. I wondered what I would do if I was actually stuck out here? There is absolutely nothing to hide under. The only wildlife I saw in the whole race before lone pine were some little beetles and a scorpion. The wildlife here comes out at night, does whatever it does to get food and then spends dawn digging a hole to bury itself in for the duration of the day. Every mile I was getting sprayed with water and drinking half a litre. How many miles would I last if there was no support van within a mile of me at all points? 2 miles? 5 miles? Not long that's for sure. Humans don't belong here. They certainly should not be running here.

Laurie was keen to look at my blisters, she was well prepared for doing so. However they were not blisters but painful callouses and hence she was unable to remove them. There was one blister which took several attempts to lance before it squirted. It was a little relief but I knew I'd have to suffer the others for the remainder of the race. It suddenly occured to me that I had not taken any painkillers during the race. This was out of forgetfulness rather than deliberate. In other races such as the Spartathlon I was swallowing them like smarties. I didn't really feel the need to take them and then I decided not to for the duration of the race, I was curious to see just how much this would hurt.

I now had 45 miles of downhill/flat to run starting off with a few miles downhill. I was looking forward to it.

I got back into a jog along a very long straight road that headed into the mountains that I would be climbing later. I could see snow of the mountain tops, it looked like a postcard. The road was so straightand still very difficult to tell whether it was going up or down. I managed to run most of the downhill and as it flattened out I was really struggling with the heat. I suffered more strange hallucinations, I thought the white line in the road was a man in the distance rolling toilet roll at me. The postcard view of the mountains looked like a billboard about to collapse on top of me. These were the worst ones I have had and even when I tried to focus I could not rid my head of them, the guy rolling the toilet paper was still there. I could not run or even walk in a straight line and my speech was garbled. I had overheated and had to stop again.

I stopped at the van and said I needed a lie down cos I was seeing things. They all stood around holding sheets over me to keep the sun off and covering me with ice cold towels and flannels. I lay there for about 20 minutes and tried to sleep again to get the demons out of my head. Soon after Debra made a sign to say that we had passed the 100 mile mark, this pleased me lots.

The road didn't seem to get any shorter as I plodded down it (or up it?). This road ended up being very hard to get out of my head, for days afterwards I would struggle to sleep thinking I am still trying to get along this stretch. Some vast stretch of nondescript road cutting right through walls of rock and joshua trees. Someone should write a song about this? There was a town called Keeler which looked completely out of place here, it was set back off the main road. There was a lot more activity on the road now, more cars, more support people and even some roadworks. It felt just like london. Several times I saw Tim Welsh's van speed up and down the road. All I could think of was Tim demanding an ice cream.

Lone Pine marks the "half marathon to go" point of the race and to took ages coming. I could see in the distance a small town but the road didn't go straight there, it cut back to the left and then onto a main road. I started getting grumpy again about how far it was to Lone Pine. Was it 2 miles or 4? I promised myself I would not bother about this as in the big scheme of things it did not matter but all of a sudden a timetable popped into my head. If I can get to Lone Pine at 6 I can rest and cool down a little, leave at 6.30 and then have 5 and a half hours for the long steep ascent to the finish at the Mt Whitney Portal. 2 miles turned into 3, then into 2 then into 4. There was no way I was going to make it for 6. I got quite upset and moaned a bit at the crew but they knew exactly how to appease me. By reminding me that there was a McDonalds in Lone Pine and taking my order of a fries and a strawberry milkshake. Way to a man's heart and all that.

The 2 mile section into Lone Pine felt quite difficult, for the first time you feel like you are running/walking through civilisation. It is still incredibly hot and I was on the side without shade and was not even thinking about crossing the highway to get out of the sun, there was no way I could make it that fast. Also felt a bit like cheating. I got to lone pine with my McDonalds waiting and lay down again to cool and put my feet up and enjoy the fries and milkshake. The webcam seemed to enjoy them too, broadcasting out to whoever was watching that I was eating McDonalds during a race. They also seemed keen on following me into the bathroom though I closed the door. I did remark that it was so nice to be able to use a proper toilet after all this time. Something that feels like a guilty pleasure in an ultra marathon.

I started the climb just before 7, heading across the busy road and onto Whitney Portal road. I was right up close against the rocky mountain range that I'd been looking at for the past day. This climb goes from 4000-9000ft, it's the steepest climb of the whole route. I was always going to walk this part as do all but the elites. I passed another runner right at the start of the climb and then did not see anyone for ages. The crew were going to stop every mile up the hill on the dot, so I knew how far I was going. The sun was still up but as it was after 7 we had to wear our hi-vis and lights again. The rocks here are amazing, the mountains themselves are covered in sharp edges. As night fell these sharp edges came to life, like Rorschach ink blots. These are used to stare into your soul and gauge your emotional state. All I was seeing were really aggressive spider like animals all glaring at me as if defending their mountain. No beautiful butterflies or cute little sheep at this stage, everything was a beast trying to eat me. There were odd looking rock formations alongside me too, they almost look sculpted, like masses of human bodies piled on top of each other. These were playing havoc later on.

I swear some of those rocks were laughing at me.

I found the first few miles really hard, it was still very warm and I was out of breath too quickly. I had to use my inhaler for the first time and use it a lot. I still had the heartburn of the dry winds of 24 hours ago and water still tasted like ash. Counting down the miles did not happen as quickly as I hoped and I was doing each in around 25 minutes, it was pretty steep and my power march slowed as I tried to get my breathing under control. Laurie and Debra were going to crew me till about 5 miles to go and then Debbra and Dave were going to see me through to the end. For the end game I gave 3 instructions, keep my inhaler at hand at all times, don't let me sit in the chair and on mile 134 have my Serpentine club top ready with the spare number on it.

The higher it got the cooler it got, it was very noticalble. The sun was setting and I knew then there was nothing else it could do to me, all that stood between me and the Badwater Buckle I've been craving for 4 years was a dark road up to the mountain. I still didn't bother with a head torch but the light was so poor I did use a hand torch occasionally. I was hallucinating again but this time it was a feeling of claustrophobia rather than the wide open space of the previous night. The twists and turns of the road and the walls of rock either side looked like I was in a tunnel. There were huge cacti on the sides of the roads that looked like animations, like people and animals poised to jump out at me. This would not worry me except that on getting onto this path there is a "beware of the bears" sign and Smokie the Bear seems to be the fire service mascot of lone pine. One of these cacti could be a bear, for real.

I started to move faster up the hill, getting each mile done in less than 20. My breathing got better and for the first time I felt like it was cool enough to make the effort. It was so dark that often I thought I might have taken a wrong turning but I was not turning back. The walls felt like they were closing in, I could see the lights of the switchbacks up ahead in the distance and then again behind me, it was amazing and this time I knew that the glow was not leading to the halfway point but to the end of the Badwater Ultramarathon, the thing that I have been obsessed with for 4 years.

I gave myself 5 years from seeing this race to complete it. Here I was in 4 years about to finish. I applied this year with no real hope of getting in. Since I took up ultra running 4 years ago it has become harder and harder to get into the "classic" ultra marathons because of the competition. This year the Spartathlon sold out for the first time. The GUCR and the UTMB were lotteries for the first time, Comrades sold 15000 spaces in 5 hours this time and the MDS now has a 3 year waiting list. It's fantastic that there is such huge interest in the sport now. When I first started it was hard to find events and there were only a few in the UK. Now we are tripping over them, there is something to do every weekend.

But there is something about the classic events. I want to do them all. I applied to get into the Western States 100 this year again with no real hope of getting in (lottery chances are about 1 in 15). I watched the lottery online and watched 350 names get pulled out and none of them were mine. This hurt more than I thought it would, like a personal rejection. If I had got into WS100 I would not have even considered applying for Badwater this year, but the WS100 rejection brought it home to me, I don't have much time to do these events before they become impossible to get into. "Do what you can while you can" as Jack Denness would say. So I put in my application for Badwater including my essay on why I should be allowed to run. What's the worst they could say? Yes?

Just over a mile to go and I am winding through the switchbacks looking for the red blinking lights of my next and final mile marker. This is where I was going to take off the sun baked white top I'd been wearing all day and put on my nice cool fresh Serpie top. I was looking forward to doing this, it meant the end.

I saw the car in the distance and yelled "Pull the ice chest down, I'm going to sit for a minute". They responded "would you not prefer the chair?" and I snapped, "No - the ice chest, I won't get out of the chair". I had told my crew clearly that if I needed to sit they were to get the ice chest so that I did not get too comfortable. They struggled to pull the ice chest out of the back of the car and I sat myself down and thrust my water bottle at them. They filled it as I said it's only a mile to go. "Yes, just over a mile" they responded. I was a little annoyed at the "just over" bit but didn't let on, I just asked for my Serpie top. This was not forthcoming, I was tired and wanted to hurry up. I looked up and said;

"You're not my crew". I was staring into the face of a complete stranger. I had sat down and barked orders at the crew of another runner. I apologised profusely and they were just in hysterics about the whole thing. They had done everything I asked of them (apart from the serpie top). It was the crew of Keith Straw (the fairy) who was just ahead of me. I made my excused and sheepishly left their van and staggered on where I did see my support crew. The other guys stopped and chatted for a minute and all I heard was laughing. I slowed as I made sure they were indeed my support crew. They had everything for me, the ice chest to sit on, another water and most importantly the vest with the number 30 on it. It was time to get it done.

It is traditional in Badwater to cross the line with your support team, it only seems right. More so than any race I can think of this really is a team effort. I had the simple (though not easy task) of just moving forward until I got to the end. I managed to do that (with the exception of those 20 meters which I never told anyone about). My crew had to do so much more. I was quite difficult and vague when saying what I'll need during this race and I would not have been as prepared if it were not for Laurie knowing exactly how to do this. The night before the race she and the others were sorting out ice chests and food boxes while I stood and stared into space. I could not watch and I was no use at all. Debbra suggested I just go to bed and get some rest which is what I did.

Debbra and Dave were friends of Laurie and were incredibly enthusiastic for helping a British stranger complete his dream. They bought along a truckload of food and other treats. I destroyed their collection of cliff shots towards the end of the race, they were just what I needed. They were brilliant at hosing me down with water, making my greasy noodle snacks when I wanted and always been a welcome sight particularly in the night when I thought the car would never some at all.

Debra H I met on the forums. She was enthusiatic from the start and coped well with my hesitation about the race. I was not easy to deal with before as I was pretending the whole thing wasn't happening. The closer it got the more I'd zone out of it. Debra helped with the organisation and had most of the gear. She ran with me while I was unable to talk or walk straight. She made the sign that showed I had run 100 miles which made me feel great. She would have suffered the same lack of sleep that I did and still managed to smile every time she saw me.

Laurie was the one who held everything together. I met her in London a couple of weeks before and as soon as I did meet her my mind was at rest that I was in good hands. She got talking to all the others and making sure that everything I needed was there. She came and met me in Vegas and helped me shop for supplies before driving into Death Valley. She made sure all the forms were in order and did so much before the race had even started. Then when it did start she was amazing, tending to my blisters, making sure I ate and drank. Finding new ways to keep the sun off me while I was lying down. Laurie wants to run this race next year. She'll be fine.

I waited for my crew to line up as I prepared one last burst of speed to get to the end. It was an honour and a privelege to cross the line with these guys.

I have watched lots and lots of videos of people finishing Badwater and thought I'd know exactly what the finish would look like but I had not seen it from this side before, from the side of someone running through it. I ran through it, 39 hours and 24 minutes after I started.

Doesn't need a caption

During the race I looked forwad to the moment where I could lie down and not have to get back up again. It was hard getting up each time that I did to carry on. I decided long ago that I was going to wait at the finish for Tim and Mark to complete it. My crew were worried about leaving me here but I insisted they go back to the hotel as I was sleeping under the stars tonight and wait for the others to get in. Laurie made sure that one of the organisers knew I was there and he gave me a load of blankets and I lay down on the mat glad in the knowledge that when I got up again I'd only have to clap.

James Elson was next in. 1.55 after me but having started 2 hours after than meant he did it 5 minutes quicker. We had a quick chat that resembled 2 very drunk people trying to figure out where they are going to meet tomorrow. He said "See you at the UTMB". Not long later I saw Caroline who was part of Tim's crew, he was only an hour away. I took a nap before hearing the noise of his arrival, he ran comfortably under the buckle time. Tim hung around a bit before he was escorted back down to the car park to be driven back down to Lone Pine where everyone stays. It was gone 2am, I figured it would be sunrise before Mark got in so I braced myself for a few more hours sleeping on the rocks. But as Tim left Mark arrived, I was astonished. Somehow he picked himself up from near catastrophe to record a very decent time and well under the buckle time. From what I heard it was touch and go as to whether he was going to finish, he must have smashed the second half.

I got a lift back down with Mark and his crew and slept on his floor. It must have been 4 when we went to bed and by 7 I was wide awake again. I struggled to sleep and even eat for the next week, in fact I still am stuggling now I write this 7 days after I finished. I keep waking up thinking that I am still running that long straight road into Lone Pine. Last night I thought I was swimming it.

The End?

Well, there it is. 4 years of running obsession cumulating in a buckle. I really didn't see much past the finish line in terms of what I wanted to do next like I have been able to for every other race. It's funny how my life has changed so much in the past 4 years and all because of my decision to run this, all because of a random email I got at work one day.

When I first thought of this I didn't know of anyone who did this kind of thing. I didn't know of any events. I knew that most big cities had road marathons and other shorter road races, I had no idea about this world that I have become so deeply involved with.

In those 4 years I have met so many people who just love running as I do, just doing it for the hell of it and not caring what a guy with a stop watch says. I've become part of a growing scene in the UK who seek these kind of adventures every week. I love that. I love turning up to events and being able to chat to friends rather than being caged in a pen with other annonymous bib-numbers. I've loved writing this blog which documents everything I have gone through.

4 years ago I thought that getting the buckle at Badwater would be it, proof that I can handle the toughest race in the world. That was never going to be the case though. Watching Jack Denness finish his 12th Badwater aged 75 and then head straight to the pub, hearing about a buy who having finished the race was running back to badwater, hearing all the stories from all the characters I have met along the way here of how there is so much more out there. I'm still only 30 and I've just finished Badwater, and that's just the beginning.

Update on 2010-07-24 20:35 by James Adams

I try and write these race reports as soon as I can, while it's fresh and I have yet to forget everything. Also I've found it sort of brings a "closure" the the race. It certainly worked with the Spartathlon. I hated that thing until I started to get everything down on here and after I finished the report I loved the race and was talking about going back. Now that was not an issue here as I was still buzzing from finishing the race of my life. I did find that writing the report helped put it to bed, literally. I slept so badly in the days after the race.

Inevitably I miss a lot of stuff in my haste and thought that this race deserves a follow up with a lot of the things I forgot. Here are some of the things that I remembered that I forgot.

I remember vividly the shock I got when I saw my reflection for the first time in 2 days in Lone Pine. It was after 122 miles and I was using the toilets. When washing my hands I looked up and saw my face, dilated pupils, sunburn and general exhaustion stretched across my face. I knew it was me but I didn't think I was me. I had to take myself out of my own body for so long I looked into the mirror and thought "that's James Adams". I'd been thinking about myself in the third person for so long, "come on James, you can get this done" etc. It was hard to look into the mirror and say "that's you that is".

The long long road into Lone Pine is infamous for it's endlessness. I saw Lone Pine but could not see it getting closer. I could see the mountains behind them and thought they were going to collapse on me. I displayed they symptoms of someone staggering to their death in the heat of the desert. Luckily only for a few minutes. Here are some words from Nikki Seger about that road. I guess you have to be there.

122 miles.

So they say.

You see the lights for thousands of miles -- or at least thousands of hours
-- or at least thousands of footsteps.

The desert ends.  So they say.

You run over a couple of 5000 foot hills and back to sea level.  Then the
elevation chart says you run on a plain.  It is a plain that leads to a lake
that was long ago drained by the insatiable appetite of America.  Or us,
even.  Those of us who want fruits and vegetables all year.  So we say --
even when it tastes like cardboard.

This is the approach to Lone Pine during the Badwater Ultramarathon.  It
goes on and on and on.  The approach, that is.

The town, Lone Pine, goes by in a flash.  You have run for a long time.  A
frickin' 100 miler and more.  It is way time to quit.  And here there are
real hotels -- all three of them (one which has trundle beds that will snap
and cut off your little pinkie -- so they say).  And there are real
restaurants!  The MacDonald closes at 10 p.m. unless your savvy crew
convinces the kids to make one more burger with extra cheese and extra
ketchup.

The town is heaven -- but a mirage.
You can see it for miles and miles.

Perhaps approaching the drained lake you might be buzzed by kid pilots,
training to buzz other desert peoples.  Perhaps approaching the mud basin,
you might get a glimpse of the magnificent Sierras looming over the eastern
flats.  Perhaps approaching the "city" lights you might fantasize that the
race is soon done.  Veterans will tell you that 100 plus miles out of 135 is
really only like being about "half way through."

So they say.  And so you come to believe the experienced ones as the lake
valley goes on and on and on.

And suddenly you turn right.  It is the first turn for something like 100
miles!  And you run on and on and on.  In a flash, you see "race
headquarters" -- zombies, all -- and you make another turn.  Left this time.
And you only have the hill to go.

So they say.

The first question I got asked when I finished this race (that I remember) was "Was that harder than the Spartathlon?"

The maximum temperature recorded over the race was 121F. The highest ever recorded in the race was 128. I'd say that this year was "typical" in terms of temperature. I heard second hand from Marshall Ulrich that the wind on the Townes Pass ascent was the worst it has ever been.

I didn't have too many emotional moments during the race but I did well up when Jack entered the sports hall where the closing ceremony was. I had finished the race 20 hours before and at least got some sleep. Word had got round an hour before that Jack had finished and there was a buzz of excitement amongst all the pizza eating. All of a sudden we were all hushed and everyone looked towards the door. Jack stepped in and then stepped out, as if embarrassed by the attention he was getting. He was pushed back into the room and everyone stood up and clapped for what was the longest and loudest standing ovation I have ever been part of. Well deserved. He managed to impress me even further by heading straight to the pub afterwards and drank way into the night.

Every crew is so supportive of every runner. Aside from my lapse on the last mile I saw dozens of crews who always appeared to be at the side of the road and willing to spray me. Quite unlike vegas where some tramp would just throw water on your car and try an extort money from you. Crewing is incredibly difficult. It is a fact that the medical team deals with more crew members than runners, often they forget that just staying for 2 days in Death Valley is incredibly hard. When we drove back through Stovepipe Wells a few days later we got out of the car to go to the shop. It was around 11 and just standing up in that heat was unbearable. I had to stand in the shade. I could not believe I spent so long in this heat a few days before.

I forgot to thank Ian Sharman and Claire Shelley for keeping everyone back home updated with my progress. Phone and email reception were intermittent throughout the race and my phone had stopped working anyway so I didn't receive any messages. When I returned my facebook wall was plastered with tracking updates and messages. It was really nice reading them back. Thanks for all the Fetch Forum posts and emails too.

I recieved a lot of good advice going into this race. I think I should thank Mark Wooley again for making me use electrolyes. I also need to thank Mark Cockbain for advising me against wearing white trousers. "You'll look like you've shat yourself".

So, What do I have to do?

For the past 4 years I've been happy to bang on about this race to anyone who would listen. Back then is was some dream far in the future that I would glorify the race and superlate every word when describing it. It's the hardest, longest, hilliest, hottestest etc etc race in the whole universe. I'd like to have a go at that some day.

Now it is almost here and my appetite for bigging it up has waned. Similar to my run up to the GUCR 2 years ago I went into a mood of not wanting to talk about anything in superlatives anymore. Now its a case of dealing with the cold hard facts of how I am going to get from the start line to the finish in the conditions that the race presents. This will be unlike anything I have ever done before and hence will be my greatest challenge so far. So before I stop wanting to talk about it I thought I'd just explain what exactly is involved in the Badwater Ultramarathon.

Ascent into Lone Pine

The Badwater Ultramarathon is a 135 mile road race from the Badwater Basin to the trail head at Mt Whitney. The Badwater Basin is the lowest point in the western hempisphere (280ft below sea level) and because of that it is usually the hottest place on Earth. The record temperature recorded there was 56.7C (134F) and this has only been beaten by a recorded temperature of 57.8C in Libya. Death Valley is predictably hot, in July it is usually over 50C.

The race also takes in 3 mountain passes, one after 40 miles of about 5000ft, the second after around 70 miles and around 400ft and then the final one up to the end from about 125 miles rising another 5000ft towards the end. At the finish you are 9000ft higher than you start. Overall there is about 4000m of ascent.

Sounds simple? Not much complication there. I wish it were, I hate worrying about non-running things but in this race you really have to. There is a lot more to it.

To qualify you need to have run at least 2 100 milers. You also need to submit an application as to why you want to do this race. Each year 40 "rookies" and 40 "veterans" are selected to run. I qualify as a rookie since I have not run this before.  I'm not sure how exactly it is decided who gets in and who doesn't but I'm not complaining too much right now.

You also need a support crew of at least 2 people and 1 car, since the race in unsupported. There are small outposts around 30 miles apart on route that consist of a small motel and a gas station. Other than that it is just tarmac though the Mojave desert. Then there are some other complications.

The starts are in waves at 6/8/10. I start at 8. This is designed so that you run in the hottest part of the valley at the hottest time of day in the hottest day of the year. The first 17 miles competitors are advised to drink constantly. I'll be instructing my crew to drive a mile at a time and be ready with a fresh bottle of water (I will be drinking 500ml every mile). They will also have to spray me with water from a garden spray to keep me cool and supply me with ice bandanas to keep my neck frozen.

I will be dressed from head to toe in white. I have several long sleeve shirts that will cover my skin, long shorts and long socks. I will wear a hat with a neck flap and a bandana full of ice. I will not use suncream as I will be covering up all of my skin.

After 17 miles the route comes up above sea level but not by much and the furnace like conditions will continue. Again I will be drinking constantly. The road surface temperature will get up to 80C, a temperature which you can toast bread and fry eggs. I might fry an egg on the bonnet of the car, just for a photo. It has been said by many runners beforehand that your shoes can melt on the surface of this road and that only running on the white line will prevent this. Not sure how true this is but I'll test it out.

just after 40 miles the first climb starts. the hills will be welcome as that means you can climb out of the oven. I expect my work rate to increase but the temperature to decrease such that overall I'll still feel like I'm being sick. I've been told that once you get through the first 60 miles you are pretty much home and dry. I can easily imagine dry but with 75 miles to go I'd hardly consider it in the bag. I will then enjoy a 10 mile stretch of downhill and a breeze. But this is no ordinary breeze, I'm told that it is more like having a hair dryer blown in your face.

It will be dark by the time I start the 2nd ascent at around 70 miles. The night time temperature is still in the late 20's C, like a hot summers day in the UK. By now I'd have probably changed my kit completely. My crew might have swapped over (I have 2 teams of 2) so to give each other rest and for the "resting" pair to make errands to get more ice/water or whatever I need. If I am in a bad state I'll probably ask for things that I know they can't get. Just to be a pain.

It will probably be day light by the time I reach the top of the second pass and have another day of blazing hot sunshine to burn me. The sun has all sorts of effects on me and while a lot of my focus is on making sure it doesn't kill me I know that prolonged exposure to it will make me sleepy. The cut-off times in Badwater are very generous (60 hours in total) such that if I needed I could just have a proper nights/days sleep and get up and carry on. I hope it does not come to that.

The top of the second pass is at around 90 miles and I hope to be here not much more than 24 hours. from the start. Then for the next 30 miles I can try and do some proper running.

This is the first opportunity to put your foot down. Doing so in the first 40 is lethal as the sun will have it's way with you. The first 2 passes will be hard too but now after 90 miles and more than 24 hours I hope to get a shot at running 30 miles relatively quickly. I will ache from the efforts before and am likely to be exhausted from the heat, hungry but sick and sleepy but now is the time to get it done. The route is flat/downhill and it will be a little cooler. And it's close enough to the end to push it.

Hopefully not too long later I will enter Lone Pine at 120 miles. All that remains then is a 15 mile slog up a hill to the Whitney Portal. The steepest incline of the whole race is left for the end. Most people walk this whole section and I doubt I will do anything different.

Not much else to say really. The finish rate is fairly high, over 80% usually. This is probably because you have to qualify for this and you'd probably only even start this race if you were willing to give it everything to finish. It's a big commitement to train and complete this race. I don't think many people quit likely (or conciously).

Inevitably I'll get asked to say whether this is the hardest race that I've done. People love their lists and putting the stuff they have done at the top of them. It does not really matter so much to me nowadays as I know I am going to get a completely different experience here than I will do in the UTMB and did so in the Spartathlon. This list by some magazine puts Badwater in 2nd place behind the Spartathlon, however any credibility it has vanishes when you see that a desert charity fun walk is at number 9.

There were some words that resonated with me in this guide to how to do the race. This "how to" guide to the Badwater race is incredible, full of advice and tips on how to deal with the dangers of the race. There is a great comment right on the first page.

"I understood why this is considered the toughest endurance event on the planet, and, at the same time, why it didn't need to be any longer or tougher. It's hard to put it into words [...] but if they added more miles to the event (or something else to increase the difficulty), the same people will finish".

There becomes a point where it does not matter anymore how many miles or left, how high the mountains are, how much hotter it gets etc, you just do it. Getting to that point in the first place where you think you are spent is rare. Not many races will give me this and I am sure I will reach this point somewhere on that road. I doubt it will be in the last 30 miles. It may even be in the first 15 miles. I have no idea, all I know is that I need to get over it when I hit it. After that it doesn't matter whether there is 10 miles left or 200. This could be made into a 150 mile race in have a proper mountain climb at the end, or it could be doubled as some people have done. It really does not matter, you'll find the same 70 people or so crossing the finish line. I hope in a little over a week I can count myself as one of those "same" people.

Do you ever just, like... "Go on holiday"?

OK I have long suffered the usual dumb questions that most runners get. Isn't running bad for your knees, Don't you get bored running, how many pairs of trainers do you buy etc etc. This one is popping up more and more. My out of office message usually contains some reference to where I am. I'm sorry I am out of the office and I can't add things up and put them into a pie chart for you right now as I am out running over the Alps/through the Sahara/Canadian Forests/Scottish highlands etc, please ask someone else to do it or wait till I get back. Thanks.

This time I'm going to say "If" I get back.

I can't remember the last time I just "went on holiday". All my holidays have involved going somewhere to run. I think about 3 years ago I went for a long weekend in Barcelona that did not involve any running or other runners though I did insist they came trekking over some of the trails with me.

I am at home packing away now. I imagine it is as exhilirating as packing for a normal holiday. How many bikinis? 4? 5? Must take 3/4 length shorts, half shorts, short shorts and even shorter ones. Lucky pants in case I pull, 6 pairs of shoes to cover every possible weather and social scenario and some perfume endorsed by some minor celebrity slapper and made in a sweatshop. This is how I imagine most suitcases are being packed in the UK right now.

My packing is not that different. 5 pairs of trainers (in case some melt). 1 pair oversize (in case my feet swell). A pair of sandals, 5 white running shirts, 3 pairs of white running shorts (in case I shit myself). A very expensive bottle of what is effectively seawater. 3 hats (they might blow away and I'm not running an inch further than neccessary). I will take sun cream though it will probably only go on my face, since most of my body will be covered.

The temperature is looking quite mild by DV standards. I was up to 50 a week ago but has relented somewhat. I hope it gets back to over 50 as I don't want to be accused of doing this on a "cool" year. The temperature in Las Vegas is nearly 40 degrees. I will spend 2 days there in the most disgusting city I have ever seen. At least I'll get a bit of practice of being hot and nausious.

I met Laurie of my support crew in London the other day. She seemed really nice and has crewed twice and Badwater before. Both finishers and both very different styles. The first she said was quite methodiacl, knowing excatly what he wanted and when. The second was a lady who they just had to keep on her feet and pointing forward. I suspect that I will be closer to the latter than the former. I can't imagine I will be that controlling. I said I'm not erally precious about what I eat and that I prefer "normal" food like crisps, nuts, McDonalds etc. It is likely that after a while I won't want to eat anything but I must, and they must force it into me.

My Crew consist of Bogie Dumitrescu, Debra Haaland, Laurie Woodrow and Debbie Jacobs-Robinson. Bogie is a friend of Adrian Belitu who I met in the Spartathlon and is doing Badwater again this year. Debra I found on the forums as I did Laurie. Debbie I have not heard so much about yet but she is coming along which is great and 4 people in 2 cars should be enough to kick me from Badwater into Lone Pine.

I get into Vegas on Thursday and then drive to Death Valley with my crew on saturday. Registration is on Sunday and then the race starts on Monday (8am there, 3pm here). Still not panicing but I guess that will start when I get to Vegas and it's 40 degrees. I will wilt in that temperature as I try to come to terms with needing to run in 10C higher.

4 years

A couple of days ago I watched the England football team lamely exit the world cup by getting thrashed by a far superior German team. As is the style in England there will be cries that it is really not their fault. The ball was too round, the altitude was sickening, we had a goal disallowed etc. It has been 4 years since England last played in a World Cup and felt the disappointment of being knocked out by Portugal on penalties. Whatever the reason for their exit this time it will be 4 years till they can try and put it right. 4 years is a long time.

4 years ago I was unsure of what I really wanted to do in running. I was training for an autumn marathon, doing the odd half, 10k, relay race and event a triathlon. I did not really know where I wanted to "go" with running. I knew there was something not right about chasing faster times and though I thoroughly enjoyed my first spandex experience I realised that triathlons were not my thing. Then one day that summer when it was a blistering 27 degrees or something I was sent a link by a friend about some ridiculous race in Death Valley. 135 miles in the hottest place on earth in the summer. It sounded so ridiculous as for me to want to do it. But not now, or even soon. I gave myself 5 years.

Things have moved slightly quicker than that and now 4 years later I find myself staring down that valley. I am not there yet but I am now fully aware of what I have to do although I don't know how.

In 8 days I fly to the USA, in 10 days I head for the valley and in 13 days I line up at the start line of a race that has obsessed me since before I started running ultras. I have enjoyed my last 4 years more than can be put into words (though I try with this blog). My canals runs, Alpine treks, Canadian forests, Saharan wilderness, English mud and the historic paths to Sparta have given me so much I can look back on as magical. However they have all been leading up until this point. If I had never had hear of Badwater I could still be out there running road marathons, or worse still triathlons.

It's funny how your feelings towards a race change the closer you get. For 3 and a half years I looked at this and though it sounded stupid. Then as it draws closer, you get more prepared and more confident in your ability it seems quite realistic. And now that it is up upon me and all the training has been done it's gone back to being stupid again. There is nothing I can do about it now. It's already happening.

This weekend I had a great time training in Spain with a couple of other Badwater Brits Mark Woolley and Tim Welch. We ran through the Sierra Nevada mountains on road and on trail, slept out under the stars and covered about 140k in 3 days of running. I was so pleased that my knee held up fine. I realised that I really need to use salt, something I never do. I learned a few things and now am feeling better about the journey ahead. I still have a lot to sort out in terms of crew, logistics, food etc but now there is nothing to do but stretch, yoga and build a shopping list for the Walmart in Vegas.

This leaves me with plenty of thinking time ahead of the race. Plenty of time to think about what I might want to think about during the race, how I might deal with situations as they come. I am nervous but very excited about completing what I set out to do 4 years ago. I can't even contemplate not finishing for that would mean effective disqualification from the next few Badwater races. With so many now applying and so few spaces it would be hard to justify giving a space to a previous quitter rather than a promising looking rookie. For me this is a finish or die race. I don't want to have to wait 4 years to correct my mistake and make up for a poor performance. As I said, 4 years is a long time.

Countdown..

I think you should lay off the running for a while.....

I should be running 100 mile weeks now. 

This was my first ever trip to the physio and apparently it was long overdue. I was fooling myself into thinking that he may just be able to click something into place and I could just run out of there, I didn't really know what to expect as I was sitting in the reception ticking boxes to say that I don't take steroids or have hepatitis C. 

I went to see an Aussie guy called Greg who was immediately concerned about the distances I run. I insisted that it was good for me and I mocked him for believing the story about the ancient guy running the marathon then dying at the end. Surely everyone knows this is untrue?

There were a few questions about when I feel the pain and what I generally do and then it was straight into mocking me for my abysmal flexibility. I was asked to do a series of stretches that I was woeful at and he was trying to contain laughter. It was an important wake up call to something that I knew all along, I am not looking after my body enough to run the distances I want to run.

I went in there with a complaint about my knee and was pretty much told it's not your knee its your whole body. When trying to move my legs around as per his instructions I was told that my arse does not work and my hamstrings don't really help out much either. I do most of my running powering my legs with my lower back and this is causing lots of tightness in my quads and ITBs and that has finally manifested itself in a sore knee.

I was relieved that there was nothing wrong with the knee as such and that he seemed to think I could get up to 100 mile weeks within a month but did suggest I took 2 weeks off running and did a silly amount of stretching. I even got a nice picture of all the exercises to do.

Leaving the place a little dejected and worrying about how fast that Badwater is approaching (8 weeks) I discussed with a few more people what I should do. I was told that stopping running might actually be counter-productive and so long as I did all that stretching I should still be able to run. I liked this though I did think it was just selecting the evidence I liked the sound of, does it make me any different from those loons who spot patterns and think that it proves that Jesus exists? 

Well anyway, I have decided to carry on the running and work on the stretches that I hope will make my body last longer. It is going to be risky as I step up the mileage but I have no time left to waste. At least I have 2 things going for me according to the Physio, the race is mostly uphill and it is very hot, which means I won't suffer the impact as much and that my muscles will be warm. Phew. Just don't mention the UTMB.

Highland Fling

"Listen to your body" is a well worn phrase that is supposed to stop you doing something stupid. It's hard to explain exactly what it means, perhaps impossible. The only sounds my body tends to make are farting noises while plodding up a hill and a churning fluid sound when I am staggering drunk along the Uxbridge Road. My body is hardly the conversationalist, I don't really know what to say to the first one, the second normally leads to me stumbling into Ealing Kebab for a large plastic bag full of saturated fat. Not sure whether that's what it was asking for.

But I ended up having to do this on Saturday in a race I was really looking forward to. After a couple of busy road marathons I was ready to get back to the long off road wilderness. To spend some time plodding along with just myself to amuse and enjoy a part of the world I had yet to explore. 

I had one main objective for this, to finish in good time to make the last train back down to Glasgow so I could get a night bus down to the Midlands and run the Shakespeare marathon the next day. It was going to be a stupid weekend of lots of running and sleep deprivation and the promise of 2 spanking hot days (for the UK anyway). Then after plodding around Stratford I was heading back down to London to get stupidly drunk with all the London Marathoners. It was going to be such a great weekend.

The Highland Fling is a much bigger race than it's low key website and low awareness would suggest. In Scotland this race is huge. The course takes you up 53 miles of the West Highland Way and is a warm up to the race that takes in the full 95 miles of the path. This one is routinely won by Jez Bragg though he was not competing this year. There were a lot of good runners here, 250 or more.

It started in Millgavie (pronounced "Mill-Guy) just north of Glasgow, Scotland (pronounced "Scort-land") at a train station behind a Tesco. I have no doubt that 8 hours before this would have been the scene of a young boy discovering the 3 dimensional contours of a girls upper body for the first time. Now it was being used for something a lot more exciting, 53 miles of hilly running on a lovely summers day. The Fling has 3 starts for the 3 categories of runners, Ladies first at 6, old men next at 7 and then young men at 8. Seems a strange way to do it given that very fast people could come from any one of those 3 groups. 

I went to the start with Rob and Drew. Rob should have been in the earlier start but wanted more of a lie in. They explained that the clock was ticking for him and he should get going if he cared about his time, however Rob was happy to hang around until 8. I joked that as the clock was ticking I was beating him in the race while still sat in a bus shelter. The car park was a mess of vans for us to deposit drop bags for the race, there was nothing on offer other than water for the run. I left some cans of coke and pretzels at the half way stage. Then I lined up under a bridge ready to start the race with 100 or so other young men. And Rob of course. More toilets than Paris

I was told to expect a double Three Forts marathon for this, Three Forts being a great off road marathon on the North Downs Way. It's hard and the thought of doing it twice was really exciting. After about 300 meters of town centre we were on a wooded trail and then out in the open bearing down on some mountains that we were about to run through. I settled into a brisk pace with Rob, Drew and Brian along what is the easiest quarter of the run. Not a great deal of hills or hard terrain, that was promised for later on. I was looking forward to it.

Rob disappeared into the distance around 10 miles in and I was happy to hang back with Drew who was suffering a little. My knees had been sore for the past few weeks and caused me to hobble towards the end of the Paris Marathon but seemed to be behaving themselves now. Both of us thought we had not given enough respect to the ONER that was only 4 weeks before, that had taken it's toll on us more than we'd like to admit. The first 13 miles seemed to pass in no time at all. I was happily chatting away and enjoying the scenery and it's so easy to forget that I'm wearing a watch. 13 miles in comfortably under 2 hours meant we were well on our way for a good finish.

The time was important for me in this race. Anything more than 11 hours would leave me stranded at the finish and missing my train/coach to the marathon the next day. Anything under 10 would give me time to have a few beers and eat in the famous "Real Food Cafe" at the end famed for legendary stodge. The promise of a large pie was enough to stop me pissing about (too much) and try to get to the end reasonably swiftly.

16 miles there was a proper climb up some hill with a Scottish name that I am never in a million years going to remember. We slowly plodded up as people came up past us, saving something for tomorrows road marathon. At the top there was a breathtaking site of Loch Lomond, the biggest (by area) lake in the UK. It stretched for miles and was going to be there with us for the rest of the run. Then followed a steep downhill section and I don't know how but in the last few years I have got worse at running down hills. I was never any good at it but I wasn't so bad that I'd get overtaken by wading birds. I was terrible, stumbling down the rocks and falling to the side and stopping occasionally to let someone past me. My knees started to hurt quite a lot and I was worried but sure that the pain would wear off with some lesser hills.

On completing the hill there was some nice shaded running through woods and across streams into the second checkpoint at around 19 miles. Drew had got ahead of me a little by then but waited at the CP as I was now able to run properly again. We were told that the hill we just ran was the biggest and I was relieved as I didn't think my knees would take another descent like that which does not bode well for the UTMB later this year. My knees felt no better with the easing of the ground and a few miles later both of them were tightening. The normal fluid motion of my joints was being replaced by a stickiness and drying feeling. After 21 miles I ruled out the Shakespeare marathon tomorrow, After 22 I ruled out the 10 hour finish, after 23 I ruled out the finish.

The last time I was here was in Rotherham in 2007. 2 and a half years ago was the last time I bailed out of a race that I really bothered about finishing. Last time it was my own fault for having food poisoning and the 4 mile struggle to the next checkpoint in the pissing rain in December was well deserved. This time it felt unjust, though it was at least sunny and not in Rotherham. I knew it was the right thing to do but it does not stop you looking enviously at the runners who jog past you, or thinking about your friends having a good race, or thinking about what you are missing in the goody bag.

As I walked on I became more efficient at telling people I was ok. The first few asked if I was ok and I replied "Yeah, I hurt my knees coming down that hill so I'm going to bail at the next check point but I'll live, there's always next week", later I was just saying "yeah fine, well done, see you later". I lost the desire to justify why I was dropping out to everyone who passed. 

I amused myself my chatting to others who might pass, playing around on Facebook and enjoying the magnificent scenery of Scotland. It had just entered some wilderness (though I could still get Facebook so we couldn't have been that far out) and was getting more beautiful. Walking didn't stop the aching in my knees and I had to stop a few times and the relay runners were starting to sprint past me. Each person who came past forced me to consider running again, the thought of not doing such a great event justice was eating me up but I know I risked not finishing even greater things by carrying on.

I reached the mid-way checkpoint after just over 5 hours and took my chip off to make it clear I was calling it a day. I hated the thought of being a burden on the organisers so sat out of the way and enjoyed the can of coke that should have been spurring me on to a second marathon. I had eaten a lot in the last 2 days in anticipation of a lot of running, now I felt quite fat.

I managed to secure a lift to the next stop and to the end from a kind chap called Andrew who had just finished his leg of the relay. The relay consists of 4 13ish mile runs and he looked quite tired after his stint and struggled into his car. We drove up to the next checkpoint where he introduced me to their next runner as "Steve". I tried to correct him but it fell on deaf ears. I then spent the next few hours being called "Stevie" and "Stevo" as I helped one of his team members push her car out of a muddy field. It was good to feel useful. As I stood at the checkpoint in blazing sunshine I bumped into Peter Foxall who I had not seen since the Spartathlon. He had dropped out for falling down a hill and hurting his ribs. It was really good to catch up with him. Drew came through just after around 8 hours on the clock and was looking tight for the 11 hours he needed to get the train back to Glasgow. He was determined to dig in though and soon after he left I got a ride to the finish.

The finish in Tyndrum (pronounced "Fin-ish") is a small down on the end on nowhere. There was a huge finish arch stuck on the end of a field that lead the battered runners into the town and to all the goodies. I got there just in time to watch Jany finish and was told that Claire Shelley had already finished long ago in an amazing time despite getting quite lost. I waited for Rob, Paula and Drew and some others I knew and then out of nowhere Santa staggered home sobbing her eyes out. This was her biggest race so far and she smashed it in 11 hours and was so visibly pleased with herself I was glad I was there to see it.

The goodies for the end of this are amazing. A bottle of champagne, a beer, a t shirt, hat, medal and a "Stovie". A stovie is a potato stew of leftovers from the night before but I was told by a despondent Scot that nowadays they have ruined them with "proper" ingredients. A while later Rob came in with a great time of 9.40 something (though officially that will be 10.40 something). Jany had a flight to catch which meant she had to shoot off and more importantly it meant she had to leave her champagne with me to her peril. For some reason I didn't feel guilty about drinking someone else's finish prize.

In the end Drew had to stop at 47 miles and get a train further down the line to make the connection. It must be gutting to get that far and not make it. Instead of getting a nightbus to the start of a road marathon I was actually looking forward to a night of eating and drinking and then travelling down to London the next day to watch The Marathon. Instead of moping around I found it great to surround myself with others who were pleased with their own efforts and achievements on the weekend. 

So, a DNF, no big deal. Unless of course there is something wrong with the knee. Listening to your body is the right thing to do sometimes. Just don't ever tell me to listen to my bank manager, that would quickly put an end to all this silliness. 

Brighton Marathon - Check out the hot Fireman

I am not entirely sure how I agreed to do this. It may have been in a pub or to break an uncomfortable silence, but somehow I agreed to run this marathon with full fireman uniform, if it could be found. It was on behalf of my work colleague Amy who is taking part in a round the world drive in a fire engine to raise money for 3 great causes. She was supposed to be doing the marathon with me but had to pull out injured a few weeks before. It was a shame, because it meant that I had to look like an idiot on my own.

The Brighton marathon is the newest and perhaps the most ambitious new race in the UK. The city advertises itself as "London-by-the-Sea" and made it clear that it was aiming at the London "rejects" who grow in number each year. They had 12000 places to sell making it the 2nd biggest marathon in the UK after London. They sold the spaces within a week. Interestingly they were accepting entries on the day for those who had places for Boston and other marathons that people could not get to because of the airspace restrictions caused by a volcanic eruption. 

It was also forecast to be the hottest day of the year so far in the UK, a tropical 16 degrees. Having emerged from a very cold winter this felt like summer already. This stupidity was to raise money/awareness for Follow That Fire Engine. Have a look on the website to see the details of this great charity fund raising project. 

Having put the outfit on I waited at the start which was delayed by around 15 minutes as someone had left a car parked on the route. Those 15 minutes I started to heat up quite a lot. The day had started quite cool and crisp and would have been ideal running conditions for someone in a vest. I was hoping for at least that. However before I had even passed the start line I was getting very bothered by the heat in my suit. I had not tested the outfit at all, such is my blaze attitude to races nowadays. I had merely jumped around the living room to make sure the helmet does not bounce too much. 

It took about 5 minutes to pass the start line and as soon as I was running I was just relieved that the outfit wasn't too awkward. The start in Preston Park heads through some streets and then before the first mile there is a banner that says you are at the highest point of the route. "All down hill from here" it exclaimed. I was glad when the first mile marker came up and seemed to celebrate it more than usual? How can I be glad after just one mile? There are another 25 to go?

That became a them for the next few miles. I did not have a watch on so had no idea how long it was taking me but I was heating up quite uncomfortably and watching out for every mile and sometimes kilometer marker. The first few miles had a few minor inclines that you would notice if you were running but I noticed more as they caused me to sweat and then weigh me down. Despite the really great support from the crowd and other runners I was in a bad way quite early on. I walked through the regular water stops and drank 2 bottles each time. I spent a lot of the time walking and people were passing me constantly. 

I've never felt so bad so early in a race, around 6 miles in I was walking a lot and wondering how many hours I'll have to suffer this. Amy had arrived and saw me looking in a world of pain after about 7 miles. I thought that if nothing else this would be good training for Badwater where I fully expect to feel tired, sick and lacking energy from the very first steps of the race. At the same time the crowd were still going wild every time I ran past and I was getting fed up with it. I stopped for a piss only once (and that was an excuse to stop for a minute). I was suffering a sense of humour failure such that I would not have appreciated any jokes about me getting my hose out.

Not long later we were on a long stretch of promenade. The first few miles I was shielded from any breeze by the runners running in the other direction who were miles ahead of me. Only after around 9 miles did I finally feel some breeze on my face that enabled me to cool down a little. It was only a slight breeze as it was a very still day but it helped. I managed to get into a more consistent run after than and was in a sort of equilibrium where my soaking wet fireman jacket would cool me from the sunshine.

The halfway mark of the race is right in the middle of Brighton where the crowds were huge. I felt good at halfway and saw Amy and Steve in the crowd and felt obliged to give Amy a big sweaty hug since it was her fault I was doing this in the first place. I had recovered from the last few miles and felt in a good mood to wave the flag to anyone who would shout at me, which was everyone. I had spent the first half hitting myself in the helmet with the flag pole, now I was waving it around in the air. I felt some strange connection with the others who were in fancy dress, there was a Scooby-doo, a banana, several toilets, a Sponge Bob Square Pants, a Storm Trooper and some army guys.

The support I got in the race was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I hated it in Paris the previous week but now I loved been the centre of attention. Cheerleaders would scream, kids would yell "There's a Fireman", and old ladies would comment on how hot I looked. I certainly felt quite hot. I got constant appreciation from fellow runners too, people coming alongside me asking how the hell I was doing what I was doing. Most just wanted to shake my hand, others would just talk about be as if I wasn't there "Seriously why would you go and do that to yourself". At the time I didn't really appreciate the ridiculousness of what I was doing but I did see another fireman a few miles behind me with the full breathing apparatus on his back. A much braver man than me, though I was carrying a big flag.

I raced through the last few miles to a crescendo of noise and tannoy announcements that followed me through the crowded parts of the race. I was absolutely loving waving my flag around and the whole show of it all. I was suffering some chaffing in not vital areas (lower thighs and my back) where the uniform was clinging and digging into me. There were lots of St John's ambulances

I finished in 4.44, not far off the time I got for my first ever marathon and my second negative split ever. I was a bit disappointed that it was over, I really started to get into it. As soon as I stopped though I cooled right down, I was tempted to sit under the promenade and snooze but I would have frozen. 

All in all a really good experience. I got some "heat" training done, I had a brilliant time running around looking like an idiot and discovered a brilliant event that is sure to become huge in the British Marathon calendar. Which reminds me, when are Runners World going to update their marathon calendar? I can't stand the ugly bloke who's on it now.

Carlsberg don't organise marathons, but if they do can they please start with Paris?

4 years is a long time. I can barely even imagine what I was like back then. Back then I was a young Serpie in Paris and a bit nervous about the start of a marathon. The pressure of having to "perform" in the next 3 and so hours was making me feel a little sick. I didn't tell anyone at the time because there was no such thing as Facebook (imagine that?). It was 5 months since my last marathon and I had forgotten what it felt like to start. I hoped that all those boring nights running around a track doing something or other with my lactate threshold would manifest itself in a finish time that would then be plotted on a bouncy red graph on the clubs website to demonstrate to those that were slower that I was "better" than them and to those that are faster that I was coming to get them. There I was, about to start the ultimate race, 26.2 miles of road. No human has ever run further than that. I'd love to go back and visit that boy, and slap him.

So why would I line up here again with 35000 other runners who will heave through a city on some tarmac? I'm not entirely sure, but I had entered the race for some reason and didn't want to waste the place. There might be a nice medal.

The first part of such an endurance event takes place at a vile exhibition called an "Expo". This typically takes place way out of town and no where near the start and is at the insistence of the race sponsors. It would be much easier just to post peoples race numbers out but the opportunity to have 30000 mostly men 35-45 AB demographic with too much disposable income exposed to a load of needless crap in an oversized basketball court was just too lucrative. 

Upon exiting the station I am immediately pushed back by young people in branded tops while they thrust flyers in my face. It was as if they were flown in from Tottenham Court Road to taunt me. However they are not peddling anything useful like some Subway vouchers or a cereal bar. Instead it's a flyer for some gadget that if I attach it to my foot it will tell me how many times I bang it on the floor.

Having spent ages in a long queue choking on the cigarette smoke of other runners I am prodded wheezing to a desk where I am asked to produce a medical certificate which tells the organisers in no uncertain terms that I maybe will perhaps probably not die whilst doing things with my feet. I irony of getting this certificate is hilarious. You have to expose yourself to all manner of diseases from the great unwashed in a waiting room of a doctors surgery and wait for a person who you have never met before to tell you (for £15) that you definitely probably wont die too much while running in a race with your feet. You go into such a place in the shape of your life, you leave with a piece of paper that you could have produced yourself and swine flu.

I then pick up my number and am then directed to the point in the hall which is furthest away from the exit in order to maximise my opportunities to buy shit I don't need. It is a tactic employed to great effect by IKEA and leaves me wading though a sea of energy gels that will make me 5.7% faster, running tops that go really well with my shoes and invitations to repeat this awful experience at other cities around the world. I think I fared quite well, emerging only with a Raidlight bottle belt and a Billy bookcase. I could have got more but someone gouged my eye out with a flyer.

I have spent 3 hours on my feet so far, mooching in queues and bottlenecks. The "How to run marathons" textbook tells me I should be resting at home, revising my split times and laying out my kit. Luckily those textbooks are full of shit.

The morning of the marathon sees many experienced runners following the same ritual. Wake up 3 hours before the start, have a shit, eat some food, have a cup of coffee, have another shit, take some imodium, drink lots of water and if you are lucky have another shit. This ritual was ruined in Paris though by 2 things, first that nowhere opens before noon and you can't even get a coffee and second the organisers decided that 12 toilets for 35000 runners was adequate. There was actually a couple of places open where you could sit around and watch waitresses ignore you and serve other people coffee. Luckily there was a McDonalds nearby where you could just go up to a counter and say "I would like a coffee, here is some money" and then you get a coffee. Why has globalisation not even reached France yet?

Being an ultrarunner I have become very tolerant of the need to go to the toilet in public. In bushes or at the side of streets is fine. It is not fine to practically do it on other peoples feet, or shit in urinals. It was a a ghastly site watching a great city get violated worse than when the Third Reich marched here in 1940. 

The start was equally horrific. I was quite near the front in the 3.15 pen. The idea is that the faster people go at the front so that everyone ends up getting off quite quickly. In reality those who can push in the hardest are the ones who get to the front and they tend to be fatter. About a minute after I squeezed into the cage the entranced closed and people would have to climb over a 6 foot fence to be able to start the race. I felt like a battery hen and was not too worried about anyone laying an egg on me, more about shitting on me.

I heard a countdown from 10 in French (I remember that at least from school, I forgot what the French was for "please can you refrain from urinating on me") and then a loud horn sounded, and then..... Nothing. Unless you are at the front you are not going to start until several minutes after the actual start. The first mile is down the very famous Avenue De Champs-Elysees which the French like to call "The most beautiful avenue in the world". Today the most beautiful avenue in the world has been transformed into a latrine. Runners are heading off in all directions to empty their bladders, a job made more difficult by the presence of spectators with kids and prams. It's a shame the Mona Lisa isn't here somewhere, that would be perfect to wipe my arse on.

Nowadays with road marathons I know at least that passing the start line means I'm near the end. In less than 4 hours I'll be in a pub somewhere, there will be no running into sunset, or sunrise or from city to city. Pretty boring really. 

I settled into a 3.15 pace and was feeling quite comfortable. I had been suffering with a cough for the previous week and was not able to give my lungs a proper workout but was not struggling to breathe as much as I feared. My legs felt a little achy as always but that usually goes away after 30 miles. 

I was quickly exposed to more of the things I hate about road marathons. The beeping heart rate monitors of the runners who have not only followed a spreadsheet for 6 months getting to the start line but are going to follow an annoying beep for their whole race. They must get as much pleasure from finishing as a dog does from fetching a stick. I am also being subjected to the rabid screams and taunts from a heaving crowd telling me to "Go go go" as opposed to "Yeah just stop and piss off". This year the race numbers included our names. 4 years ago it would have been really welcome to have people shouting out my name, now I was just feeling really claustrophobic as a sea of strangers engulfed the course screaming at me and standing on the blue line. The blue line represents the "racing line" of the marathon and is what the front runners follow to ensure that they do not step a stride over 26.195 miles. This route is now unavailable to me as I weave around the course created by the swelling of people waiting for the coffee shops to open and the random people crossing the road. 

The Paris Marathon is actually a really nice route and the city is perfect for sight seeing. I think there are much better ways of doing this that following a line of people drowning in the smell of their own sweat and faeces. You do get to pass a lot of the parks and buildings of the historic city. I remembered from the last time how great it was running along the Seign and under the bridges just after half way. It was around then that my knee started to trouble me, I've never had any bother with my knee before. I subscribe to the view that running slowly over trails for 24 hours is not damaging to your body at all whereas trying to nail yourself for 3 hours or more on tarmac wearing large pieces of foam. 

The temperature hit a tropical 15 degrees and I am starting to choke on other peoples body odour. The long tunnels offer some shelter from the sun and many people slow to a walk since the crowd can't see their humiliation now. I am determined to carry on running as the crowd I am in will be worse further back. I made better progress through the long tunnel than Diana did many years ago and emerge to be blown back by the screaming rabid masses. The knee continues to hurt but I just want to get it over with as soon as possible, not normally a feeling I get less than 3 hours into a race.

At least I saw the Eiffel tower and to my knowledge no one had shat on it yet. Just 3 weeks ago I was doing a race where I would end running inside that and up the steps to the finish line. The thought of doing that again was quite thrilling and I even considered doing it. However I had factored into my clothes packing that I was going to gain an extra T-shirt this weekend and had to finish this bloody race to do so. Damn it.

The last few miles are though a park with very narrow paths that reduces us to a very slow stutter again. I feel bad because I am holding people up with my slow hobbling. I hate to think I prolonged this ordeal for others. Soon enough the finish line came but I was unable to run across it because there was a queue. The pile up of people was caused by everyone stopping their watches and swerving to the side as they did so. Their cherished finish photo (40 euros) would forever capture the moment where they looked down and panicked about their watches showing a few more seconds than they actually ran it in. I put the watch in my pocket after around 10 miles, I felt the need to look at it every kilometre and it was further sapping what little enjoyment I was going to get from this race.

But the marathon wasn't over..... There was then a massive bottleneck to actually get out of the pen that they force you in to get your bags. It took 45 minutes of been made to stand and not being clear as to why. Eventually we escaped and Dan and I found a pub to drink a well earned pint of Guinness (9 euros). 

OK- I admit that was a bit more moany than was necessary and Paris does represent perfectly what I hate about these events. It still is a pretty poorly organised farce, London is far better organised in comparison without the start mess and finish travesties. I still am not sure why I went for such a marahton, perhaps it was the company, it was great being in the pub afterwards seeing a couple of Serpies fly past me during the run. 

The whole experience confirmed to me that road marathons are not my thing. I have no desire to train or hurt myself on tarmac to achieve a time to post against others. 4 years ago that was very different but then I guess so was I. I had not experienced just how fun running for the sake of it can be. I don't need people watching me or people all around me to enjoy a run. But who knows? I am sure as I approach my 40's and start to suffer the mid-life crisis I may feel that the only way to show that I've done anything with my life is to try and smash myself over the streets of Paris. Hopefully they will have more Starbucks by then.

Feet in the Clouds

There exist a few books that "have" to be read in the same way that some ultras "have" to be run. Feet in the Clouds by Richard Asquith is one such book, one of a handful of books that every runner seems to have read. I am ashamed of myself for taking so long to finally start reading it, similarly I am ashamed to say that my first visit to the lakes in Cumbria was just this weekend.

I really enjoyed reading most of this. The early parts than deal with the authors early attempts at the Bob Graham Round I found myself chuckling through as it was very close to home. A boy from London trying to take on some of the spectacular hills of the Lake District by throwing gear and science at it. Sports drinks and fancy shoes and maps. It struck me like he had missed the point as to what it was do run on those fells, not that I really know. Reminded me of several discussions on my clubs forum in the winter that would start something like "I've noticed it's snowing outside. Obviously I can't just go and run in the snow but I have a spreadsheet to stick to so don't know what to do. Is there a piece of kit I can buy that will just make the snow go away?"

The Bob Graham Round is a legendary fell run in the UK. It's not a race but a route of 42 fells that the eponymous B&B owner decided to run on his 42nd birthday. Since that running in 1932 a few thousand UK runners have made it their mission to complete it. Some do and some don't. The preparation and training is all consuming though.

Most of the book is concerned with the fell running scene and profiles of some of it's most talented runners. I glazed over the politics and admin of the running clubs and organisations up north but loved the portraits of some of the fells heros. Joss Naylor and Billy Bland are legendary on the fells. There are so many others, some who came down from the hills to compete in road marathon racing, some of them doing very well indeed. You wonder how many olympic class athletes there were in the Lake District who just could not be bothered with running 26.2 on a road.

Askwith is not one of these super athletes but takes on the challenge anyway. The account of his own personal efforts and failures makes great reading for those who want to make an attempt at this. 

I recommend going to the lakes though, it is beautiful but really hard terrain.

 "If you're not cold, or wet, or lost, or exhausted, or bruised by rocks or covered in mud, you're not really experiencing the mountains properly. You need to feel it, to interact with it; to be in it, not just looking from the outside. You need to lose yourself - for it is then that you are most human."

ONER

"To much of what we do nowadays is a foregone conclusion". This was part of an email exchange with Oli Sinclair that tipped me towards doing the ONER. I had this weekend planned to run the Jurassic Coastal Challenge, 3 brilliant coastal marathons in 3 days. I had done this event 2 years ago and loved it. Around 5 hours of running each day and then time to relax, stretch, eat, talk and just enjoy being by the coast. I was really looking forward to it. But Oli's point was quite fair, there are not that many opportunities to do something seriously hard, something where finishing is not a given. 3 very hilly marathons run back to back starting at night would certainly qualify as one of those. Running from the sunset

The ONER is young but already has an interesting history. in 2007 20 people started and 5 finished. In 2008 (when I did the JCC) around 40 started but the runners were pulled out after 10 miles because the weather was so bad. I remember being in the caravan on the Saturday night thinking the roof was going to blow off and wondering how people could run in such conditions. They ended up running about 55 miles. Last year the organisers (reluctantly I think) re-staged the event in August so the weather was better and there was more daylight and many more finished. This year they went back to the old time as there were suspicions that having it in summer made it too "easy".

So there were were, 6pm in the evening in some field near Charmouth in Dorset. The sun was about to set and many people I knew had just finished their second marathon of the weekend, the first starting where we were stood. We were to retrace their steps along the 2 marathons and then get a head start on them before they started their third at around 10am (or 9am as the clocks were going forward just to confuse us). 

The start was very typical, a guy yells "GO" and 61 runners walk/jogged into a rhythm. Given that we could be on our feet for 24 hours no one was really keen to head to the front (and then be responsible for navigating). As always there are stiles and gates to pass which cause a few bottlenecks early on but no one is worried. As the field spread I noticed a couple set off in the distance and a whole trail of runners strewn across the hills. I never turn up to these things with the intentions to run with anyone and was in a crowd with Mark Cockbain, Allan Rumbles, Drew Sheffield and others. The groups got smaller and smaller as the sun set around an hour after the start. Only around 5 miles in there was a turn that a large group of us were debating. This is where Drew and some others left us and they appeared to be wandering out to sea, we could see their headlights and glow sticks in the distance. I think we ended up going the right way.

The Dorset Coast is very hilly. From the start we were ascending hills and then coming down stairways. Everyone walked these from the off, there were not a huge number of opportunities to run early on. This was made harder by the muddiness of the path. I had forgotten to pack trail shoes and was wearing road shoes. It had rained quite a lot the few days before and the 250+ runners who had run the days before had churned it up nicely. It would have been nice to keep our feet dry for as long as possible but within 10 miles we were ankle deep in mud. There was no point wasting energy and time trying to avoid it, I just ran right through. My choice of shoe did not seem to be a disadvantage, I was falling over at the same rate as everyone else. Mark always looked quite funny in the mud, like a baby giraffe. He'd curse quite a lot and wondered why they hadn't just covered it in tarmac. Allan and Drew were more like enthusiastic hippos, charging right in. 

It was actually really frustrating and energy sapping to have to deal with so much mud so soon. It would have been nice to get ahead a bit on the sections that were normally good running, before our bodies started to fade but the mud was slowing us down quite a bit. As darkness fell I could not see what I was standing in any more but every now and then my feet would just go right through something. Portland by night (not my photo)

This was the first time I had a serious kit check before an event. The guys were very strict on it and for good reason, the coast is notorious for sudden changes in conditions. My kit was checked fully, even ensuring that I had everything waterproofed in bags and I had their phone numbers stored in a fully charged phone. While giving the briefing Ben Mason (head of VOTWO) said that while we should all be wearing our head torches we should however try to run without switching them on. This seemed on to me at the time but I thought I'd try it out and it was amazing. When running with a head torch your focus narrows to a particular area that is lit and you are blind to everything else. The moon was full and exposed and running in the dark with little light was a joy. Much easier than I thought it would be. You have to trust your feet a bit more but it was absolutely true what Ben said, you can see in the dark.

It was most convenient to break this up into 3 marathons since the checkpoints were positioned approx every 10k. I was hoping to complete the first one in not much more than 5 hours but in the end it was more like 6. There was a very long stretch of mud approaching the road onto Portland where checkpoint 4 was located. We could see the island of Portland jutting out from the mainland from the start. It was a great sight to watch the sun set and the island light up though it didn't appear to get much bigger as we ran towards it. 

This was the first checkpoint that we stopped at for some time and they were amazing. Set up in the back of a couple of vans and with some very helpful people fussing all over you. The guys were very obliging in filling my water pack and getting me all the coke I could drink. There was a van full of goodies to chose from. In VOTWO and many similar events you tend to be faced with a choice between food and science. On the food side we had pasta, sandwiches, chocolate bars and sweets. The science choice was cliff bars and some energy beans. In the middle of the night while I'm soaked with mud, cold and exhausted and with another 2 really hard marathons still to run the decision was easy. Food beats Science.

Mark and Allan, just before another big hill just after sunrisePortland was going to be a mixed bag. It was notorious for people getting lost as there are quite a few twists and turns in the coastal path which are easy to miss, especially in the dark when tired. On the other hand much of it is road which would give us a chance to make up a bit of time. Getting to the checkpoint at the lighthouse at Portland bill was fairly straightforward, there was one large hill and some trail that I recalled from the Portland Marathon. The Lighthouse was shinning it's light across the sea in the dark and was easy to see in the hills of Portland. Like with Paris last week and the Eiffel tower shining at night I thought those who had run this during the day were missing out. Lighthouses look fairly useless in the day, it was great seeing it in action.

At checkpoint 5 I had my first cup of coffee for 10 days. I had given up accidentally (when I had food poisoning) and decided to stay off it until this run. Previously when running in the night I had to drink lots of coffee as it had little effect with the huge amounts I normally drink. Now I was ready to reap it's benefits. At no point did I feel sleepy during the event, earlier though while wading through the mud I did think about just lying down on a bench, that's got to beat slipping around in the wet. The next section was along some quite tough coastal path that was very rocky. I had done this before in the Portland Marathon and normally it is brilliant to run on but only in the light. Taking on all those rocks in the dark was difficult as well as the ups and downs on narrow paths going to the sea and back up. This was the first and only time I used my torch.

Sure enough we did get lost in Portland, we had to do a loop of the prison which has walls and corridors sticking out of everywhere. We took a turning onto a road and as soon as we hit tarmac Mark sets off like roadrunner and tried to make some time up. Around half a down down this street we were stopped by some marshals in a van telling us that we had gone wrong and should head back, uphill. We re-traced our tracks and I was using a gps device that helped to keep us on the route, when I could be arsed taking it out of my pocket. We took in the lovely sight of a quarry (off route) and made some other mistakes but eventually made it back down onto the long road out of Portland. Wrong Turn - We were supposed to be on that cliff edge

It was quite an odd sight, we'd be scratching our heads trying to figure out which way to go and then a bunch of other runners would just appear from some place we never ran down and head off in another direction that we did not follow, almost as if they were in a different event. As soon as we hit the road Mark set off again and started talking about not finishing within the cut-offs. We were due to arrive at the halfway stage at 3.30, so 9 and a half hours for the first half giving us a 2 and a half hour buffer from the cut-offs. The times the checkpoints close are based on a 24 hour run. Getting more than 2 hours ahead in the first half was more than enough I thought, particularly as we had gotten lost and had to wade through all that mud in the dark. I thought that once it got light we'd be moving quicker and we were told there is a lot less mud in the second half. It was quite funny watching Mark panic a bit though. I think he likes seeing "DNF" against his name less so than being called a Mackem. 

We were so fortunate with the weather for the night. Around 8 degrees and with no rain forecast until well into Sunday. It was hard enough with the rain that happened before and I can't imagine how difficult it would have been if it was raining too. At the halfway point we stopped again for more food and sat down a bit. The next section was on road and promenade through Weymouth, more chance to get some quick(ish) miles done. I started to feel a bit chilly and made a comment to Allan and Mark that I was regretting the choice to wear "Man Shorts" instead of "Girl Tights". Mark and Allan were both wearing shorts but everyone else at the CP were wearing tights and one got a little upset with my comment. I didn't mean anything by it. Well I did. 

Weymouth was easy running, even with all the drunk people. It was around 4am and the town was alive with people staggering in and out of kebab and pizza places. The kind of thing I do when I have a weekend off running, which is not so much nowadays. We pushed the pace for a bit and headed out of the other side of the town and hit the hills again. At 5am the clouds started to light with the upcoming sun. Having run for near 12 hours it was good to see the sun on it's way again. This is the 5th time I have seen the sun set and rise again in the same race, each time is pretty special. It was made even better by running without a torch. If you haven't done either before I recommend it.

I did not really study any of the maps beforehand but had memory of what happened in the JCC a couple of years ago. I seemed to recall the end of day 2 being very hard with lots of climbs. We were about to hit that. The "easy" running of the previous 30k was not as easy as we'd hoped. The first marathon had really drained us and on approaching the hilly end to the second we were all exhausted. By this point it was just the 3 of us, normally there were more people around that we didn't know and running in groups is a good idea when map reading and darkness are involved.

At the start of the race I hadn't "agreed" to run with anyone. I see Mark, Allan, Drew and various others quite a lot at different ultra and we are usually in different states of disrepair according to what events we had done recently. We'd always chat in the early stages and then settle in to our own pace and get on with it. Usually we would all be separated but today (and yesterday) Mark, Allan and I were together throughout. It was almost as if it were decided early on when we were navingating our way around that farmhouse that we'd stick together till the end. It was great having those guys out there.

Allan, Me and Mark and Durdle DoorThe approach to Lullworth Cove and the 2nd marathon finish was every bit as hilly as I remembered. The sunshine was not helping us get up huge flights of steps with uneven sized steps and many of the paths were still very slippy. It usually took a couple of breaks to get up each one. I'd turn around and sometimes sit down to take in some of the breathtaking views of the cliffs and the harsh terrain that we had just climbed. The route into CP 8 was every bit as hard as I remembered and I recall 2 years ago stopping at that point and recovering a little to complete the third marathon. I also recall the first half of that third marathon being even harder than the end of the second, with some truly massive climbs and much more steep, proper hands and knees climbing sometimes. Unfortunately today I was not about to be whisked off in a van to a BBQ and a nice bed, having just scrambled over miles of harsh hills I had another marathon of them coming up.

Lullworth Cove arrived at around 7.30 in the morning, that gave us 10.30 hours to do the last marathon. There was a long but shallow stairway down to the CP which was quite hard work in our conditions. I think this was our longest CP stop, I just lay down in the grass for a few minutes and thought about how nice it would be to fall asleep. I had changed my socks at the previous CP which gave me a little relief from the mud that filled my road shoes. I still don't think it mattered what I wore, even slippers. Times like this you really start to crave the things we normally take for granted, like a bed or a shower, a clean pair of socks or a toothbrush. Even a toilet with handrails. The staff again fussed over me, making sure I had enough water and was full of food before heading out on the last marathon. It would be about an hour before the first group of the JCC people would start running. It felt quite nice getting ahead of them and making the path muddy for them as they had so kindly done for us the 2 days before.

10.30 hours for a marathon sounds really easy in any condition, that is slow walking. It did not help however that the start of this marathon involved the biggest and hardest climbs yet. Not just the number and the height of them but the steepness too. In our conditions there was a need to have something to hold onto and we had a choice of weak tree branches or rusty barbed wire fence. Those hills were all harder than before and as soon as they went up they went right back down again giving no chance of doing any running. Those small breaks where it was possible to run Mark would get us all moving. 45 minutes after we had left Lullworth we saw a sign that said it was 2 miles away. This instantly made us do the sums, that is little over 2 miles an hour which is really pushing it for a finish in the cut-off. 

It didn't help that we managed to wander off course somehow and inland quite a lot. There were a few firing ranges around which we would have to go around but for some reason we went on the wrong side and all of a sudden when I looked to my right I could see a huge mass of land between us and the coast. I could not even see the sea. As if by magic a VOTWO van pulled up and told us we were way off course and had to go back. Allan looked (and sounded) rather vexed at this point and looked like he might want to push someone off a cliff. Luckily for us we were miles away from one, that being the problem in the first place. It did not take too long to correct the mistake though. We took a road then a hill (special bonus hill) back onto the coast where we saw the first runners from the JCC bobbing along.

The detour had set us back a little but we were still in good spirits. Given that most of the JCC runners had not passed us yet and we only had 30k to go meant that we were likely to finish in good time. It was a lovely morning and a lot of walkers took advantage and were on the path. All were very nice and would cheer and stand aside to let us stagger through. I took every opportunity to answer their questions about what the hell we were doing. "SEVENTY EIGHT MILES?". There were some more really steep climbs that I had to use my arms to drag myself up and now we had the added challenge of trying not to get in the way of others. There was a steep slope that was so muddy that I lost my shoe in it. When I put my foot back in and bent down to put it back on I got cramp. I was stuck there for about a minute with my feet glued to the mud and cramp and the only way out was to roll over like a pig in mud and get the shoe back on. I was really sick of the mud by then, it wasn't wet any more it was just like glue. While we were laughing and cursing at the ridiculousness of going up only to go straight back down again Mark commented "You're doing the UTMB this year aren't you? It is just like this, only that's 2 days long".

CP 10 was a huge milestone and we rewarded ourselves with a sit down. We now had 6.30 hours to run a half marathon and were told by the guys there that the last 21k were "easy". Just one more biggish hill and otherwise quite runnable. I felt in quite good shape all things considered. My calves and quads were not hurting at all as they usually do in hilly events. The soles of my feet were very sore and I had a blister on my heel which was causing some bother. My right knee was also hurting, probably from running 65 miles on a slightly slanted path. It's always nice when doing hard races with cut-offs to get to the point where you know you can just walk and still finish. We were at that stage now, the last 13 miles were fairly easy by the standards of before but we were keen on getting it finished.

Photos can't really do justice to how hilly these wereWe could see the next checkpoint already, it was a lighthouse in Swanage. As we started to run we saw more and more runners of the JCC pass. It was easy to tell us apart, we had mud all over our legs whereas the JCC people's legs were pristine. We got a lot of congratulatory pats on the back from the runners as they flew past us. For the first time as I was leaving the checkpoint I met James Elson, a fellow British Badwater entrant for this year. It was good to finally meet him though I probably was not my most conversational. Soon into the stage Ian Sharman came flying past, he had won the 2 previous days and was winning the third. He looked very comfortable and more so than Huw Lobb who as a few minutes behind him. A few others passed before Claire Shelley bounced by in her usual way. 

Not long after that I fell over and twisted my ankle. I was gutted that with little over 12k to go I was reduced to a walk as it was quite painful. Mark and Allan waited a little to see how I was and I told them to go an ahead as it was likely I'd be walking the rest. It was a real shame as I was really looking forward to a strong and quick finish. The last checkpoint seemed to take an age to come as I tried running a few times to test the ankle but stopping quickly each time. I finally staggered into the final checkpoint and filled my water for what I thought might be a 4 hour walk to the finish and was really surprised to see Mark and Allan still there. They could have been long gone by now. I took some painkillers off Mark and we all set off together, initially walking through a very slippy harbour. Then Mark would start pointing to things as he had done for the last 20 odd miles and say "Let's run to that building/phonebox/beach house/chav". It kept us focused and going till the end. 

There was a minor wander inland up one last hill and then back out onto the beach in Studland. I definitely remember this from 2 years ago and was promised that the finish was less than 2 miles away. Shortly before hitting the beach we saw 3 other dishevelled ONER's hobbling along quite slowly. Allan immediately said "If we take these bastards we can get 10th place". I had no idea what place we were in but he seemed keen on getting ahead of them and as we were a group I had no choice but to participate. We ran the whole section of the beach, occasionally being overtaken by some sprightly JCC runners. In the distance we saw a shape of a man pointing inwards and we knew it was pointing to the finish line. Gemma appeared taking photos then pointed us into the sand dunes where we were told there was just half a mile to go.

These were not big sand dunes, none of them were as tall as me however they annoying enough to make us say "Bastard" quite a lot. Then there were some deep puddles to wash our feet in as we made it to the finish area. Mark yelled "THERE'S A BOGIE ON OUR TAIL", and we looked around to see a runner steaming in to beat us to the finish. He suspected it was a ONER and I really couldn't care less, in fact it was a JCCer and it didn't matter. It had just started to rain as we crashed into the finish area with arms raised and been missed my the cameras completely. 21 hours and 7 minutes. 

Soon after we staggered into the finish area I saw Jany Tsai, Toby Mellville and Jo Proudlove come in shortly followed by Nick Morrison-Smith (who I stole a few photos off here). It was great to see them again. I had not stopped moving since they wished my luck 24 hours earlier. We heard news that the weather had turned really bad and they were pulling the race at the last checkpoint. I can't imagine getting that far and not being able to finish but I think in the end everything was ok. 

I don't like to take part in debates as to which race is harder than which and what is the toughest race ever, they always end up descending into a pointless list of quotes and stats. I know I'm going to be asked to compare this with some of the other things I've done and it will be hard to do so. The races I've got the most satisfaction from are those where finishing is not a given. Nowadays most 50 mile runs are just that, a foregone conclusion that by hook or crook I'll get to the end. This on the other hand was different, for so much of the run I (and Mark and Allan) were occasionally worried for our finish. It was only at CP 10 with a half marathon to go that we felt like we could finally relax. For 65 miles it was in the balance, it is quite stressful at the time but when it is lifted it is an amazing feeling.this was one of the shorter and easier staircases

The West Highland Way race and the Bob Graham Round were mentioned as comparable to this, I don't know having not done either. I think all people on the starting line of these events have a healthy fear of failure and a realistic expectation that it could happen. What if it rained all night or we got even more lost? If I twisted my ankle earlier or didn't have Mark and Allan to run with? There are a lot of things that could have happened that would jeopardise that 24 hour finish. The prospect of giving it everything and still failing is what brings people to do these things. It's what made me decide to do this instead of the 3 day option.

I have recently been reading a very good paper about how to run the Badwater Ultramarathon. Almost in the first paragraph the author had some things to say on the "hardness" of races. You can make any race more difficult, by adding more hills, more miles, more extreme weather or something else, but it does not really matter because if you to the same people will still finish it. There comes a point in some races where you have to go further than you can imagine and this was certainly one of those. Mark has proved himself over the past decade as a man who can finish anything and even he would admit that this was really tough. Allan has breezed through the ultras he has done until now and this was his biggest test so far and he succeeded. I'd like to think that I was one of those people who can finish anything, I think I am. Finishing the ONER though was the first evidence of this I had gained since I kissed the foot of Leonidas. I have a few more tests this year that are anything but forgone conclusions.

Hot Bendy Girls

Or at least that was what I was hoping for. Yesterday I did my first ever session of Bikram Yoga and could not concentrate on the sight of the above for fear of dying.

16 weeks out from the Badwater race I made a start on getting my body used to heat. Bikram yoga takes place in a heated room of around 40 degrees and around 30 other people. It gets quite warm. The heat is supposed to allow for deeper stretching which is why most people do it. I just wanted to try and endure the heat though improving my flexibility would not be a bad thing.

I arrived at 6.30 in the morning and was already hot and bothered by the time I was in reception. Filling in the forms was making me sweat. I entered the room and was not immediately blown away by the heat, so far so good. We were given the intro talk which was mostly aimed at me as the first timer about when to drink water and if you feel bad you should sit or lie down. She said that more than anything I should try to at least stay in the room.

The first few stretches were fairly easy in that I could do them without falling over. It was very difficult concentrating on the stretches, looking around at what others were doing while clawing sweat from my face and trying not to slip over in my own puddle. I was told to keep my feet together which was much harder than it sounds and then the stretches got more complicated, mostly involving standing on one leg. This is beyond me at the best of times but I was doing ok I think. I was not nearly stretching as far as the rest of the room but I was staying upright. I had taken my t-shirt off to cool down and tried to use it to dry myself but it was already saturated in my own warm sweat. 

After 45 minutes I started to feel quite light headed and sick. This I was told was very normal and I should take a break if needed. I saw another guy sat down so I sat down too and ducked out of a few of the exercises. A few minutes later I got back up and joined in some more however it was short lived as I had to sit back down again. Another 5 minutes passed and I decided to get up again and join in however as soon as I did my head felt so light that I had to get back on the floor. I had done nearly an hour, only 30 minutes to go.

While I was on the floor I was trying to cool down as much as possible and I know that the best way to do this is by staying still. I just couldn't though, I swung my head from side to side breathing through my nose and was swaying my feet. I just had to take my mind off the heat and the sickness. I have been reading some advice about badwater and one of the common themes is that just staying in the sauna is enough, you don't have to bother with any exercise. This was not a proper sauna but was my first attempt at enduring proper heat for a prolonged time. 

The clock ticked very slowly as the rest of the class were also lying down but doing other exercises. At least they could not see me any more. I tried to watch what they were doing and take note for next time but the extra though involved just warmed my brain more. Finally the 90 minutes were up and although we were encouraged to stay in the room longer and relax I headed straight out, fumbling my mat back onto the rail and sitting down outside.

So, I managed less than an hour of exercise at 40 odd degrees before lying down. Come July I need to be running in 50 degrees for a day and more. I got a lot of pats on the back from others there who said I did well to stay in the room. I was quite pleased with the effort. So far so good. I am going to try to do it every week for the next couple of months and then increase it nearer to the race. 

Eco Trail De Paris

This had the sorry smell of deja vu. Just over 2 years ago in the days before my first 50 mile race I got food poisoning from some nasty chicken place in London after a night out. Thursday and Friday I battled to rid my body of whatever evil that passes as chicken in West London had entered it but to no avail. I started the Rotherham 50 on the Saturday and on swallowing my 12th immodium of the day I decided it would be a good idea to pull out at 17 miles.

Crowded Start

The same thing happened again. I had not learned from the past and on Thursday I was lying in bed with what felt like really bad stitch. I had been sent home from work for vomiting and could not hold in any fluid. I lay in bed all day and only got up to get rid of the water I had just drank. I was determined to make it to the start line regardless.

The Eco Trail De Paris promised to be a great race and I would have been very disappointed to miss it. It was certainly one of the biggest ultras I had never heard of, with 1500 starters for the 80k and 1200 for the 50k. The route ambles through some lovely countryside point to point from way out west and finishing in the Eiffel Tower. Not a huge number of international competitors, it was a very French race. I only knew Ian and Helen from the UK.

A short and confusing train ride then a coach transported us quite quickly to the start in St Quentin. We got there a bit early which left me with some time to try and eat more food. I had 2 meals in 2 days and was mindful of the task of running 50 miles empty. Still, I know a lot of ultra-runners who swear by not eating the day before so maybe I was about to learn something new. Ian went off to the front and I deliberately stayed near the back, happy to follow a slow pace that was just going to see me to the end of the race.

The first few miles for me were stop-start is some parks. 1500 runners crowding through some narrow paths meant there was a lot of stopping early on. After a few miles the congestion eased (as I hoped my own would increase) and we could all settle into a jog. It was still very slow going and it was quite warm (16 degrees) and I was thankful of the many parts of the route that were under the trees. biggish hill

This would be described as a "hilly" course. Certainly not mountainous but with probably 20 odd short sharp inclines (think parliament hill but twice as steep). They would be walked by most and on another day I would have made more effort to run up them but did not feel the energy to today. In fact after the very first one I was feeling a bit giddy and wondered how I will cope with the others that were going to come. I put these thoughts out of my mind quite well by recalling some parts of "survival of the Fittest" that I had recently read. It is a must read for any endurance runner. In it there are tales of how the human body and do extraordinary things in dim circumstances such as extreme heat, cold or starvation. I decided to stop being such a pussy about the whole throwing up thing and not eating and just get on and do the race. It was only 50 miles ffs.

The checkpoints near the start are quite sparse. The first at 13 miles then the second at 33. Those 20 miles can be tricky without enough water and we were warned as such in the briefing. There was a lot of kit to carry in the race which seemed excessive but in the end seemed sensible. 2 litres of fluid, food, coat, trousers (or corset?), TWO headtorches, reflective armband and some other stuff. I was struggling to ration my drink for the warm 20 miles to the second checkpoint and was looking around for a shop to buy something. Luckily at an observatory 25 miles in there was a water pump with a crowd of runners drinking and hosing themselves. I stuck my mug in a few times to neck some cold water and then no longer worried about having enough, the checkpoints were all closer together after that.25 miles to go

It was in the observatory that we first got a look at the Eiffel Tower. I can't think of another race I have done where I can see the finish from 25 miles away. It was a really nice sight and there were lots of planet displays that I would normally have spent time looking at. However I had to press on, I didn't want to leave Mr Sharman waiting too long, particularly as he had the key to the hotel room.

The second checkpoint came finally and was a brilliant display of Frenchness as all of them were. Cheese, meat and bread and lots of cake bars. All I craved for the entire race was a few cups of coke which I took. I would have loved to have stuffed my face with all of it but resisted in case my body rejected it. In fact the sickness had all but gone. I felt a bit weak but my stomach was fine. Could it be that stuffing your face with meaty food is bad for you in these things? Perhaps.

I tried not to stay in the checkpoints too much but some degree of faffing was required to fill up my bladder and empty my shoes. There was a funny sight of people sat down taking a significant break, lying down or getting medical attention. All felt a bit much for 50 country miles but was an amazing scene. 

Having done 53k the checkpoints were all only 9k apart now and I was looking forward to more coke. I was so pleased that I had gotten out of bed to do this and that it wasn't hurting much, or at all. My legs were in great shape. I had got twice as far as the 17 miserable miles I managed in Rotherham 2 years ago and I was going to finish. I started to do some good running, overtaking quite a few people as I did.

After not many more miles I was confused to see what looked like a checkpoint. I knew I had not just run 9k in 30 minutes. It was in fact an equipment check, and I failed. The one thing I didn't have was the one thing they asked for, the reflective armband. I did not put up much of a protest as they asked for it. I tried to say "umm, it fell off" but they did not buy it. A lady just took a note of my number and allowed me to go on. It made me laugh a little and I thought of what might happen. I hear of people getting pulled from the London Marathon right at the end for cheating, when they can see the finish line. I thought it would be a bit harsh to drag me from under the Eiffel Tower in this manner but the thought crossed my mind.A Checkpoint

I was still in the woods when darkness fell. I have run in the dark many times before and always try to leave it till very last light before turning on my torch. When I did it was amazing, the trees had little yellow reflective strips on and all the other runners were dutifully wearing their armbands and reflective strips. I felt bad for not doing the same. It can be quite tricky running in the dark, you want to shine your torch on the floor so you can avoid things but then you can't see where you are going and risk taking a wrong turn. I think it's best to just let your instinct guide you and not worry about the floor too much. I had run 40 miles now without falling over so I was due a tumble anyway.

The last checkpoint was a beautiful sight. Set at some racecourse we ran across fields to get to it. Then on leaving we were treated to a spectacular view of Paris by night with the finish line glowing like a beacon across the whole city. I wish I took more photos during the race and didn't as my camera was low on battery but I did manage to get one last photo of how it looked 10k from the end of the race. It was pretty special.

10k to go...

There were a few more miles of woods as we descended into the city and then onto the river path. This is when the sky opened and unleashed some of the heaviest rain I have run in. It just came out of nowhere and soaked the path we ran on. All of a sudden I was ankle deep in water and absolutely loving it. I saw a few ahead of me trying to step over the puddles but there really was no point. I took charge and led everyone thought the middle of everything and laughing to myself as I did. I loved it, only 3 miles to the end and dwarfed by the now intimidating presence of the tower shining it's light over the streets searching out the runners to finish the race. It felt like a scene from War of the Worlds (except the tower was welcoming rather than trying to kill us).

I passed the Statue of Liberty (or whatever it is called here) and thought about how free I was feeling. Soaking wet and shivering I was running towards one of the worlds most iconic monuments with some other wet Frenchmen while others ran for cover under bridges. This is proper freedom.

The last mile involves some road crossings and all are very well marshalled by the police. I was amazed by the patience of the people and traffic of Paris for this race. By now the runners are very thinly spread and I had no one ahead of me to follow. The four enormous feet of the Eiffel Tower finally came into view and I was led across the road and into the expo marquee where everyone cheered as I ran behind the podium, a very odd feeling to be outside and in the rain to be all of a sudden indoors with a load of screaming people. I ran back out the other side then into the south entrance to the tower. The finish line was only 50m away, and I was right underneath it.

I didn't really appreciate before the race how great it would be to actually finishing INSIDE the Eiffel Tower. I was given a ticket at the bottom of the steps and then tried to haul myself up. There were a few tourists climbing the steps and not quite knowing why I seemed in such a rush. I saw a runner ahead and made no effort to catch him, even though I grew up in Leicester I have been taught that it's rude to overtake people on stairs. I was not sure at this point how many I would have to climb, it only goes to the first level and on getting there I displayed my ticket to the guards (it was a little sweaty by then) and then turned into the finish. 9 hours and 20ish. 

There was not a lot in the tower other than beer and coke (I still went for the coke) and a group of us waited for the lift back down and into the marquee that I had just run through to be treated to yet more food. Again it was cheese and meat and normally I would have destroyed it but was still lacking in appetite. 

This was a truly magnificent race and one I am so glad at making the effort to start. Getting to the start line was difficult (via a coach journey from London) but once I has started the finishing was easy. Seeing the finish line from 25 miles out, then again at night with 10k to go and then running to the tower and letting it swallow you is indescribable. One for next year definitely, with about 30 of you guys. Just don't let me go near a Chico-land in the week before the race, or indeed ever.

Glasgow to Edinburgh Double Marathon

The Serpie Army at the startThe Glasgow to Edinburgh ultra was yet another event that has popped up in the past few years to meet the growing demand for long distance running in the UK. Around 100 were registered for 55 miles of canal that joins Scotland two biggest cities. There was a huge Serpentine contingent present, 9 to run, 4 to cycle and later and later on about another 10 to come and sing Happy Birthday to me at the finish. I turned 30 the previous day and was looking forward to celebrate becoming an old man by doing what I love most, running along canals.

I was really pleased just to make it to the start line. 4 weeks ago I stubbed my toe at the Pilgrims Challenge and the whole thing inflamed and was very painful. I could not tell whether it was just badly bruised and inflamed or whether it was broken. Dr Google suggested icing and that even if it was broken there is nothing to be done apart from resting for 6 weeks. I was very worried about my birthday race not even starting but in the last week I could at least run (though I still could not walk properly on it). I had taken a day off work to go to A&E to get it checked out but that was the morning I found out I got into Badwater. I was too excited that I forgot. On Wednesday the toenail fell off and my foot has felt perfect ever since. It was such a relief, my plan was to hobble as much as possible until the pain got too much, now I could run the whole thing. Perfect.

The usual Ultra running pre race shenanigans were taking place. Jumping up and down, doing a few hill strints, strapping feet, queuing for the one toilet and taking "before" photos. Mark Braley was still in his corduroys. Jen Bradley decided to test some 12 hour lipstick and sported the shiniest red lips I have ever seen at the start of a 50 odd mile race. I wonder if running an ultramarathon is covered in the "reasonable use" caveat on the 12 hour guarantee? 

Two things are odd here. Firstly I am ahead of Claire and secondly, she appears to be smiling.I started out too fast, which is inevitable when you try to keep up with Claire Imrie and Nick Copas. Setting quite a fast pace for the first few miles and getting very warm. It was about 10 degrees C and I felt really warm, this does not bode well for when I have to run much further in 55 degrees. My body felt a bit creaky from not doing much running in the past month. I was gutted to have missed a few more races in Feb and a lot of commuting running but was just happy to be out there. I had suffered shin splits and sore ankles like a new runner for the past few runs as I tried to get back into it, none of that was a problem though I suspected that this one was going to hurt more than a 55 miler normally does.

There is often a silly debate as to how far an ultra should be before it can be called an ultra. The point is moot to me since the "marathon" distance itself is based on a combination of fiction and the laziness of our King to stand and watch the finish of a 25 mile race. 50 miles is often regarded as where ultras start proper, they become very different from 26.2 mile races at that point. Claire, Nick and Jen were running further than they had done before today. All were making pretty easy work of it.

The first checkpoint was at 13 miles which we covered in around 1.40. 4 years ago on my birthday I ran the Berkhamstead half marathon in about 1.45 which was a pb at that time. I love remembering these times when I was even slower than I am now. That was before I had even heard about ultras. I feel like such an idiot, wasting a Birthday on a half marathon. I was however feeling a bit hungry and sick. I needed food but there was none at the checkpoints. It was later pointed out to me that this was made clear in the instructions, I really should start reading those some time. With only energy drink I was in for a struggle as I usually do these things on solid food. 

The TunnelI have been reading a lot more of the sciency stuff about eating and hydration recently. Articles that kind of suck the fun our of running my saying nasty things like you shouldn't stuff your face full of pizza and chips the day before the race. I normally give such articles a miss and head to the chip shop. Since reading more about Badwater, hydration and renal failure I have decided that I need to be a bit more textbook about eating and drinking if I am to get through the tough summer I have planned. That didn't stop my huge consumption of pizza and chips the night before though, making the 10th biggest mistake here, and now I was feeling both sick, hungry and very sleepy. I would have killed a red bull.

After about 18 miles I let Claire and Nick steam on ahead. I was already starting to crash a bit and the prospect of finishing this in daylight seemed distant. I strolled into checkpoint 2 which was 24ish miles and briefly chatted to Graeme who was wearing a Fetch top. I didn't even ask his name, I just knew it because he said he was running the Western States 100 this year and I knew the name of the only Irish person on that roster. I said my name and he immediately shouted "Spartathlon". Funny how we all know each other through our races.

This checkpoint was next to Falkirk Wheel. There is a visitors centre next to this weird looking metal thing that cartwheels boats vertically for 30 meters. I had not seen many locks on the canal up until now and it seems here they just make do with one big massive lock rather than lots of small ones. I stopped for quite a while at this point and stretched as my groin was very tight. This is a recurring problem that I need to deal with and will do through yoga in the coming months. I was suprised to see Nick jump out of the visitors centre after I had stopped for so long but he looked like he was slowing down a bit too. I was happy to run with him for a bit while I took some photos of some interesting parts of the canal.

Soon after that checkpoint there was a long tunnel which made quite an eery running experience. It was very dark and the floor didn't appear to be all there. It was cobbled and wet all along as water would come gushing down from the ceiling but sometimes I'd think I was about to step into the canal. It lasted about half a mile as was oddly pleasant. 

The path was really good to run on and there were only a few puddled sections, road shoes were a good choice. I was a little disappointed by the lack of activity on the canal. There were very few boats and I only saw one actually moving. The Grand Union Canal "back home" is usually more alive with people on barges and pubs located on the waterfront. There weren't even any ducks or geese, not that I care about the latter. Maybe it's the recession, when times are hard the duck feeding is always the first to go.

Around 30 miles I had caught up with Nick who wanted to keep moving and left me behind to take photos. Mark Cockbain also jogged past me and also complained about the lack of food. It seems that the more ultras you do the less you read the instructions and sometimes it can be costly. I was still feeling quite weak and Nick told me that he was going to call it a day at the next checkpoint. It was sad to hear but had silver lining, he donated all of his food to me. He read the instructions and carried a load of cliff bars with him. I was more than happy to take them off him and stuffed one down like a fat man would who'd been stuck in a lift for 4 hours. The next checkpoint was at 34 miles. I was running for about a mile at a time and then stopping to stretch and empty my shoes. I had lots of stones in my shoes but could not get rid of the uncomfortable feeling on my feet. It turns out I was going to be visited by some old friends again.

Falkirk WheelAt the third checkpoint I sat down for a while again and stretched. It was here I met Phil Owen who was looking out for some runners behind me. It was nice to chat and talk about some other races coming up. I felt a bit better for having eaten something and was ready to get moving again. I carried on with the intention of running for a couple of miles or so and then stretching. Until this point I was being a slave to my garmin, or rather it was reminding me of just how much slower I was getting. I had the display set on average pace which crept up from 7.40 early on in the race and was now heading towards 9. I knew I was now going much slower than that and was getting a bit frustrated with it going up all the time so I solved the problem the easiest way, I just switched it off. I felt a weight off as now all that was displayed was distance and the time of day. I was now only determined to finish not long after 6 so that I can get in before dark. I'm going to stop bothering with the garmin, it just spoils a good run, and writing about it makes for fucking boring reading. 

I hit 40 miles feeling so much better than at 30. I felt in good form again and could run without feeling the need to stop much. There was no way I could fail to finish my Birthday race and I knew that it was only a matter of time before I would feel better again. 20 miles is a long time to feel shit though. Still, I was just happy that I could even do the race and made quicker progress. Not long after the 4th checkpoint and a conversation with a random jogger about the highland fling which he and I are doing I was caught up by Jen Bradley. I was in two minds about whether to wait and run with her or carry on while I was on a roll. I decided to carry on, I had not stopped for about 8 miles and was hoping to keep it that way. I was curious about whether the lipstick was still working. Nice Canal

50 miles seemed to pass in no time and there were signs that I was heading into Edinburgh. I (think) I could see the castle and some buildings in the distance. I could also see more objects in the canal, such as a pink baby push cart thing. The people of Edinburgh obviously have too much and need to throw these things away. I also saw the start of the city's night life as the under age kids started assuming their drinking positions along the benches of the now tarmacked canal path. It was just before sunset and it was time to get the race finished.

I finished in 8.52, about an hour slower than I was hoping for but pleased for being able to run at all. 3 weeks off certainly makes you appreciate it more when your are running and the last 15 miles of today. Jen finished just behind me with lipstick and mascara in perfect condition. Diane was not far behind and managed to not even get lost once, amazing stuff. Ian, Claire, Oli and Mark C had been at the finish quite a while. Long enough to get stuck into the Guinness in the pub right at the end.

Overall I was pleased with how the race went. I had a rough patch in the middle third but managed to get through it and did much better than I feared at the beginning of the week when I was still not able to walk properly. I was really pleased to see so many people up there singing happy birthday as I finished. Thanks to all who showed up.

Some cups of piss

From overhydrated to dehydrated to anuric (no urine production) with a couple shades indicating hematuria (blood in urine) and rhabdomyolysis (myglobin from muscle breakdown in urine). Not to be confused with water, Gatorade, apple juice, Hawaian Punch or Coca Cola.

Extreme running and yet more for the list

I have just finished reading "Extreme Running". Actually there are not too many words in there but a lot of pretty pictures of amazing planet earth. Barren deserts with martian surfaces. Miles and miles of Arctic wilderness and beautiful jagged mountains. Jungles with wildlife and the worlds deepest caves make for some really spectacular photos except they are spoiled a bit by the presence of a sweaty human covered in gear and running number and an expression that suggests he is not enjoying the scenery as much as I am while sat on my sofa.

The book covers 24 of the worlds extreme races that are difficult in a variety of ways. There are a few marathons in there such as the Pikes Peak Marathon which is the venue of this years world mountain long distance championships this year, a simple sounding "up and down" marathon that involves running up to a sickly altitude. The Inca Trail and Everest Marathons also get a mention, the latter involving a 7 day trek to the starting line. The Lake Baikal Marathon also looked appealing, 26 miles across a frozen Russian lake where 20% of the earth's fresh water resides. 

Many of the well know events are in there. The "must do" Marathon Des Sables gets more pages that I would give it, UTMB, Transalpine Run, Yukon Ultra and the Gobi March get good coverage, The Kepler Challenge is in there to remind us that New Zealand still exists and of course the obligatory Comrades Marathon gets a mention. 

There were a few that were already on my list and consolidated their place such as the Trans 333 - a non-stop 333km run through a different desert each year with only checkpoints at every 20k and navigation involved. Also the infamous Jungle Marathon gets a large spread, the only race I know of that actually sounds dangerous beyond the competitors control with the scorpions, jaguars and piranhas. The Atacama Crossing is now a must do for me, the scenery looks like it does not belong on this planet and the high altitude and dryness make it sound like a really challenging multi-day event. I think I will do many more multi-days in 2011. 

A few more I had not heard of have been added to my must dos. The Verdon Canyon Challenge sounds like an amazing run with enormous elevation along ridges and caves in southern France. When I become very rich (or someone is willing to pay me to do races) I will also run the Antarctic Ice Marathon and 100k (yes both on the same trip). 

I have only done 2 of the races so far, the MDS and the Spartathlon, which gets a brief mention and says little more than it being a very difficult race that not a lot of starters finish. 

It includes a wide variety of races of different extremities and different levels of difficulty. Any ultra-runner would have come up with a different 24 based on the same brief. The only US 100 miler that gets in is the Wasatch 100 miler, the last race in the "Grand Slam" that includes the Western States 100, Vermont and Leadville - the "race across the sky". Any of these and the Hardrock 100 would have merited inclusion too. 

Perhaps the most lavish spread for a race is for the one I have to do in 4 months time. A huge deal is made of the conditions and others experience of the Badwater race. I read the words over and over as it breaks this race into the 4 parts, the 40 mile flat cauldron, the first pass, the second pass and long descent and then the final push to the Whitney portal. Very useful and something for me to think about as I prepare for this race as well as this paragraph which I can't get out of my head.

"The truth is that the human body is not designed to run in 55C temperatures. By the time the atmosphere reaches 35C the body will lose it's capacity to release heat into the air. Activity accelerates this process. The maximum core temperature measured in a conscious long distance  runner has been 41C. At 42.7 body temperature the runner will collapse. At this stage, the body has begun to pump blood out of the body's outermost layers in an effort to radiate heat. In the meantime, the internal organs are thus deprived of their blood supply, and the thermoregulatory system starts to shut down. The first physical sign of this process is when, despite the searing heat and apparent full hydration, the body simply ceases to sweat. From that stage, if the body goes untreated, serious inflammation and cell damage may ensure and affect the central nervous system. At that point, death can be sudden. 

Perhaps I should have just looked at the pictures.

Badwater - I'm IN

I stayed up till about 2am last night waiting for an email. I was like some loved up teenager waiting for a call. I guess with this kind of thing I am still a teenager, I don't really have the experience. In the few hours of sleep I got last night I had a strange dream that I got to the start late because my flight was delayed. I did not miss the start but I arrived 2 hours early having already been awake for more than 24 hours. Not the best preparation for a race like this though I suspect that I won't sleep that much in the days leading up to it.

Around 7am I woke up and picked up my phone. An email from "Badwater Race Office" that started with the word "Congratulations!" made me feel a bit sick. I thought about catching up on the sleep that I had missed (I took a day off work today) but I clearly was not going to get back to sleep. Plus there was some urgency to the email. I have a week to sign and send forms, pay for the race and book hotels. I don't really like having to move quickly, which is why I enter these races.

There was a competitive element to getting into this race in the first place. I like to avoid competing against others but in this case I had to just to get to the start line. I only had my past ultra running experiences to put on the form and I had no idea whether this was enough. I read into the reasons why runners get turned away and worried. Not that there was anything I could have done about it. Part of the battle of the big and hard ultras nowadays is getting onto the start line.

• In preparing your application, keep in mind the standard reasons that generally lead to some applicants not being invited:
  • The applicant only just met the minimum standards.
  • The applicant’s credentials are only recent, i.e., not a seasoned ultra endurance athlete with a breadth of experience.
  • The applicant’s credentials are only old, i.e. all or most of the credentials are from too long ago and may not reflect current ability.
  • The applicant has no experience in extreme heat or on the Badwater course as a pacer.
  • The applicant didn't "prove" his or her claims (i.e., they said they paced at Badwater, but no letter of recommendation was received, or they claimed they finished or won any number of major races, but didn't provide any proof of that).
  • The applicant submitted a “thin” application - not only few qualifications were listed, but not much time was put into the preparation of the application itself. (Sometimes the applicant assumed "we've already heard of him/her" and therefore didn't provide the necessary details. Applicants should never assume we’ve heard of them or have heard of the events they mention in their application.)
  • There are always A LOT of applicants, all "qualified," and thus some applicants must inevitably be turned away.

I worried about my experience only being recent, and the lack of heat experience.

I discovered that Mark Wooley had made it in too, as did a couple of other Brits I have made email contact with. 

My sick feeling has given way to a nervous excitement. I have a LOT of work to do, planning a crew, flights and hotels. And of course the training. I can't do that today as my toe is still (probably not) broken. I also have to sign a form that says this;

I will be sufficiently trained, prepared, and medically fit to compete in the event. I understand that the extreme conditions in this race, including but not limited to temperatures in excess of 130F, wind, dust, high altitude, and radiant surface temperatures in excess of 180F, make the risk of dehydration, altitude sickness, significant skin damage, blistering, heat exhaustion, heat stroke, traffic accident, renal shutdown, brain damage, and death are possible.

 

I'll be ready.

This was what I put in the application form.

Why do you want to run the Badwater Ultramarathon?

It was hearing about this race 4 years ago that got me into ultra running. I have been thinking about this race since I first got sent a link to it what seems like an age ago. I was still a young runner who was concerned with plotting my next attempt to run 26.2 miles on a flat road in a temperate climate faster than I had done previously. I did this successfully a few times and the satisfaction was small and short lived. Getting marathon PB's and not really caring about them made me wonder whether I was in the right sport. The variety and challenges of ultra-running answered that question unequivocally. Ultra-running has liberated me from judging my running on what a man at the end with a stop-watch might say. I no longer let that guy decide whether I've had a good run or not, I do it myself. Ultra-running has put the fun back into the thing that I love and has given me personal experiences that I would not trade for the world. And like I said, it was this race that inspired the start of that journey.

The last three years have been an amazing journey, from my first ultra (45 miles in 2007) through to the Grand Union Canal Race (145 miles in 2008) and more recently the Spartathlon last year. What I love most about these races (though it usually is some time after when I fully appreciate it) is the way they try to break you down and stop you finishing. Whether it is the mountains and hills, the sun or the rain or just the sheer distance of it there is always something there that is trying to stop you getting to the finish. The greatest of victories is when you are smashed to pieces and on the floor in a race and it seems all but over. Then you hold onto yourself just enough to carry on moving. When you do things seem a little easier and you remember more why you are there in the first place. These are the experiences I want to take to the grave with me.

I have written about my running in my blog for the past 3 years. I write more to preserve the memories than for anyone else but hope that you get a chance to read it.

So back to the original question in why I want to run Badwater. Aside from my 4 year obsession mentioned above I feel that this is the only "step up" for me. Having finished the Spartathlon last year I don't believe there are many more races out there that are harder to finish and hence will give me those physical and emotional breakdowns which I crave.

I am now confident that I will finish this race but am fully aware of the fact that it will take more that I have had to give before. Races like the GUCR and Spartathlon have taught me that I can rely on things that I don't even know I have at the start line. I love starting a race feeling "ready" but not entirely sure how I'm going to get through it.

People keep asking me "how will you train for something like that". Fact is I don't know. I know I can run for 40+ hours, I know I can run well over 100 miles in one go, into night and day and night and through pain. However I'm not entirely sure, after 35 miles of Death Valley when my body and brain are fried from the heat and I am struggling to remember who I am and why I am stood at the side of a molten road with 100 miles to go, how I will deal with that. But I know I'll think of something.

Spartathlon 2009 Video

Blimey this brings back some memories. I forgot how hard it rained and I forgot how dark it was in places. I also forgot just how many people there were lying down in the medic tent. Brought back memories that make me want to go back right now. 

Part 1/4. I had to do all sorts of interweb trickery to get this onto the blog but here it is. In 4 parts. I can be seen at around 8.27 with my silly hat on running into a checkpoint. 

 Part 2/4 . I am around 5.30 walking into the checkpoint at Corinth.

Sparta 2/4
Uploaded by jamesradams. - More professional, college and classic sports videos.

Part 3/4 I am around 5 minutes in, sat down. BEWARE OF THE CHAIR.

Part 4/4

The Pilgrims Challenge

The signs were not always this easy to spot.After the huge success of the Druid Challenge last November I was really looking forward to the Pilgrims Challenge. The organisers XNRG popped up on the race organising scene a little while ago and have immediately won plaudits for great organisation and value for money. I think that it's great to have such a variety of things to chose from nowadays (I wish I could have also run the Thames Trot 50 miler but that was on the same day) and that there are guys out there willing to put themselves on the line to stage such events.

The format was simple. We start in Farnam and run 33 miles along the North Downs way until we get to Mertsam. Then on the second day we run back. 66 miles of hilly mud over 2 days, seems like a very British thing to do.

1st Claire - I had to run up a hill to get that photo, I was knackered.

I was pleased with how many Serpies turned out for this and are doing so in greater numbers for all events like this. We are starting to take over these things.

The start was from a farm just outside Farnham. There were 3 waves, walkers, runners and super super fast runners. I started with the latter only because I wanted an extra hour in bed.

The first few meters involved a section where we were up to our knees in water and mud. There was no real way of avoiding it so right from the start we had soaking wet feet. At least it wasn't as cold as the Country to Capital. 

I ran with a group of about 6 who were sort of "middle pack" of the fast runners. I felt good and the trails were great to run on. There was quite a bit of mud in places but most of it was the glorious trail that I love to run on in the UK. The first 20 miles or so were fairly easy, with a few hills bit nothing of note. There were a lot of downhill sections that we knew we'd have to come back up the next day. 

The great thing about staggered starts (aside from the extra sleep you get if you can go faster) is that you are always catching up with people along the way. Events such as this were designed and used for those who are training for the Marathon Des Sables later this year. I think it's great that all the Brits train for the MDS by running miles and miles in the mud in the cold. It works though, better than all the gimmicky things you can do like heat chamber training. What most people struggle with at the MDS is the distance, running this kind of thing certainly helps with that.

I had managed to avoid any schoolboy errors in races so far this year and was pleased with the effects of losing a little weight (around 4kg in Jan) as I felt the hills easier than 3 weeks ago. I did however forget to cut my toenails and only remember when I kicked a tree root and the nail went right in my foot. Fortunately most of the proper running had been done in the first 20 miles, then came the bastard hills.

I was surprised to see the Picnic steps in this race (I don't know why). I have run up and down these 8 times before in 2 races but somehow they feel harder each time. What follows are more hills and then a really long hill which I recognise but can't for the life of me remember from what. I started to struggle breathing up some of them and have only recently started to use my inhaler on hilly runs. It does help to expand my lungs when working hard but I always use it too late. The sun came out and I still was enjoying the run but was finding it hard work. After what seemed like endless uphills I arrived alone at the last checkpoint (having lost Claire and the group at the steps) and was told that it was all down hill from there and only about 4 miles. 

Oli and his clothes

The 4 miles went quite quickly via a conversation with a chap as to whether I was still on the North Downs way or not. I never really got lost but I did spend a lot of time stood still and scratching my head trying to decide which way was best. We were told as a rule of thumb to always go straight on and keep the hills on our left. Not so easy to decide when you are up them.

The finish was at an all Boys School in Mertsam. I was glad I didn't have to ask for directions to a boys school while looking quite worse for wear, the markings were very good. On finishing I met up with those who had finished before me (Oli, Claire I, Claire S, Allan) and had some coffee while I waited for the rest to come in. There is a nice warm atmosphere in between runs at these kind of events. Everyone makes their way into the sports hall and does their own thing. Many just sit down and drink tea, others head straight for the showers. Some take advantage of the massage services which I always try to do but didn't this time, some start contorting themselves into odd shapes to iron out all the damage from the day. Most of us were just keen to get into the pub, I was anyway. We faffed around a bit and headed over back through the streets we finished in and to a nice pub called "The Feathers". A few pints of Guinness are as good as any recovery drink.

The experience of sleeping in a sports hall is relative. If you are used to nice hotels and B&B's before and after each race then you are probably going to find it hard. If however you are a veteran of multi-day races then a flat surface indoors compares favourably to a tent or bivouac where you are sometimes freezing and sometimes roasting in your sleeping bag. Ear plugs are a must in these situations. There are people who snore like tractors and people will always get up all night to go to the toilet, and stomp like elephants as they do so. I was a bit worried about Claire Shelley, she had had 2 pints of coke and was bouncing off the walls. I zipped my sleeping bag up to my neck...

I slept quite well and was reminded in the morning that I snored (I am certain I don't). There were 3 starts again, the latest at 9 for those in the top 25 from yesterday of which I, Claire I, Claire S and Oli were part of. We ate breakfast as provided by the organisers and then messed around for a couple of hours while everyone else had started running. I demonstrated how bad I am at basketball while everyone had left the hall and then started to get ready. My toe was still hurting a lot and it was a struggle to put my shoes on. Everyone else was doing their own preparation. Oli was putting on his womens clothing and eating flapjack, Claire I was filing her nails and Claire S was putting on face cream. Apparently a girl has to look her best when wading through the mud. I couldn't imagine either of them pulling along the way, not at the bloody speed they go at anyway.

At the start only about 12 of the 25 were there, most had snuck into an earlier start. We all marched off and my legs felt quite good, it was just my feet that were hurting and I was not really looking forward to a day of running flat footed.

2nd Claire. I had to tell her to stop bouncing for a second while I took the photo.

The first 15 miles or so I ran with Claire S and Allan, the latter being a veteran of this kind of thing but the former making her first attempt at it. I have been amazed in the last couple of months how so many people have just dived right into the ultra scene. When I started 3 years ago I hesitantly stepped in and did one in January and then not another one till June. Now the approach seems to be "I'll do my first this week and then another next week, or better still - tomorrow". I have been really impressed with how at least half a dozen people I know have done this and it makes me feel a bit soft for being a bit cautious in my early days. Luckily I have outgrown such cautionary behaviour and these people have helped inspired me to think that doing Badwater, UTMB and Spartathlon within 10 weeks of each other could (and should) be done. 

Claire was bouncing like Tigger for the entire 33 miles, looking really happy but saying she was tired. She did not look it at all. The other Claire was long gone. It was slightly less muddy than the previous day, the long downhills didn't really seem as long as they were up hill. I managed not to fall over though. The checkpoints were in different places and were more welcome than yesterday, I really gorged on them, eating the sausages, sausage rolls and lumps of cheese. 

As I was running slower there was more time to chat to Claire and others in the race. There was a guy who from behind looked like Cyril and we yelled at him only to realise that it was not him but someone else training for the MDS. We chatted to him anyway and continued to call him Cyril. 

You have no idea how hard it was to get back up from that. I could have just slept.

The second half of the day felt quite hard as I just felt quite tired. Walking became too easy and it was Claire who was pulling me along, bouncing off into the distance. We got lost about 8 miles from the end and ran uphill into a village and then back down again and saw an obvious sign for the NDW that we missed. It didn't feel like too long till we were back running through the sludge next to the golf course that we started near. I don't normally look forward to sludge but it was quite welcome as it signalled the end. By the time I finished everyone I knew was already there drinking tea. There were great performances all round, Oli winning by miles, Claire I winning for the girls and Claire S coming second. Serpies are starting to take over this kind of thing in the results too. I am very pleased to see it, anything to prevent them obsessing about boring road races.

It proved to be another great success for Neil and the guys at XNRG. Everyone had a great run, Cyril put yet more miles into his legs for the MDS as looks a different man from the one I met 3 months earlier on the Druid Challenge. Jo Proudlove and Toby Melville had great performances (Toby running 54020 steps on Saturday and only 54010 on Sunday, maybe that was one less piss?). Dan De Belder also finished both days in good shape. 

I was looking forward to the pub afterwards but the offer of a lift home from Dan Ashfar (who was 2nd I think) was too good to turn down. I was looking forward to getting off my feet and eating a lot of meat. 

 Worlds sexiest man competition. Guess who won?

Ultra Running - Stuff that has helped me

I have added to this stuff and it is here.

Mental (and a few practical) tips for running ultras.

This list is growing all the time. Every time I learn something new or think of a new way to describe something. There is little in here about training or nutrition, it is just a list of things that I have used to help me through some tough races and have used some examples of my own experiences to illustrate. It is in no particular order and there maybe some repeats and overlaps. Any comments or more suggestions are most welcome.

• DON'T PANIC
• Try not to extrapolate, i.e. thinking "I feel this bad after X miles so I'm going to feel this more worse after Y miles". Long distance running is a roller coaster of ups and downs and the longer you go the bigger the ups and the bigger the downs. You may feel shit now but your body is an amazing thing and a combination of positive thinking, progress and all the chemicals your body will produce may mean you feel ecstatic a few miles later. My first GUCR I could barely walk just after before 100 miles. Later on I ran miles 120-130 like I was gunning a 10k. I can't really explain it but I knowing it could happen helps me through the rough patches. I had a similar experience in the Spartathlon 2010. The first 50 miles I ran 1 hour slower than last year but felt twice as bad? I was a little concerned as I had 100+ miles to go, feeling shitter than last year and 1 hour less to do it. Hoever the next 80 miles (yes EIGHTY miles) just seemed to fly by, I was cruising. It's important to remember these times as I know I am going to need them in the future. You won't just hit one wall in long ultras, you hit several. But the more you break down the better it feels at the end (and for a long time afterwards).
• Don't take every little set back personally. When you are exhausted it is common to feel paranoid that things are happening because the world is conspiring against you. If a gate is stuck or a stile is wonky or a dog gets in your way. These things will happen and it is important to just shrug or even laugh them off. In the MDS while I was close to collapse and walking over the rocky terrain I kept tripping on the rocks. At some point I got so angry I picked up one of the offending rocks, shouted at it and threw it away. Anger like this is counter-productive. Remember "Mind like Water" - How does the water react when you throw a stone in? With an exactly proportional response to the size of the stone, soon all evidence is gone. Don't make a tidal wave over a little stone.
• Similarly, celebrate a little when these little things go right. Like when someone holds a gate open for you or people spot you and get out of the way, or when a part of the path is not muddy or when the sun goes behind a cloud on a hot day. The more reasons you find to smile the more you will smile and the better you will feel.
• EAT. In my experience the biggest reason for dropping out of ultras because of not eating. It really doesn't matter (within reason) what you eat just make sure you eat. 
• On the subject of food I find that eating more "normal" food is beneficial. I will load on mashed potato and pork chops with gravy. During a run I will eat cake, crisps, biscuits, sweets, sausage rolls, sandwiches, pepparamis and even a Subway. Eat whatever the hell you like, JUST EAT.
• Derive pleasure from eating. Worrying about absorption rates and so on if for those who are right at the front. Take food with you that you know you'll look forward to eating and reward yourself with it whenever you need it. I think one of the key reasons why I've managed to finish some tough races is because of my ability to eat in any circumstance. A trait which leads to weight gain when I am not running.
• 100 miles is a long long way. I don't believe anyone can really get their head around how far that is to run, not even the world class runners who win those kinds of things. Don't panic if it all feels a bit big and overwhelming, it fells big and overwhelming because it IS big and overwhelming. Everyone else feels the same.
• No one is going to judge you for squatting in the bushes. If you need to go then go, don't suffer too long holding it in. Everyone does it.
• Try not to stress about the distance that you are covering or what your garmin may be saying. Particularly the really long runs. Sometimes you feel like you have run for miles yet you have barely covered one, sometimes your view of time is distorted by the tiredness, sometimes the distances advertised in the race are wrong. 
• BEWARE OF THE CHAIR - The most common warning I see in the really long ultras. Don't sit down at the checkpoints if you can avoid it, you get cold, stiff and sleepy. It can be a real effort to get up and waste energy (not to mention time) getting going again, time and energy you could have spent doing another mile. I sat in a lot of chairs in the GUCR and Spartathlon, believe me you never feel rested more for sitting in a chair for 10 minutes.
• Organise fresh clothes if at all possible. They feel great when put on and the smell of freshly laundered clothes can be uplifting when you have spent hours smelling of sweat, piss and dirt.
• Try to pay attention to your running form at regular intervals. I used to use mile markers in marathons to remind me to check that my head is up and shoulders relaxed etc. Perhaps do it every half an hour or so or every time you see a bridge or regular feature.
• Be respectful to other runners feelings. There will be times when you overtake another who looks a mess, try not to look too smug or comfortable as you do. No one likes getting flown past by a runner who looks like they are not even making an effort. It's funny how you can occupy the same part of space and time yet be in completely different places.
• Similarly don't contaminate someone else's race with your own suffering. When you are on a roll you don't want to hear someone moaning about how bad their race is going. Remember you could be having the worst race of your life but be right next to someone who is having their best.
• Geese are the spawn of the devil. Don't go near them especially in spring when they have young. 
• Think OUTSIDE of yourself. When going through a rough patch then stop thinking in the 1st person and start thinking in the 3rd. Imagine that you are one of your friends and talking about your race as they see it. Say only nice things obviously
• Play games with the above. When I thought I was going to die in the desert I decided to stage my own funeral in my head, imagining who would turn up and what they would say. Who would get the most pissed? Who would miss you the most. Starting writing your biography (sic) or the speech given about you when you win the Nobel Prize for Ultrarunning. Remember, keep it all in the third person. Go nuts, go on a complete ego trip. No one will ever find out what you dreamed up, if it gets you through then who cares? 
• Ignore the cancerous voices that may pop into your head that may talk of disappointment. I get this sometimes, the frowning of letting someone down. You are only doing this for yourself.
• Think back to times when you were suffering as much as you may be now and remember how you got through them. Key moments like this for me were; Jurassic Coast challenge in 2008 - on the third day I could barely walk before the start but managed to run the hilly 30 miles of that day, Rotherham 2008 - The weather was Baltic, everyone around me was suffering from hypothermia and the checkpoints were indoors. It was the hardest thing in the world stepping out of those checkpoints and into the rain. I knew that in 5 minutes time it would be fine again. 
• SUPPORTERS BEWARE - of asking too many questions. A question is a request for information from someone's head, when that head feels tired and battered a question can feel like someone delving their hand into their brain and pulling things out. You wouldn't want that done to you would you?
• Also, think back to the times when you were not nearly the runner you are now. Everyone started somewhere, perhaps a 4 mile run on a treadmill seemed like an effort a few years back. Keep in mind just how far you have come over the years. I remember when 4 miles on a treadmill would make me weak at the knees, I remember the fear of my first marathon. In Greece I passed the marathon stage of the Spartathlon in 3.47, that was my marathon pb in Berlin just 4 years earlier. The glowing feeling of progress propelled me all the way to 50 miles
• Don't freak out when you hallucinate. It is normal for the brain when tired to see things that are not there. Your brain "sees" not by seeing everything but by looking at only a small area and "filling in" the rest itself. It's how optical illusions work. It is easy for the tired brain to "fill in" your surroundings wrongly, like when I thought a pile of branches were a giraffe or some flowers in the dark were actually small faces with hats or when I thought the canal by night was a huge quarry.
• And don't worry too much about the King of the Mushroom people. He ain't that tough.
• My marathon PB is still from a race I did the day after a 24 mile fell race. The point here being that sometimes things just don't make any sense.
• DRINK lots and drink early. If you don't drink early you will reach a point where you can't catch up. Don't be fooled into thinking that you don't need water on the cold days.
• Beware of the dangers of over-thinking. You are a long distance runner and hence are likely to be much brighter than the population at large. Hopefully this has worked out well for you in other aspects of your life but it could actually work against you here. Relying on your brain too much can be hazardous. You have probably heard the old cliché of "it's all in the mind" a million times and this has a lot of truth in it, however relying on your brain to make calculations and objective decisions can be futile sometimes. Don't waste considerable energy thinking too much, try to switch off.  Forrest Gump never looked in trouble did he?
• Many people will never understand why you would do a thing like this. Don't waste too much effort trying to explain what they will never understand, even in your head. I will never understand why people sit in their living rooms and get excited by z-list celebrities cooking for other z-list celebrities. I admit that I make absolutely no effort trying to discover why this is exciting to them.
• BE NICE to the marshals and the organisers. It can't be much fun standing in the rain for hours only to get abused by a grumpy sweaty beast as he starts crying that there are not enough green jelly babies at the checkpoint. Also, give some slack to the race organisers. I think it's great how many people out there are willing to put themselves on the line and organise these events. They have made my life so much better over the years. Organisers and race directors will make mistakes too, don't beat them up about it. 
• Do not underestimate the slow sapping power that the sun has. I got spanked on both days of the GUCR last year and really suffered. Wear a good hat and sun cream, have some on you if you are doing a very long run. If you are run/walking then run in the sun and walk in the shade, spending as little time as possible exposed and giving you longer to recover where it's cool.
• When you get really tired concentrate on moving forward rather than your exact position and distance. Ineviably you will slow down but the effort seems the same so t can get frustrating when you feel like you are not moving as fast as you think you are. Then the paranoia kicks in; "The distance markers are wrong", "The course is long", "I'm lost" etc etc. My first GUCR I thought I was at the 100 mile stage and only when I ran on another half a mile I realised that I was only then at 100 miles. What was half a mile out of 145? Well at the time it was massive and started me on a downward spiral that nearly cost me a finish.
• Learn to love the 30 minute mile for you may meet a lot of these. It is still a mile just like any other.
• Don't waste too much energy avoiding water and mud in the wet times. If it rains you are going to get wet, accept in, embrace it, love it.
• If you are being supported remember that your support crews are learning too and may make mistakes. Remember that the fact they are here with you means 
• Write about your experiences, if only for yourself. I love reading back about races I've almost forgotten. I love looking back at how different I was when I started out running distance, when a marathon would terrify me. Put it on a blog and allow others to learn about what you have done, it does not matter if only your Mum reads it.
• Planning isn't for everyone. You'll get told by any running magazine you pick up (which I recently heard described as cooking mags with porn on the front) that planning is the key to success and those that do not plan are consigned to failure. This simply isn't so. I am not saying you should not try and think ahead but too much worrying about every detail in advanced can be counter-productive. There are a million things that can happen, you are much better just accepting that stuff is going to happen and you'll have to deal with it. Worrying is another symptom of the high IQ's that runners suffer, switch it off, think like Gump.
• Having a phone with a list of numbers you can send updates to can help. The return messages can be uplifting.
• PROTECT YOUR HEAD. Sun hat when it's hot, fleecy hat when it's cold, hood when it rains. Your head will be going through enough without you beating it up more with the elements.
• For some reason I find miles 16-22 quite hard in any race, marathon or 150 miles. I don't know why but I've learnt to ignore it.
• Take on PROTEIN. Not normally required for shorter races but it is needed for long distance. 
• When you are scrambling along some trail in the middle of the night, soaking wet, cold, exhausted and in need of sleep think of those people sat at home by a warm fire, watching TV and eating pizza. You may think you are suffering but they are suffering even more, the advantage you have is that at least you know it. 
• There are experiences that make us who we are and how we behave. Falling off bikes, having our hearts broken or losing a job, they have all made you what you are. DNFing is just the same, it hurts like hell, it WILL happen at some stage and will make you feel small and worthless. Take it on the chin and learn from it for it will make you stronger. Remember DNF beats DNS.
• Realistically there is a point where the sensible thing is to drop out. It depends on how far you have to go, how bad a shape you are in and how much the race means to you. "Finishing at any cost" is a silly thing to say if the "cost" is that you can't walk for 6 months. Similarly a race may mean so much that you are willing to rule yourself out of action for a few weeks just to get to the finish. This all gets blurred in the long and drawn out mess of an ultra. Be careful, but don't sell yourself short, the worst thing is sitting around the next day thinking "you know what? I could have finished that".
• Don't compare yourself to others in terms of time/volume etc. You will meet all sorts of people at these events all with different backgrounds, different motivations and different levels of ability. Some will have not been running for long and maybe have families and are short on time to do running. Others may have been running for years and get all the time in the world to train. Some are here to win, most are here to finish and enjoy. Have your own measures of success that are completely independent of the performance of others.
• Think of the stories you'll tell. There is nothing more boring than listening to someone saying "I entered a race, trained really hard and then got a pb, then I entered another race, trained really hard and got a pb, then I entered another race and I trained really hard and I ... *SLAP*". Remember that you are creating your own stories as you go. The more stuff that is going wrong and the harder you find it the more captivating your story will be in the pub. Try and remember everything so that you can re-tell it when you are nice and dry and warm and full of food with your feet up. Others will appreciate it.
• One of the most important things I have learned is that my mind can become useless at any objective thought or decision making. It is hard for someone to admit that they are mentally losing control but it does happen and can be hazardous if you try to "think" your way out of it. This is the point to go with what "feels" right. To quote Homer Simpson - "Shut up brain before I stab you with an ice-pick".
  Sometimes it's the right decision to "Give Up".
• I spend a lot of my time in races thinking about even longer and harder races that I want to do. It sounds like a bad idea to be taking yourself into an even harder place when you really should be thinking about fluffy kittens and pillows and candy floss but it seems to get me through it. I spent most of my time in my first ultras thinking about finishing the GUCR. I spent a lot of my time in least years GUCR thinking about the Spartathlon. I spent some of my time in the Spartathlon thinking about Badwater. I don't know. Perhaps the point here is to always have a "next step" to think about.
• BEWARE of how addictive this all is. I entered my first ultra with the intention of doing more but never thought I'd be looking to do them every week. It takes over, you are always looking for different things to do. Longer, hillier, hotter, more navigation, less sleep or whatever.
• Imagine a life where every race you did went to plan, where every race was a PB. Where everyone you loved loved you back, where every job you applied for you got, where your football team win every game and the sun always shines. Every test is an A+ and you never once got the flu. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Really? No. I'd kill myself. That would be a miserable existence. The best life experiences are when everything fucks up, when everything falls to pieces but you just about manage to hold onto yourself enough to get through it. 
• The crippling lows and euphoric highs are why I do this. You have to go a long way to feel at your lowest but in the same race and after that you can feel the greatest you ever have. Every low point you have you can use as a learning experience, a reference point to help you deal with it when it happens again
• As I grow old I'll forget things. I'll forget the least important things first, like what my pin number is or the name of my grand-daughters boyfriend, I'll then forget the unimportant things like how fast I could ever run 26.2 miles on a road or how I felt when running some 80% wava race or whatever. But I'll never forget the time I was running through the Canadian forests when 3 hours elapsed in 10 minutes because I was having so much fun. I'll never forget the top of that sand dune in the night in the Sahara when I looked around and could see nothing but stars, that moment I was the only person on Earth. I'll never forget staggering through a crowded street in Sparta to the adulation of runners and people of the town who had no idea who I was but know what I did. And the last thing I'll forget will be the turnaround I enjoyed in my first GUCR, I went from crawling to running, then from running to running quite fast. Then from running quite fast to being all of a sudden overwhelmed and having to hold onto some railings while I burst into tears. I thought at the time that the emotion was due to me realising that I was going to finish the race, but it was more than that. It was the moment in my life where I realised that I could finish anything. Anything is what I intend to do.