Iron Man Vs Ultra Runner

This is what I have to show for my second day of unemployment.

Country to Capital 2011

Not the muddiest fieldIt seemed fitting to do my "100th Marathon" somewhere like this. It was the closest race to my first proper ultra back in 2007, when I did not know anyone at the startline and there was a real sense of not knowing what was going to happen. 4 years on I've done a few of these things and now the main concern was finishing in good enough time to get some good drinking done in the pub. I chose this as the 100 as it was local, involved canal, was as close as I could get to my first ultra and thought it was my best bet of getting a load of friends along to join me (either running or drinking) on a winter Saturday afternoon. I managed to balls up the numbers though and this was actually my 101st. I accidentally did a marathon a couple of weeks ago cos I was bored (I'm a bit clumsy like that). Still, those who were signed up couldn't back out now.

I've come to know quite a few people who do this kind of thing now too. It's great to know that I can turn up to these things and always know loads of the people there, just like walking into the Wargrave Arms on a Wednesday night or in the Subway on Tottenham Court Road any day of the week. It was hard to move without getting involved in a conversation, so much so that I never made it to the pile of bacon sandwiches at the back of the pub we were all gathered in. I had banked on having one of those before the start. This could be catastrophic.

The race started a bit late because about 50 people came up from London on a train that got there about 10 minutes before the start. The train was full of runners, I've never seen such a thing outside of Switzerland. There were the usual looks of suspicion from the "normal" people wondering why so many men and women in skin tight black clothing with pipes sticking out of their bags were shamelessly lubricating themselves in the vestibules of the 7.27 from Marylebone. That is a proper posh train station too, it's the only terminal station in London that does not have a Burger King in.

It was around 8 degrees and wet underfoot but not raining. We were told that these were the best conditions the race has ever been run in. I recall last year the drizzle at the start (that turned into rain) and the snow covered paths and icy water you could not help but wade through. The start was the usual, everyone setting out like it was a 10k. All of the pre-race agreements of "I'll run with you or try to keep you in sight etc etc" quickly disappeared as everyone fled like rabbits fleeing from a gunshot. I ran on ahead a little bit to join the madness. It can be helpful to shoot out at the start if it means having to queue less at the stiles early on. Still, it leaves you panting like a fat sweaty asthmatic just 1 mile into an ultra.

I tried to keep Drew in sight who I think was determined to beat Claire and setting out fast. He had also cheated the week before by recceing the course. Reccing IS CHEATING. I'll make a T-Shirt. He was easy to catch cos he was walking up the hills already in his silly calf socks. I yelled at him for walking uphill already (it's only allowed when everyone else is doing it or no one is looking). Rob Westaway was in a rush to get to the canal because he loves them so much and he just ran on.

First checkpoint, no meat based snacks yet but just grabbed a couple of jelly babies and ran on, trying to keep up with the people who knew the way but I lost them in a pursuit through Chesham. Here I caught up with Natalie Vendette who missed the start of the race and started at CP1. She was debating all week about buying some fancy GPS gadget which she was wearing, telling her her heart rate, ambient temperature, blood glucose level and average pace but unfortunately these £300 devices are not advanced enough to tell you what the actual time is and therefore she missed her train.

Robert Treadwell looking at which way to go. Mark probably re-touching his makeup.I chatted to her a bit and then Rob Treadwell, David Miles and Mark Cockbain caught up and Rob was a better map reader than me so went along with them. There was another Serpie there who I didn't know but quickly discovered it was John Hudspith. Doing his first run of over 30 miles. The route got a lot muddier through the fields, we ran through a paddock with all those horse jumpy things. I cleared all the jumps whereas Mark clipped one. I really need to get onto the race organisers about that, he should get a 10 second time penalty or something. Our mucking about didn't impress a horse in the field who made a bolt for the gate as we opened it and we had to scramble over the railings to get out but keep the horse in. I laughed as I thought of that horse eating Claire Shelley later on.

CP2 is outside a pub and it would have just opened, it was about 11.15. We were making good time and looking forward to hitting the canal. The beautiful fields, trees, horses, donkeys, emus (yes emus), pretty villages and nice buildings were all getting a bit too much. I was having sensory overload that only starting at a long brown body of water could fix. Shortly before getting to the motherland we ran through Denham (very posh) and got excited about passing Roger Moore's house. I don't know exactly why I think it's Roger Moore's house, whether someone told me last year or whether I just made it up. It was massive with about 4 Rolls Royces outside.

Anyway, soon we were back on the canal, and all was good again.

We still stuck in the group of about 6 of us and headed down towards the left turning that signals only 13 miles to go. Someone always misses this every year and is hilarious for all but the person who actually does it. It seems that all Brit ultra runners are having a go at the Spartathlon this year and we discussed that a little. It's going to be great, if you are reading this and have not signed up yet then do it now. It's going to fill up. Forms are here.

45 is the magic number now. 45 is the average number of miles I have to run each day in the States. Sometimes it's more, sometimes less. I need to get myself confortable with this distance and this was feeling mostly comfortable. I don't plan on running any 45 mile stage in 7 hours when I get out there, more like 10. I was quite pleased about how I was feeling here and that I was getting stronger towards the end. Mark did point out though that we'd be doing the same again tomorrow and the next day and the next day and etc. At least there will be no mud in the States.CANAL :)

Turn left just before Toys R us and just a half marathon to go, around 2 hours. Rob was running on ahead, stopping to wait, taking photos and then running on ahead again. We passed Henk's bridge (CP 9 in the GUCR) where in the GUCR you'd be met by a sleep deprived Henk who offers his unique brand of encouragement to those who have done 133 miles and only have 12 left. There were the usual mentals who feed the geese and ducks from huge sacks of bread and they can be a challenge to fight through.

I got faster in the last 10 and lost the others. I caught back up with Rob Westaway who seemed to be enjoying the canal a lot. Drew was also just ahead looking quite feverish having consumed 16 energy gels in the race. Surely he knows that the "consume every 15 minutes" thing they put on the packet is just marketing bullshit to get you to buy more? I also passed Tim Adams about 3 miles from the end, it seemed everyone had set out too fast, or just wanted to spend more time with the canal.

I finished in 6.47, about 20 minutes quicker than last year which is promising as it might mean I am in better shape than last year (though still too fat). Mark Braley, Jon Hoo and Dave Ross were already at the finish and dressed already. I hung around to watch Tim, Drew, Rob, Rob, Mark and David finish and headed to the pub to get a few pints down me before Gemma was due to finish. She did in 8.23, about 2 hours faster than she thought she would. It was just getting dark as she, Mark Bell, Carrie Doyle, Mel Ross and Daniel (who gave me a bottle of whiskey at the start in celebration but I decided not to drink it at the start) all came in. All of them had only wonderful things to say about the canal.

Back into the pub for more drinking and Steak and chips. Then off to the other pub for even more drinking and another steak and chips. It was a great day, such a convenient finish location and made me more excited about watching the GUCR later this year. 45 miles done without too much bother. Can I do it again for another 69 days? Without Canal? Hmmmmm

Winter Tanners 2011

This run is hard enough. 30 miles of hills and steps of the Surrey countryside. Add to the the miserable weather in the days beforehand leading to the very muddy conditions. Oh and what's that? I'm going to have to do all the instruction reading because I am running with Claire Shelley who couldn't find her way out of a car park in Portsmouth? Oh, and what's that? She has some sort of suicide bunny instinct for trying to get killed outdoors? I had my work cut out.

The sky was as blue as I have ever seen it. We've had a "bad" winter where some snow fell which caused chaos.  A plane was cancelled, some people got stuck on a train and one of my Christmas cards turned up late. I am exagerating of course, I didn't get any Christmas cards. Anyway many races suffered cancellations as the usual spate of health and saftey Nazism  encouraged us all to stay indoors and wait for the elders to tell us what to do while at the same time moaning at the makers of roads for not making them ice proof. Fortunately that had all blown over and it was a practically tropical 4 degrees at the start. This event was officially cancelled last year however lots of people turned up anyway to do it. I've never known a non-French ultra to surrender to the weather. The LDWA don't normally do that kind of thing. "At your own risk" is their middle name. No actually it's "Distance Walkers". But you get the idea.

Anyhoo, Winter Tanners. Turn up an a carpark in Leatherhead whenever (preferably between 7-9.30am), fill in a form and hand over a fiver and then you get given a number and a route description that in theory leads you on a beautiful circuit of Surrey before ending up in the same car park some hours later. The only things stopping us were a lot of stiles, some mud, many significant climbs and Running Induced Dyslexia. There were a few steps

I set out of the carpark with Claire, Teresa (doing her first ultra), Alex and Gemma and Jany who were both doing the 20. I ran fast at the start so as to get past the kissing gates before Gemma got there (they just slow me down). Past the Football Club where the summer Tanners starts and the Mole Barn. Pretty soon we are in the woods but are made to divert from the original route because of flooding. Luckily there is a special paragraph for that.

The run the instructions warned us of 191 steps to descend, these are the ones we go up and down twice in the Picnic Marathon (A hilariously diffficult marathon held in June every two years). Not long until we were in muddy fields and Claire was trying to get herself killed, firstly by running into an electric fence. I saw the big yellow sign "Electric Fence" seemingly suspended in mid air but obviously it was held up by a couple of electric wires. I had to yell at her to stop her running straight into them. Did she not wonder why everyone else was climbing a stile? Looking behind me I could see the massive chalk ridge that we had just come down, it looked amazing.

First checkpoint was in a car park after around 9 miles, it took us 2 hours to get there nad shortly before we ran into Kevan and Liz from the Serpies who were doing the 20. This checkpoint is where the 20 and the 30 go in completely opposite directions. At the CP I saw Dave Ross and Phillip who had caught up to us. The food was fairly basic (can't argue for a fiver), juice and biscuits. About a mile from the checkpoint we bumped into a guy running the other way asking us if we were doing the 30. He was doing the 20 but had set off with the 30 people. We said he may as well do the 30 as he was going to run 30 miles anyway with that kind of navigation skill.

Claire, Dave, Phil and I ran together for a while with me in charge of reading. It was quite a responsibility but I was doing OK I think, I don't recall going wrong. The instructions I think were the best I had seen in such an event, perhaps even too good. "Turn Left at track, 9Y ahead from Bridge and 11Y before road". Who has measured all this to the yard? Sometimes the instructions would switch measurements which confused all the Garmin people, from Yards, meters and miles. When it told us to run ahead 750 yards we'd get into a debate about how far 750 yards was. "Nah, it can't be this track cos we have not gone half a mile yet", "But 750 yards is less than half a mile?", "Is it? How far is a yard?" "Less than a meter", "Oh. Then what's a furlong?".

Shortly before the second CP we caught up with Hillary Walker who was (like everyone else) using a nice muddy hill as an excuse to walk. A quick chat about my America thing and Hilary suggested I treat it as a 9-5 job where I have to think that running is my job. I suspect there will be plenty of overtime when I get out there and I'll probably have to work through lunch too.

A bit later up the muddy hill there was an adolescent Horse (dunno what the proper word is) who was kicking around then then scared Claire back down the hill. I need to get some sort on instant camera to capture these events. The amazing climb up to Leith Hill was included on the route with it's very recognisable tower that sells ice cream. I was happy to wait in the queue for one but Claire was determined to press on and finish before the other Serpies who had started after us. Boring.

At CP 2 we bumped into Paula who seemed to be keeping up a good pace. I delved into some of the food I brought along with me. Sainsbury's were doing a half price deal on basically everything you need to eat for ultrarunning. Sausage rolls, pepparami, jelly babies, energy drink, milkshake. We pressed on and sent Paula down a long hill before calling her back to say that the turning was right here. It wasn't deliberate, honest.

More stunning scenery and a lot more mud which Claire tried her best to drown in. Just before the third CP there is a massive climb, over a railway up a hill into the forest and then up 100 steps or so. We had rejoined the slackers doing the 20 miles. The climb is beautiful but very hard. Regular Tanners veterans were saying that this was the hardest they has ever made it. Possibly due to the discontinuation of the Summer Tanners now.

I met Anna Gilmore for the first time at CP3 and then bumped into Martin Illot and Lawrence who I had met in the Spartathlon last year. MArtin made me laugh with a quote in his Spartathlon race report where he said "Pain is temporary, a commemorative perspex block depicting ancient greek runners lasts forever". It was good to see them again.

Behind us there was another team of Serpies being led my Alan Hall who I was sure were going to come up charging past us. They were all about twice as fast as me and Alan is about 50 times the navigator I am and thought that the half an hour we had ahead of them would not be enough and they would hunt us down like one of those pretend fox hunts that happens around this time of year. In the end they didn't which means my navigation was obviously awesome. Finished in just over 6 hours.

SO glad I got out of bed to do this. I recommend anything with Tanners in the title, and hope that the summer one will be back soon.

Enigma Marathon

It does not suprise me that the famous German code breaking machine was broken here. The people of Bletchley have to solve riddles just to get about the town. I have never seen so many roundabouts and underpasses in such a small area before. I was up and down underpasses like a confused rabbit, not entirely sure which direction I was facing as I tried to find my way to from the station to the start. Google maps said it was about 2 miles and 3 roundabouts for me to cross. In fact it was at least 10, including lots of double roundabouts. I don't even know why they exist? For people who change their mind after the first one and want to go back? If Google Maps has forsaken this place then I have no chance.

Anyhoo, I managed to get to the start just in time for the start of Dave "Foxy" Bailey's race. I decided to do it at the last minute to help burn off some of the Christmas podge. Foxy seems to be organising these marathons as if they were Parkruns. Turn up at the lake anytime and chances are there will be a marathon on. Awesome. Just wish he lived in Ealing. Me and a very sweaty sleepy Geordie

The route was pretty simple, a little out and back to start with and then 7 laps of lake Caldicote. It's been a while since I have done a multi-lap race but I was looking forward to it as lapped races can be a different and still enjoyable running experience.

We set off and immediately 5 runners formed a lead group. They all had about half as much clothing on as the rest of us so probably had to keep moving to avoid shivering to death. I settled in a comfortable paced second group and chatted to Mark about the usual stuff, "are you going to take 20 pairs of trainers to the States next year or buy them on the way" and "In New York you can access lots of the attractions for free if you are in a wheelchair which is cool cos we will be in one".

The lap was fairly straightforward, starting at the car park run around the end to a bridge, round and through some woods then under the A5 careful not to bang your head on it, then past some flats with confused looking geese and ducks wondering why they could not swim in the ice. Then over a bridge with a dog poo in the middle then back around, under the A5 again and past a windmill and a sign for the Comfort Inn (rooms from £29) and then onto the end of the lap where Dave would lie about how many you still had to run. Then all that again. Simple.

The second lap was much like the first except some fishermen were getting in the way by sticking their rods into a pond that was not even part of the lake. Seriously what can anyone catch in a dirty puddle.

The third lap was similar except that towards the end I stopped for a bit and Mark ran on ahead. I assumed I would catch him later.

The fourth lap was much the same again except my arse was really hurting and had to stop to stretch it a bit. Mark had gone on further but I was still sure I'd be able to catch him.

The fifth lap was probably the most exciting. A dog leaped into the freezing cold lake and was paralysed in there and had to be rescued. It was one of those pointless small yappy dogs that really should be a cat anyway. Later on I noticed that someone had trodden in the poo. Who was it? I then got barked at by some more dogs which perked me up a bit.

The sixth lap was exciting too. I got lapped for the first time by Gobi who was jogging and chatting his way through a 3ish hours marathon. He stopped to chat (when I say stop I mean ran at my pace) for a minute then went off. When I finished the lap Mark was now on the other side of the lake and there was no way I was going to catch him. Me trying in vain to unlap myself against Gobi. Thanks Rach for the Photos :)

The seventh lap was a a farewell to all the wonderful things I had seen several times that day. The A5, The arse end of a tesco warehouse, the 2 very confused swans on the ice who didn't realise that just around the corner there were loads of them swimming, the windmill and the now flatter dog poo. It's like they had become my friends along the way round. Mark was now as visible as a Geordies coat, I met Ruth and Anna and tried not to look too smug that I was doing my last lap and the sign for the Comfort Inn was now £34. Some Fetchie as I passed her said she was admiring the view. Was she talking about the lake or my arse?

Overall it was a great event and a great chance to catch up with some people I had not seen for a while. Although laps may sound boring they are actually quite easy and almost hypnotic. Familiarity with the wonderful objects such as windmills and dog poo seems to make them go quicker. 3.39 in total and hurting much more than 26.2 flat miles should. I had only really decided to do this the day before though. I blame Christmas. Stupid Santa, I wish you were never born. Hopefully I'll be in better shape come Feb, when I shall be running this marathon 4 times in 4 days. Hope Dave has cleared up the dog poo by then :)

The Bunion Derby

On March 4th in 1928 199 runners set out from Los Angeles to race to New York and claim a prize of $25,000 for first place. That was quite a lot of money at the time, a policeman would earn about $40 a week. In fact that is still a lot of money now, I estimate that is what it will cost me to do this.

I first heard about this race by reading The Bunion Derby, a fantastic book about the race (link goes to google preview). It is an account based on newspaper reports spanning the 84 days and 3400 miles of the race. Things were very different then.

The twenties in the USA was in interesting decade. An economic boom and huge rises in personal income for many which led to some crazy behaviour. Drinking alcohol was illegal and people expressed themselves in funyn ways, such as by 24 hour dancing, week long flag pole sitting and swimming for days. People seemed to go mad for the endurance challenges.

Charlie C Pyle, more of a circus promoter than an endurance enthusiast saw this as an opportunity to make his name (and some money do doubt as was the theme at the time) by promoting what he called "The Greatest Show on Earth" (he was a modest chap). He offered a large prize for runners who (for $100 deposit) could run along the newly built (and in many parts not quite built) Route 66 from LA to Chicago and then across to New York. Strangely enough it probably seemed like a fairly normal thing to do 70 years ago, more so than now.

I don't want to go into detail of the book (or spoil the ending) and I recommend you all read it and I challenge you to not want to follow their footsteps on finishing the book. There are however a few things that just stood out for me when reading.

• It was a proper race. Not much I do nowadays seems like a proper race but these guys all seemed to be there in hope of winning the money. Most of the competitors were quite poor and scraped the $100 somehow and gambled with 3 months of their lives that they could win this
• They were actually running quite fast. Quite often I'd read something like "So and so won the 38 mile stage averaging 8 miles an hour". 8 miles an hour for 38 miles when you've already run 2000? That would be the kind of time I would do if I just tried to run that distance once at full speed and did not have to get up for the next week.
• America is enormous. Well, not just the distance but the geography that you have to run through. The route goes through the hottest desert, mountain ranges, great plains where the winds are so bad that trees grow sideways.
• Everyone was so young. There were a lot of people in their 20s. There was one kid who was 15 and got halfway before this was discovered and he was kicked out. There were not many over 40. Next year there will be not many under 40.
• I actually found out what a bunion is. I thought it was like a callous or something but it is actually quite severe muscle contortion in the foot. I don't want to get that.
• The winning time was 573h 4m 34s. That is a long long time. And why on earth were they measuring the seconds?

Global Positioning

It was a cold winter this year. You almost felt sorry for those poor people stood outside doorways in pubs shivering as they got their fix. They were killing themselves in more ways than one now since they were forced to smoke outside. However I saw the exact same thing outside the Seymour Centre every Wednesday night. However these Serpies were not smoking, they had their arms raised like they were asking teacher if they can go to the toilet. But they didn't need the toilet, they were in fact asking for permission to run. Permission from some orbiting satelite to tell them they could start. Icicles would form around their frozen faces as the "signal" bar crawled up to 100% and then suddenly "Beeeeep" and these ice sculptures would splutter into life.

WTF happened on mile 7??????

I bought one of the first GPS devices back in the days where I thought the key to running happiness was to have every inch of it graphable. It was fairly poor by todays standards. It would often lose signal and would switch itself off after 5 minutes if there was no contact with the Starship Enterprise which meant I had to look at it constantly. In doing so I would run into people and for the first 10 runnings of the "Tower Bridge" run I completely missed this amazing bridge in London that has towers on it. It got better though, future models would hold signal better so that you only had to look at them when it beeps at you, declaring that you have run another mile and causing a funny reflex where you involutarily elbow the person on your left in the face.

The best bit was not the running though, it was the things you could do on a computer with your run afterwards. Plug your watch into your PC and all of a sudden your run becomes interesting. Pounding the trails or roads is boring and futile at the best of times but now your effort has a purpose, you can draw charts and graphs and analyse data. Brilliant. You can also be part of the scintilating conversations at the end of a run where you spew out numbers a the end to each other. "Yeah, mine was 7.32, 7.35, 7.21, 7.45 bugger, 7.32, 7.31". Splendid.

One day as I stared at a funny slug like object on my screen that resembled the path of my run and questioned why mile 7 seemed slower even thought the HR and elevation suggested it should be quicker I wondered whether I had missed the point of this sport. I remembered the days where I'd just go out and run because it feels nice. Now I can't seem to leave the house without something tracking my ever step, as if I need proof that I went outside. I had to ask myself "do I run for fun or do I run as a means to collect data?" If it's the latter then surely there are better ways? I could just stand outside and pretend to be a family fortunes researcher. I asked 100 people "what should I do with my life instead collecting pointless data?"

The watch went into the drawer and I decided to run whenever I liked and not when some beeping device told me too. It was risky, I mean how could I prove that I even went for a run? If I was audited how could I ever have the evidence that I didn't just sit on my backside watching TV? My own testimony would not stand up in court like a good pace graph would. I was treading dangerously.

However on relieving myself of the slavery of the wrist computer I felt like I has been released from prison (those things look remarkably similar to ASBO tags). My arm felt so much lighter having ditched the voluntary electronic tagging device. No longer did I have to let some virtual man beat me around some route, beeping with derision should I fall behind. I could just run as far and as fast as I felt like and could even look at things along the way. My mind could wander onto things so much more important than whether my heart-rate was staying within 80% while I ascended a 6% incline at 7.10 minute miles on mile 7 of my 15 mile circuit. Oh look, a squirrel.I felt more alive when I ditched the running laptop

I have not worn a watch in a run or race since. I can occasionally guess the miles in a race by the deafening crescendo of beeping from those all around me and the jerking of elbows swinging up to the left. I can run when I want, stop when I want and no longer get wound up if a 5 foot detour threatens the shape of a graph in a few hours time. I was in a race in summer where I had no idea how long I had been running, how far or even what country I was in. It was a magical feeling that I will remember forever and not one that I will re-live by looking at a bunch of numbers. I'd hate to think what I might have missed in the Alps or the deserts or the English countryside because I was too busy staring at liquid crystals. I don't need my computer to tell me whether I've had a good run or not, I decide that for myself.

I don't think I'll ever go back to that kind of captivity. I'm enjoying the running too much. I do love to ask users of such devices "what's the time". It's hilarious how they frantically press buttons on there watch only to tell me that they don't know, but that I have just raised their cholestrohol level.

And I giggled (perhaps harshly) at a friend who trying to avoid the situation in the first paragraph had his £300 device stolen from his garden wall while leaving it to gain signal.

"But can't you track where he is? I thought that was the point of those things".

"Only if he plugs it into his computer and uploads the stats"

"Well then, you just have to sit back and wait. With that kind of speedy running he is sure to upload it. The graph will be awesome".

Portsmouth Marathon

For some reason I had in my head that this was a road marathon. Not sure why as the race info made no such suggestion. I guess I still had Luton on my mind which is never a great thing to happen. Luton (that I have entered 5 times and not even started yet) was cancelled for the second time in 3 years due to ice. Now I hear they are moving it 3 weeks forward into November so that this is less likely to happen. Trouble is that November has some quite cool events like the Druids Challenge, Pembroke Challenge, Cornwall Marathon and so forth and so it's unlikely I'll ever do Luton again if there is something more glamorous on that weekend. And on the subject of glamorous, Portsmouth.

Has I have known that this was mostly off road I would not have queued for the toilets so much. There were about 300 people shivering around the startline. I caught up with a few friends beforehand though I barely recognised Drew Sheffield is his slinky little purple dress. I later discovered that it was the running vest of the Wootton Runners. Whilst chatting to Jany and the Paynes at the start we seemed to miss the starting gun (or whistle or shout or bong or whatever it was). We saw the mass of people shift forward and figured that we should start running too. Lovely Sludge - Thanks Ruth Emma Benzira for the Photo

I stuck with Ian and Nick for the first few miles which were on the promenade and then into some mud. There was not too much of it and the weather had been kind again over the previous few days to not make it too muddy. We have been really lucky with dry races so far this winter, I can only imagine that this will change when the ultra races start proper again in Jan. I saw Cleo Oliver for the first time in well over a year and she welcomed me to her "local" marathon. I said she should come and run my local marathon in Leicester. I never tire of telling the story about how my Leicester marathon nearly ended after just 2 miles after slipping over on a kebab. It wasn't mine by the way.

I managed to keep up with Nick and Ian and Claire for most of the first half. Ian and Lucy had to be done quick so that they could get back to watch a Bournemouth football game. I remember Lucy's exact words last week when she said "I'm not f****g about, 4 hours then we are out of there". Claire, Gus, Jany and I also had to get a move on as it was our running club's Xmas party that night. Everyone was in such a rush that we forgot to enjoy the beautiful scenery of Portsmouth.

Ian informed me that we passed the 6 mile marker in exactly 45 minutes which according to my calculation was an average of 7.30 minute miles. Now, I make a general rule in reading race reports or listening to people that I stop reading/listening on the third mention of the phrase "minute mile", however I may break that horribly here as for the first time in ages I felt like I was in some sort of race. I had no phone for facebook, no camera, there were no sausage rolls or any other excuse to hang around at checkpoints and it was bloody freezing and I was in just shorts and a vest. Had no choice really.

It was quite a straighforward course with no real difficulty in direction. About 3 miles of promenade, a few miles of coastal path and a little shingle and then a long stretch to 13 miles of hard trail where you could see the runners coming back in the other direction. On the approach to half way I saw the leader and the 2nd placed guy quite a way ahead of third. Dave Ross was the first person I recognised on the way up to half way and I later discovered that he and his wife Mel have both just got places for the Western States 100. It would be great to see them next year as they plan on being in Vegas around the same time as I will for the LANY race.

I made the turn at halfway at about 1.38, still feeling like I could keep that pace up even though I have not run that fast for a year. I high-fived everyone as I ran back the other way, scoring 8 out of 8 perfectly I think. I decided not to do Claire as I was worried she would fall over. I started to wonder when to have an energy gel and then I started to wonder even more about when I last even wondered about when to have an energy gel. I used to panic about such things, do I take it after 15.7 miles or 16.2? How many should I have? 3? 5? This time I just had 2 in my pockets and took the first after about 16 when a water station arrived. Only 6 months out of date. F**k this is boring. Typical Trail - Thanks Ruth again

I didn't see the rest of the guys again. I think Claire stopped off for a date with Elliott Loohire. Is that even a real name? I can imagine young Elliott trying to find his way in life. The tanning salon didn't work out, the Fish & Chip shop probably didn't work out too. Just as he was about to give up on running hs own business he had an inspirational idea, perhaps people could hire things from me? But what?

Anyhoo, I assumed Claire would spring past me with a smile on her face as she so likes to do in these things, Drew did say at the end he tried to give her a chocolate flavoured Gu gel that he knows makes her sick. Ian I think was in need of several dates with Elliott and Nick had fallen back as he had not run too far recently. We joked at the start about the usual question "How far is a marathon?" I think he forgot.

My body behaved itself mostly and the runners knee came and went throughout but I managed to ignore it towards the end as I was distracted by my own heavy fat breathing. I was overtaking people pretty constantly over the second half and don't recall getting overtaken apart from a woman and her dog near the end. I was pleased as this meant that I was probably keeping a fairly constant pace or perhaps even running faster. I did feel a little wobbly during miles 18-24 which apparently is normal in a marathon. I'd normally respond to this by slowing down and having a sandwich but it did not feel right here so I just leaned forward a bit and made sure that if I did wobble then at least I'd go forwards.

Some Shingle -Thanks again Ruth :)It's a great marathon for a speedy finish. The last 2 miles being on the promenade again and allowing you to put your foot down. I did and ran through the finish funnel and was presented with a voucher for a free burger, awesome. I had no idea at that stage what time I had done and to be honest didn't really care. However since then I have thought about it a bit. It was not super fast, around 3.20 but that was the fastest I have sustained 26.2 miles for a long time and given that I am a bit out of shape (85.2kg is quite fat even for me) I was pleased. I grabbed the burger and wandered over to watch the others finish while sporting my foil blanket (feeling like a proper marathon runner).

Claire bounced in. I yelled at Drew and the guy he was running with that there was only 1 burger left which caused a sprint finish. It was strange watching all these people finish as usually they are the ones waiting for me. It was not much harder than a flat road marathon overall.

This was a great first showing of the Portsmouth Marathon and I imagine I'll be back next year to do it. I'd be lying if I said it was the prettiest of them all but it was well organised, lots of water stops and a burger van at the end. The weather was kind and I am told that the norm is for heavy wind and rain/mud. That would make it a lot harder.

Anyhoo, since then I am getting a load of sarcastic comments about being fast (yes the "s" is supposed to be in there). Hardly deserved really with 3.20 or whatever. I am actually quite curious as to what my exact time was to see whether it was less than 7.30 minute miles and

Oh shit. Boring. I just broke my own rule. You can stop reading now.

Gatliff 2010 - The Revenge

Over the past few years the Serpentine has perhaps become the biggest Ultra Running club in the UK. There must be more than 50 Serpies who have run ultras in the past 12 months and often you'll find them at the sharp end of races. It's great to see this and the numbers are increasing year on year. However if you were to witness the epic failure of a year ago, where about 20 Serpies set out to complete the 50k of Kent countryside and most of them did so in a taxi you'd be forgiven for thinking that we were out of our depth.

I love Gatliff. It was my first "ultra" though these things don't feel like ultras. This would be my fifth time here. So far my record is;

2006 - Hideous weather             - 8.37

2007 - Quite nice weather          - 5.37

2008 - Bad Weather                   - 6.46

2009 - Hideous Weather             - DNF

2010 looked like it was going to be different though. It had not rained for a week and the UK is going through an unusually cold snap for November, with temperatures hovering around freezing. The ground was rock solid and we were going to have none of the sliding about and sinking that we normally have to suffer here. It was disappointing that not many Serpies came to finish what they started last year, which is a shame cos after half way the food gets good.

I started the run with Drew Sheffield, Mark Bell and Phillip Smith who I knew from various ultras and GUCRs. Before I even arrived I saw Mark Braley running out from the start, 50 meters in he looked stressed already and said "Yeah I started early just to get this over with". The first few miles were exactly the same as last year (the route changes every year) except that everything was not covered with a layer of mud or water. What was a stream last year was a lovely path now, what was a lake was now a nice grassy field and what was a dead tree was still a dead tree. The route description says "head towards the dead tree". They all look dead now.

We jogged pretty slowly, some of the frozen ploughed ground was quite hard work and we were being careful not to break our feet on a frozen shit. There was a lot of it about. There was plenty of time to catch up with the others about plans for next year. How much they were going to smash the canal run and whether they were doing the Spartathlon next year. Phil mentioned the problems getting a doctors note to run Sparta. "You have not been to the doctors for 5 years. How can we possibly say you are fit and healthy??"

Around halfway the sun broke through the clouds and we actually started to feel quite warm. So long as we were moving it was fine despite the freezing temperature and the temptation to dress up like the Michellin man. The 30k checkpoint is also described as "lunch". I think all runs should have a lunch in them. Very civilised. We sat down indoors for about 10 minutes as I enjoyed some tomato soup and 3 sausage rolls dunked in. I bumped into Helen (don't know her second name) who was taking it easy after spending all summer winning things.

It was the first time I think I can remember where you could admire the views here. I have no idea where exactly we were but there were some spectacular sights, particularly when we ran down into a valley on bracken and then back up the other side. Normally the muds and rain would mask all that is good here. Not today, we were in perfect daylight.

If you have never done an LDWA (or similar) event before they are great. You get given a piece of paper with directions to take rather like a treasure hunt only the treasure is food at checkpoints. You'll get instructions like "TAKE EXTREME CARE Xing RD" and "X ST (wobbly)". The organisers of Gatliff thought of text speak before mobile phones were even invented. This is the future of running, wombling around fields in the middle of nowhere trying to determine whether a clearing in a wooded area consitutes a "Left fork" or is just random. We only took one wrong turning when we walked while Drew did a Benedict XVI in the bushes. For some reason we just stopped reading the instructions and walked on waiting for him to catch up. We then missed a very blatant left turn next to an even more blatant "large pine tree".

You have to take some of the distances quoted with a pinch of salt. Sometimes they will be very specific (run 72m then bear left), other times it would say "Run 1k". That 1k can be anywhere between 500m and 3 miles. I recall some of the parts that I had got lost in over the years. I remembered the 1k that was 3k and the 3k that was 1k and the instruction to "cross diagonally across field", which seems fine except that this field has 27 corners and I have gone wrong every time here in the past.

We really were living by paragraphs though and that is the joy of the event. Saying we have 15 miles left does not really mean a lot, but saying we have 12 paragraphs left makes much more sense. Counting down the words we headed to the end, getting excited as we approached the last few words of each para. Unless of course those last few words said "run down this road 10 miles".

Not much else to say about this that I have not said in the 4 previous times. The photos came out great. I was disappointed that so many were put off returning here because they thought it was grim, it really was beautiful in the light and we managed to finish just before dark in about 6.30.

Gatliff 2010 - slideshows

Ultra Running - Stuff that has helped me - Version 2.0

I wrote this post a while ago and think it's about time I updated it. I've enjoyed (and suffered) a lot of stuff since writing this and thought I'd share. I've tried to organise it in sections but as you may well know I am pretty terrible at organising anything so it may not quite work. Enjoy

Like I said this is what has worked (or not) for me over the years and the greatest thing about ultras is that there is no "correct" way of doing anything. The debates will always rage on by people who want to try try to sell you "solutions" to everything. I say just keep it simple, experiment occasionally and enjoy the unknowing. "simplicity is the ultimate sophistication" - Da Vinci

I've also added some links to other blogs and articles I have found very helpful over the years.

DON'T PANIC

• 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.
• Don't compare your insides with someone else's outsides. You may line up at the start and look around at the other runners and decide that they have everything sorted out, they all know what they are doing. In most cases you are wrong, they are probably crapping themselves just as much as you are, they just aren't showing it (and you probably are not showing it either).
• Don't seek too many answers or obsess about details. The joy of this sport is finding those out yourself. It's a very personal journey where you'll find that you do things differently to others. It's ok to talk to others and read articles about how to run ultras and you'll hear lots of "answers" to the question of how to do ultra-running. Caffeine is essential vs caffeine is evil, liquid food only vs solid food is vital, cushioned shoes cause injury vs "Barefoot? Are you f****g nuts?", satellite watches vs sundials, run vs walk vs run walk vs run sit walk sit run walk, Man shorts vs Girl Tights. No one has figured it all out yet and I hope that no one does. The day Ultras get solved is the day I'll take up something else. Mountain Pogo?
• And on the same subject, consider this. The Rubic's Cube, you are probably old enough to remember (Excuse the diversion I do this a lot).  I never really got into it but millions of people all over the world spend hours of fun (or torture) trying to get all the sides to match. Have a look at this. The puzzle has been solved. Any given starting point there is a series of moves that will guarantee victory. Imagine getting one now as a gift and also getting the solution? What would be the point? Like I said, the day Ultras get "solved" I am taking up something else. Penguin Tossing?
• Therefore there is no "Correct Way" of running Ultras
• And with that in mind feel free to ignore everything I have written here The further you run the simpler it gets

 WHILE RUNNING

• 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. However the next 80 miles (yes EIGHTY) 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.
• 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.
• Recently I've been trying drills in long runs. Focus on one part of good technique for a mile or so. It takes your mind off the hurt a little. The fancy term is Proprioceptive Cues that I learned reading "Brain Training for Runners" by Matt Fitzgerald.
• 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. Inevitably one day you are going to be squatting in a secluded place and then get rumbled by a large band of scouts and a brass band marching through. Just nod and smile, you won't ever see them again.
• 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. 
• 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.
• Smashing it VS pacing it? Sounds obvious that you should pace evenly but ultras are a different thing to 10k or Marathon races. There is something to be said about going faster at the start and "banking miles" early and many of the elites follow this. Check out this great blog post from Stuart Mills on the subject of the best 100 mile times in history. However I know a couple of people who pace quite evenly. Pat Robbins who wins the GUCR every year follows a strict 25/5 run walk regime and never seems to slow down. Early on in the race he is way back but sure enough every year he tears through the field. Ian Sharman recently recorded a fantastic 100 mile time with "almost" even 20 mile laps.I quite like to get the miles in early and think that if you start fast you slow down but if you start slow too you still slow down.
• RFM. It's easy, get a T-Shirt if you keep forgetting.

GENERAL RACE STRATEGY

• 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. Winston Churchill said it best - "when going through hell keep going".
• 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.
• [HIGH HORSE ALERT] Read any running book or article and you'll be told about the importance of having a plan. You must have a plan, with goals and objectives and a strategy and you must plan to reach your goals and targets and they must be SMART and you will never succeed unless you have all your goals and plans and targets defined and blah blah blah. Dunno about you but that sounds like the crap I have to do at work. I run to get away from that sort of thing. Don't turn the hobby that you love into a shitty marketing job.
• My point above is that "Planning" is different for everyone and in some cases (including mine) is actually stressful and counter-productive. We are not all planners. Some of us are wingers. I suspect that there are a disproportionate number of wingers in ultras than in other distances and in life in general. When I first did the GUCR I was unable to even estimate when I would be at the first checkpoints. I just shrugged and said I'll see how it goes. Badwater I just said to my crew to make sure I had water and make sure I don't die. The problem is you get all this PLAN PLAN PLAN shoved at you that you think it's a neccessity and it ends up stressing you more. If you are a planner then plan away. If you are not a planner then don't try. I am running across the USA next year and have already been subjected to the dreaded "Plan" and "Budget" words. Those things just kill the adventure for me. I'll take a credit card and a spare flapjack and see how it goes. What could go wrong?
• 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 it 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.
• 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". When I was marshalling at the GUCR 2010 I saw some people drop out who looked in proper pain and I thought "yeah they really should have called it a day sooner". But more often I saw someone give up cos it all "got a bit much" or they lacked motivation to finish. In those instances I just knew that those guys were going to be very pissed with themselves tomorrow.

NUTRITION (What I don't know about nutrition can be written on the back of Canada)

• The dangers of OVER eating are feeling a bit sluggish, perhaps some stomach problems, going to the toilet more and if you have a wedding soon not getting into a dress. Relatively trivial. The dangers of UNDER eating are stomach problems, cramp, fainting, exhaustion, anger, depression, muscle damage, organ damage, death and perhaps more importantly there is a greater danger of not finishing. You may have read books about runners who can run 100 miles on a can of coke and an apple but these are likely to be the elites who have done this many times before and have well practiced routines. If you are not at the sharp end and relatively new to this they I would lean on the side of over eating rather than the opposite. You can always change it the next time.
• I hear the phrase "fuelling the Ferrari" used quite a lot when giving advice on nutrition to runners. Well I'm not a Ferrari. More likely I am a rusty old camper van with a big dent in the side and smells funny. The fact is that when running for hours and hours the act of eating can become a struggle. You may not feel hungry or you may have trouble getting stuff down. In these cases ANYTHING is better than nothing.
• In my experience the biggest mistake nutrition wise is not eating the wrong types of food but simply just not eating enough.
• You can use food as a reward. Derive pleasure from it. Don't think "I will eat a Kit Kat because it has 300 calories in it", think "I will eat a Kit-Kat cos I really like Kit-Kats". I love it when checkpoints have savoury stuff like sausage rolls and sandwiches. It gives me something to look forward to when slogging through the mud. Try and make food and the thought of food a positive thing. 
• If it's true and "you are what you eat" then I am a pile of shit. Stuff I have consumed in races over the years include pringles, sausages, McDonalds (122 mile point in Badwater), Subway (65 miles into GUCR), enormous amounts of spicy meat and cheese in the UTMB, coke, coffee, Fish n Chips, milkshake, Pot Noodles, sausage rolls, soup.
• Drink early. I learned quite early on that it's easy to jog 15 miles and ignore feelings of thirst because you want to get ahead but then it catches up on you and them some. It's hard to come back from dehydration.
• ELECTROLYTES - I have only recently discovered these (I previously relied on the salt content of crisps). If you are running a long way then take these from the start. There are plenty of easy to carry products out there. IN Badwater I asked my support team to put them in everything I drank. Electrolytes are simply the salts that are cruical for the electrical activity in your muscle movement. If you flush them out with pure water then you risk cramp in the muscles (including those in your heart).My preference is Elete but there are others. Here is a more in depth article on how they work.
• Protein - another one of those "you must take it/you must not take it" debates. I try to eat it as normal on a long run which generally involves protein and fat. From personal experience and lots of others too there has been great feedback for the 4-1 carbs to protien energy drink/powder you can buy. I think you need protien, you need to recover as you go.
• Protien is especially imortant on multi-days. At the end of a run where I am doing the same the next day I try to guzzle some milkshake, beef jerky and nuts within an hour of stopping. If you are doing multi-days this hour after you stop running is perhaps the most important for eating, drinking and stretching. Here is a great article from 1 Vigor on the subject of recovery nutrition. Eat within the first hour and anything is better than nothing.
• Camelpaks and bottle belts are the kit of choice for carrying water but don't rule out a hand held. It's not ideal in terms of running form but if you are prone to not drinking enough and if it's very hot then a hand held bottle could be very useful. I use backpacks where lots of kit is required (UTMB, ONER, Gran-Canaria or general UK ultras), I use a bottle belt where checkpoints are frequent and kit needs are low (Spartathlon, Davos, some UK ultras) and I used a hand held for Badwater.
• Don't get suckered too much into the expensive "science" food. Read the second half on any running magazine and there will be loads of ads claiming to have "unleashed the power of the daisy" and swearing that your running will improve by 23.7% Most of the runners I know get by on stuff you can buy from a regular supermarket.

MIND GAMES

• When out for a long time and trying to work through the tough times I find it really helps to think in the third person and take yourself out of yourself (if that makes any sense at all). I am quite comfortable thinking about myself in the 3rd person and years of Facebooking has made James very good at this.You can be as ridiculous and as egotistical as you like, if it helps you out of a funk then so what? No one needs to know. Here are a few that I use. There are some that I won't share right now and some that I might never share.
• Imagine your own funeral (ok perhaps it sounds silly to imagine you are dead but hear me out). Hopefully your funeral is years and years away. When it happens people are only going to say what a great person you are and how you touched their lives. Think of the speeches made and the conversations between your old school teacher and training buddy. I've even got the location of mine sorted, hmmmm maybe I should contact the council.
• Think of the stories you can tell about your experiences. 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.
• And try to think of every set back as a funny story for later. Soon you'll be wishing mis-fortune on yourself....
• Imagine you are supporting someone you know in the race you are doing now. This kept me occupied for 10 hard miles in the Spartathlon this year. There are a few people I know who want to do the Spartathlon and I imagined I was here with them supporting them through their run. You can only guess as to the kinds of problems they will run into but your amazing and uplifting words and advice can help them through it. That then makes you feel much better and perhaps even forget for a while that you are actually running that very tough race yourself right now
• Persuading someone else to do the race you are doing. You may not believe it but some people don't like the idea of running 145 miles of canal on a Bank Holiday Weekend. The thought of this is incredible to me but each to their own. Pick someone who you know will say it's crazy. Tell them it's crazy but they still should do it. Argue with them (though not out loud near medics as they might think you have lost it and pull you out).
• Imagine your friends back at home tracking your race.I do lots of Facebooking and texting during long races and tend to get this feedback anyway but in it's absence you could still make it up. Think of a status update and then your friends responses. You know all the people who will say that you are doing awesomely as well as those who say their Gran could run faster.
• I imagine doing speeches at the start of events or to general crowds of ultra-runners. Invent questions and give your answers and pretend that the whole audience are in stitches with your hilarious jokes.Of course they are hilarious cos it's all in your head.
• More and more ultras nowadays have lotteries to enter. The UTMB, Badwater, Western States, MDS, GUCR all have more people wanting to participate than there are places. This leads to disappointment for many as well as headaches for the organisers. When running imagine someone sitting at home who applied to do what you are doing now but did not get in. Don't do him/her a dis-service by bailing out for some wimpy reason. Finish it for the person who could not start.

RACE ETIQUETTE

• 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.
• It's great to find someone to chat to during a race but sometimes people might not be in the mood. It's nothing personal, they just may be struggling. Sometimes a question can feel like someone plunging their fist into your brain and trying to pull somthing out. Don't feel you need to talk all the time and respect others need for mental space.
• SO don't be too afraid of saying "I don't really feel like talking". And don't take it personally if this is said to you. In some of my longer races such as the ONER ot Trans Gran Canaria it was nice to have friends around just up ahead or behind and just seeing them and exchanging a few words and jokes every now and then. I could not imagine jabbering on for 24 hours though. Some people however love this.
• 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.

HOT, COLD, KIT Etc

• There are a lot of great blogs and resources out there to give advice on extremes of temperature. Marshall Ulrich's great blog has some stuff on dealing with both Hot and Cold. Also this is a great little website full of stuff about really hot running
• 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. A good UV protection hat for warm and a buff for cold are 2 essentials
• 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.
• Don't ignore thirst ever
• 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. I do this in the GUCR when there are trees and on the Spartathlon where there are bridges, spending longer in the shade helps your body cool from the constant stress of overheating.
• IN training for Badwater I did 1 session of Bikram Yoga a week for 10 weeks. This is much less than is recommended and that most people do but it was fine for me. More than anything it made me learn how to deal with the shock of that kind of temperature while working. The first 10 minutes are hell but you adjust and manage it.
• In the cold its layers that are the key. The warmth is generated by your body and kept in by air in the layers of your clothing and so the more layers the warmer you will be rather than the total volume of clothing.
• The more and more I get into ultras the less and less kit I think I need. You sure can buy a load of crap these days. My first ultra I am sure I obsessed about everything I wore, bag, shoes, tights, shirt, shades, GPS etc etc. My most recent Spartathlon I just made sure I had some shoes and shorts and I was sorted. I am sure you've been called an idiot lots of times because of your choice to run a long long way. I'm sure you've learned how to laugh that kind of thing off. However don't actually BE an idiot pay for things that really are not necessary. "It's not about the Bike" as Lance Armstrong famously said. That is totally true of ultras too (apart from the bike bit obviously).
• Having said all that there are a few bits that I use though all of this stuff I will tend to buy when it's on special offers and rarely will buy the really expensive brands
• Make it your life mission to find comfy pants. Men and Women come in all different shapes and sizes in that region so we are likely to all find different answers to this. I've been using compression shorts designed for Rugby players, seem to work. It may take a while to find the perfect pair but once you do stick with them (ok not actually "stick" to them).
• I don't really like head torches, I prefer the little hand torches (you can get them from outdoors shops for a few pound). Head torches make me crane my neck and probably screw my running up. I don't trip over any more in the dark that in the light. Enjoy the moonlight.
• Some sort of hand sanitiser or wet wipes are very useful. Your hands are going to get very dirty. It's easy to forget sometimes that you are stuffing jelly babies into your mouth with the same hand that has just wiped your arse.
• Toothbrush, flannel, take every opportunity you can of washing your hands (and other regions) in the really long stuff

GENERAL MOTIVATION

• You probably compare yourself to others all the time. This is one of the best ways possible to make yourself unhappy. Road runners have this thing called "age-grading" where they compare their time for some fixed distance with the fastest person of a similar age over the same distance and then say things like "I am 63.7% the man that Haile is". Depends how you measure it I guess. I am 182% the man that Haile is (in mass). Such comparisons don't really belong in ultra running.
• 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.
• 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.
• 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

• 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.
• 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. Now I always think about running into New York.

YOUR BRAIN - YOUR WORST ENEMY

• 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's a pussy.
• 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?
• 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.
• 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".

NOSTALGIA

• 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.
• 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 suspect I am not missing much
• 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. Those are the times worth keeping.
• 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 name, 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.
• 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.

Druids Challenge

Ivanhoe BeaconIt threatened to be another glorious weekend on sunshine and dryness though the weather reports had been mixed all week. Tuesday said it was going to be great, Wednesday said it will be shit, Thursday said great again and Friday morning when the race was about to start said, well maybe..

It's a pain in the arse looking at weather reports for long races. At least if you are running the London Marathon you can just type "Deptford" into the BBC weather page and see what you have in store for the 3ish hours you are going to be running. I spent all week looking at Tring, Streatley, Wantage, Watlington, Swindon to try and see what the conditions were going to be like.

The Ridgeway path is mainly off-road and stretches from Ivanhoe Beacon near Tring in the east all the way to Swindon out west. It is an 85 mile chalk ridge formed when Europe collided with Africa 30 million years ago. Bloody foreigners, distorting our landscape. Wait till the Daily Mail hear of this. It has been used for at least 5000 years as a cross country path because it's elevation make it drier and easier to defend against attack. Apparently it is the oldest road in Britain.I won't be asking for directions here.

The Challenge this weekend was to complete the Ridgeway trail (well most of it) in 3 days, which equates to around a marathon each day. There are a fair few hills, the occasional mud bath and slippy chalky descents that would make this more of a challenge. It is another fantastic event put on by XNRG. I did this last year and the most lasting memories despite rain and mud was the very friendly atmosphere created by the organisers and all the runners/walkers who took part.

However for me it was going to be a different challenge as I was going to be doing this with my girlfriend Gemma who had not done such a thing before. Will she make it to the end with a smile on her face? Will she get pushed off down a chalk slope? Who knows? It was going to be interesting to find out.

Day 1 - Ivanhoe Beacon to Watlington

Some of the better pathEveryone starts late today to give everyone the chance to get to the start in good time. The walkers set off at 10, runners at 11 and fast runners at 12. I started with Gemma and most of the field at 11 thinking that would be plenty of time to get the run done before the sun sets at 4ish. A large gazebo was pitched up on another hill near the start before we all had to make our way down and then back up to Ivanhoe Beacon for the start of the run. From here you can see for miles and miles. It was fairly clear and the views during the day would be stunning if it stayed like this. Starting on a steep downhill always make you think you are going to fall and be trampled on by a herd of ultra running elephants.

The first miles are mainly open grasslands before ducking into the woods. The trees and paths this time of year are stunning, everything is orange and gold and the leaves on the floor makes it feel like you are running along a carpet. It was perfect weather for running, around 10 degrees and sunny. Now is the time where people catch up with other runners that they have not seen in a while. "Oh I remember you from such and such race in August", "Ahhh, yes, the one where we all got lost and ended up having to ask that farmer in a tractor where to go and he wouldn't tell us cos he thought we were here to set badgers loose on his cows?"

Anyway, whilst having one such conversation one of us took a wrong turn which resulted in about 50 of us getting lost. Time and time again we get told not to follow blindly like a sheep but being a sheep is just so damn easy. The Ridgeway is 99% very clearly marked but there are just a couple of points where another sign would be welcome. One such point is after around 8 miles where there is a left turn on a road (very clearly marked) and then a right turn into a field (sign is IN the overgrown hedge and so invisible) and we ended up running down another road for about a mile. The nice gentle descent was lovely and I think that's why everyone ran so far without thinking that they had not seen a sign for a while. Back up the hill then.

The first checkpoint was near a church and had a great collection of sweet and savoury snacks. I am rather partial to a sausage or 5 in situations like this and dug right in. On leaving the checkpoint we saw at least 20 others who should have been way out in front coming back the other way to get to the checkpoint. They had made the same mistake we had however they had gone on much further and managed to find their way back via a 4 mile detour. Everyone was pretty much back together again.

Around half way is where I'd expect the leaders from the faster group to start overtaking but it was hard to seperate them from the faster ones from the middle group. I bumped into Paul who I'd met at the UTMB earlier in the year and chatted about Spartathlon and the like, as you do. It was only later that day I realised that he ended up in second place, having strolled along to chat to me. How nice. The course skirts around Chequers and then up onto Coombe Hill where you can see again for miles and miles.

It started to rain, annoying drizzly rain that just made everything slowly wet but was persistent. Gemma was suffering with an ankle sprain that was hard in the mud. And there was plenty of mud up ahead. The trail became harder to run on even though it flatened out a bit, we were on sections where land rovers drive and churn up the path into pools of mud.

The rain persisted and it became dark. It happens suddenly when surrounded by trees and we waited till the last minute to put the head torches on. Many had forgotten theirs or not brought them as they couldn't imagine not finishing in the daylight. The path cut through a dis-used quarry with warning signs all over telling us to keep out. The path here was straight and narrow but without being able to see the floor very well it was slow going. I got chatting to a guy who didn't have a great torch and Gemma used this as an opportunity to fly off and head to the finish a good few minutes before me. Typical. The total distance Mr Garmin recorded was 31.5 miles and everyone had done 31-34 miles. A few had managed to stick to the route perfectly and clocked about 29.5 miles, which is cheating really.Some of the beautiful leafy trail

These events are designed to keep costs down and to do that venues such as school halls and leisure centres are used to sleep for the night. You bring your own sleeping bags and mats and crash out on the floor with around 100 others. However Gemma had another idea, that we should stay in nearby B&B's and sleep in a nice bed. It felt a bit like cheating as part of the challenge is to do these events with hardly any sleep as there will no doubt be a number of runners who snore like tractors and get up 4 times a night to go to the toilet. Still I didn't complain as long as she sorted it all out. I sat down and had a few coffees and a couple of cans of Boddingtons and then we were on our way. We stayed in a nice place with another runner who was only doing day 2. After a hard days running and a good nights sleep we were told that we were not allowed to pour our own coffee from the pot as it was against health and safety regulations. Someone get me the Daily Mail again. I've so much to tell them.

Day 2 - Watlington to Wantage

Our lovely B&B hosts took us to the start but we still missed it while I was in the toilet. Gemma (who waited for me this time) left a couple of minutes after everyone else at 8 (there was also a 7 and 9 start) and slowly caught up to the back end of the middle group. I recall last year I set out with the fast group and was quite near the back and worrying about getting lost. The weather had cleared from yesterday, not too much mud and no rain was forecast. Of the 3 days I think this is the best one in terms of great running. There are a few more miles of the wide muddy track and then you are into the woods again, up and down under the trees. It was still a little on the wet side but this is up there with the best running you can do in the UK. The path is challenging but all runable, could be done at high speeds if you are into that kind of thing.

Even the trees were trying to stop usThis would be a joy to run in the summer and there is an opportunity to race the whole thing in one go in August. It is the same weekend as the UTMB and will no doubt involve a lot less cheese but would definitely involve a lot less getting jabbed in the face by idiots and their walking poles. I have no idea how the Romans marched up and down this when it was muddy.

For the whole of the second day you are treated to the sight of Didcot Power Station, it can be seen for miles around. The Ridgeway route decends then joins the river Thames at Goring and we are treated to some more mud that we had been missing since this morning. There was a checkpoint just before we had to cross the river and then onto the second half of the ancient path, where it gets a lot more exposed and chalkier. I was suffering a little bit with sore calves having run nearly 100 miles in the week before. Gemma was having sudden bursts of pace and for some reason can stride up hills much faster than I can.

Today felt a lot more relaxed, in part due to the earlier start which meant that none of us would be finishing in the dark. There was also the promise of a swim and sauna at the end of the day in the leisure centre we (or rather everyone else) was camped in. We finished on the path itself and then got rides to the centre we stayed at. We all bundled into the van and headed off and only 15 minutes later we were all hobbling wrecks from the sit down. I'm not sure what a sauna is supposed to do after a run, whether its good or bad to have one but I did anyway, staying in a 70 degree room for about 10 minutes before I was reminded of Badwater and craved a Big Mac again. I didn't bother with the cold shower. Not too sure what that is supposed to do either. After a race is it better for a cold bath or hot shower? I wish someone would decide. In the meantime I've heard no evidence to say that eating a big pie and chips and drinking 4 pints of local ale is bad in such a situation so that is what I did.

Day 3 - Wantage to Barbury Castle

As we walked to the start from our B&B (that allowed us to pour our own coffee, who do I report this to?) there was a mist that restricted visibility to about 20 meters. Last year on day 3 I remember the same stuff, making it much harder to pick out the signs. Fortunately it was clearer when we got up back to the path. Today was more of the same, some wide paths that were likely to be churned up and some very slippy chalk. We saw a lot more villages and houses on this part of the route which was nice, saying hello to people walking their dogs.

Gemma was really struggling with a swolen ankle but was very determined to finish. Before now she had not even done a back to back marathon before and now having run the first 31.5 miles (further than ever before) and then another marathon she was going to finish the whole thing off with another marathon. I said to her that after this we could go on one of those awful programmes where you swap partners for a week. Some fat TV addict would have a fit if they thought we'd put them through this. Imagine that? "What's that? you want me to run 82 miles in a weekend? I'll miss X-factor". Those enjoying the full race experience :)

I like to feel a bit self-righteous when doing these kind of things. On another Sunday I might still be in bed with a hangover and unwilling to get out of bed until 12 and then only be capable of frying some eggs and logging onto facebook to assess the damage from the previous night. It's quite nice to think that you can explore some of the country, run 26ish miles, meet some new people and catch up with others and think about how you are going to deal with a 12000 calorie deficit later in the evening. It would not have been that much though, I had just eated 10 cocktail sausages at one of the checkpoints and there was plenty of food at the end of the day.

Gemma and I were at the back (defending the rear from enemy fire as it's known). There was another chap called James who seemed to be suffering more than Gemma was. He had hurt his toe quite badly and looked really uncomfortable. I overheard a phone call he made where he said "Yeah, just calling to take my mind off this horrible run. My toe really hurts and my Ipod is dead and everyone has run off and it's raining". He seemed a bit dejected but we ran with him a while and as soon as the Iboprufen kicked in he felt a little happier. He explained that this was the first event of this kind and that the furthest he had raced before was a half marathon on road. Pretty amazing that he would have the balls to go straight for something like this but good on him, what an event to finish off the year with.

These events are great for anyone looking to venture into multidays for the first time. You will find at least a dozen more people who are completely new to this too and a lot more who are more experienced. There is not too much navigation involved, the courses are well marked. Lots of people use this as training for the Marathon Des Sables and by carrying your kit it's ideal and Rory Coleman was there to help out and give a talk on the MDS on the saturday night. If you are doing the MDS you'll probably recieve a lot of emails saying to need to be in the sauna or oxygen chambers or all sorts of things that cost a load of money and distract you from what is the most important, the running. Those who complete an event like this will be in a very good position come next April. It sounds odd that you can train for a desert race by sliding about in the mud for 20 hours over a weekend but it's worked for the Brits for years.

Most of it was easily marked like thisThere was supposed to be a lot of history to see in this leg but the mist and rain covered it. We were not really looking at this stage though. Gemma and I were going at a consistent pace but not near anyone save for passing the occasional walker and being passed by one of the faster guys. It was quite nice, it feels like the middle of nowhere at times.

It had rained for much of the day but held off a little as we approached the end. The paths got muddier until with about 2 miles to go we hit the hills towards the end. I could not remember from last time how long this was as the hills just seemed to roll on and on. There was nothing around but fields, sheep and the M4. Finally a sign pointing us off the grass and onto some tracks and then a big yellow XNRG arrow pointing towards a small car park. We were done.

The finish was less grim than last year. It was not raining and there was space to stand around and drink beer. Having beer to buy at the end of each day was a nice touch, one of many that made the weekend so great.

Gemma did fantastically and I am very proud of her though next time we are going to do it properly and sleep on the floor like everyone else. Be warned everyone, bring your ear plugs...

Rutland Marathon

Another gorgeous crisp cool blue sky day. We are really getting spoiled with them this year. Every day like this I worry that we are due a hideous day sometime later in the winter. Usually one such day co-incides with the Rotherham 50 but now they have moved that to summer.

I'll say straight out that the Rutland Marathon is another one to add to my list of "races in the UK I'd like to do every year but probably won't cos other races keep popping up". There are some really great events out there now and I certainly recommend this one.

It didn't start so well for us though. We stayed in a hotel in Corby about 20 miles away and the plan was to drive to the start in plenty of time to do all the faffing. Gemma's car had a flat battery, not the only flat thing this weekend. It was completely dead. Luckily we spotted another runner in the carpark and managed to scrounge a lift off him. Andy Moseley of West Brommich Running Club thank you very much for helping us out and I have writen a nice list of British ultras for you to chose from :) And sorry for running off as son as we got out the car.

It was a bit of a walk from the car park to where we start. The organisers said "about a 15 minute walk" and we said "yeah yeah, 15 minutes is really 5 minutes innit?". It was a 20 minute jog.

I met up with Mark Cockbain and Steve Gordon and decided to run with them. We were right near the back and had to get past a few people to get some space, including having to pass a giant pair of tits (no, not Jedward but 2 girls who were dressed as large bossoms for charity). Mark recalled the Brighton Marathon where there were a giant pair of bollocks running. I don't remember seeing them through my helmet but it did remind me that for the second successive day I was wearing unsuitable pants.

It's shameful that I had grew up only 10 miles away from this place and never came here. It's a lovely place and everyone seemed to come here expecting a flat marathon. It wasn't quite like that. Though there were no major hills it was quite hard work throughout. Never was it flat, always slightly up or down and with cattle grids everywhere. They were like balancing beams. Later on in the race they were quite hard work, like walking a tightrope and falling off. I remember watching gladiators when I was young and taking the piss out of those people who fell off the narrow beam and had to do it again. I know what it's like now.

BreakfastThe route was around the water then 2 laps of the penninsula. It was all on hard track and the weather had been kind and prevented it from being muddy. Water stations were very frequent, about every 3 miles. The rain threatened a few times but it never came. It was very cool but I still leak fluid like a triathlete looking at the point of inflection of a HR vs Pace graph.

Stop it.

Ben had set off like a rocket at the start and recorded a great time of 3.08 and 7th place on a tough course. I tried to stick with Mark and Steve but got behind when I found a toilet cubicle with quilted toilet paper. I could have stayed there all day, particularly as my breakfast was a doner kebab flavoured pot noodle. Well, when in Leicestershire...

I felt quite rough for most of this though don't read too much into such things nowadays. I remember feeling similarly flat during the Two2Go marathon a few months ago but then 2 weeks later I had a great Spartathlon. I eventually finished in around 3.50, not far ahead of Gemma. That would have been embarrasing, glad I didn't spend too long with that quilted toilet paper.

Definitely one to put in the calendar for next year

BallBuster Duathlon

Yes, I did a duathlon. I've done one before. In fact I have done two before, one was supposed to be a triathlon but they cancelled the swim cos the water was reported to be moving a bit. Despite my piss-taking I actually enjoyed the multi-sport events that I have done. The trick is not to talk to the others that do them.

I'm joking of course. I know a lot of triathletes and like them a lot. There is a nice mocking rivalry but mutual respect between the Ironmen and Ultra-runners. Both like to do extreme things and just express it in different ways. It would make for very interesting conversation in the pub, if only triathletes ever went to the pub :) Ready to Smash it

Stop it James.

The BallBuster Duathlon is quite a competitive event on Box Hill in Surrey. Box Hill/Dorking area is home to some really lovely runs that I enjoy throughout the year and it seemed just right to try and smash it on a bike every once in a while. The format was quite simple, 5 laps on road, the first and last on foot, the middle three on wheels.

Woke up at 6. Had a shit at 6.20. Left hotel at 6.45.

Cyclists sure are early birds. The race started at 8 but many would get there hours early to let their porridge digest while cleaning their bikes and removing microscoping particles of dust that could cost them valuable nano-seconds on the bike stage. I got a few funny looks as I queued up with my hybrid commuter bike with panier rack on while the others paraded their carbon fibre penis-extentions. I really should stop taking the piss out of triathletes, but it is just too easy. I waited in line to be given my chip and looked around and just wished some someone to crack a smile. Triathletes are like goths really, relying on safety in numbers so they can all dress up the same and look like idiots.

Stop it.

Ian and Lucy arrived and they both look about as serious about cycling as I do, with old bikes with bells and racks on (I took mine off cos someone said that a slower cyclist might grab onto it and get me to pull them up hills. In retrospect I should have realised that there was no such thing as a slower cyclist than me).

A few years ago when I was starting to think that there was more to life than just running a few marathons here and there I dabbled into triathlon. It seems a logical next step from Marathons, as are ultras. Which way does one go? It's a tough choice and I am not sure what factors decide which way you might swing. I suspect it has something to do with what you like spending your money on. I can't imagine life without going to the pub lots and eating pies. Money spent on this means I am unable to afford a bike which weighs about as much as a bag of pork scratchings. I'd rather eat the pork scratchings and get pissed. When I bought a bike the costs just seem to rack up, all of which were eating in to my pub budget. I didn't like that at all. Ultra-running is relatively cheap. The events are cheap (the unbranded ones anyway). Yes you get through a few more pairs of trainers and I seem to buy a 5kg box of washing powder every fortnight but I still get pissed just as much as I used to. In fact more cos the running makes me less tolerant. That has to be a good thing.

I usually end up forgetting something at the start of a race but today I excelled myself. I forgot a bike pump, tyre levers and a pair of pants. The latter is unusual for me and it meant that this could quite litterally become a ball buster. I racked my bike and recalled one of the defining moments that turned me off of this sport. I know every sport from running, triathlon, snooker, football, knitting, chess and golf has it's fair share of arseholes. It just seems that whenever I get near a multi-sport I seem to attract one of them. Perhaps I am an arse magnet in these parts?

Anyhoo, 3 years ago when I did this race I was racking my bike up next to some other guy who clearly had a better bike than me. I had a bikes2work scheme racing bike made out of steel that created an awful crashing noise as I stood it onthe rack similar to the noise rag and bone men would make as they came crashing through your street and stealing any unsecured metal. His looked like it had to be weighed down to stop it floating off like a balloon. Now, just to make conversation (I can be rude like that sometimes) I said to him "Careful we don't get our bikes mixed up in transition". He was not amused. In fact I didn't realise that I'd broken some rule about not engaging in conversation with a competitor who has a better bike that you. It's like chickens and their pecking orders. He looked at me with a disdain that said "what are you doing, you are merely a bitch chicken and I am a big cock". Indeed.

That has NEVER happened to me in 4 years of ultra-running. And I've met some of the worlds best.

Anyhoo, the race. Yes I remember. It was another gorgeous blue sky day, quite cool, the winter is starting to kick in here. We all set off on the first lap of the run, 8 miles, 6 of nice undulation and more down then up and then the 2 mile "zig-zag" uphill. Most of the people I knew just ran off ahead and I took it easy as I had a marathon to run the next day.

Within an hour I think I finished the run and did my fastest T1 ever, probably because I wasn't cheating by using those special shoes that make your feet stick to the pedals. Nor was I using those bars that poke outwards that you get low and hold onto, meaning people get to see more of your arse. My bike did have some pointy bits on the handle bars but I just assumed that was to hang shopping from.

My bike was quite easy to find though not as easy as it was in the London TrI I did a few years back. When I got out of the water it was the only bike still there. I pushed my bike through the mud (ha ha ha all those people cleaning their bikes in the morning) and onto the road and saw a guy in front of me with really baggy shorts on. I said it was good to see someone else who was not dressed as a triathlete and passed him. He was the only person I passed in the whole thing.

I was looking forward to going NEEEEEEOOOOOOWWWWWWW as I went past a few people but it never happened. It all seemed to be downhill and I am a big pussy and kept holding onto the brakes as people just whizzed past. It took some getting used to and just as I was getting the hang of not leaning back, braking and crying for mummy I got a puncture. Shit. I stopped and fumbled in the small amount of kit that I remembered to bring, or rather what has been attached to my bike for a year without me really noticing. There were some tyre levers in there afterall, and a tube. Great. All I had to do was take the tyre off (it took ages) then put the new tube in (again, ages) and then pump it up with this fancy gas canister that I can't remember every buying. Then I realised that I had already used this one. Bollocks.

Luckily a chap who was just cycling around for the day came along and helped me out with a pump as cyclist after cyclist in the race slowed at the corner and gawped at me. Yes I look like a dick. But at least I'm not wearing lycra. And no one knows I'm wearing no pants.

I finally got on my way and wondered whether I would make the cut-offs as I had been there faffing for ages, about 20 minutes in total. I was very near the back and realised that I had to smash it to get back into a comfortable time. I had to ask a marshal what the time was as I was not wearing a watch. I forgot that too though I really would have liked to have worn my heart rate monitor as I don't think cycling reports should be done without a graph of work rate.It was 9.45. I had 1.15 to do teh remaining 2 miles of this lap and then the last 2.

So I climbed the hill, feeling quite fresh as I had just had a 20 minute rest and cycling doesn't really count as exercise anyway. 1 lapdone and I was looking forward to smahing it on the last 2 laps, I had no choice.Some of the men had quite bad VPL

Pretty much as I started the second lap I slowed down again and looked down and found that the tyre had gone again. When I spent ages replacing it 10 minutes before I had done something wrong as the tyre was expanding over the rim of the wheel. Someone later told me that it was possibly because I twisted the tube and it caused a pressure build up that forced it's way through the tyre. Someone else told me it's because I am a dick.

So with tail between my legs (rather than a bike) I turned around and walked back to the transition and gave up my chip and then back over to Gemma and friends as they laughed that I can finish a Spartathlon but not a bike ride. It was a shame as I really liked this event but at least I had already got all the goodies before the start. As I came in I saw the two leaders heading out for the run, they were 2 bike laps ahead of me. Looked like it was going to be a close finish.

I stood about for a while and watched the race. It was quite fun. I did not see as many pointy helmets as I had done last week at the Jekyl and Hyde Duathlon that I marshalled at. My job there was to stop people and their little dogs from walking into the very fast very expensive bikes. Apparently removing poodle spleen from tubbs is a nightmare. I think there should be a special award for the last person on the bike course who as a pointy helmet. Maybe a pointy losers hat? Or disqualification from Tri for life? Or shooting? A Graph - Please wipe the screen when you have finished.

Anyway, who am I to take the piss? I just DNF'ed a bike ride. I blame my tools.

So what did I learn. Well my 10 point plan for next time would be

1 - Wear pants (general advice for life rather than just for multi-sport)

2 - Take only full gas canisters

3 - Take a bike pump

4 - Stop being such a pussy on the downhills

5 - Wear a HRM (It would have been nice to have a graph to jerk off over)

6 - Stop looking at arses as they are likely to be men's

7 - Get quick enough at cycling so I at least get to overtake someone and go "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

8 - Park further away so I don't have to wait for everyone to clean their bikes near their cars and blocking everyone in

9 - I'm bored of this now. I'm off to the pub.

At least tomorrow is just running. What could go wrong? Assuming I remember to stop and buy some pants on the way up to Rutland.

Greensands Marathon

It's easy to forget with all our foreign adventures to deserts, mountains and Greek industrial sites that the UK can offer some pretty spectacular eye candy for the trail runner. The Dorking area and the North Downs way offers some amazing scenery and is used for lots and lots of runs throughout the year. Add to that the kind of race organisation that Dr Robert and his team are famous for, and the most beautifully cool, dry and cloudless autumn day and you know you are in for a treat.

I did the Greensands marathon last year and loved it even though I found it hard. Harder than I'd normally find such things. It was 4 weeks after the Spartathlon and I had done Beachy Head marathon the day before. I was a mess and realised that I had rushed back into it too soon. Though I struggled I really did enjoy the race and it was deservedly given the award of "best new race in the UK" by runners world. I was really looking forward to this, only 3 weeks after the Spartathlon this time though I had not run a marathon the day before.

It started with a disappointment. I am always pleased when the numbers are given out alphabetically as I get to sport the number 1 and pretend that I am any good at this kind of thing. Every now and then some bastard called Aaron A Aardvarkson gets in there and reduces me to number 2 "Yeah - You look like a number 2". However it appears that this time I was beaten unfairly, like I was in the ONER by TIM Adams. What version of the alphabet were they working on? Anyhoo, I knew better than to let such heartbreaks get to me. I knew that I had to rise back up from this crippling set back and show the world that I can stare in the face of adversity and triumph. Only by focusing on the prospect of a great run could I break out of my hazy torpor and back out through the violent maelstrom of negative feeling of such a blatent disregard for alphabetic harmony. Or perhaps I could just trip Tim up?

There seemed to be twice as many starters this year, about 200. We all sang/shouted/snorted/butchered Jerusalem before the start of the race. I'd like to think that the race director does this to help expand our lungs and prepare us for what is up ahead. I suspect that his real motivation is to make us all look and sound like a bunch of tits. As with all of his races it starts with a ridiculous uphill where you are forced to run because it's at the start and you'd look like an idiot if you walked. Up a big grassy hill then into the woods, out of breath after 800m but ready for a great few hours.

I ran most of this with Dan De Belder who was without walking poles this time. Both of us are more than happy to walk up a hill but there is an unwritten rule in this kind of thing, you can't be the first to do it. There were some challenging inclines and we ran slowly up them, in parts slower than if we'd actually walked but because there were people around and they were still all running we knew we could not possibly buck the trend. There is an unwritten rule in hill running where you can't be the first in a group of people to start walking. Either wait for someone else to start walking or wait till you can't been seen. I continued to wheeze up the hills like a fat asthmatic.

I was really using this as a test to see how much I am over the Spartathlon. I knew I was still feeling it but doing a run like this let me find out what still hurts and how much. If this were another time of the year I'd like to give it a proper blast. It is amazing to run on, the variety of surfaces is great. Mostly very hard trail with some of that lovely pine needle covered track that feels like running on carpet. There is even some sand, and just a few miles of road. It had not rained of a few days so the course was perfect. There were marshalls at all the tricky points such that I only went the wrong way once.

My legs were sore quite early on and felt sapped of energy for the second half but this is the kind of race that you can enjoy even if you walked it. It's an out and back of 13 miles which is great because you see all the runners ahead of you and then all those behind. I tried to take lots of photos along the way and they describe the race better than I can in words. I managed to get reasonable photos of the 10 or so Serpies who were running, most of them enjoying it.

Boring notes for self (do not read) - I felt quite tight throughout the race, in my groin and achillies as usual. This does not usually bother me as I know that it will all loosen up after about 30 miles, but I didn't have that luxury here. Around half way both my knees felt the runners knee soreness that ended up crippling me in the Highland Fling and nearly throwing my year out but they calmed down later on. I think I am getting over the runners knee and Roberto seems to be working his magic with his torture tool. By the end I just lacked energy which is fairly normal as I had not eaten anything during the race.

The marshalls like to have fun with you here, telling you that it is all down hill from here. Apart from the dozen or so hills that I remembered. Every time I do a run like this I end up chatting to someone who says this is their first marathon. I don't know if they would ever do a road marathon but I can only imagine the let down if they did after doing something like this.

I had no time pressure this year like I did last time. Last year I had to finish under 5 hours to catch a plane to Dublin to run their marathon the next day. I ended up being quite relaxed throughout and finishing in 4.27, a little bit quicker than last year. After the race we got a really nice long sleeve top with all our names on the back (mine 2nd on the list but I am so over that). Thrown into the entry fee (which is quite high but really worth it) is a fried breakfast (yes at around 3pm) and a swim in the school pool. Gemma, James, Ian, Lucy and I had a great game of water polo basketball in between crippling bouts of cramp. Note to self not to attempt deep water swimming after running a marathon.

And that's it really. Really nice marathon, definitely one to do next year and so far so good with the Spartathlon recovery. Nothing more now for 3 weeks, unless you count those silly little 8k things.

Woodford Cross Country - 8k

"GET HER! CATCH HER! DESTROY HER! KEEP RUNNING! FINISH HER! KILLLLL HERRRRRR!!!!!" These were the words shouted at a 10 year old girl by (I assume) her father as she sprinted up a hill to catch some other 10 year old girl who happened to be wearing different coloured stripes. I am not sure whether she caught her mortal rival. I don't know what her punishment would have been for failure. No cartoons for a week? No going out with friends for a month? No boyfriends until she is 27? I did see one girl crying her eyes out. I'm not too sure what I had gotten myself into here. Certainly felt more intimidating than my last race in Greece. At least there I could be sure that no one was going to try to kill me.

 I have been suffering a 2 week post race depression, more so than I had done before. For the whole year I have had the insane summer of madness to look forward to. During the summer I always had the next challenge to look forward to. Once Spartathlon was over and once the pain disappeared I felt quite low as there was nothing epic on the horizon. I am done with ultras for the year, I have a few marathons to keep me out of trouble. Still I was really looking forward to Cross Country. I had not done this for years. In fact the last time I ran a XC race I was chicked. It was a Man's race, she just said she was running with the guys to chat them up. I have no idea why she was talking to me, I couldn't breathe.

Cross Country is a really big deal for the Serpentine and I really wanted to get involved in some of the club events. My attendance in club races has been poor over the past years since I got into ultra running. I am determined to do as many XC races as I can fit in for the Serpies this year, not that I will be any use in the scoring stakes, only the top million score any points. I was ready to see how laughably bad I have become at trying to run fast.

The first fixture of the Metropolitan League (there are lots of leagues, I don't understand, I just turn up and run round till they tell me to stop) was in Woodford Green, the weather was great, sunny and dry, which was bad for cross country as it's supposed to be muddy and wet. People who know about these things were discussing how 3mm of metal might change their fortunes during the race. 9mm or 12mm? Or trail shoes? I had no idea. I wore my Walshs for the first time ever and did not want to get them dirty.

The course was 8k, in 3 loops (I thought it was 2) with at least 1 hill each lap and from memory 1 puddle. I started at the back and within 1k I was walking through a narrow section, just like the UTMB. I was confident of finishing before midnight though.

For loads of people I spoke to this was their first cross country since school. That brought back memories. I remember the stories before we went to "big" school about the miles and miles you have to run in the mud and if you did not finish in 35 minutes you had to do it again in your pants. It was not the most nasty rumour before going to that school. There were more, stuff that happens in the toilets between 8-9, don't ever sign up to the French exchange student program and don't get left alone with the woodwork teacher, he is fearsome with all those vices.

I had never ran any kind of distance before but cross country when I was 11 was the first time I realised that I actually liked running and I was (relatively) good at it. My approach was simple, on seeing the 100m stretch of road into the parks I thought "don't set out like you are running a 100m race, take it easier". I did this and I was fine. At least half the kids did just that, ran out like it was a race to the end of the road and then collapsed as soon as we hit the trail. Most of these kids were thick (I grew up in Leicester, it's a high proportion) and some of the fatter ones would try and hit the smaller kids as they went past. They were usually easy to avoid though, fat knackered kids pose little threat as they are imobile. On giving them a wide berth they may yell at you that they will get you after school bit for the next 20 minutes or so I was safe. Oh and by the way Ashley Wilson I don't recall you getting me back for that? How are you you fat twat? How is prison?

I was stuck behind a load of people in Woodford and was a bit apprehensive about making a move for it as I would probably blow up and look ridiculous. All the way round I got comments such as "only 100 miles to go" and "76 more laps". I actually thought it was over as I came in from the second lap, I had no idea what 8k was or how much 40ish minutes was, the sun was still in the same position in the sky for all of the race. How am I supposed to tell the time? Overtaking people is actually quite a tactical thing (as I imagine it is at the sharp end of races). There is more to it than just running faster than someone for a bit, you have to be in position and respond to any increase in pace they may show. It's more like formula 1 than running. At least that is how I imagine it is at the front, I was plodding along looking at some Highgate Harriers fat arse.

I really want to use these as fun speedwork. It's been a long time since I've gone out and tried to run fast for any length of time. The promise of cake at the end and a heaving pub full of Serpies is enough to get me out of bed for 8k. A bit less than Naomi Campbell.

This is whats known in the trade as "Defending the rear from enemy fire"The Serpies ended up smashing it all round. The Men's and Women's team won. They also each came 5th place too (like I said I don't really understand). I came 252nd out of at least 253 runners. My time was 36.06 and more importantly my shoes did not get a speck of mud on them.

I really enjoyed it in the end. The next one I can make is on the 23rd October and is for the Liddard Trophy (I don't understand). It really helped ease the post Spartathlon blues. I couldn't make a habit of it though, next week is a lovely and hard trail marathon. I just hope that no one shouts at me.

Spartathlon 2010

Best dressed?I thought about the streets of Sparta every day since I finished Badwater. I had made Badwater my 4 year obsession and finishing that was something that I had to do, however along the journey to Death Valley I came across a race that just blows everything else out of the water. I did not see this coming when I set out to complete Badwater all that time ago but I am very glad of the discovery. I don't want to say that Badwater didn't mean anything because it meant the world to me, but even while ascending those long passes and struggling through the heat I knew I was going to finish and hence the fear of failure was not there. Deep down I knew that this was another step on the way to the main event of the year.

It's quite hard to say what it is about the Spartathlon that has me (and hundreds of hardcore ultra marathon veterans) flocking to Athens late September every year. Maybe it's the history? Or the international field. Or the welcoming nature of the organisers and helpers of the race. Or perhaps it's the severe cut-off times that eliminate more than half the field each year. Whatever it is the Spartathlon is a fixture in the calendar of so many runners, for most including myself it is the last "big" race of the year. I had unfinished business here, though I finished last year I did not feel like I beat the race. My body was so broken I could not run to the statue of Leonidas as I had dreamed of before. This time I was back to live that dream.

The Start - Getting to Corinth

Busy AthensThe race starts as soon as the sun starts to shine on the Acropolis of Athens, high up in the capital on a Friday morning. It really is an inspiring yet intimidating sight to see such a huge formation of rock that was present 2500 years ago when the pioneer of ultra-running Phiedippides ran the distance we were all about to start. I tried not to think too much about what was up ahead because I knew how hard it was.

It all felt very familiar as we descending the cobbles of the Acropolis and down into the city, as if I had never left this race. Perhaps I never had? I have been thinking about it so much. The concrete paths with random bollards sticking up, the police halting the rush hour traffic of Athens and then the long uphill road out of the city. I even found myself running with some of the same people as last year, a girl with a pink skort, a very large Norwegian guy with a very impressive moustache and a Korean guy who seemed to run with a load of pots and pans who jangled along like a brass band. After a couple of miles a tram crossing closed to allow a tram by but some runners just ignored and ran straight across. For the sake of 20 seconds is it worth getting hit by a tram? Well, actually sometimes those 20 seconds....

I had become seperated from the other Brits and was not too sure where everyone was. I figured Mark and Peter were up ahead. I was intending to take the first 50 miles slower than last year as I felt like I burnt out a bit doing the first 50 miles in 7.37. It was not as hot as last year (it was going to be about 28 rather than 33) but it was quite humid as it hade been raining quite a lot. That combined with the traffic and the oil refineries made breathing quite hard work for everyone. My achillies, calves and groin were already complaining just as they were this time last year. I stopped to stretch a few times but knew I didn't really have too much to worry about, just like last year I just need about 30 miles in the legs before things loosen up a bit.

The first marathon came in around 4.15, half an hour slower than last year. It was perfect in terms of time but I was worried that I didn't really feel any fresher for it, I was warm and uncomfortable and sweating hugely. I had made a decision (a good one I think) to carry a water bottle with me and the electrolyte solution which may help me avoid the kidney problems I had last year. The next 24 miles were tough too, it was getting warm and the sweat was blinding me. Miles 30-50 are along a road next to the Aegean sea, it is a beautiful blue colour and in the heat of the day the temptation to wander down and jump in is huge. There is a slight breeze sometimes but not enough to dry my face. I spend this section running close to Neil who is here despite a foot injury which has not yet caused any bother. We talk about how bloody tough the race is even though we know we are only a quarter of the way in. The sea looks so blue and there are moments when you are only a few feet away from it. The temptation to dive in is incredible.Scenic

Checkpoints become less and less busy, it becomes much easier to grab things and move on. I decided to take no personal food with me at all this year as last year I took lots and ate none of it. I was relying on the supplies on the tables which were very basic. Crisps, biscuits, fruit and drinks. There was plenty of coke which was diluted with water. I heard a girl rush up and ask for "just coke" from one of the helpers. They looked back a little concerned and said "you know it's not good for you don't you?" I nearly spat mine out.

The last few miles into Corinth are on a busy highway in the heat of the day. It goes up slightly and feels like more of an effort than it should be. I'm looking forward to the first major checkpoint of the race, 50 miles with a 9.30 cut-off, I get there in 8.35, almost exactly an hour slower than last time, which is fine as that was the intention, however I feel shattered and out of energy. I felt great at this point last year, and I was an hour ahead.

Why do people come back again and again to do this? It certainly is not for the views. I had just run through 50 miles of dirty city and industrial estates that reeked of oil and dead animals (and one human as discovered by an American on a toilet stop). If you were trying to pick an ugly 50 miles you'd do well to beat this.  And so many runners come here carrying some niggles or injuries that really should prevent them from starting. But once you get the place and start getting the information through the post it is hard to stay away. Runners will start and "see how it goes", some would describe this as not being sensible. Well I think that if were were sensible we'd not apply to enter the race in the first place.

No really, it's beautiful. So there I was, sat down at Corinth eating rice while contemplating what I was doing there. I was there to complete an event that was ugly, pointless and stupid. This made me chuckle and get off my chair. I only half finished the rice. I said goodbye to Stu and Bob who had unfortunately dropped from the race and headed into the quiet roads through the olive fields. I spent a lot less time in that CP than I did last year.

Getting to the mountain.

Now the route becomes quite nice. The roads are much quieter and most of the traffic is that of the support crews for the race who are only allowed to start supporting after the 50 mile point. I had broken this race down into 4 parts; getting to Corinth, getting to the mountain, getting over the mountain and then getting to the statue. I was 9 hours in, a quarter in absolute time and a third in absolute distance but these meant little. I remembered that later in the race every mile can feel like 5 and minutes feel like hours. I ran with Neil for a few more miles but decided to push on as I really started to feel much better.

A support car was driving slowly and asking everyone where they were from. I heard "Korea", "Italia" and "Brasil" behind me. The car caught up to me and without even asking they just pointed at me and yelled "GREEK". I would have protested but I was sporting a beard and a tan so could easily see the confusion. If you are going to run this race I have a little gem of advice, if you run near the Brasilian team you get followed by a car full of hotties, helps to distract. Most of the nationalities sported nice matching kits for the race. Brazil, Japan, Estonia, Italy all looked very smart and could easily be identified. I commented at the start that the British turn up looking like a bunch of tramps wearing all sorts of random crap that we have accumulated from races in the UK. I was wearing the twat hat again and it was doing it's job well.

Not long after I upped the pace I spotted Mark, he looked like he was struggling. Gemma had been texting me with updates on how the Brits were doing and told me that Mark had gone through Corinth nearly an hour before me along with Emily Gelder. I chatted to him for a few minutes and walked up a short hill. I said see you later and carried on, expecting him and Neil to catch up with me again at some stage. The tempting sea

Around 60 miles in I started chatting to an American who seemed in really good spirits except he told me that he was shitting blood and asked me for advice on what to do. I really didn't know what to say as I didn't know how serious that is. (It IS serious). I told him about my experience of pissing blood and suggested that if nothing was really hurting then it probably was not too bad. I could not tell him that everything was fine but nor could I tell him that he should pull out of the race. I said as much and headed off again.

Soon after I passed the villiage where the kids run up to you and ask for autographs. I signed a few and they seem to really go crazy for it. Martin told me after the race that he likes to sign "David Beckham" when he does them. It's quite nice though you can't do them all and I felt guilty when I ran past a child with a pad and pen held out. Still, not as guilty as I would feel if that American died.

100k came in around 11 hours and I was still feeling really good. The field was really spacing out now and sometimes I had no one in view, ahead or behind. The roads are permanently marked so well that it is almost impossible to get lost. Not long after I catch up with Kevin who I met the previous day. He looked to be going through a rough patch just as Mark had and I told him that it would pass. Such a huge race you are going to go through several low points and I had had some of mine in the first 50 miles, but now I was making good progress and had to run my own race and press on. I said bye again, fully expecting to bump into him later on.

I remember from last year that the big rolling hills start here, they are a bit steeper than the ones we have faced so far. The sun sets suddenly and I realise that I had stupidly left my night gear at CP35, I was only on 30. I had a good 10 miles to go in the dark with no lights. The clouds had covered the moon so natural light was minimal. I used the light on my phone when needed to keep on the road and followed any other light I could find.

This year I had gone really easy on drop bags, leaving only 4. Suncream at CP15, Night clothes and Torch at CP35, A change of shoes and socks at CP 49 just after the mountain and then daytime clothes at CP60A. I took absolutely no food and was going to rely on what was at the checkpoints. Last year I had 20 drop bags with food but ended up not touching most of them. I just kept it simple this time although I messed up the timing of the sunset.

Not long after I got my night gear, which was nothing more than a long sleeve top, a reflective gillet and a torch it started to rain. It just started with drizzle but slowly got worse until you could describe it as proper rain. On the plus side the water gushing down was acting like ice on my legs and easing the pain a little but worryingly I was starting to feel cold. It was no where near the coldest part of the night yet and I still had the mountain to climb, which is cool at the best of times. One of the guys in the checkpoint commented on my running attire. I was wearing a shirt with collars and a silly hat. He said he saw me at the start and just assumed I was a tourist following the race. He said I looked like the smartest runner out there which was funny as I was recently called the second scruffiest man in the Serpentine running club.

olive fieldsI worried a bit about the mountain. I didn't do a good job of it last year and if I am freezing and slipping about all over the place that will only make it worse. Almost on that thought the heavens really did open and turn the roads into streams and mud baths. I was amazed again how muddy it got as the rain coincided with the off-road section of the run at about 90 miles. It got so bad I cowered under the gazebo of the next checkpoint and stole a black bag to shelter from the pouring rain, it was horrendous. I stayed there for about 10 minutes waiting for the rain to abate as slowly more and more runners came and did the same. The cover was small and others complained of being cold.

We joked at the start about me being cursed in races and them ending up being cut short. It happened in the Marathon Des Sables and again in the UTMB. Ultrarunners (well the ones I know anyway) don't want anything to be cut short or even for other circumstances to make it easier. No one wants to do Badwater on a "cool" year or Rotherham on a dry year. I looked at the weather reports before the race and was actually a little disappointed to see that is was only about 28 degrees rather than the 30's we had last year (though the humidity more than compensated). Many of us have this perverse desire for the conditions to be really bad just to make it even tought, like 40 degrees or a tropical storm or hurricanes. The rain sure was making it hard and I was thinking about how difficult it would be to get up the mountain, but I was more concerned that they might not even let anyone try.Temple of Apollo. I completely missed this last year.

It finally calmed down and I started to run on again, faster for some reason as if I could outrun the next down pour. Runners covered their reflective tops with black bags and became ghosts on the road, you could not see them event while shining a light near them. It was a strange sensation not knowing whether it was a person in front of you or just a blip in your vision. I was getting tired, still a bit cold and some of the road turned into river. I was ankle deep running through some times and the darkness make me paranoid about twisting my ankles. Still the cold water on my legs was very welcome.

Before long I could see the point of the race that smashed my legs last year, the long switchbacks on the roads leading up to the rocky climb of Sangras Pass.

It looked a lot like the climbs I had seen in the UTMB last month, headlmaps heading off up into the stars except this one had a long stretch of highway building up to it. I was starting to feel sleepy and remembered that I had a Red Bull shot in my belt and was thinking of the opportune moment to take it. I managed to sleep quite well the previous night, I don't panic about not sleeping nowadays which helps and I tried to lay off the caffiene the week before. There is a CP just before the 2km climb up to "Base Camp" - CP47. I had a cup of coffee and leisurely walked up the road, the first time in the race I felt like I took it easy. I could see for miles behind me at the villages that I had been through and the small glowing lights making their way towards the mountain. It really is an astonishing sight and one that I'd like to keep on seeing every year.

Base Camp - I got there around 3am, a little behind last year but I was certainly catching up with my former self. There is a different feel to this checkpoint, there are a lot more people there and several places to lie down and have a massage. I took this opportunity and felt great afterwards. While drinking a coffee I took some time to chat to the mainly British staff. They commented on how young I was and what I was doing such races for at that age. I didn't know what to say really, what was the alternative. I've just spent 20 hours running and now I have to climb a mountain. Would I trade this for being caged up in a pen to run some road marathon somewhere?

Getting over the mountain

As soon as you walk out of the checkpoint you start the ascent, very steep, lose rocks and lit up with glow sticks and bike lights. It's sometimes hard to tell whether a light up ahead is one of the markers or another runner. Last year on my scramble up this seemed to take forever and I was passed by at least 15 people on the way up. This time no one passed me at all which must have meant I got up there a lot quicker. It certainly felt much easier and shorter this time. I had no way of knowing as I didn't time it last time and I was not wearing a watch now anyway, I decided against this as I remember how crazy it drove me last year. In what seemed like no time at all I was back at the checkpoint where last year I was bundled into a chair and wrapped in a blanket. No need for bundling this time, I just walked over and sat down.

checkpoint at nightThis time last year I was the first Brit to get to this point. This year I was the first British man, there were 2 female Brits who were having an amazing race. As soon as I was identified as British the marshalls there would tell me about Emily Gelder who was having an amazing race and leading the women and not far out of the top 10. She was doing amazingly well as was Heather Foundling-Hawker who was joint 2nd female. I was really pleased to see the Brit's having a good go at it this year and hoped that those just behind me, Mark, Neil, Kevin, Peter, Martin, Colin and all would be up here soon. A lot of people get the chop here. If you arrive just short of the cut-off you then have 40 minutes to get to the top of the mountain and then 35 to get back down. Fail that and you'll be picked up by the "Death Bus". I heard lots of stories about the Death Bus.

The Death Bus hangs back from the race and crawls along at the pace of the cut-offs. Though I had never been that close to the cut-offs I had visions of this thing snapping at your ankles and trying to run you over. Once you are on the bus you join all those who fell before you. In all likeliness they are going to be an unhealthy bunch. They may have had to pull out with sickness, stomach problems, dehydration, exhaustion or injury. Sat on this bus are living (just about) examples of some of the bad things that ultras do to you. If you happen to not be in such a state you soon will be on smelling and inhaling the terrible things that slosh around the place. You will be hoping the bus arrives in Sparta quickly, except it will only start the journey to Sparta when it is full. They joked about trying to knobble runners who were flagging just to fill the bus so everyone can get out of there. I don't want to get on that bus. I don't want to be anywhere near it.The rain

It did not rain at all on the mountain, I was amazed it was bone dry. The downpour that seemed to follow us for a few miles only got a few of the runners, some missed it entirely and wondered what the fuss was. I jogged carefully down the other side. It's not nearly as steep as the up and the path is generally good but I didn't want to put a foot wrong. I broke here last time and around 20 people passed me. Last year I felt so lame as everyone else seemed to trot down the other side with some new found energy. I was terrible at downs and I know now that I am a bit less terrible. Only 2 people passed me this time, I felt good about this, I'm not so lame anymore. I had one fall on my arse but got to the bottom without incident and went further down the roads into Siagas, checkpoint 49 where I had a fresh pair of shoes waiting.

Getting to the statue

I was glowing having got up and down the mountain without any bother at all. I continued to run and for the first time I didn't recognise any of the roads ahead, it was like I was running here for the first time. It's strange how a race with so many miles, so many twists and turns, checkpoints, signs, bridges and other furniture that you run with a constant sense of deja-vu but for the next 15 miles or so I did not remember any of this. I was running in a valley with some roads by my side and much higher up. There were lots of buildings, bridges and a nice uphill section, all quite memorable but for this bit I had amnesia. Why didn't I know any of this? Perhaps I was going the wrong way? Funny how my memory wiped this whole bit out.

I remembered the sun rising last year and it was while I was running through a park. I ran through this park in darkness this time which meant that I had overtaken my last year run. 40 miles to go.

I could still run, uphill and downhill. The aches and pains that started so early went away for a while but were back now including a soreness in the sole of my foot. This was a new injury and hence a little concerning and I thought about what could have brought this on. Not long after I remembered that I had just run about 120 miles, that'll be it.

I remembered the last 50 miles as been mostly downhill but I was wrong, it still rolls and rolls up and down. The roads are deceptive like in Badwater and I can't tell whether I am going up or down. The "50k to go" then the "only a marathon to go" points should have lifted me but I was having a low spell. I guess I should be thankful, I suffered in the first 50 but had a great 80 miles, it was time to feel bad again.

Gemma had texted me to say that Peter, Neil and Kevin were out which did not help matters. It would be a dream to finish this race and for everyone I know to do the same so that we can can sit down at the end and reflect on a job well done. I felt a bit awkward last year talking to those who didn't make it about my experience. I was still having a great race and it would have been great to clap the other guys in.

It was getting warm, it was still humid and every now and then it would rain a little but not much. The weather conditions were enough to make me feel really warm sometimes and cold at others. Hitherto I had done a good job of not sitting down too much but I was faltering now, sitting down far too easily with excuses that did not exist, "I have something in my shoe", "I need a coffee", "I need to check my phone". My momentum had gone. I had left the quiet roads and was on the highway that headed into Sparta and it was much harder than I remember. 

 A guy passed me while I was sat down at a checkpoint who was running like I was 2 hours ago and he climbed into the distance with great speed. He was the first person to pass me since the mountain 30 miles ago. I looked at him get smaller and smaller and felt bad because that is exactly what I was doing earlier. The roads are lethal, cars whizzing around blind corners and without much respect for the walking lane. I zig-zagged along to avoid death and would walk around corners to be safer. It was much lonlier this year, not many people around at all whereas last year there was a whole chain of us. |I thought this was possibly the most dangerous conditions I have run in. I've done deserts and mountains and they have their risks but this was something else. At any other time it would be stupid to run against this traffic. There I said it, this race is pretty stupid.

From now on I ignore the big number at the top and look only at the shrinking numberI got another text to say that Mark was out. This was a shock, he has not dnf'ed anything since this race in 2004. I had already been told that more than half of the starters had dropped out and this was normal. I didn't want to get complacent and say I was definitely going to finish but with a half marathon to do in 5 hours and still in good shape. I had no excuse to mope around really, I just had to get it done. I didn't have a finish time in mind, just a finish and a better finish than last time. I just wanted to run to the statue instead of crawling to it. A finish would still do but I really wanted to leave here loving this race, whether that was done slower than last time or faster I didn't care. I was currently ahead of where I was last year and looking strong. My legs still allowed me to run up hills and down hills, I just couldn't be arsed. I just don't remember the road being this busy or going up as much as it did. With about 20k to go there is one last big push up hill and then it's down, all the way to Sparta.

You can see Sparta from miles away. It looks busy and confusing as roads stick out everywhere and there seems to be 2 cities in the distance. I can't imagine what Phiedippidies must have seen when stood on top of this hill looking down. I guess it would have looked even more spectacular, a large warrior city surrounded by green. In fact it was on fire, there was smoke billowing out of somewhere. I can remember what all the next 4 checkpoints looked like, the one next to the petrol station, the one just before the small town, the one in the middle of a traffic island. A few people passed me again at great speed as if they had just started running, or "doing a Woolley" as I lke to call it. I was able to run again but was not going to try to pace these guys, there was still 10k to go. Something could still go wrong. In fact something did.

(You don't have to read this bit). I was have a few chaffing issues, nothing major and probably unavoidable completely when doing such a long race. It gets worse after going to the toilet though after wiping. I went one final time in some trees and obviously wiped what remained of the vasaline I had on. When I got back onto the road I felt like someone was scratching my arse with a rusty spanner, it was agony. I yelled a few times (no one was around) and almost wept as I comtemplated finsihing with a long walk again. Luckily I had some lube on me and while I would not normally use my hands in this way to avoid germs I had no choice. With complete disregard for hygene and a completely new use for my water bottle I sorted myself out. Mental note for next time - take some wet wipes and hand sanitiser. Mental note for the rest of the race - don't drink out of this bottle anymore.

Now I was ready to run, down down down until you hit a very busy road with a checkpoint at the start. Along this road I pass a couple of people finishing in the same way I did last year, with a slow limp. I shook hands with a Hungarian guy who was over a mile from the end but I know from experience he was a good hour from the end, the race had smashed him but he was going to make it, he had loads of time.

The last checkpoint, on that island in the middle of a busy intersection. It was a glorious sight. All I had to do now was head up into the main street in Sparta, turn right after about a mile, turn right again then I'll see the end. I had no idea where these right turns were but on the other side of the road was a kid on a bike and he was there to guide me to the end. "Are you here to get me to the finish?" I said. He did not speak English but it did not matter, I just followed him as he braved the busy traffic through the town.

The last mile is slightly uphill but I was getting faster. All the pain went away. After around a mile I did the right turn and my cyclist was replaced by a Policeman on a motorbike. He would stop traffic to let me run through, the cars stopping to clap and cheers as I ran past. Another right turn and that was it, the end.

I could see the end of the road but the statue was obscured by trees. The crowd of people got denser and denser and then I spotted Lawrence, the first person I recognised since I saw Kevin about a day ago. Then I saw Mark and Peter and high-fived everyone and started to run even faster. This was the dream finish, running. There was the statue and the steps, I lept up them and then onto the pedestal of Leonidas and let out a scream. It was done and done so much better than last time.

I stepped down and went through the ceremony. Wreath, water from the river, perpex thingy, handshake, photo. I Looked over to my friends at the left and at the bar they were drinking in. They reassured me that I had a beer waiting and I was just about to head over when the medics apprehended me, like they do with everyone. I sat down and had my one blister popped and treated and she asked me if anything hurt. I had to think about it for a while before responding that nothing hurt at all. All the soreness for a few moments had disappeared, until I stood up.Hard to get lost in this one

2-0 33.24

Emily had come 1st in the womens race with an amazing time of just over 30.17. Heather in 32.43. Martin came in 34.19 and Colin (who I did not get to see after the race so get in touch) finished in 35.10.

Why come back?

Miles and miles of choking through the hot and noxious industrial lands of Greece made me realise just how ugly this race is. Playing chicken with fast cars on a winding highway having run 5 marathons without sleep made me realise that this race is pretty stupid too. There has to be something that draws people back?

What about the history? Well, having read so many different versions of the heroic tale of Phiedippidies the one that sounds the most likely is that he ran to Sparta to summon an army. He ran the 246km in 36 hours, a deed that would have been unthinkable at the time and even unthinkable until recently when this race was born. On arriving into Sparta Phiedippides pleaded with the Spartans to send an army to save Athens.

SpartaThey said no.

By the time He got back to Athens the Athenian army had won the battle anyway. Epic though the run was is was in fact pointless. I can't imagine what he must have felt like in Sparta on hearing that he was not going to get any help or how much that played on his mind on his return journey. What reaction did he get on his return to Athens when the battle was already run?

I can imagine them all in the pub that evening celebrating the victory over the barbarians and laughing at some guy who ran 300 miles for nothing and then missed everything. "How many savages did you kill Phiedippides? oh no wait I remember you were scrambling over some mountain in the dark and even then God told you to turn bacvk as it was pointless, Ha ha ha ha ha". I suspect that to protect the man's dignity they made up the story of him running 26.2 miles and telling of victory and then dying. "Even though it's a lie at least you won't go down in history as some pointless ultra-running idiot". I'm sure he did not care about the mocking though. Whatever message he was delivering at least he had his dream job. I reckon he did not even care for the messages he had to deliver, he just wanted to run from place to place and probably ran all over Greece. It's the journey and all that. I doubt he would think people 2500 years from now would be re-creating one of his many runs every year but he would surely know that people will be doing exactly the same thing, in different places and different times. Even after cars had been invented.

So, to summarise the Spartathlon is ugly, stupid and ultimately pointless. See you next year.

No longer a lamb

Just under a year ago I was standing outside the Acropolis in Athens.  It was dark and cool and there was no sense of urgency or panic amongst the 350 people from 50+ countries who were stood around like I was. I didn't really know what to expect and so I could easily clear my mind and not really think about what was ahead. I knew what it was in physical terms, 153 miles of rolling roads in the late Greek summer where is was likely to be 35C. As if that was not hard enough there was a mountain to tackle at the 100 mile mark and quite a technical one too. But I managed to keep that all out of my mind and just enjoy the calm along with some fellow first timers and some veterans. I was described as looking like a lamb to the slaughter. I knew that the race was going to be hard, but I didn't know just how close it would be to an actual slaughter.

Fast forward 35 and a bit hours. I kissed the statue which is the best possble outcome of this race. I was a mess, it took me 45 minutes to scrape my feet along the floor for the last mile. It was unlike the finish of any race I have ever done, it was supposed to be a spectacular and beautiful occassion, running up to the statue of Leonidas and kissing the feet. Instead it just marked the end of a race which for the latter part I felt terrible in and all I wanted to do was leave. I said straight after that I was glad of finishing for no other reason than didn't have to go back.

After the race had finished it got worse. The pain after a race like this can usually be laughed off, it's all part of the deal. All those around me were laughing at the funny walks and uncomfortable sitting but I just couldn't, it hurt too much. I could not sleep for the days after and I felt a contant burning sensation. I would have liked to have drank the wine at the meal afterwards but I was pissing blood and had to abstain. I was surrounded by people who did not finish and did not know what it was like to kiss that statue. I was getting congratulations from all over but I was in no mood to accept them, I just wanted them all to piss off. All I wanted was to go home back to my bed, turn the lights out and forget this ever happened. There was no way I was coming back.

This is what I ran for. Well actually I ran for the whole experience but this was the "thing" I wanted to collect to remind myself of what I had done. It sits on a random hook in my bedroom and over the past 51 weeks it has shed it's green leaves and looks pretty bleak. It's almost as though it's timed to lose it's looks in a year and hence compelling you to go back and get another one. The "never going back" sulking only lasted about a week. It took a little while for me to realise that I'd hit upon something special.

Ultra runners are often compared to drug addicts, a sometimes harsh comparison but I can see where some of the similarities lie. I'm always looking for the next "fix", often with disregard for my health and body. It's hard to say no and be sensible, the pressure from peers can sometimes drive us to do silly things. I'm always looking for something longer, harder, hotter, higher etc. I don't know enough about drugs to really compare but I would imagine I get from Marathons the same as some kids getting stoned on a saturday night, your typical 50 mile ultra might me more like a party drug such as LSD. Badwater and UTMB (diet) would have been the methdone that tided me over through the summer, but this is grade A smack. I can't imagine not doing this race every year. I know so many who go back again and again, unable to put it down. There is something about this race which is more significant than any other race I have done. I will probably never be able to say exactly what it is but that does not really matter, in a few days I'll be there for the second time and I bet in 10 years I'll be lining up for the 12th time.

It's not without it's risks though (I will leave the drug analogy alone now). I was one of the fortunate people to finish it last year. Those that don't become trapped and have to try again and again to finish. This list shows people who have attempted many times without finish. Anyone wanting to do this race should think very carefully before turning up. Finish or DNF, win or lose, it will consume you.

So what do I have to do?

I went into this race last year with no real idea of the details, which is the way I like to do things. I will never look in detail at a race profile, the competitors, the rules even. I will usually have a look at the weather conditions for the hotter ones but it is my preference to just turn up and wing it, dealing with whatever comes up as it comes. It worked last year but I can't do that again. I usually forget the details of races straight after. I did Davos for the third time this year and it still felt like a new race, I just don't remember where the hills are. It will be different this time because I remember everything about last year. I remember just how hard it was.

The website does not give much away. It describes it as "One of the most difficult and satisfying ultra distance races in the world". There are many people I know who would leave off the "one of" from that sentence. It does not give away too much more than the facts, 246km, 36 hour cut off and something about a guy who did this 2500 years ago.

The race starts in Athens at the Acropolis on Friday at 7am. The police do a fantastic job of halting rush hour and letting the 350 or so hopefuls through. Through busy streets and past some bars I recall going in after the Athens Marathon and then out of the Capital and along the "sacred way" and out to Corinth, the first major checkpoint at 50 miles. The first 50 are fairly flat and still busy. You have only 9.30 hours to get to 50 miles which is as severe a cut-off I've seen is a race of this length. Last year I arrive at around 2.30PM, the heat way approaching mid 30's. This year it will be cooler, around 28.

Having left the 50 miles it takes some quieter roads through olive fields and farms, you can smell them, it's wonderful. Runners will really space out here as they pass the Temple of Apollo and through citru orhards to Assos (100km). There is then a steady climb over 24k to Nemea, another major checkpoint. There are 75 checkpoints along the way in the Spartathlon with a few "major" ones kitted out with massagers, food, local entertainment and paramedics. Nemea is half way, but the race has barely started.

The next 20 or so miles it will start to get dark and rather inconveniently the road surface gets worse. The smooth tarmac gives way to uneven track and pot holes. With 90 miles in your legs stepping unexpectedly into a rut of just an inch in depth can feel like your whole body being shattered. There is also the intimidating sound of wild dogs from the trees to contend with. Alone in the dark and with almost 4 marathons in your legs you start to worry about having to fight a dog.

After 96 miles there is a 2 mile steep incline towards "base camp", the foot of Sangras pass. After 100 miles of battering your legs on a road you now have to climb up a mountain with no human track.

The mountain climb is actually quite enjoyable, bloody hard work but can actually feel like a break from the running. It requires hands and knees sometimes but you get the most spectacular views of the race, you can see the lights of the towns miles back that you have run though and at the top you can see the lights of the towns you are still to run.

The top is cold and someone grabs onto you and bundles you into a chair and shoves hot drinks in your hands.The decent is what broke me last time, my quads and shins felt like breaking. At the bottom I was a mess, with a double marathon to go.

The roads remain quiet as the sun rises, it is generally downhill which is worse if your shins are smashed. The sun might come out again as you make the slow descent into Sparta. The roads get very busy and you are on a highway with cars doing 60mph. There are loads of switchbacks which mean crossing the road, which is dangerous as the cars go so fast and I will be going so slow. This is the part where you get really paranoid about not making the cut-off, constantly looking at the watch and trying to calculate whether you have enough time. This drove me crazy last time. I could not get it out of my head, even after the race.

And then the end, the crowds at Sparta welcoming all those who are about to complete the race. Last year for me it was a relief, this year I want it to be more dignified. Finishing is by no means a certainty, infact the stats show it's an improbability. I just want to run up to that thing, smiling and able to enjoy the aftermath. And pissing anything but red would also be a bonus.

The Ultra Tour De Mont Blanc

I didn't really mean to enter this. I applied hoping that I would not get in so that I could do it next year and leave a sensible gap between Badwater and the Spartathlon. However I put my name in anyway as it's harder and harder to get into these things. The qualifying for next year is even harder and it was 40% over-subscribed this time. I'm running out of time to get the big races done before they become lotteries even harder than the national lottery. I reckon I'll win the national lottery before I win the Western States one.

I had not really done any "training" for this. This is not unusual as I tend to just bounce between different events. Only the ONER and a hungover Davos race really counted as hill work before this. The latter was going to be more useful than I thought.

The Ultra Tour De Mont Blanc despite only being in it's 8th year is already considered one of the "classic" ultramarathons and appears on the "must do" lists of most ultrarunners I have come across, from the plodders to the worlds best. 166km, over 9000m of elevation and 46 hours to complete. It is held in high regard across the world and is considered one of the toughest off road events there is. The stats are impressive, here are some more; 1700 volunteers, 33 refreshment posts, 48 control points, 20000 cereal bars, 7500 bananas, 8000 route markers, 180 medics, 400KG of salami, 2600kg of cheese, 10000 litres of coke and 4800 cans of beer. I was going to have my work cut out making the most of this.

On friday morning around 8 hours before the race was due to start (6pm) I was woken up by what sounded like a car crash right outside my bedroom window. I looked to assess the wreck and saw that it was raining heavily and that it was thunder that I heard. This was going to make it hard going later and I hoped it would stop in time for the race. I wasn't too worried about the ground, mountains are made of rock, right?

first pass with Chamonix in the backgroundIt did stop raining while we lined up at the start. Conquest of Paradise was played constantly for an hour as the masses squeezed together and watched the large screen of the front of the pack. There were quite a few elites here which shows how important this race is. Kilian Jornet was here to win for the 3rd time in a row. Scott Jurek was back in action having not been around for a while. Geoff Roes had won the Western States 100 a few months back and perhaps was looking to do the same here? The UK's best chance was Jez Bragg, who had been injured for much of the year but was back in form and here to race.

I started near the back and had no plan as such but was going for somewhere in the region of 40 hours, perhaps with a sleep. Soon after the 27th (and loudest) rendition of the Vangelis classic were were on our way, stop-starting through the town as we enjoyed the massive crowds and around 8k of fairly flat road. Not long later we were heading along the trails into the sunset. It was beautiful, till it pissed it down.

The rain came down heavy again as runners dived to the sides to get their rain clothes out. There is a lot of compulsary clothing to carry in this race and with good reason, we were still low down and everyone was getting cold. I bumped into Drew Sheffield who like me was not changing out of our original kit yet. We ran in hope of the rain stopping and not long later it did, just as we started the ascent of the first peak. It was not quite dark and the path was gravel so getting up was not too difficult. On reaching the top I bumped into James Elson who I had not seen since our semi-conscious conversation at the end of Badwater.

The downhill was very difficult and very muddy. I did not think I would be contesting with mud in the alps but the path was like a flume. People were falling over left and right and it was hard to see where it was slippy. I was not using my head torch, instead I had a little hand held thing. I've become more acustomed to not using light at night though with a cloudy sky and tree cover there was no natural light to draw on. Drew, sulking about the cancellation

After more than 3 hours we descended down a very steep road into St Gervais where the first major checkpoint was. I was really looking forward to this, eating cheese and meat in a race, it's all I thought about for weeks. It's what kept my mind of the mountains. Shortly before arriving at the CP there was a rather subdued applause as we came down some steps and then headed into town. We saw some runners heading back the other way? Then another runner just shouted at us "Don't bother, race is over". I assumed he was joking and did not want to believe it though when we arrived at the checkpoint there was no movement, just a mass of runners and organisers stood about. The race had indeed been cancelled.

I did not really have a reaction or an opinion on the whole thing. I sensed within myself more disappointment than when the Luton Marathon was called off while we were all at the start line. The reason we'd been given was mudslides up ahead. We headed over to a sports centre and considered our options (over some cheese). We could run back or wait for the transport out of there. We started to run back but were called back so we ran to the nearest train station and made it back to Chamonix pretty soon.

One of the first things that hit me as we walked back to the apartment 35 hours before I thought I would was that I'd eaten so much food over the past few days I'd need to do some running over the weekend to burn it off. I also thought about all the cheese I was missing out on, nowI'd have to pay for it in Chamonix. Then, at about midnight and no word from the event organisers about whether the race would be restarted and wide awake we did the only thing we could to get to sleep, we got smashed.

Oli, Jany and I headed to a bar and started to drink along with others who had been disappointed by the cancellation. The gloom lifted as our alcohol intake increased. The runners were strewn over the pubs/bars and even kebab houses of Chamonix, drowning our sorrows and replacing the few calories that we managed to burn. The air of disappointment was very noticable, particularly those who had trained all year to do this or those here for the first time.

Sure it was disappointing but I understood why it happened and that these things are inevitable when doing such extreme events. I looked forward to a weekend of shorter runs with friends instead. I was braced for staying awake for 48 hours, the only way to get to sleep was to paralyse myself with drink. That is what we did. Until we got a text message.

"Be at the sportshall in Chamonix at 6.30 for a re-start in Courmayeux". As this wasa read the bottle of beer that was touching my lips was put down on the table. We have 4 hours to sober up, sleep and get ready to start running again.

Fucking PolesI was not too sure why my alarm was set to 5.30 on saturday morning and I struggled to find the button to switch it off. Then I remembered the mountain climb last night, the train ride home and the Jaegerbombs. Then I looked at the pile of wet clothes in the corner that I had to put on. So with a hangover, wet and stinky clothes, tired and a bit confused we left the apartment to get to the coach.

We were treated to a similar start to that of the previous night. The people of Coumayeux seemed to know there was a race on this morning, which is more than can be said for half of the runners. Even as we started there were coaches of people dropping off half dressed runners at the back of the pack. Some had not found out about the re-start at all. In fact if I was not with Oli and Rob I would not have found out either as the phone number I gave them was no longer in use. The funny thing was that the people who went out and got pissed were the first to find out. Those who went to bed to get some rest woke up too late for the news. There is a lesson there....

The sun was blazing as we set off through the town and up a hill a lot sooner than we did yesterday. The walking poles were clattering on the tarmac and the path got much more narrow before turning into a very narrow trail. The whole field stopped and queued to get onto it and for about an hour we climbed a hill stopping and starting and generally going very slowly. Drew and I made no subtletey of our comments about poles. They were really getting in the way.

5 reasons why walking poles spoil it for the others;

1 - Pole users use twice the width of a normal runner. When the path is narrow it's obviously single file all the way, but then when the path widens the pole users stupidly widen their pole placing making it impossible to pass

2 - Pole users use thrice the length of normal runners. It was crowded on that trail, it does not help that it could only fit one third of the usual number of people on it because of people being stupid with their poles

3- When the poles are not in use the pole users stupidly hold them such that you get poked in the eye if you are behind them and beneath them

4 - When a pole user looks at his/her watch they slow down then stupidly thrust the pole out to the side. If you are passing them at the time you get your eye poked out

5 - Pole users can easliy overtake you, they just selfishly and stupidly stab at your heels with the poles. I would stand aside and let someone quicker pass. Do they reciprocate when you want to pass them? Do they fuck.

It was very frustrating getting up the first pass but the views at the top were spectacular. There was a coke stop near the top and then a few miles of gorgeous running in full view of Mont Blanc (so I'm told, they all look the same). There was more space to overtake the pole using spoilers. Drew commented that we should not really consider ourselves in the same race as these people. Anyway there was some really enjoyable running in this part and into the first major checkpoint. With cheese.

I was only wearing a vest here and was told by the marshal to put something warmer on as the top of the next pass was very cold and windy. I took their advice and changed and lost Drew at this stage. After some cheese I started ascending La Grand Ferret which is the highest point of the whole UTMB.

There was some really good running hereThe top was in the clouds and the clouds were grey. I struggle up hills at the best of times and recently I had another chest cough and was still more wheezy than normal. I had my inhaler with me and I used it to death. The mountain was muddier than anything I have ever climbed before. The rain started again, the visibility was awful. I really struggled to breath and even stay on my feet as I slipped and fell all over the place. The air was full of water and I'd stop every couple of minutes to sit down and puff on the inhaler. The others plodding up the hill would look at me concerned and make sure I was alright. I knew I was going to be fine as soon as I got to the top La Grand Col Ferret.

The Misty MountainIt rained and rained and I struggled even to move forwards even when I wasn't coughing. Often I'd slide back down or onto my hands and knees. Several times I'd just say under my breath (what breath I had) "for fuck sake". I wanted for someone to be to blame for all this but there was obviously no one. Eventually I made it to the top, the visibility was practically zero and it was very cold. My jellied legs spluttered back into life and I ran down the muddy slide of a path. I fell over a few times but managed to gain some ground and felt much better about finishing the race.

Though I always knew I was going to get to the top of that hill I did spend a lot of time wondering whether certain events are out of my reach. I really want to do Leadville one day and figure if I struggle to breathe at 2500m up I may as well not bother going to 4000m. I need to sort my lungs out.

The rain eased a bit but it had done it's work on the path and the mud was making people slide about all over the place. I saw a man in front of me slip comically onto his arse, then I did the same thing in the same spot and then the guy behind me did the same again. It was as if it was a candid camera show, whoever had a camera on that was going to make a fortune out of Harry Hill.

The net 20k or so were almost all downhill though the offroad was hard work with all the sliding. I felt at home here, rolling around in the mud. There was a long section through some town on road which was quite welcome as it was really easy running. Here I bumped into Rhodri Darch who I met 2 years ago at the Moose ultra and I don't think I have seen him since. We chatted briefly about what we'd been up to in the past 2 years, he didn't need to ask me as all the details on my life are on facebook.

I get the piss taken out of me quite a lot for living my life on facebook, but it has it's advantages. Whenever I talk to people in races I don't really have to talk much because everything has already been said. I get a chance to listen to others about what they have been doing. Rhodri told me he got into triathlon recently and did an Ironman but realised it's not for him. Apparently its full of anti-social competitive types who are more concerned with split times and gadgets than fun and socialising. I'd never have guessed. Down the Misty Mountain

I got to the checkpoint in La Fouly in about 6 hours and got a text from Gemma to say that everyone else was going really fast. Rob had got there in around 4.40, Dan and Oli were not far behind and Drew was about 30 mins ahead of me. The big misty muddy hill had slowed me down somewhat but I was not too worried, I had some more cheese.

Soon after while contining into the town I saw Jany and Cyril who seemed releived to see me. They had been waiting long enough. I was about 7 hours into the run and was pretty sure I had not done more than a marathon yet. I had no watch, no gps and did not even know how long the race was or what country I was in. It was brilliant.

Campex is just over half way and I have no idea when I got there but I recall being about 6 hours ahead of the cut offs. I looked at a map on the wall and saw that I had 3 large hills to come, starting with Bovine.

It was getting darker and I was keen to get up this one before the sun set. Bovine is another tough climb and is really rocky, the rocks just too big to comfortably step over. I was struggling again and having to stop and breathe. I really did hope that this was a hangover from my illness rather than my vertical limit. I started to get cold as I was laying down in the wet grass. I was frustrated at the prospect of not getting over this before the sun was out as I new the rocks on the other side were going to be hard.

The down was hard and steep and made harder by the darkness. I was pleased that my downhill running was not as lame as it usually is. It's still lame but not as lame. This pleased me and enabled me to run further over a section that was quite plesant running, apart from the pole walkers getting in the way. and reach the next checkpoint at Trient. 2 more hills to go.

Each checkpoint would look the same, a spread of tables and chairs with people surving coke, soup, cheese, ham, bread, cake and all sorts. There were drums in the middle for filling up water bladders and medics on hand. As the race progressed these looked more like refuges that picnics, people hunched over or even asleep on benches. Sometimes it was hard to get space on the seats and it was even harder to sit down on them.

There was also a picture of the profile ahead, with total ascent and decent. The next climb was not as bad as the previous one and unlike most the next checkpoint was fairly high up. It only really occured to me how far I was running. It was only about 90k in the end, short of the 98k I thought I was going to do. An initial loop of the CCC had been left out.

It was now pitch black and with no lights around it was hard to see how far I had to go up. I just made sure I did tiny little steps so I could try to keep moving but not get out of breath. It seemed to work better up Catogne than on all previous hills. I was moving slowly but still moving forward. There were not a lot of people around now. In the dark you never really know whether you are on top of the pass, especially in the woods. Sometimes the ground flattens out and you start running, releived that you have knocked off another one but then it shoots up again.

There was a lot more to run on here than I expected or was told. I was expecting nothing but sharp and tortuous uphills and bone breaking downs. There were plenty of each of these but there was also a lot of nice shallow downhill running. There was no more rain after dark which made it much more pleasant. I was amazing that my knee was not hurting at all and my quads were not too sore. I thought about being able to do Sangra's Pass in the Spartathlon.

The last major checkpoint seemed to come in no time and I was suprised to see Cyril there helping out. It was great to see him and he leapt around fetching food while I sat down and ate. This was the last opportunity for cheese so I was making the most of it. There was some more nice downhill to run and then a tricky uphill, the last one.

There are a few miles of road from which in the distance you can see the intimidating sight of what you have to climb to finish of the UTMB. On my right was a mountain with switchbacks and a stream of little lights zigzaging right up into the sky. The night was now clear and it was hard to seperate the lights from the stars. I could not tell how far into the sky I had to go. At this point I was feeling really good again and ready to attack it.

Because it was the last one I chose not to think about the top too much. In fact I didn't really want it to come. I was comparing how I was feeling now to how I felt struggling up Bovine and near the start of the day struggling in the mud up La Grand Ferret and really wanted to make the most of this. The pass was really hard and never ending but when you don't want it to end that's not a problem. My asthma had gone and though I was on my hands and knees a lot scrambling over some of the rocks that were bigger than cars I was really enjoying it.

The top never came and the people around me were cursing as I was 10 hours ago in the mud and rain but I was laughing as after each switchback there was more to go up. It was amazing. It did eventually flatten out but the terrain was harsh, it was still rocky with the occasional invisible mud pool. I fell into a couple and was only really concerned about breaking my phone. After a bit of flat scrambling there was yet more up. I loved it, I could see a town down below and assumed it to be Chamonix. Surrounded by tired runners falling about all over the place I staggered into one of the minor checkpoints, just 7km from the end.Bovine as night fell

It was around 5am, still dark and I sat down to have a cup of tea. Running into sun-rise is an amazing thing and I was not sure that I'd get a chance to here, I was hoping to do it twice this weekend but the mudslides took that away from me. However the sun came up quicker than expected and while descending the shallow path into Chamonix the sun came up. There were not that many people out in the town to cheer me in but that was fine. I cantered into the finish, overtaking someone who was walking and who grumbled at me a bit. Not sure why but I wasn't going to walk over the line. The finish was very muted, I didn't really expect much, I think half the town decided not to participate just as half the runners decided not to restart. My time was 20 something hours (like I said I didn't have a watch so don't know).

I collected my "finishers" gillet which claims I have done the UTMB. I know this is not true and I am going to have to come back and do this again. I finished what I was given and I really enjoyed doing it but I know I need to finish a full UTMB. I still felt good at the finish. If I had to do another 20 hours of that I could of, assuming there was more cheese. There was none at the finish and hence there was no reason for me to stay, I headed back to the appartment and had a beer. 6.30am isn't too early is it?

Luckily this was not one of my "A" races for the year. They are Badwater and Spartathlon. I loved running 66% of the UTMB and would definitely come back to do the whole lot, but I can't see this being the race I come back to again and again. But certainly I'll clock up a few finishes before my legs retire, the views and cheese are spectacular. Who knows, one day they might just ban those f*****g poles.

Badwater Race Report , July 2010 from Debbra of my support crew

I could not have done this without such a kind and supportive band of strangers that I found online. Laurie, Debbra, Debra and Dave were amazing. So long as there are people like that out there then ultra-running will always be an amazing scene to be in.

Badwater Race Report , July 2010 from Debbra of my support crew

(Yes, we’re now doing Race Reports on races we did not run; next, it’ll be Reports on races we watched on TV.)

Like many marathoners, we knew there were deeply strange people on the fringe of our little community: people who run farther. It seems innocent enough: a 50K somewhere or even a 50 miler. A few people we know have tried 12 or 24 hour runs or even 100 milers, but it’s something we don’t talk about willingly; something akin to “I tried it once in college, but I was really drunk and I don’t remember a thing.”

The Badwater Race is similar to admitting “I tried it once in college…” if you add “…and I kept at it for up to 60 hours.  In 120 degree heat.  And did three killer climbs. And didn’t sleep for two nights. And got to experience the thrill of feeling every single muscle in my body suffer in a way that I probably won’t know again until I spend eternity in hell. And paid an $800 entrance fee.”

For those unaware of this masterpiece of masochism, the BW starts at 282 feet below sea level in Death Valley on July 12th. The victims traverse an endless stretch across the valley floor, before the blessed relief of a 5,000 foot climb. Temperatures have been known to plummet during the climb to as low as a hundred. After this, they descend about 2,000 feet as they cross a second valley, then up again to another 5,000 peak, then down to 3,500 feet before the final grueling traverse and the climb to 8,400 feet up Mt. Whitney.

We, of course, did none of this. We merely got suckered into crewing for a 30-year-old British runner named James Adams whom Laurie Woodrow had met on the Internet. (We knew Laurie was on the Internet a lot, but we figured it was just for the porn.)  James had excellent credentials to qualify for the race and a winsome, aw-shucks manner. We thought: He’s young and strong and mentally tough… how long can this take?

It turns out that time is relative: For example, contemplating the challenges of the race from home or while shopping for jerky treats and Gatorade is a brief and pleasant activity; watching “our” runner puke along the side of the road in broiling heat and being unable to do much about it, is slightly less pleasant and seems to stretch time out somewhat. Hearing our runner say that he thinks he may have lost consciousness while running is substantially less pleasant, especially when our ability to provide him with a cool, shady place to recover is almost nil.

Fortunately, James is one of those British “I’m alright, Jack” types who soldiers on, conscious, or not. And we, in our minivan, soldiered on as well, although, by comparison, we were “soldiering” along Rodeo Boulevard with frappuccinos in our hands and toy poodles on our laps. Our hearty band consisted of MSgt Laurie W, the abusive, whip-cracking Crew Chief, Deb JR, Dave JR and Debra H, a runner from Monterey who could not get over how “beautiful” the desert was.  Deb H grew up in northern New Mexico, so rocks and sand looked pretty good to her.

While James was pounding along the blazing asphalt, we traveled in a Chrysler minivan filled to the brim with rancid clothing, coolers full of ice, water and ice-water, implements we could never locate when we wanted them, snacks, more water and ice, more coolers and, let’s see, more water. Oh, and more ice. The constant question was: Will the ice last? It did, thanks to the addition of many, many bags at any location where ice could be bought.  We also started out with 18 gallons of water in jugs, plus Gatorade, Cokes, Red Bull, and various protein drinks. If this seems excessive, consider that, while James drank about a pint a mile, his crew was drinking constantly as well.

James was even-tempered and had few demands. The closest he got to upset was an on-going disappointment that the end was not coming as soon as he’d hoped. Not uncommon here what with the runners doing the equivalent of five consecutive marathons plus tough hill climbs. He took a couple of 20 minute breaks by the side of the road and sat for a moment a few dozen times. The low point for him – aside from being unconscious – was when we would dunk his shirt in ice water and have him put it back on. The expression on his face then was not one of cool comfort, but of intense pain.

His feet held up pretty well although he commented a time or two that he’d just have to accept blistering.  Laurie did her Clara Barton bit, but his feet did get steadily larger. Thinking about injuries leads one to ponder the question of whether it’s better to have a crew made up of chums or family or one made up of strangers. I think James was lucky to have strangers: although we didn’t know him well enough to  always ask the right questions, he was also able to keep us at a bit of a distance in a way that a runner couldn’t if the crew was made up of friends – and especially running friends. One runner had his 15 year-old daughter on his crew. When he got sick, the girl was, of course, deeply concerned about her dad, not about how to help him get back on the road quickly. Note: This runner lost six hours due to inability to absorb water, but got back on the road and finished well under the 48-hour time limit to “buckle” i.e., win a belt buckle emblematic of finishing in under 48.

A crew made up of running buddies might have more skills and would certainly be more likely to goad a struggling runner back onto the tarmac, but there is something to be said for having privacy. The worst, I would think, would be to have a family crew. This would seem like the group most likely to suggest quitting. (“Honey, we’re all melting out here and Tiffy’s missing soccer for this and your sister’s coming to visit next week – with her brats – so let’s be reasonable: you tried very, very hard and we’re all very proud of you, but it’s time to go home. It was a cute idea, but be serious.”)

The race rhythm is to meet the runner at one mile intervals. Since a car goes much faster – even a Chrysler – the crew can get “set up” with the right drink, snack, ice-filled bandana, etc.  At first, we would leap out of the van and get the things ready quickly…then wait another five to seven minutes for James to run up to us. Later on, we realized that we had more time. Since the heat was slightly less brutal in shade, we’d sit inside for a few minutes before doing our chores.  A certain casualness creeps in, especially as crew get weary. More than once we had to bolt out of the van late as James neared.  We worked in two rotating teams taking five to ten mile turns, the “on” team working out of the van while the “off” team hung out in Debra H’s Honda CRV.  We stuck with this approach despite the basic flaw that there was nowhere for the “off” team to go to rest. Towns are non-existent; there is no shade, and the nearest store might be twenty miles away. Since James ran all night, the crews kept ahead of him all night and no one slept more than a few minutes at a time.

There was one exception: Laurie and Deb H crewed the first seven miles up Mt. Whitney while we took showers and had a nap in Lone Pine 13 miles from the finish. The plan was for us to take over crewing for the last few miles. Laurie and Deb H would go on ahead to the finish. We’d all do the last few yards with James as he finished. Good plan. We showered, set our alarm for a one hour nap and fell into dueling comas and slept right through the alarm. Fortunately we got a “wake up” call from Laurie. Better still, Laurie and Deb H were too tired to be upset; after all, James was about to finish!

He crossed the tape in 39 hours and change, well before midnight on the second day. As we had hoped, he was strong and tough-minded to the end, even cranking out 20 minute miles on the way up Mt. Whitney (a leisurely pace in Santa Monica, but try it up a killer slope on no sleep and after 130+ miles).

We hugged and shook hands all around, took photos and said the usual things. James settled down to nap at the finish line and wait for chums who’d come in later. Deb H hopped in her CRV and started the drive back to Monterey. On no sleep! She eventually had to stop for a nap, but made it home okay. We drove back to Lone Pine and pleasant dreams – and slept through the alarm again.  Fortunately, Laurie was there on the floor – as she is at many sporting events – and woke us up.

The funniest – actually the only funny – episode occurred a mile or so from the finish. James, pounding out his last miles on raw determination, saw what he thought was our van and asked the crew to pull out a cooler for him to sit on. “Water,” he said. The crew did as he asked and he was off again in a moment, but only after realizing that this was not his crew: It was the crew for the runner ahead of him. The crew took care of the runner even though he wasn’t “their” runner. And had a laugh about it – as did James – later. That’s the Badwater way and emblematic of most of the people involved: humble, soft-spoken, and full of good cheer. A brotherhood of suffering whose members understood that Badwater could “get” any runner at any time and it was only with a measure of good luck that even the best-trained of the batch made it to the finish.

There is no way one can crew at Badwater and claim to have gained a true perspective. Sure, you can see the competitors beaten down by the challenge, but struggling on nonetheless, but crewing is a million miles from participating. No one can understand the depth of fatigue, bone, and muscle pain that the athletes endure without actually going through it. No one should even think about doing this event without knowing how far deep down inside themselves they can reach for stores of strength and perseverance and courage. Trust us, it ain’t about having enough water.



Serpies Do Davos

just about over the hangoverSo, Dave booked a double with Suzy. But after she dumped him for deleting all the threshold settings on her Garmin he now has to sleep in the dorms with Gary and Carl. But Carl is still pissed at Dave for boffing Sharon at the penultimate cheese day of the month last week. Sharon was due to share with Emma and Stacey but now Stacey wants to share the double with Suzy as she is very upset since her boyfriend Jim left her for Brian, (the fact that he downgraded from the K78 to the lake swim really should have been an early warning). Now, Emma is still holding out for getting back together with Kevin who has just had a massive row with Judith about forgetting to bring a towel. But, wait, oh no.... what's this? Kevin's life has just got a lot more complicated with the unexpected arrival of Amanda and her son Leroy.

"Yes Kevin, I'm back and I have news for you, he's YOURS".

"But we split up 3 years ago, I only met a year before that. This kid is at least 17 years old?"

"Well, what am I? A mathematician? Go book us another room, one that no one has puked in".

There must be something in the air in Switzerland that prevents anyone from sucessfully invading it. We were all over the place and no actual running had even started yet. In total about 70 Serpies invaded the neutral country and occupied it's bars. On saturday there was some running to be done,

The Davos K78 seems to have become an annual event for me. 2 years ago 4 friends and I headed out here, last year there were about 25 people from the club here doing one of the many races Davos has to offer. This time there were about 70 out there to cover over 2500k of alpine trail and around 1000 litres of alcohol.

I arrived late on the first thursday due to being too fat for a plane and ended up missing the thursday night drinking. I decided to make up for it on the Friday, the night before the race. I got a bit carried away and it only realy dawned on me when I was woken up by someone from the hostel offering to clean up the sick. That reminded me that I was sick. I felt pretty rough at the start line but always was going to take this very easy. Only 17 days after finishing Badwater I probably should not be doing this but I needed a medical certificate to get out of it. I could not go and ask a doctor to sign me out of a 50 mile race, particularly as I'd just asked them to permit me to run a 100 mile one 4 weeks after.

The first 20k were pretty grim, I had to stop a few times and felt a bit sick. After a while I felt a little less pissed and was looking forward to the hangover. The mountain should sort that out. I stopped for a minute to empty my shoe and saw a Serpie pass me who I didn't recognise. Inagine that? There was no way I was letting this one go so I ran fast to investigate.

I caught up and it was Laura Beckwith. She was running the C42 and then complained that I was going too fast. Apparently I was doing sub 8 minute miles. I had not done one of those since 2007. I slowed down and eased towards the mountains.

I remember the long road up to the mountains and was confident of finishing it before sunset, unlike the last incline I tackled. There were some spectacular views as we approached the marathon stage and then up to the climbing. I was way behind where I was last year, I recall getting overtaken by most of the people running the K42 whereas now I was in the back end of them. I didn't care at all, I had no idea what the time was as I didn't take a watch, I was just enjoying the day, the new found soberness and the most scenic run I have ever done.

While ascending the mountain I was caught up by Mark Bell. "Feeling a little peaky"? he said as I sat down on a rock (he didn't). "Wanna make summit of it?" I replied (I didn't). "That response is steeped with frustration so I shall press on, but Alpine for you at the finish line". (He did).

The top of the mountain seemed to come more quickly that usual. This pleased be as in the UTMB I have to do this 12 times. I got caught behind a load of walkers on the ridge which was a little frustrating as I felt like I could run and was still suprised that my legs had not fallen apart. Still, can't complain, I took lots of photos and considered making a snowman.

I really did just canter through the whole thing amazed that I could even still walk after Badwater. I cruised through the last 9 miles though I got really bad sunburn (oh the ironicallness). This was the first race in ages where I didn't want to see the finish. Afterall, it was still the same day as when I started. That doesn't really count as a race does it?

Then I got pissed again.

I survive Badwater and then this happens in the mountains?Now, I threatened this in the pub on the Saturday night. This blog allows me to see what has been googled that leads to people arriving on this site. It means I can write silly things about people and they may be seen in the google search screen. Lets see how this goes..

Claire Shelley was high on coke as she bounced her way down into the valley. Luckily she finished before 8, otherwise there would have been trouble.

Nick Copas was bullied off the course by some large pebbles towards the end though still managed to finish sub 8.01.

Jen Bradley stacked it in the mountains, possibly while thinking she was cycling along a canal. Despite needing hospital treatment later she finished in an amazing pb.

While not high on coke Gemma Greenwood hallucinated a familiy of weasels in the mountain.

Natalie Kolodziej smashed the K21, chicking Andrew J Taylor as she did so. Andrew J Taylor didn't just get chicked. Andrew J Taylor got dicked a lot too. In fact Andrew J Taylor probably got chick-with-dicked.

Katy Levy made it to the start line despite flying to the wrong airport.

Helen James finally decided on a pair of shoes (or 2) and ran the K78 brilliantly. When asked if she would do it again she said yes definitely, but will bring more shoes.

Lars Menken promised to run the K78 next year, otherwise we are allowed to melt his bike.

On smashing the K78 and winning the Serpentine Ultra Championship Oliver Sinclair rewarded himself with a potato.

Alex Elferink; a bit confused when he reach the checkpoints and was told he didn't have to take any clothes off kept his heart rate in zone 3 as he walked the K42.

Allan Rumbles, so excited to even be let in a race set off hard and still finished respectably.

2 Serpies who smashed it proper were Wes Harrison and James Edgar. Wes Harrison was apparently grinning like a child as he allowed the mountains to shred his calves. A year ago I met James Edgar and he was baning on about age grading or something. Now he's so into the mountains I bet he does not know what age he even is.

Rob Westaway provided several great shots for the next edition of Westawimes as he cruised through 78K in good time. He did screw up his finish photo by trying to change his garmin settings on the line.

Everyone was amazed to see Sam Ludlow finish something with a clean face.

Cyril Morrin gate crashed the podium for the K78, a little confused as he entered the K21.

I've already google-fucked Jonathan Hoo, but thought just saying that might make the search results more interesting.

Despite being strip searched for contraband sandwiches at breakfast Brent Plump and Marianna Ivantsoff managed to have great races.

As did Facebook facebook Jany Tsai Facebook Facebook. Jany managed to avoid ripping off my clothes as she finished comfortably.

Happiest man in the world Alex Pearson praised the heavens for such wonderful calf smashing mountains.

Mike "Mr Slow" Wilcox was not that slow. World he was awesome.

Gemma Hagen was so excited by the whole thing she couldn't talk the next day.

And without having much else to say about everyone else I thought I'd list the rest involved in the great weekend. There were K78 finishes for Martin Cooper and Lisa Wray. A great K42 win for Huw Lobb in an amazing 3.16. K42 finsihes also for Gavin Edmonds, Poppy Lenton, Charles Lescott, Pam Rutherford, Christian Schroeder, Tim Renshaw, Claire Levermore (google her), Rob Crangle, Siobhan Reddy, Tanya Shaw (who proposed to on the mountain top. She said yes), Val Metcalf, Alistair Gear, John Cullinane, Katy Levy (I have already mentioned her but she is quite loud) and Natalie Vendette. There was a great K31 win for Teresa Gailliard De Laubenque (that took ages to write) and good runs too from Simon Bamfylde, Darren Over, Donna Clinker, Huw Keene (doing actual running but I didn't see it), Catherine Sowerby, Angharad Lescott, Lula Russo, Grianne Devery, Fiona Alexander and Angela Green. As always with Davos it was great to see people come out anyway even if they didn't run. Our cheerleaders this time were Gus Searcy (ill), Richard Jones (injured), Paula Redmond (injured) and Amy Whiddett (lazy). Worth a mention was our pom pom waver in spirit Nicole Brown, who was updating the folks at home with our progress and telling me off for facebooking too much in the race. Thanks Mum.

The weekend certainly had it's ups and downs (STOP IT). This time last year I said that I thought 100 Serpies go to Davos. We only managed 70 this year but who knows? Next year. Assuming the hostel has forgotten about the sick.

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".