Lakeland 100 2012

Time Travel, Table Service and the Curse of the Flexible Ankles

I’m not sure what the consensus is on recovery time between ultras, but four weeks after the Ultrarace 100 I was standing on the start line with 260 other competitors at the Lakeland 100. By all accounts here were three criteria to be successful in this event: 1) you need to be fit, 2) you need to be a skilful trail/fell runner and most importantly of all, 3) you need as much experience as possible of running the course. As I’m almost certainly the worst off road runner in the Western world and I hadn’t run a single step of the route prior to the event I was consequently relying on my fitness and good old fashioned hard work to compensate for my apparent limitations.

The Lakeland 100 has gradually become an iconic event on the UK ultramarathon calendar, partly because of the course and location but also due to the fact that it is very well run and has a great atmosphere before, during and after the event. It’s basically a 105 mile clockwise loop of the Lake District, almost all off road with 6300m of accent. My aims before the event were to simply get through it without breaking an ankle and place as highly as possible, hopefully in the top 10.  As with any 100 mile event, it’s also another ultra in the legs which will hopefully reap benefits in future races.

Packing my drop bag before the start.

Registration on the Friday afternoon was very slick but the volunteers still managed to maintain a very relaxed atmosphere as the competitors queued to receive their race packs and receive kit checks. The race didn’t start until 5:30 pm so there was plenty of time for runners to relax with their families in the sunshine.

Race briefing (Photo Nick Ham).

After packing my drop bag with spare kit (to be accessed at 59 miles) and attending the race briefing it was simply a case of relaxing with my dad, eating, eating some more and playing with my daughter Freya outside on the grass.

Last minute kiss with Freya.

After a last minute cuddle with Freya followed by some crying and begging that I don’t go (from Freya, not me) we were off. My strategy was simple if not fool proof: as I had no idea where I was going I was relying on following people for as long as possible and then begin to use the Harvey map we’d been given at registration. There was also a road book which described each stage in considerable detail but I only planned to use this as a last resort. As an extra back up I had also borrowed a GPS which had the route downloaded onto it. What could possibly go wrong?

Registering my dibber before the start (Photo Nick Ham).

Stage 1: Coniston – Seathwaite

Mile: 7

Position: 120

Ten, nine, eight... (Photo Nick Ham).

The route began climbing immediately as we left Coniston towards the deserted slate mines so I began walking as I had planned to do on all steeper climbs. I seemed to be in the minority with this strategy as people continually flew past me and by the top of the climb I was towards the back of the field. The first stage undulated towards Seathwaite along a rocky track and it was immediately clear my descending was going to cost me considerable time on rougher terrain. I was steadily passing people on the climbs but I felt like an arthritic geriatric gingerly hobbling my way down the descents as the people I had previously passed overtook me one by one.

I kept to my plan and continued to pass people on the climbs who were by now breathing very hard, possibly working too hard as they still had over 100 miles to go! The atmosphere was very sociable and care free, and the field was very much still together as I checked in with my dibber at CP 1.

Stage 2: Seathwaite – Boot

Mile: 14

Position: 84

The stage to Boot was largely uneventful except for the marshes we kept encountering. I always keep my feet as dry as possible to avoid blistering but it proved impossible as I repeatedly found myself ankle deep in water. I was leaping from left to right to avoid the water, but my feet always managed to find somewhere deeper and wetter. There were also several stiles and gates which caused congestion but as the race was so long I wasn’t particularly concerned. I was still passing people on a regular basis which meant I was getting a clearer run at any obstacles and was also able to dictate my own pace.

There were fourteen checkpoints along the course where we had to sign in with our dibbers and each one also included an aid station. The pre-race information had detailed what provisions would be available at each aid station and it was great to see that they varied slightly from one to the other. There were the usual biscuits, crisps and energy drinks on offer but there was also a welcome variety of hot foods at various points along the course.

Outstanding descending skills.

In many ultrasmarathons the athlete has to carry enough nutrition to be self-sufficient between aid stations. During previous events I had tended to carry excess food and drink which I didn’t use so I was aiming to only carry the minimal amount of drink I would require and refill as and when I needed and use the food provided by the organisers. Due to the frequency of aid stations at the Lakeland 100 I aimed to have no more than 1 litre of fluid on me at any time.

Stage 3: Boot – Wasdale Head

Mile: 19

Position: 72

The Harvey map and road book used during the event.

Visibility was very good and my pre-race tactic of ‘follow the man in front’ was working well as there was a long line of runners clearly visible winding their way into the distance. The large groups which had been so prevalent earlier in the race had dispersed and people now seemed to be progressing alone or in pairs. From previous activities I knew how easy it was to suddenly lose contact with people (even if they’re still close) and not have a clue where I was, so I continually referred to the map and knew where I was on the map at every stage during the race. I continued to jog and walk at my own pace and managed to pass twelve more runners before I reached Wasdale Head.

Stage 4: Wasdale Head – Buttermere

Mile: 26

Position: 48

Up to this point the course had been undulating and challenging in places but this was the beginning of the first proper climbs. Light was beginning to fade as I began the long walk up Black Sail Pass and I almost found it relaxing once I established a rhythm. As on all the climbs I made good progress and I took advantage of it knowing that I would be punished on the inevitable descent that would follow. As we approached the top everyone had switched their head torches on and it began to lightly rain.

Once over the top we began to descend and the route suddenly became less obvious. The footing was terrible and also slippery due to the rain, and people were taking different routes, some with more success than others. It was now pitch black and there were various shouts as people had run to vertical drops and were having to back track. I decided to use the GPS and within a couple of minutes it had guided us back onto the path which was only a few feet to our right (although invisible in the dark). The need for course knowledge was becoming very clear!

The path allowed quicker progress as it levelled off at the bottom and we then manage our way up towards Haystacks before a short descent and then a great run along a wooded path along the length of Buttermere to CP 4.

The check point at Buttermere (Photo Montane).

The check point was busy with people queuing for hot drinks. I was very keen to continue as soon as possible – and run with others - but I was also determined to have a hot drink at every opportunity during the night. As a waited for my drink several people were leaving the check point to continue and I gradually realised I had two choices: continue alone and risk the consequences or wait for someone behind me to run with. The problem was that people seemed to be taking forever at the check points. This is something I don’t understand: the longer you rest the more time you lose but you also start to cool down, the body stiffens and you begin to mentally switch off as you get comfortable. I loitered for a while, eventually decided I couldn’t wait any longer and left alone.

Stage 5: Buttermere – Braithwaite

Mile: 32

Position: 51

I didn’t know it yet but this stage was to prove the most challenging to navigate. The path began by snaking through a wood and then continued to climb along the lower slopes of Whiteless Pike, contouring around several tributaries. I resorted to using the GPS as I progressed through the wood and sprained my ankle as a result. While I stood there swearing I was caught by someone who thankfully knew where he was going, so I let him pass and followed. The problem with the GPS was that to micro navigate on the trickier sections I had to zoom in on the map which caused my location arrow quickly moved off the screen. This meant I had to constantly stop and scroll the map to find my position as it didn’t do it automatically. This wouldn’t be a problem if it was during a leisurely walk but the constant stopping was costing me a lot of time.

The path was through thick vegetation with several route options regularly appearing. We knew we were going in the right direction as we could see the skyline silhouetted to our left and the stream was clearly audible to our right, but a slight deviation from the correct path could have sent us way off course. Between the other runner’s experience and the information from the GPS we eventually saw head torches ahead of us and pushed on with more confidence.

The correct path was more obvious as we crested the top near Scar Crags and I found myself with a different couple of runners by the time I descended a short technical drop before the long gradual run into Braithwaite. The route seemed fairly simple on the map as we made our way along the high ground but there were more paths visible on the ground. I couldn’t find my position on the GPS by now and I was getting dropped every time I slowed, so I switched it off and gambled on the fact that the other runners had run the course before. A couple of competitors could be seen running downhill to our right but we were convinced this was a mistake. We soon ended up on a plateau with a sharp drop to the North and East (which I later concluded was Barrow Door) and this is where the fun began.

 I took a compass bearing so we knew where we needed to go and we could also see the lights of Braithwate in the distance. The problem was we couldn’t find an obvious way down. A couple of other runners then appeared from different directions who were obviously having the same problem, and after a brief Chinese parliament and a couple of false starts we dropped over the North-East edge.

Volunteers were up all night helping the competitors (Photo Montane).

We soon saw a line of head torches in the valley below us and several catching us from our right. We had missed a path which would have taken us around and below the location of our Chinese parliament and it had cost us at least 15 minutes. To say I was annoyed is an understatement but I accepted it was an inevitable consequence of racing over a course I didn’t know without taking the time to navigate properly. As the navigation issues had brought people together the check point at Braithwaite was very lively. I went through my familiar routine and left with a cup of tea and a handful of biscuits. Again, I left a room full of people sitting down getting comfortable and pushed on.

Stage 6: Braithwaite – Blencathra Centre

Mile: 41

Position: 40

The first few miles were on road and flat trail which was a welcome respite from the stumbling and tripping of the previous few hours and I soon found myself with a different pair of competitors. We eventually resumed running on trails as we made our way towards an unmanned checkpoint at the most Northern part of the course. It was during this stage that I began to feel inexplicably tired. My legs were fine, but I was feeling terrible and could have slept as I walked. I normally experience tiredness in the early hours of the morning but it wasn’t even midnight. Despite this we moved at a considerable pace as the stage was relatively flat after the initial climb past Latrigg.

As we ran North towards the check point we could see runners on the other side of the valley moving in the opposite direction, which at that point was a bit demoralising to say the least. Navigation was straightforward and the pace remained high until we reached CP 6 at Blencathra. The general consensus was to stop for as little time as possible so we checked in, quickly refuelled and left to continue together.

Stage 7: Blencathra Centre – Dockray

Mile: 49

Position: 37

The progress continued as we pushed along a disused railway line for the first few miles. One of my running partners warned me that it was a boring stage, but having previously run for 24 hours around a 400m track I found anything stimulating in comparison. It was great to get into a rhythm and not have to think about my footing or route selection and I was feeling much better than I had during the previous stage. We eventually reached Threkeld quarry and began climbing again. By now it was getting light and we removed our head torches as we made our way towards Clough Head and then along an undulating track which contoured East around the lower slopes of Great Dodd.  The Northern part of the course was proving much easier to navigate and was also flatter than the earlier stages. I was gradually pulling away from the pair I had been running with during the night, and after a very quick stop at CP 7 I continued alone.

Stage 8: Dockray – Dalemain

Mile: 59

Position: 38

By now I had packed the GPS away as the position arrow wasn’t working – I’d probably pressed something by accident but I was sick of wasting time trying to recalibrate it. The route seemed fairly straight forward and apart from a brief diversion at Aira Force I was confident with my route selection.

Aira Force: we then climbed North West towards Gowbarrow Fell.

The path climbed slightly as it skirted Gowbarrow Fell and before long I was back to the lowlands and onto good old fashioned road. I took advantage of the surface and ran at a decent pace to make up for previous lost time on the trickier terrain but I was surprised how hard it was mentally to run on a surface without having to watch my footing or choose the correct path. This was all the more surprising considering that the 100 mile race I had done four weeks earlier was entirely run on road.

I had always considered Dalemain to be the half-way point in the race so it was therefore great to arrive at CP 8 feeling in good shape, both physically and mentally. As I expected there were several people at the check point, but my strategy didn’t change. The only difference was that I could access my drop bag. I changed my socks, applied Vasaline to various places and removed a considerable amount of debris from my shoes. As usual the volunteers were very helpful and I was waited on with stew and hot drinks while I carried about my business. Because I had taken longer than usual to get going I was beginning to stiffen up, so as soon as I had finished eating and re-packed my drop bag I began walking while drinking my tea.

A brief walk with a brew as I left Dalemain.

There was now nobody in sight and it was easy to forget I was in the middle of a race. I continued South towards Pooley Bridge and began the first climb I had encountered in several miles. Weather conditions had been almost perfect throughout the event and as I climbed higher I could see for miles. With the need for constant navigation combined with the ever changing scenery it was impossible to get bored. Every corner I turned presented new challenges and I was never conscious of the time at any point during the event.

After 3km of climbing the route took me back down towards the check point at Howtown where things would begin to get much harder.

Stage 10: Howtown – Mardale Head

Mile: 75

Position: 27

The previous few hours at the Northern part of the route had been fairly tame compared to the climbs we had encountered in the early stages of the race and progress had been good. The route was now taking us South back into the heart of the Lake District and with that came more climbs. The initial climb out of Howtown wound its way up through the bottom of the valley which gave me a clear view of who was ahead for a considerable distance. The climb became progressively steeper and I could see figures in the distance zigzagging up the more challenging sections making very slow progress.

Wether Hill: thankfully the weather was ideal.

As the climb became steeper I settled into the same rhythm I had established the previous night up Black Sail Pass. Other trail runners with more intelligence and spirituality than me often describe experiences of self-transcendence and a feeling of connection and oneness with the ground beneath them, which isn’t something I can honestly admit to ever feeling. I’m usually too preoccupied with maintaining my footing and needing a shit. However, when I’m slogging and scrambling up a steep hill in the middle of nowhere with only the sound of my own breathing and the smell of the fells inches from my face, I think I’m the closest I’ve ever been to understanding what they’re talking about.

I eventually caught a couple of competitors walking alone and was making up ground on a group of three further above me.  The climb gradually began to level and ahead of me was the second part of the climb, just as long but not quite as steep. It was simply a case of swinging the arms and taking one small step after another. Climbs are where you find out if you’re struggling or not, and I felt strong and in control throughout the assent out of Howtown. As I crested the top of Wether Hill I had almost caught the three in front but there was then a 4km descent to Haweswater which could only mean one thing: lose time!

Haweswater.

The first half of the descent was a long straight path down the spur and I was actually still gaining on the people in front. The path then began to drop more steeply to the right as it wound its way down towards the lake and this is where I predictably lost contact with them. After reaching the lake I had a couple of false starts in the waist-deep vegetation before I could find the path which was to take my South along the lakeside path.

After eventually locating it I began my way towards Mardale Head enjoying every minute of it. I had been on boat cruises in the Lakes and had always felt envious of people as I watch them walking and running along these paths. I had seen barely anyone except for people involved in the race since the previous evening, but as it was now mid-morning I was passing walkers every few minutes. Most seemed oblivious to what I was doing but the occasional one was quite supportive as they had obviously spoken to the runners ahead of me. Challenge Roth it wasn’t but nice all the same.

As I crossed the bridge that lead to CP 10, the temperature was noticeably cooler and it was starting to rain. The sky above the valley in front of me had suddenly turned very dark, the wind was picking up and I was getting that sinking feeling which only comes with the prospect of being on high ground in the cold, wind and rain. By the time I reached the check point there were several people huddled inside including the three that had been in front of me during the climb up Wether Hill. The rain was now horizontal and the wind was getting stronger. It was as if we’d been transported in time to the middle of November – I couldn’t believe how the weather could become so wintery in such a short space of time.  I was getting cold so took full advantage of the food on offer and had three cups of tea to prepare me for the impending misery. We were all changing into our waterproofs and as I’m the only person I know who gets cold in a sauna, also put my hat and gloves on as well.

Stage 11: Mardale  - Kentmere

Mile: 82

Position: 22

I wanted to move out as soon as possible but I was also hoping the rain would subside so waited a few minutes with my bottom lip beginning to tremble. The conditions deteriorated further and by now my body temperature was dropping too far, so I decided to strap a pair of balls on and get moving. The route immediately began climbing up a series of steep rocky switchbacks which was actually a relief as I was able to push hard up the climb and warm myself up. By now the wind and rain were becoming very unpleasant and I was beginning to worry about having to cope with the conditions if they persisted.

Whether I was moving quickly or others were slowing I’m not sure but I easily passed several runners on the climb. By now people were generally suffering from general fatigue combined with the inevitable aches, pains and blisters which always occur during ultras.

The Most Uneven Path I’ve Ever Encountered ©

My legs were predictably sore and I had spots under each foot but still felt positive and in control of my race. Once I crested Brownhowe Bottom the rain suddenly ceased and the sun reappeared. I packed my waterproofs away and began a long descent along . I took forever to negotiate my way through the rocks and boulders strewn across the path while a couple of people seemed to surf past me without a care.

The path soon split the runners apart and I found myself playing cat and mouse with Dave Banks. I didn’t yet know it but I would spend the rest of the day with Dave as we pushed each other to the finish. Whereas the Northern part of the course had been simple to navigate I was to find the Southern sections much harder, so it was a stroke of luck that Dave knew the course and we were very evenly matched. After finally passing The Most Uneven Path I’ve Ever Encountered © there was a short climb and then a brief run into CP 11 at Kentmere.

We both sat down at the table in the village hall as we were brought bowls of spicy pasta and cups of tea. We were then offered something I’ve never experienced in a race before: smoothies. Not bottled ones but freshly made to a flavour of our choice. We took full advantage of the hospitality and after filling the Camelbaks we were off again.

Stage 12: Kentmere – Ambleside

Mile: 89

Position: 21

We’d seen the last of the long climbs but the remainder of the course still included a succession of short steep climbs to remind us we were still in the Lakes. I was still enjoying the whole experience and was still very motivated to catch as many people as possible before the finish. I deliberately chose not to wear a watch during the event and I was surprised when I found out how late it was. We began to make calculations based on best and worst case scenarios and it gradually became depressingly clear that there was a possibility we might be finishing in the dark.  There’s nothing like the fear of failure to inject some pace and we pushed hard along the trails that led us into Ambleside.

Civilisation!

The staff at the Lakes Runner check point gave us an idea of our positions which was encouraging as we had moved up to just outside the top 20 overall. After the usual routine we continued through Ambleside, weaving through the tourists that were enjoying a much more relaxing day than us but the legs were now beginning to protest and both our feet were increasingly more painful.

Stage 13: Ambleside – Chapel Stile

Mile: 95

Position: 17

As usual the stage began with a climb over challenging terrain but it soon levelled and we found ourselves on flat roads and gravel paths. As with previous flat sections I took advantage of the surface and ran as hard as I could realistically sustain. As we passed through Skelwith Bridge we suddenly overtook three competitors walking at a very leisurely pace which caught us both by surprise. We hadn’t seen anyone ahead of us for miles so they must have slowed considerably in a very short space of time. 

The pace continued and we eventually reached CP 13 near a campsite at Chapel Stile. I’d heard the aid stations all had their own character and this one didn’t disappoint. We entered the marquee and found a virtual soup kitchen to our left and several people relaxing into settees on the right.

I was wary of getting too comfortable so sat on a hard chair and stuffed myself with chunky Heinz soup and bread. It was the perfect meal to have at this point in the race and as tempting as it was to join people on the settees we walked off drinking our brews.

At Chapel Stile there were a few changes in our overall position. We were joined by one of the three people we had previously caught at Skelwith Bridge and another runner we’d passed a couple of hours ago was having a second wind and quickly caught and dropped us.  There was now a sense of urgency as a few more people appeared at the checkpoint as we were leaving and I felt more energised than I had for several hours. Game on!

Stage 14: Chapel Stile – Tilberthwaite

Mile: 101

Position: 16

The terrain remained the same with the main challenge being the ground beneath us. We were both suffering with our feet and continually landing on sharp rocks wasn’t helping. Dave stubbed his toes a couple of times and swore loudly and I twisted my ankle again and swore even louder. We were now getting caught by the leaders of the 50 mile event which had started at Dalemain several hours earlier, so we moved aside on the narrow paths to let them pass. Amazingly the fourth person to catch us was the first woman who looked like she was running a 5k, soon followed by second place. God knows what they thought as they flew past a couple of shuffling bald men covered in spit and sweat.

The final checkpoint at Tilberthwaite (Photo Nick Ham).

There was a remote checkpoint at Castle Howe where we had to check in with our dibbers and then there was a real sense of being in the home stretch. I wasn’t prepared to let anyone catch me at this stage and still wanted to improve my position before the finish. I knew top 10 was now unobtainable but I was determined to finish in the top 20 and we kept pushing each other all the way to Tilberthwaite. As we approached the check point we agreed that we would check in then immediately leave as the last stage was the shortest of the entire race.

Stage 15: Tilberthwaite – Coniston

Mile: 105

Position: 17

The final stage started as I expected: a climb. Not like the previous ones, but a real twat of a climb after 100 miles of racing. I led the way pushing my hands down on my thighs as we ground our way up towards the disused slate mines above Coniston. The climb eventually became less severe as we progressed and I could see a line of several people ahead along the top ridge. We were finally able to break into a run and we were now within 2 miles of the finish. I was running as hard as I could as the three of us buried ourselves up the final incline of the race. We eventually reached the edge of the final descent where I twisted my ankle for the third time. I swore with my customary enthusiasm and was reduced to a limp for a few seconds. The runner behind Dave and me then took off down the descent at an unbelievable speed which was even more remarkable when I realised how steep and difficult the descent was. Due to my ankle and my general ineptness at descending I found I was hardly moving as I picked my away through the rocks, slate and debris. Dave was gradually pulling away from me as he was a competent descender, although his feet were in agony. I eventually reached the road at the bottom of the quarry and then it was simply a case of dropping back into Coniston and a final effort to the finish. My legs felt 100% better once I was on the road and I was able to run with surprising speed to the finish. If only the entire race was on road!

After some brief confusion in Coniston I eventually finished where I had started the event 27 hr 29 min earlier in 17^th place. My body was beginning industrial action and I felt a huge sense of relief that my ankles had (just about) withstood the course and the pain could finally stop.

Can I sit down now? 105 miles later (Photo Doubleironbrian).

My dad was waiting for me and once I was led into the school hall to hand my dibber in I could finally sit down, have a relaxing drink without rushing off and –best of all – have a big cuddle with a very sleepy Freya.

Reflection

Fitness only plays a part in this event. The advice I had received before the event was correct: you need to know the course to do well. I roughly estimate that from stopping alone I wasted at least 1 hour, and with better navigation and proper route selection the gains could potentially be huge. Next year I plan to recce the course at least twice.

The time I lost on the descents is something I can’t do much about  but I know I’m able to climb at a decent speed and there are plenty of fast sections where I can work harder to limit my losses. In future attempts I would also start at a quicker pace to avoid the bottlenecks which occurred in the earlier stages. This would also seed me with quicker runners from the outset.

One aspect of the race I completely agreed with was that of banning outside assistance. There’s a definite trend in ultramarathons to allow outside assistance and in some cases to have someone pace you as you run. I can’t begin to understand the rationale behind these rules but the organisers of the Lakeland 100 were very clear that you either carry what you need or take what you require from the aid stations.

I don’t consider myself a trail runner and I’m certainly not a fell runner, but the Lakeland 100 is an event I still want to be competitive in. The route is fantastically varied, the volunteers help you in every way possible and the atmosphere around the event is second to none. I also think the field the race attracts is proving to be a benchmark for any ultrarunner to measure themselves against.

Race details here: http://www.lakeland100.com/

Race photos (courtesy of Nick Ham) here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157630817531816/

Kit Review

I needed a trail shoe which would provide adequate cushioning and grip, but most importantly would provide a stable base to support my weak ankles. I had used the Brooks ASR 8 at the Thames Path 100 in March which was run along an even surface compared to the Lakeland 100. It was basically the same as the road shoe I train in (Adrenaline GTS 12) with a gripper sole but I wanted something which would support a pronated foot and provide a lower centre of gravity on much more challenging terrain. I eventually chose the Brooks Cascadia 7 which I now can’t recommend highly enough. The cushioning feels as good as a road shoe, but the main feature is the stability they provide on rough ground. I sprained my ankle three times in 105 miles which is much less than it would have been in previous shoes I’ve used, and I only had a couple of small blisters by the end.

Brooks Cascadia 7.

The main consideration for my base layers was comfort - and more specifically – prevention of chaffing. I used the Skins A400 range which also included arm warmers and calf guards, and only had a small amount of chaffing around my groin at the end. The top dried quickly and I never felt cold or wet due to insufficient wicking.

I took a Gore Windstopper Magnitude jacket as it’s very light, is very effective in light showers and takes up very little room. However I underestimated how cold the weather could become in a very short space of time and in hindsight should have chosen my Gore Mythos II Goretex jacket which I had stored in my drop bag at Dalemain. It’s more weather resistant and would have been essential if the weather had deteriorated further.

Gore jacket.

I had previously used a basic Camelbak at the Thames Path 100 but there was very little storage space once the bladder had been filled. To provide more space for waterproofs etc I swapped to the Camelbak Octane LR. I managed to fit everything I needed for the event and it also features a whistle which is mandatory in several races (including the Lakeland 100).

Camelbak Octane LR.

I’ve had ongoing issues with diminishing light from head torches I’ve previously used so I upgraded to a Petzl Myo RXP. It provides 141 lumens and supposedly lasts longer than my previous ones, and it proved to be very effective. I was able to gauge the depth of the ground in front of me and ruts were illuminated much better than I’ve experienced with other head torches. However as I had the beam on the highest setting from the outset I had to swap to a spare head torch during Stage 6.

All Brooks, Camelback, Gore and Skins items were provided by Royles: www.royles.biz

Ultrarace 100 2012

Feral Travellers, a Helpful Drunk and the Quest for the Elusive Snack Van

The journey into the strange and frightening world of ultramarathons continued at the Ultrarace 100 and preparation and training for the event had been as good as I could have hoped for. I had remained injury free while managing to gradually increase my weekly volume to peak at over 20 hours of running, and hadn’t suffered any illness at all during the entire build up.

I arrived at Stratford-upon-Avon on the afternoon before the race with the intention of relaxing and getting my kit sorted at a leisurely pace as there’s nothing worse than arriving late and staying up all night getting ready. The Travelodge I had booked into was cunningly situated next to a little Chef which as far as I was concerned was the perfect pre-race set up.

What I hadn’t foreseen was the group of travellers who had also decided to stay there. After pottering around in my room and watching arguments break out between the various groups in the car park I decided to have an early evening meal so walked across to the Little Chef, negotiating my way through the obligatory detritus and abandoned building materials. The next half an hour was like sitting in a car driving through Windsor Safari Park. The children were running around the restaurant knocking chairs over, stealing snacks and climbing on the counter. Once they had eventually been locked out they then proceeded to walk around the building banging on the windows and demanding to be readmitted. The only thing they didn’t do was press their arses against the windows but I’m guessing it’s only because they couldn’t reach.

It wasn’t the relaxing preparation I had planned so I left as soon as possible and returned to my room to continue preparing for the following day. After a few more altercations, shouting and general antisocial behaviour the travellers eventually fell silent and I miraculously managed to get a very good night’s sleep.

Now that's what I call a proper breakfast.

The race was to start at Stratford-upon-Avon Leisure Centre at midday on the Friday so I called in at Morrisons at around 9am and had the best and biggest possible breakfast imaginable to prepare for an ultramarathon. I bumped into Hugh Pinner who obviously had the same idea. I’d previously met him at the 24 hr race in September and he’d passed on some very useful advice to me at that event. We sat and swapped our respective race strategies, and it became apparent that the main idea we had in common was to start the event at a very conservative pace and walk every hill.

Rory beginning the race briefing.

The event registration was relaxed and straightforward and after a quick briefing by Rory Coleman ("You can’t get lost, just follow the signs"), we were off.

And they're off! (Photo Ultrarace).

The route was basically an anti clockwise 100 mile loop heading South from Stratford-upon-Avon through the Cotswolds and then back to the start. The entire route was on road and there was - according to Rory - 4464m of climbing. The route was signposted with stickers on all road signs so as long as we paid attention there shouldn’t be any dramas (!). The first few miles were uneventful as we made our way through the outskirts of the town into the countryside, and as people were still chatting and running in groups it felt more like a club run than a race.

Course profile.

The weather forecast in the days preceding the race had been mixed at best and I was fully expecting to spend the first half of the race soaked through. However the weather was slightly windy with intermittent sun, and it only rained for a few minutes in the first couple of hours. I was wearing more clothing than most people but as I seem to be the world’s biggest pansy when it comes to dealing with the cold I was confident with my decision.

I had spent the first half of the TP100 well down the field as I had planned to race conservatively, and was determined to use the same tactic again. I was therefore surprised to find myself in the top ten from a very early stage in the race. I felt very comfortable, was walking every incline and was confident I could maintain to the finish so I carried on at the same pace. Nothing ventured, nothing gained - if I was going too fast I would certainly find out during the latter stages of the race!

Ageing one year every mile... (Photo Ultrarace).

The groups gradually dispersed as people found their own pace and I found myself alone, a situation I would successfully maintain for the remainder of the race. I gradually became aware of how many people were receiving support from family and friends along the route. It was allowed and actually encouraged in the pre-race literature so I didn’t have a problem with it, but I grew quite envious of them as they didn’t need to carry anything with them and had their own choice of provisions.

Because crew assistance had been encouraged by the organisers the aid stations – which were situated every 10 miles – had very basic supplies. As they were supplying water I carried enough SIS Go electrolyte sachets and food to get me through the first 50 miles which is where I would be able to access my drop bag. In this I had placed enough food and drink for the final 50 miles with a few spare items of clothing which I would potentially use depending on the weather.

One of the route markers in Snowshill (Photo Ultrarace).

Another downside of the limited provisions was that there was to be no hot food or drink provided during the event. After the lessons learnt during the Triple and the relative success during the TP100 where I had drunk at least one cup of hot sweet tea at every opportunity, I was concerned how my body would cope during the early hours of the morning.

The plan was to stop at every garage and snack van I passed and buy a hot tea and drink it while I walked. The only flaw in the plan was that it became apparent that Gloucestershire doesn’t have any garages of snack vans, or if it does they’re very well hidden. In the absence of any hot drinks, I used every aid station to refill my Camelbak and take a few sweets with me as I carried on to the next checkpoint.

Chipping Campden: Miss Marple is just out of shot.

The route took us through some fantastic scenery and very picturesque villages. Early in the race we passed through Chipping Campden which is one of the nicest places I’ve ever seen. It was one of several quintessentially English villages which seemed to epitomise the character of the race route. At any moment I expected to see Miss Marple ride by or stumble across the Famous Five in the middle of solving a mystery. The experience was very different from running around an athletic track for 24 hours.

As evening approached I was still determined to find a hot drink from somewhere but without any success. It seemed that the reason there were no garages to be found was because there were no cars to use them. I’d hardly seen a car since leaving Stratford upon Avon and the only ones I did see were being driven by support crews for athletes in the race.

At 40 miles there were also sandwiches and crisps on offer so I made use of them to provide a break from sweet snacks. It gets to the point in ultra-distance events where you’re sick of eating the same sweet things repeatedly and anything savoury is a welcome relief.

A typical view of the route (Photo Ultrarace).

I was holding up well and apart from my legs becoming stiffer as the race progressed the only thing that was concerning me was a hotspot which was developing under the ball of my right foot. It hadn’t happened at the TP100 so I was suspecting it was due to the repetitive nature of running on road for so long. I took some Ibuprofen as a preventative measure and carried onto the 50 mile checkpoint where I could change socks and Vaseline my feet.

I arrived at halfway point at Farmington in 9 hours exactly which was slightly faster than I had expected. After attending to my feet I filled the Camelbak as usual and carried on my way while eating a peanut butter sandwich I had previously packed in my bag. Run 100 miles? Peanut butter sandwich? Treat yourself, you’re worth it! I know how to live.

As we entered the early hours of the morning I was expecting a slow deterioration due to the absence of any hot food or drink, but it didn’t happen. I had pushed at an even effort throughout the race and – apart from the creeping boredom which always surfaces in the early hours when you’re alone in the middle of nowhere – I constantly felt in control and my legs were still behaving themselves. There are always a few moments during the early hours of these events when I think to myself "Why the fuck am I running around like an idiot in the middle of nowhere at three o’clock in the morning?" but it soon passes and I get the focus back.

The roads were deathly quiet during the night and the only cars were being driven by various support crews. The crews were very friendly and supportive and were constantly offering me help every time we passed each other during the race. I rarely saw another competitor apart from the occasional to-and-fro as they stopped to meet their support crews and because of this I remained in 5th to 7th position for the majority of the race. 

During the Thames Path 100 I had walked progressively more often in the second half of the race but here I was almost making myself walk during the flatter sections. My real concern was how my quads would react to the relentless descents, some of which almost demanded to be walked down especially in the last few miles.

As the course was run entirely on road I had done eighty per cent of my running on road with hills whenever possible. To prepare for the hilly terrain I had been running once a week in the Peak District finding the steepest routes possible with a loaded Camelbak. The longest run was eight hours and this had lead to a huge amount of muscle damage which affected training (and walking) for several days. However, subsequent runs of a similar nature didn’t leave any resultant soreness at all so I was fairly confident I had prepared my body for the stress it would be subjected to on race day.

At around 65 miles there was a considerable descent which seemed to go on forever. It then developed into an unlit a road and as I progressed for the next couple of miles I started to get a very uncomfortable feeling. Up to this point we had only run along main roads for very short distances but this one was stretching out into endless darkness. I couldn’t see any illumination from head torches behind me so decided to check my location on my iPhone. By comparing my location on Google Maps with the route on the event website I would be able to pinpoint my location relative to the course. As the map appeared on the screen I heard some rustling and turned my head towards it. I immediately illuminated a very drunk man staggering home (God only knows where to) and approached him. Amazingly he had a snottier nose than me but was able to show me on the map where I was. Even more amazingly I was still on course and less than a mile from the next checkpoint at 70 miles in Moreton-in-Marsh. I was so relieved  I could have kissed him.  

I find the 70 mile point to be turning point in 100 mile events. You’re well over half way and you basically have a marathon to run. It’s unlikely anything will prevent you finishing this late into the event and it’s a relatively short distance to cover to the finish. I took advantage of another sandwich from the aid station and pushed the boat out with a packet of crisps.

Perfect conditions as the sun appeared on Saturday morning.

By now the sun had risen and it was promising to be a very pleasant morning – it looked like we’d missed the worse of the weather that had been predicted and everything was positive as I ran into the final marathon. The terrain was still hilly but we finally dropped down from the hills to more level terrain for the final miles of the race.

The last check point always seems to provide an extra gear. I checked in, performed the usual routine, took a can of Coke and (slightly!) picked up the pace. As with the TP100 I felt much stronger than I had during the preceding 90 miles and all the tweaks and pains had disappeared. I felt very calm and relaxed and focussed as hard as I could on maintaining the pace to the finish. I must have been focussing on internal factors too much as I reached a T junction and got the familiar sinking feeling. No matter how hard or often I looked at the signs there wasn’t a sticker anywhere. I was in the right place but there was nothing. S.H.I.T. The only answer was to find my location on my iPhone as I had previously done but there was a very poor signal and it was taking forever to load. I switched it off and on again while using the time to eat and drink but the map wouldn’t load. There was no option but to retrace my steps. I knew the last sign I had seen was around fifteen minutes back so off I went, not in the best of moods. To my considerable relief I saw a sticker at the first junction I came to, about a mile down the road. It was the only time during the event I had missed a turning and it was a well deserved kick up the arse.

Near the end. I. Need. A. Cup. Of. Tea.

After this unwelcome adrenaline rush I calmed down and continued towards the finish. The last few miles were relatively flat and uneventful and the only person I saw or spoke to was a farmer taking his cows for milking. I continued to push as hard as I could and began to drop into Stratford-upon-Avon. We had previously been given a map to guide us along the last two miles and as I approached 19 hours I thought I better consult it. I thought I had at least three miles left but suddenly realised I was within the last half mile. Time to step up a gear! I increased the pace as much as I could and eventually the leisure centre came into view. With almost perfect timing the hotspot under the ball of my right foot finally developed into a fluid filled blister.  After crossing the river and negotiating a couple of road crossings I arrived back where we had started the previous day.

The final roundabout before re-entering Stratford-upon-Avon (Photo Ultrarace).

"19:04, 5th" Rory informed me as I stood wobbling at the finish line just after 7am. My first reaction was surprise and satisfaction at the result but then it rapidly changed. I’d missed dipping under 20 hours by four minutes at the TP100 and now I’d missed sub-19 by the same time. Very frustrating to say the least.

For the next few hours I began factoring in the usual ‘what ifs’ into the calculations: What if I hadn’t missed the left turn? What if I had a support vehicle and didn’t have to carry anything with me? What if I had a regular supply of hot food and drinks from a support crew in the second half?  What if I wasn’t such a skinny twat?

Hugh was waiting at the finish as he’d pulled out during the event due to repeated episodes of vomiting. We walked (or in my case limped) into the leisure centre where – thanks to Hugh - I finally had the hot drink I was so looking forward to. I couldn’t believe how good my legs felt after the race and after a shower and brief sleep in the leisure centre I went for a walk around Stratford-upon-Avon for some sightseeing and eventually visited one of Ronald McDonald’s finest eating establishments for breakfast.

Reflection

The Ultrarace 100 route took us through a very attractive part of the country which I’d never previously seen and it was a very enjoyable run (despite the total absence of garages or snack vans).

I finished exactly one hour faster than the TP100 while carrying more food, drink and clothing, and on a much hillier course. I had also pretty much maintained an even pace and felt positive and in control throughout the entire event despite the absence of any hot food or drink, and not having a support crew during the event. All in all, very positive.

The priority in training had been to capitalise on the TP100 and increase mileage as much as I could cope with. I ran to and from work several times a week (9-10 miles each way) and included a long run every week between 6-8.5 hours, mainly on road but in the Peak District whenever I had the chance to go. These runs included as many steep hills as I could find to force my legs to adapt to the descents.

The sessions were run as I felt but the aim was to gradually increase the average speed I was running throughout each week. Morning runs tended to be progression runs where I started at a hobble and gradually increased the speed until I was at threshold by the end. The only work at or above threshold I did was when I ran home once a week with Ben Fish, a 2:18 marathon runner, or when I hit a hill and I would try to maintain pace as I climbed.

I also continued with strength and conditioning work at least once a week, concentrating on big compound exercises such as dead lifts, squats, pull ups, dips etc. This training was complimented with prehab exercises designed to improve my hip function and reduce the ammount my legs internally rotate when I run. Apart from a couple of weeks when my I was feeling slight pain behind my right pattela I believe the exercises were very effective.

The fact that I was faster, my legs had coped during the event and felt relatively good over the following days suggested the harder training I had been doing was effective. I intend to become much faster at 100 mile races and this was a confidence building step in the right direction. Job done. Badwater is 100 miles closer...

Race details here: http://www.ultrarace.co.uk/events/results/

Race photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ultraracephotos/sets/72157630244526740/