Sri Chinmoy Self Transcendence 24hr Race 2013

Colonial Upstarts, Bonsai Trees and a Strange Man Punching a Tree

As this was my third year at the Sri Chinmoy Self Transcendence 24 hour race, I decided it was to be a boy’s road trip packed with ultrarunning-related japes and hilarity. Carla - my previous support - had conveniently arranged a hen do in Barcelona that weekend and everyone else in the western world was apparently busy. I was therefore reliant on a crack team of two 24 hour virgins to provide the entertainment: Chris, an Ironman athlete dreaming of past Kona glories, and Dan, a strange troll-like creature who I’d somehow convinced to enter the event.

 

It's Friday night, it's a road trip, let's crank it up to 11!

 

The plan was to travel down with Chris - and his daughter, Arabella - on Friday evening and meet up with Dan on race morning. Amazingly, Chris had managed to dress himself properly and was unusually ready on time, and after a surprisingly small amount of faffing the road trip began. As everyone knows the most important element of any road trip is a  rocking soundtrack, the sort of thing Jeremy Clarkson would listen to. Unfortunately I have great taste in music and Chris doesn’t so a middle ground couldn’t be agreed on. We consequently travelled to London listening to Radio 4.

 

The next morning after fuelling our bodies with a wholesome and nutritious McDonalds breakfast, we travelled to the race venue at Tooting Bec track. We picked Dan up en-route managing to take a few wrong turns, nearly causing a pile up and promptly losing him just outside the track, all within ten minutes.

Pre-race flex off: who needs calf muscles anyway?

 

The venue was instantly familiar except it resembled a building site along the back straight. We chose a pitch at the far end and this was to be our home for the next couple of days. Once I’d registered, set up my support area and Chris had erected the tent Dan eventually arrived. How the man gets himself to work every morning I’ll never know.

 

The relaxed atmosphere before an ultra is something I’ve grown to really enjoy over the last couple of years. Chris was struggling to adjust as he was used to the adrenaline and testosterone fuelled nature of a transition area before the start of an Ironman. I’ve found I don’t need that intensity or stress anymore and relish the change of environment.

Ladies, form an orderly queue...

 

In between incomprehensible monologues, Alan Partridge quotes and obsessive texting, Dan somehow managed to get himself ready with the help of his assistant, Lynne. We were sharing the same table and chairs and it was soon apparent I didn’t have as much food or drink with me as usual. Because the food provided by the organisers is so comprehensive and varied I found I took most of my supplies home with me the previous two years.

 

The weather was perfect and spirits were high as we lined up to start at midday. My race plan was very simple and there was a tier system of goals:

Gold: run 135+ miles

Silver: beat my previous distance of 127 miles

Bronze: achieve the Spartathlon standard of 200km (124 miles)

 Chris realises what he's missing.

Hours 1-4 (Clockwise)

After blowing up at the Lakeland 100 I was conscious of not repeating the gamble. I was also aware that I needed to reach 100 miles well under 18 hours to have any chance of reaching 135 miles. I decided to run the first hour and then follow a routine of running 7 laps and walking 1 lap for as long as possible. This was one extra lap of running than the previous year.

 

I didn’t want to get distracted by splits and measurements as there was a long way to go and energy levels can fluctuate wildly during an ultra. Dan was chirpy and continuing to talk shite, and Chris insulted us every time we passed him so things were looking good.

 

As usual I was being lapped from the start but I wasn’t remotely bothered. I knew several people would withdraw or self-destruct later in the race so I remained relaxed and ticked the early hours by. Chris soon left to visit the zoo and after around two hours Dan’s Alan Partridge quotes had virtually ceased. The novelty of the event had worn off and we were all resigned to the reality that we would be running around the same track for a whole day and night with very little to look forward to.

 

Hours 5-8 (Anti clockwise)

After a week of poor weather it was a huge relief to have such perfect conditions forecasted. The day was slightly overcast with a light breeze but I was happily running with short sleeves and a gillet.

Picnic table - spot the Moshlings!

 

The early hours were fairly uneventful. There were still several people lapping me at a decent pace and most people were engaged in conversation as they ran. There were some strong Scottish runners competing and they’d brought an energetic group of supporters with them which was a welcome distraction.

 

During quieter times I found myself focussing on anything different and exciting outside the venue. I became a master at this the previous year but soon realised that this year there was very few little activity around us apart from the occasional siren as an emergency vehicle sped past.

 

Every four hours we were to change direction. My plan was to alternate my shoes at this time throughout the race to provide some variety and hopefully prevent injury and blistering. I switched from my Saucony Omni to Adrenaline GTS and the difference couldn’t have been more stark: the Adrenalines felt really hard underfoot and I was in two minds whether to change straight back. I’m very conscious of hot spots developing as they soon become blisters – until people experience them they can’t appreciate how crippling they become.

 

I went through the first marathon in under 4:15 which was quite a conservative pace. It felt very comfortable and I was still conscious of pacing the event sensibly. I was halfway down the field which was slightly better than previous years and as the hours passed I began to creep my way up the leaderboard.

 

Excitement was eventually provided as I heard some noise in the trees adjacent to the back straight. At first I couldn’t work out what was happening but after a few laps I realised what the noise was - a man was in the middle of the wood repeatedly and enthusiastically punching a tree.

Awesome lapcounters working through the night (Photo Run and Become). 

 

As the light began to fade the floodlights were switch on and I had the first of several hot meals. I only ate small amounts but wanted to avoid sweets and cakes as much as possible. The volunteers were as helpful as always and any request was happily answered. Chris eventually returned from the zoo to resume the insults and he’d also brought some beers with him which put a brief spring in my step. By now Dan wasn’t providing any entertainment whatsoever and had disappointingly transformed into Mr Seriousultrarunner. 

 

Hours 9-12 (Clockwise)

As darkness fell some supporters left and the place became noticeably quieter. We’d also lost a couple of runners through retirement and Treepunchingman had also gone home (or gone to find some different trees to hit). I changed back to my Omnis and couldn’t believe how softer they felt underfoot. The weather was still perfect – spectators were wrapping up but the temperature was ideal for running. I’d brought loads of clothing options with me in case it rained but all I needed was my arm warmers.

The 24hr buffet (Photo Run and Become).

 

One or two people were paying the price for starting too fast and one runner was throwing up so violently I could hear him from the other side of the track. Amazingly, after emptying his stomach he continued running as if nothing had happened.

 

Scotsman Marco Consani was flying around with great consistency as were the two lead women. I’d raced Helen James a couple of times before but didn’t know Fiona Cameron, also from Scotland. She was on schedule for an outstanding performance but the race was still in the early stages.

There were a few spare seats left for spectators (Photo Run and Become).

 

As it approaches midnight the body inevitably begins to tire as it expects you to be sleeping. There’s also the fact that you’ve still not reached half way and the finish seems a long, long way away. Despite this for some reason I started to feel stronger and decided to increase my running to 8 laps run, 1 lap walk. 

 

Chris stayed up to insult me for a final couple of hours while sitting there drinking beer. Sometimes he gave me the finger, sometimes two fingers and occasionally had the creativity to use a combination of the two. He eventually disappered into the tent mumbling that he'd had enough of  watching skinny old men shuffling around a track.

 

The runner with the vomiting issues was still running well despite more violent episodes. It was proper vomiting too, the type that takes your breath away and makes your eyeballs stick out.  If I’m sick I think I’m going to die and need to lie down in a dark room - how he was able to continue is beyond me.

 

During the evening a familiar race appeared. I’d raced Chris Ette at the Lanzarote Double Enduroman a couple of years earlier and then duelled with him at the UK Triple Enduroman a few months later. He’d eventually won and I was second. He’d come to watch the race for a few hours and seemed to know the Scottish contingent – the world of ultra-endurance sport is a very small one!

 

 

Perfect running conditions during the night (Photo Run and Become).

 

Hours 13-16 (Anti clockwise)

The halfway point is always a positive time in a race, and after 12 hours it’s particularly welcome. I was maintaining the 8/1 ratio and managed to gain several places during the early hours, entering the top ten overall.

 

There were more people walking by now and several people appeared to have injury/motivation/happiness issues as the fatigue increased. Most supporters had retired to bed and runners were largely reliant on the volunteers.  The conditions were still ideal and at times there was a full moon so I was still using some electrolyte drink with the occasional sweet tea. The hot snacks kept arriving and the 24 hour buffet saw no signs of slowing down.

 

My feet still felt ok but I made the point to stop and change my socks and reapply Vaseline to my feet. Losing five minutes could prevent losing considerably more time later on and I was prone to blistering beneath the balls of both feet.

Leader board in the early hours (Photo Run and Become).

 

Hours 17-20 (Clockwise)

I continued to feel strong as dawn approached but the two lead women were still in front which was unusual. Fiona and Helen were still several miles ahead and didn’t appear to be slowing. Helen’s tactic had been the same the previous year and had resulted in her slowing during the later stages. She was obviously stronger this year and I wasn’t making and progress on either of them.

 

Dan was beginning to have problems with his hip and was also suffering from Facebook withdrawal symptoms. Spirits were lifted when breakfast arrived and then Chris surfaced from his tent so the insults duly recommenced for the final few hours.

 

I eventually reached 100 miles in 18:06 which was quite a blow. It was quicker than previous years and I was running well but realised it was impossible to reach my goal in the remaining hours. On a positive note I’d gained another couple of places which was some consolation, but my motivation had taken a huge hit. I still had six hours of running left knowing I’d failed my objective.

 

Hugh Pinner – who I’d raced with the previous two years – was having stomach issues and we found ourselves walking together. He mentioned that the race was also the English Ultra Champs and that there was a good chance I was in contention. I remembered reading about it in the pre-race information but hadn’t given it any more thought. He kindly went to make some enquiries and established I was in third place as the others ahead of me were either female, Irish or Scottish. I was steadily catching the two ahead so I now had another reason to keep the pressure on myself.

Who's idea was this? Dan holds back the tears.
 

 

By now most people were finding it difficult and this is when the event really begins to test people. Track racing is completely raw with no fluff or distraction. There are no hills to crest, lakes to pass or pretty villages to pass though. It’s 24 hours of monotony with nothing to take your mind away from the increasing discomfort and pain.

 

I reduced my running back to running 7 laps and walking a lap and hoped I’d be able to maintain it to the finish. With around five hours to go I was up to fourth overall and was leading the English competition. This was because others were slowing (or stopping for breaks) whereas I was maintaining a consistent – if unimpressive - pace. 7 laps became 6 laps and I eventually settled on 4 laps and then a walk.

Holding on to fourth with hurty legs (Photo Run and Become).

 

Around this time I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t do another ultra again. The pain was entirely self-inflicted and completely unnecessary. I was actually planning what I’d do with my newly aquired free time – I went through a series of crap sports and hobbies and even decided to buy a bonsai tree at one point.  

 

Dan had seen the physio who’d recommended he withdraw but he was running well, only interrupting his progress by repeatedly stopping to satisfy his Crackberry habit. I wanted him to put the phone down and get back on the track so tried my best to encourage him;

“Dan, start running!”

“Fuck off. Unlike you I’ve got friends!”

 

Hours 21-24 (Anti clockwise)

By now I wasn’t in the most positive place I’ve ever been. I’d failed my objective and wasn’t sure if I’d even achieve the Spartathlon standard of 200km. A couple of times I actually sat down for a minute which is something I almost never do unless I’m tending to my feet. Dan, Chris and I briefly discussed the merits of what we were doing and I was struggling to think of any positives. It was mental weakness, nothing else. Chris even stopped taking the piss for a few minutes so I must have looked bad. 

"So there's this place near me which sells bonsai trees..."

I was eventually kicked back into focus when I realised a couple of Englishmen were gradually catching me, and unless I strapped a pair of balls on I would go home with nothing. I stepped up the pace to make the best of the situation and began to get my legs back. I was prepared to try anything to make the last couple of hours as pain free as possible – I’d had an impressive amount of Ibuprofen up to that point so thought I’d try a beer. It would either go horribly wrong or make me invincible, only time would tell. I felt like a Yates' Wine Lodge regular sat there all smelly and dishevelled drinking Peroni at 10am but it was surprisingly enjoyable and went down very well.

 

I’m not sure if the Peroni had any effect other than boosting morale but I started running more consistently. I was aware of who the others were and where we all were relative to each other. I knew when they were walking or running and I was counting how many times I was being lapped. Because I was 2-3 miles in front I knew that I they would have to lap me 10-12 times per hour to pass me. Unless I imploded this was impossible so I just had to keep going. I passed 200km with around 30 minutes to go (as I had the previous year) so beating 127 miles was possible if I pushed as hard as possible.

 

Both the lead women had slowed and I had almost caught Helen but it was too late. The rest of the field were split between people finishing strongly and those  resigned to walking.  The runner who had spent an impossible amount of time vomiting during the race was having one last heave for the road, and I’m surprised if he had any stomach lining left by the end.

 Immediately after finishing. Never again etc etc.

Chris helpfully pointed out it wasn’t a race-walking event and the last few laps were a blur as I dragged myself around the track as many times as possible before the finishing horn sounded. I didn’t know exactly how far I’d run and didn’t want to know. I gave it everything until the horn signalled everyone to stop and then immediately collapsed onto the grass. Afterwards Chris said it looked like all the competitors had been simultaneously shot by snipers.

Reflection
 

Expecting to be rumbled at the English Champs presentation (Photo Run and Become).

I eventually covered 127 miles, exactly the same distance as 2012. My major objective wasn’t achieved so my performance was insufficient. Winning the England Athletics Ultra Champs was a happy surprise but I knew some of the strongest runners were in Athens preparing for the Spartahlon. Still, it’s nice to win and I’m not giving the medal back.

 

I should have reached 100 miles in a faster time and I was left with too much to do in the last few hours. I was also slower in the last 27 miles than the previous year and this was due to lack of mental focus and positivity after reaching 100 miles behind schedule. I was also able to walk, talk and function after the race which has never happened before – another indicator that I hadn’t given it 100%. This race is more mental than physical and I’d been rightly exposed.

 

Both the Scottish winners had achieved the British team standard for 24 hours which was awesome, and Marco achieved the third fastest ever Scottish distance behind the legendary Don Ritchie. Geoff Oliver also covered 94 miles breaking the world 80+ yrs world record. He also broke every intermediate world record except 100km en route. Top bombing.

 

Shankara and her team had provided yet another flawless and friendly race and it couldn’t happen without the lap counters and aid station volunteers.

 

The next morning after an uncomfortable night’s sleep I was predictably incapacitated and still in a huge amount of discomfort. I was also surprisingly excited about entering Spartathlon 2014 and the retirement plans I’d made during the race seemed a very long time ago. Bollocks to normal life and bollocks to bonsai trees.

Race details here: http://run.runandbecome.com/london-running-news/self-transcendence-24hr-race-2013/

Race results here: http://run.runandbecome.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/24-Hour-Results-2013.pdf

England Athletics report here: http://www.englandathletics.org/news.asp?itemid=12118&itemTitle=Thomas+And+James+take+England+Athletics+Ultra+Distance+Championships&section=42&sectionTitle=England+Athletics+News

Kit Review

Skins A400 shorts.

Because the weather was so consistent I didn’t change clothes during the event. I used Skins A400 compression shorts as they’re very comfortable and great at preventing chaffing. I can’t get away with loose shorts for long distances and I've used these shorts several times without any problems.

 

The A400 calf guards are tried and tested from previous events and also acted as an insulating layer during the night.

Salomon Fast Wing Vest

The Salomon Fast Wing Vest is light and very breathable and I used it to reduce the effects of wind chill from the breeze. I didn’t overheat during the day and it was perfect as a light insulating layer during the night.

 

Saucony Omnis.

I’m now a convert to the Saucony Omnis. I previously used the Hurricane but the cheaper Omni felt just as cushioned and comfortable. The 8mm heel and slight rocker in the midsole allows for a very smooth, rolling foot strike and they were very comfortable, even towards the end of the race.

 

 

All Salomon, Saucony and Skins products were supplied by Royles: royles.biz

 

Malvern Hills 52 Mile Ultra 2013

Deliverance, Doppelgangers and Demoralising Detours

By May last year I’d completed two 100 mile events and went on to have a satisfactory year in subsequent ultras, including the Lakeland 100, Hell on the Humber 12 hour and the Self Transcendence 24 hour. However, my feeling at the end of the season had been that I should have raced less over longer distances and improved my speed over shorter distances with more recovery between events.

With that in mind the only event I’d entered in 2013 before the Lakeland 100 was the Malvern Hills Ultra 52 mile event. I was using it in exactly the same way a marathon runner would target a half marathon a few weeks before his main event. The faster you can run half the distance, the faster you should be able to run the full distance so the principle was the same. Training had also reflected this as I’d done much less long runs but had increased the amount I spent running at faster speeds.

Race morning began with a very early start, and it was straight to breakfast. A quick recce of the area the previous evening had revealed a McDonalds about a mile away which opened at 5:30am. After a quick feast on a double sausage and egg muffin meal (large of course), porridge and pancakes it was a short drive to the race venue.

Double yum.

Race registration was relaxed even by ultrarunning standards. It was also very grand as the event was based at Holt Castle, a 13^th century building hidden from the surrounding roads. There were several route options up to miles up to 82 miles and relay teams were also running as well, so there were loads of people milling around, chatting and making last minute preparations. The only person I recognised was Daryl Carter who had won the same event the previous year. I’d previously met him at the Double Enduroman in Lanzarote a couple of years earlier where he’d been flying until stomach issues had forced his retirement.

At 7am we all made our way to the start and set off. The course was basically out-and-back from Holt Castle heading southwards, then joining the Worcestershire Way and eventually reaching the Malvern Hills. At the halfway point we were to turn around and retrace our steps back to Holt Castle. The route appeared to be approximately 30% road and 70% trail with the hillier parts at the southern end of the course. The early miles were mainly on road and fairly flat so I made good progress as the field gradually strung out.

Course profile.

The weather forecast was for a warm and sunny day but for the first few miles it was grey and drizzly, although an ideal temperature for running. It felt great to be racing again, and I was really looking forward to the race unfolding. As there was still the odd person visible ahead navigation wasn’t an issue for the early miles and I relaxed and enjoyed the simplicity of the event.

The only thing to remember in the early miles was to mark my dibber at the unmanned checkpoints. There were four of them on the parts of the course where short cuts were possible and we had been told that missing one would add ten minutes onto our finishing times.

One of the unmanned checkpoints (Photo Summit Fever).

We soon reached CP1, one of five manned checkpoints along the route. There was a great selection of food and drink available which was a bonus as I was running with very little on me and was relying on using the nutrition from the aid stations. I’d lost a considerable amount of time at the Lakeland 100 aid stations and was trialling a new routine to speed the process up for future races. Instead of using the usual hydration bladder I was experimenting with water bottles on the front of a hydration vest. This negated the need to remove a backpack to fiddle around to access the bladder when refilling was required. I also had a waterproof plastic bag secured at the top of one of my calf guards. Once I’d partially filled a water bottle I would fill the bag with a few snacks and continue running, eating as I moved. It went smoothly and in a very short time I was on my way to CP2.

Running on a flatter road section (Photo Summit Fever).

The terrain was similar to the first leg but we soon began to hit more trails as we eventually joined the Worcestershire Way. There were now small signs to follow but it wasn’t fool proof. I’d found myself running with another couple of runners and there were a few instances of arriving at a junction or split in the trail with no signs visible anywhere. We had a few Chinese parliaments while we debated the options and it was a runner with the route programmed onto his Garmin who we decided was the most trustworthy. I had photocopied and laminated route cards which were clear enough to see most features but as they were in black and white it was hard to distinguish the finer details which obviously caused problems with micro-navigation. Just because we were moving south didn’t necessarily mean we were on the right path.

Route cards: colour versions would have been a better option.

I eventually realised one of the competitors I was running with was also called Nick Thomas. We were similar ages, skinny, both triathletes and also racing the Lakeland 100 so no doubt we were causing some race organisers a considerable amount of confusion.

The terrain gradually became more challenging as we began to hit steep climbs and quad-busting descents. They were a mixture of scenic trails through woods and roads linking the off-road sections and the increase in difficulty had completely split the field. My routine was to run every section unless it was quicker to walk: Nick Thomas #2 chose to run even the steepest climbs but I saw little point if I was walking at exactly the same pace.

We eventually reached CP2 and repeated the same routine as CP1. The sun was now shining so I drank a few cups of water at the aid station so I wouldn’t have to carry as much with me. I picked some random sweets and chocolates to fill my bag and that was me done. The other two runners were equally quick and within about a minute or two we were on our way again.

The weather improved as the day progressed.

During the next few miles I occasionally caught a glimpse of the Malvern Hills when we were on the higher ground, each time getting slightly closer (and bigger). By now I was only running with Nick Thomas #2, the other runner having dropped back during a hillier section. We eventually reached the lower slopes of North Hill and caught a group of four runners who had obviously slowed down. Again it was unclear whether they were solo or relay runners, but we all had a very brief chat before the climbing began.

From a distance the hills had looked very remote and almost volcanic but the northern slopes were disappointingly built up and suburban. We spent the first half of the climb walking up steps and winding our way up the hill on road before making a left turn onto the hills proper. We were now above the built up area so the surrounding countryside increasingly came into view and as we were more exposed the wind became more noticeable.

The clouds began to clear and the sun eventually emerged (Photo Summit Fever).

We dropped the other runners but ended up running back into one of them on North Hill as we’d taken an unnecessary trip to the summit: something which happens when you confuse north with south. Two became three and we ran together to the third unmanned checkpoint on North Hill. Runner number three turned out to be part of the RAF ultrarunning team and was completing the event with a number of teammates. Once we were on the higher ground the route became undulating as opposed to hilly so we made good progress as we ran south along the ridge.

The steepest climb came as we approached Summer Hill and I thought the terrain and features were very reminiscent of the Brecon Beacons. Once we reached the summit we were rewarded with a fantastic view to our left. Visibility was very good so we could see for miles and below us we were almost looking directly down on Great Malvern – it was like looking at Google Earth. After checking in at the fourth unmanned checkpoint on the summit we began the gradual descent down to CP3 at Little Malvern. It was along this stretch that we saw Daryl on his way back and then saw a second then third runner. I knew we were in the top ten but wasn’t sure exactly how many runners were ahead. We eventually descended below the treeline and soon arrived at CP3, the halfway point of the race.

There were a few relay runners there waiting for their teammates and one or two solo runners having a break, one appearing to be have problems with his feet. Both Nick Thomas #2 and I were determined to continue with the fast turnarounds so we repeated the previous drill and were quickly on our way. I didn’t check my watch as the time was irrelevant on such a challenging course, but I felt good and was confident I could maintain the same pace on the return leg.

The weather was perfect for a day on the trails.

Running downhill inevitably means running uphill at some point and we immediately became climbing northwards. By now the weather was perfect and as it was now mid-morning the hills were getting busier with groups of walkers and ice cream lickers, some of whom insisted on walking five abreast so nobody could get past. We began seeing more runners coming towards us as they approached the turnaround, some looking in good spirits and others appearing that they might have set off too fast.

Running the course in reverse was predictably familiar but as we descended from the ridge line back through the residential area it became apparent that we’d followed a completely different route. We’d ended up at the correct junction but from a different direction. It was positive in the sense that we were going the right way but also highlighted that much of the course was very familiar and it would be even easier to make mistakes as we returned through the trickier sections later on.

During the approach to CP4 I began to drop Nick Thomas #2. Whether it was I was having a sudden surge of energy or because he was slowing I wasn’t sure but I was keen to make good progress when I felt good. I had a quick chat with the volunteers, drank four cups of Coke, grabbed a few treats and was off. The climbs were predictably short and steep but there were regular landmarks I remembered from earlier in the day. Much of the route was now along wooded trails and as there was seemingly nobody anywhere near me it felt like I was on one of my solo training runs. I never get lonely training alone and felt completely at peace and very lucky being able to run for miles on end on a fantastic summer’s day.

The peace didn’t last for long however. The first problem I encountered was at the top of a steep climb to Ankerdine. The photocopied map wasn’t clear and I found myself running along a road I gradually realised I didn’t remember. My shadow on the road indicated I was still running in the right direction but I wasn’t convinced. I stopped to check the map a couple of times, but there were no road signs and nobody around to ask. I eventually decided to retrace my steps and came across a series of ramshackle buildings set back from the road at the end of a dirt track. I ran down the track and saw two haggard, dishevelled and bearded men who looked like they’d never ventured beyond the end of the dirt track. It was like running into the movie Deliverance and I expected to hear the twangs of a banjo being played at any second. They were actually very helpful and soon established that I was on the right road but again, I’d somehow arrived there via a different route.

I continued along the same road again and before long it became familiar. After a brief diversion through a farm as I left the Worcestershire Way, I reached the final check point in Martley. I was feeling more tired now and the ladies at the aid station seemed slightly concerned as my legs had a slight wobble as I checked in. They fussed over me as I finished a couple of Cokes and helpfully topped my water bottle up before sending me on my way. 

The jacket wasn't required on the way back to Holt Castle (Photo Summit Fever).

It was now mid-afternoon and the temperature was now at the warmest it had been all day. I felt good as I began the final stretch and was buoyed by the fact that the route was simple to navigate and relatively flat for the final few miles. The positive attitude began to fade several minutes later as I began to get a (too) familiar feeling. The farm buildings on my left weren’t on the route map so there was something clearly wrong. There was an obvious reason for this and that was that I’d missed a right turn and was continuing northwards. I didn’t want to believe it but knew I had to establish my exact location. I called in at the first farm but there was no reply (or they had a look at the visitor and decided not to answer) so I continued to the next one. I knocked on the kitchen door and immediately a woman appeared who amazingly opened the door to me. I don’t think she was expecting any visitors, and especially not someone clad in Lycra and caked in dried sweat and dribble.

She quickly confirmed my suspicion: I’d missed the turning and now had to continue for half a mile before turning right and eventually rejoining the route. I was annoyed but the release of adrenaline increased my pace as I tried to minimise the damage done - I knew I was in the top five and really didn’t want to lose any places before the finish. It’s amazing how a small drama can switch the mind and body back on in an instant.

As I eventually rejoined the course I looked right to see a group of four runners heading towards me, not far behind. There were around four miles to go and they were looking strong (possibly because they’d seen me) so I increased my pace slightly and pushed on, hoping I’d drop them. They gradually came within a few metres of me as we entered the final woods but after a hard surge up a climb two of them quickly dropped back. As the remaining two caught me I realised they were relay runners so I calmed down. As long as I maintained the best pace I could I would hold my position as I couldn’t see anyone ahead and there was no chance I would be caught by anyone behind. We took turns to push the pace and after a bizarre detour through someone’s back garden found ourselves running towards Holt Castle. After a few more surges and an agonising last mile I finally turned into the castle grounds, crossed the finish line and finally found the nearest patch of grass to collapse on. Daryl was standing there looking annoyingly fresh and high-spirited and clearly took pity on the heap in front of him, kindly bringing me a drink.

Sitting down at last!

The hospitality I’d enjoyed throughout the race continued as we were provided with hot food and numerous snacks and drinks at the finish. There was a very friendly and relaxed atmosphere as relay teams and families sat around the grounds under the sun all reliving the day’s adventure, and each remaining finisher was welcomed in turn back to the finish.

Reflection

I ended up finishing fifth which means I didn’t get passed during my detour after the last check point. If I’d gone the right way I might have gained a place or two but that’s irrelevant speculation. The aim of the race was to act as an early season leg stretch to give me an indication of where my training was heading. I ran consistently throughout and finished strongly, and the next day I was walking down the stairs as normal. The longest run I’d done in preparation had been 3.5 hours but at a faster pace than normal and the indications were that the shift to higher intensity/lower volume was paying off. The real test will be whether it produces the results at the Lakeland 100.

Race details here: http://www.ultrarunningltd.co.uk/malvern-hills-ultra

Race photos (courtesy of Summit Fever) here:

http://www.ultrarunningltd.co.uk/galleries?album=all&gallery=13

Kit Review

I‘ve continued to depend on the Brooks Cascadia 8 as it’s the most suitable shoe for my requirements. I didn’t experience and joint pain during or after the event and didn’t get a single blister throughout the event.

As the weather forecast predicted light rain in the morning and a sunny afternoon I chose the Salomon Fast Wing jacket as it’s very lightweight and breathable. Once the rain abated I removed it and relied on my Skins arm warmers which were then removed as the temperature rose in the afternoon. Arm warmers are very popular with cyclists for their versitility and I'm surprised more runners don't use them, especially during longer events.

Salomon Fast Wing jacket.

Skins A400 Active Sleeves.

To spare the general public the trauma of seeing me in Lycra shorts I wore the Salomon Exo Wings Twinskin shorts which have a thin outer short over the compression short. They were tight fitting which helps prevent chaffing and were very comfortable and breathable.

Salomon Exo Wings Twinskin shorts.

When the sun shines there’s only one brand of sunglasses I’ll wear: Oakley Radars are the most practical and comfortable glasses I’ve ever worn and a worthy replacement for the older (and previously awesome) M Frames.

Oakley Radars: the daddy.

  All Brooks, Oakley and Salomon  products were provided by Royles: www.royles.biz