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/

Centurion Running Thames Path 100 2012

Tuxedos, Wetherspoons and the Unwelcome Tour of an Oxfordshire Vineyard

Due to increasing work commitments I had decided after the 24hr track race last September to switch my focus from ultra-triathlons to ultra-marathons, with three key long term goals: run as far as possible in 24 hours, and compete at Badwater and Spartathlon within the next three years. Consequently, since the 24hr all my training had been running specific with as much heavy resistance work included as possible.

The first event in my 2012 race schedule was the inaugural Thames Path 100, a new event from  Centurion Running.  This would provide perfect preparation for another attempt at the 24hr in September and also help me achieve my first 100 miler, one of three required to be able to apply for Badwater. I had previously reached 100 miles in 19:19 during the 24hr and had then broken down in the final hours due to insufficient running mileage in training. As I had achieved more running volume in preparation for the TP100 I was hoping to finish in under 19:00. Simple on paper!

I travelled down to London on Friday and stayed at the Worst Hotel in London ©. The afternoon and evening were spent in my room packing, emptying and repacking my special needs bags, and filling tubs and sandwich bags with various energy powders, gels and snacks. The bags were to be available at four aid stations along the route and I packed a base layer, waterproof top,  gloves, socks and hat in each bag as the weather forecast was predicting rain on and off throughout the event. It might have appeared overkill to some who only packed the odd essentials, but I was still very aware of the lessons learnt in the appalling conditions at the Triple the previous year.

The race started by the Thames at Richmond town hall and I was taken there in The Dirtiest Unlicensed Minicab in London ©. The registration was much the same as any other endurance event, but I was still adjusting to how relaxed ultra-marathons are compared to Ironman events. Thousand yard stares and earphones were noticeable by their absence and nobody (except me) seemed to be comparing legs with their competitors. Old habits die hard.

Event video courtesy of Centurion Running.

The course was very simple on paper: start at Richmond and run West along the Thames Path all the way to Oxford. There were aid stations approximately every eight miles with some providing hot food and drink. The event notes described the course profile as predominantly flat and the route was to cover a variety of surfaces.

After a countdown approximately 200 runners set off at 10am, each with their own personal goals and strategies. My strategy - based on my limited ultra-marathon experience from the 24hr - was very simple: start slowly, walk regularly, eat and drink regularly and take advantage of hot food and drink wherever possible.  As there were virtually no climbs it took a lot of discipline to force myself to walk early in the race as everything felt so easy. I seemed to be the only one around me to be taking such a conservative approach, but I suspected most people would be covering the first ten miles too quickly and would pay the price later on.

The first couple of hours passed uneventfully as we passed Hampton Court Palace along predominantly wide gravel paths. There was rain forecasted for the morning, and then intermittent showers expected throughout the night. We ran through a light shower for the first few minutes, but this quickly passed and the remainder of the morning was relatively bright with a light breeze: perfect for running for which I was very grateful.

Follow that skinny man!

I was running with a Camelbak carrying enough fluid to get me to the next aid station and also had a few sweets and a couple of gels. I replenished everything I had used at each aid station and had extra supplies in the special needs bags waiting for me at the designated aid stations. The first couple of aid stations were at Walton on Thames (12 miles) and Wraysbury (22 miles), and were busy affairs as runners were still in close proximity and several spectators were there to help their friends in the race.  There was a good variety of sweet and savoury snacks and the volunteers were all very helpful. The route then wound its way to Windsor which was probably the best part of the course for me. I could see the castle in the distance and I couldn’t take my eyes off it as we ran past.  At the Windsor aid station (28 miles) I made use of my special needs bag, changing my socks and filling my Camelback with PSP and Nuun.

The view as I left Windsor. Gawd bless you ma'am.

I was half expecting the wide path we had enjoyed in the early miles to continue all the way to Oxford but it was becoming clear that the surface varied considerably as did the reliability of the signs. The course often deviated away from the side of the Thames and it was very easy to miss a turning, something many people (including me!) would fall foul to before the end of the race. I had previously made some Blue Peter style laminated maps which showed the route and all aid stations including whether they provided hot food or special needs bags. As they were 1:50000 scale it was often difficult to identify which way to go on the trickiest sections.

Here's one I made earlier - maps with course details.

It was soon after Windsor that I started to experience my only bad patch in the race. My legs gradually started to feel heavy, tired and sore. My left lumber back began to ache and I started experiencing shooting pains through my left glutes, something I have never experienced before. I wasn’t particularly worried as I knew pains could spontaneously appear during events but I did wonder if I was going to suffer later on as I had during the 24hr.

We then passed Dorney Lake rowing centre where I managed to get stuck in a bramble bush and then passed through Maidenhead to the aid station at Cookham (38 miles), the first one which had hot drinks on offer. As it was ten miles since the previous aid station I ran out of fluid with around three miles to go, partly because it was the warmest part of the day and also because I was only running with one litre of fluid to keep the weight down. I gulped down three cups of energy drink, filled my Camelbak and snacked on some cake and crisps. I then had a very welcome cup of tea before walking off while I drank a second cup. I made sure I repeated this at every opportunity.

Unlimited food and drink at one of the aid stations (Photo Centurion Running).

The early pace was taking its toll on several runners as I was gradually working my way through the field. I was determined to run my own race, and for this reason I ran the entire event alone. If I felt good I ran, if I wanted to walk I walked.

My bad patch was improving by the time I reached Marlow (44 miles), one of the nicest places I’ve ever seen. It was late afternoon, warm and sunny and it would have been the perfect place to waste the day away in a pub garden. Families and couples were walking and cycling along the path or sitting on the grass enjoying the weather, all oblivious to the emaciated dickhead with a snotty nose running past them on his way to Oxford.

Cheese! (Photo Centurion Running)

By the time I reached the aid station at Henley (51 miles) the light was rapidly fading which was lucky as my head torch was waiting for me in my special needs bag. I changed my socks again but didn’t need anything else as I was still dry. After some hot baked beans and the usual routine I carried on with my brew. I stopped for as little time as possible for two reasons: I was determined to achieve a decent time and didn’t want my body to get comfortable and switch off.

During the night I seemed to alternate between navigating through fields in the pitch black and fog or running through brightly lit town centres. The path surface seemed to be split between gravel or paving as it passed through towns, or barely visible grass tracks during the rural sections. As my ankles can’t deal with uneven ground at the best of times it was always a relief when the path deviated through the occasional village or random housing estate.

I had begun taking caffeine gels and Coke in the second half of the race and also started using Ibuprofen after a couple of slight ankle sprains. I knew further sprains were likely and was keen to avoid the agony I’d felt from similar problems at the Triple. Whether these factors played a part or not I don’t know but the more the race progressed the stronger I felt. I was still passing the occasional person, but caught and passed around five people on an undulating forest track after the aid station at Whitchurch. People were tending to slow down and group together the more the race progressed which was still something I wanted to avoid.

Mobile phones were a mandatory piece of kit to use in emergency, and would also be useful as a GPS device in the event of getting lost. At around 11pm I felt the phone vibrate. It was a very thoughtful photo of a glass of ice cold beer and some crisps from Joe, an aspiring MMA fighter from Prestwich. T.W.A.T. are four letters which readily came to mind.

The photo I received at 11pm.

My ankles were failing the more the race progressed. Smaller sprains were becoming more violent and as the ankles weakened the sprains occurred more often. On level surfaces I was running at a decent pace, but anything uneven was causing me to walk more than run which was extremely frustrating. The head torch wasn’t helping either. I had bought a more powerful one than the one I had used at the Triple and had also put new batteries in it. Regardless of this the beam wasn’t able to illuminate the ground sufficiently to allow me to judge the terrain with predictable results.

As the route was now almost exclusively rural the routine was: run, sprain ankle, swear, limp, walk (repeat). I had another couple of Ibuprofen and progressed as quickly as I could. Relief was found as I passed Wallingford on a decent track, but this was soon replaced by confusion as I approached the aid station at Benson (79 miles). The bridge where I was supposed to cross was fenced off. I continued a bit further where I drew level with the aid station on the other side of the river. There were a couple of runners there visible by their head torches, but I couldn’t work out how they’d got there. A shouted conversation across the Thames with the marshals confirmed I’d missed an earlier crossing, so the only alternative was continue and cross the river a couple of miles ahead. 

This sounded perfect and would have been if the path continued that far. Within a few metres the path had merged into a rutted field which I had no alternative but to follow. Things then went from bad to worse. I was approaching some buildings to my left so kept close to the riverbank on my right hoping to pass without obstruction. Wrong! There was a brook running across my path from as far as I could see to my left. I turned left and followed it hoping to find the end of it or at least a bridge to cross it. The map also showed a road running parallel to the river a few hundred metres away, so if I could reach it I would be back in the race. What I did find was a twenty foot wall disappearing into the distance blocking any progress around the buildings, and no bridge across the brook to allow me to progress along the river.

The place I should have been at Benson.

I had no choice but to find the narrowest place to jump across so spent five minutes scouting for the best position. To add to the frustration I could see the head torches of other runners passing me on the other side of the river. I eventually found the narrowest point and jumped as far as I could, just clearing the water. I then ran back towards the river to continue along the original route but found one obstacle after another – no matter where I looked there wasn’t a way through along the river bank. I had no choice but to make my way back through the grounds away from the river to try and find my way to the road. I gradually realised I was in the grounds of an enormous mansion so skirted around the perimeter to avoid setting any lights or alarms off.

After a couple of dead ends I eventually found the driveway and thought I’d found the way out. Wrong again! I found myself running around a courtyard with the mansion on one side and outbuildings full of luxury cars around the perimeter. I was expecting floodlights to switch on at any second and wouldn’t have been surprised if I heard dogs being released. By now I was very keen to escape. There was one available opening which I entered but it was pitch black and full of trees so I retraced my steps (again) and found the entrance gates. I climbed my way over the gates and was finally on the driveway which would eventually take me up the hill to the road.

By now I was pumped full of adrenaline and anger so I really had to hold myself back as I was running far too fast. I finally reached the end of the driveway where I saw a sign proudly welcoming me to a vineyard. If I had have gone through the opening into the trees I’d have probably still been trying to find my way out at dawn.  I turned right along the road and made good progress eventually dropping down to the bridge where I rejoined the course. I could see another couple of people drawing level with me, and I was wondering how many more had caught me during my unplanned vineyard adventure.

It was a relief to be back on track but it was very annoying to know I’d lost at least twenty minutes and several places simply because I’d missed a sign. I still felt strong and relaxed as much as possible as I continued through the next few aid stations. The clear sky we’d enjoyed throughout the first part of the night had been replaced with cloud but it still remained dry. The only piece of clothing I changed at every opportunity was my socks, whether I felt the need or not. I’d coated them with Bodyglide before packing them and I was determined to prevent blistering, something which had crippled me many times in the past. At the Little Wittenham aid station (82 miles) I changed my head torch batteries which seemed to increase the brightness for a while, but soon deteriorated to the previous level of visibility.

Since the vineyard incident I hardly saw anyone at all until the finish. There was a two hour stretch in the early hours where the only person I saw between aid stations was a man strolling along the river in the pitch black wearing a tuxedo. I’m not sure who was the most surprised, but we both exchanged greetings and carried on with our respective journeys.

I continued to feel strong until the finish, the uneven sections being the only factor limiting my progress. As I finally approached Oxford the path became flatter and I was able to finally run properly. The difference in my condition compared to how it had been at this point at the 24hr was 100% better. I ditched all the fluid from my Camelback and ran the last few miles at the fastest pace I had during the entire race.

There were a few twists and turns as I approached the finish but signs and glow sticks marked the way. It was now that the weather finally turned and it started to rain. I eventually reached the ice rink where I saw the finish line. “20:04, fifteenth place’’ I was told as I received my belt buckle. I was gutted at first, mainly to have missed 19:59 due to missing a sign, but also to have felt so good throughout the majority of the race and not beaten the 19:19 I had previously achieved.

My first sub-24hr belt buckle.

I didn’t feel anything particular at the finish. I was relieved it was over, frustrated to have needlessly lost so much time and several places, but pleased my body had clearly responded to the training. I had progressed one step further to Badwater and Spartathlon and was in promising shape for the rest of the season. I felt understandably stiff as I sat and recovered, but had none of the dramas I had experienced after previous ultras. I got changed and had a cup of tea, and then it was a case of waiting for somewhere to open for breakfast.

As I finished at 6am I had considerable time to kill but the weather was deteriorating so everyone was confined to the event marquee. All I wanted to do was lie down and sleep for a while but there wasn’t anywhere to go. I eventually limped into Oxford in search of food and stumbled across a Wetherspoons. More renowned for smelly old men, inebriated slappers and crap food, this one also featured the Most Miserable Barmaid With a Slapped-Arsed Face in The World ©. I couldn’t have found anywhere more appropriate so I sat in the warmth, stuffed my face and drank coffee for the rest of the morning.

Recovery snack at Wetherspoons.

Reflection

Centurion Running provided a very slick event with very enthusiastic and helpful volunteers. James Elson is a very experienced ultrarunner, and this is essential in understanding athletes’ needs and staging a successful event such as the TP100.

My feelings at the finish were in response to my own race rather than the event itself. I heard similar stories to mine at the finish, and it seemed most people had gone off course to some extent during the race. I had run considerably further than 100 miles over rough terrain with a backpack so the finishing time wasn’t the failure I had initially felt it to be.  However I left with a feeling of ‘job done’ and nothing more. My running endurance is significantly better than it was at the 24hr and that’s very promising as I progress through 2012. I finished in a much better state than any previous ultra and came away without any injuries including a complete absence of blisters. To achieve anything in running-specific events I need to race on road which is very convenient as Badwater and Spartathlon are my clear targets. One 100 miler done, two to go...

Race details here: http://www.centurionrunning.com/thames-path-100-2012/tp100-2012

Race photos here:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/centurionrunning/tags/tp100/

Sri Chinmoy Self Transcendence 24hr Track Race 2011

Fighting My Central Governor and the Refuge of a Ford Focus Boot

(Photo Martin Leitner)

The original plan was to complete 2011 by racing the Lichfield Double Enduroman in August . It was a fast course and I was set on achieving a respectable time. However, the race venue forced Enduroman to cancel the event and I was left with a void for the remainder of the year. As there were no other ultra-triathlons in the UK, I decided to target an ultra-marathon.

There are very few ultra-marathons I’m interested in. They either have to be a classic route (Badwater, Spartathlon, Comrades etc), distance (100km and 100miles) or time duration (12hr, 24hr and 48hr). My only experience of ultrarunning had been in 2005 when I had competed in the last ever running of the London to Brighton road race. It was a classic event respected throughout the world, and had previously attracted many ultrarunning legends such as Bruce Fordyce and Arthur Newton.

I had been long been intrigued with 24 hour events, and had always intended on entering one. It seemed the simplest, purest athletic challenge there was: how far can you travel on foot for a full day and night? I found the Sri Chinmoy Self Transcendence event scheduled in early September so I entered, and once I had recovered from the Triple immediately switched my focus to running.

 Event video courtesy of Run and Become.

As it was only a few weeks between the Triple and 24, I had only had a very short period of training to increase running volume as much as I could.  The priority was to remain injury free so instead of running for several hours at a time, I split the long runs by completing multiple runs during the day of no more than 75 minutes duration. I would start the first run in the early morning and finish the last run close to midnight, building up to 5 hours in total.

The race was held at Tooting Bec athletics track in London.  The morning of the race was a hive of activity as competitors set up camp around the perimeter of the track and prepared their kit and supplies for the race. Some people pitched tents while others erected tables to position the endless supply of drinks and snacks. Half an hour before the race there was a briefing and it was then a case of hanging around until the start at 12pm. Anna had just returned from the Ironman 70.3 Worlds in Las Vegas and agreed to help out again having previously braved the weather at the Triple. While I prepared for the start she ensured my bottles were filled and spare kit organised.

As we all waited for the start it became clear that this event attracted older people - both men and women – than the average running event. The race programme had included biographies of all the competitors, and the field had a considerable amount of ultrarunning experience between them.

False start in Lane 1 (Photo Martin Leitner).

The start was great: completely relaxed and stress free. At 12pm 45 runners began running clockwise around the track with 24 hours ahead of them. The weather was ideal with some cloud and a light breeze, which I was very grateful for after the terrible conditions at the Triple. The race involved a change of direction every 4 hours, and I was to gradually realise over the following hours that this would provide virtually the only mental stimulation during the race.

Feeling good on lap 4 - the crowds were going wild.

My pre-race plan was to run for 20 minutes and then walk a lap while I fuelled, and to continue this routine for as long as possible. I had no splits in mind, only to settle into an easy pace and keep my gait as smooth and efficient as possible. I was fascinated to see how the other runners were using different strategies from the outset.  Some were running very hard (I could hear their breathing as they approached me from behind), while a few were religiously walking for short periods every lap or so. I got talking to Hugh Pinner who was running 300m and walking 100m from the very first lap, and asked him about his race strategy. He had previous experience of 24 hour racing and explained how he had used the same strategy at the 2010 event.  His aim was to cover as much distance as possible within the 24 hours without running for any long periods. It was the same idea I was following, only more extreme.

As everyone was on the same 400m circuit it was impossible to know what position I was in. To keep runners informed of their accumulated distance and overall position, a leaderboard was updated every hour. After the first hour I was just inside the first half of the field which was a bit surprising. I’m never that far down in a race but I wasn’t panicked into increasing my pace. I was racing into the unknown and had absolutely no idea how I would feel later on. I was also certain some of the frontrunners would suffer later on!

Before the rain arrived (Photo Martin Leitner).

The first few hours passed quite pleasantly without any problems, and I kept hydrating and lightly snacking every 20 minutes. The organisers had also organised hot meals to be served at lunchtime, evening and breakfast. I had consumed half the menu at McDonalds that morning so wasn’t remotely hungry, but forced myself to eat the first meal 2 hours into the race.    

I was well within my comfort zone and went through the first marathon in 4:18 which was faster than I had in mind. Before the race I had set myself two targets: to prevent complete failure I had to cover 100 miles, and to achieve minimum success I would have to reach 120 miles. The marathon time indicated a 140-150 mile pace which I knew was far too ambitious but as it felt so easy I continued at the same pace.

 The early pace would gradually slow (Photo Martin Leitner).

Each time the leaderboard was updated I gained one or more places as early leaders started walking more. The weather was still dry but dark clouds were starting to form by late afternoon. Anna had planned to meet friends in London that evening but just as she was about to leave it started raining. The most important lesson I had learned at the Triple was to maintain core body temperature at all times. Consequently, as soon as it started to rain I grabbed a lightweight waterproof top from the car and put a hat and gloves on. Most competitors had the same idea, but several continued in their running vests getting absolutely soaked. Bonkers.

The rain passed after a coupe of hours, and by that time the sun was going down and I covered myself from head to toe to keep warm. The evening meal was served around 8pm and I made the most of it – there was basically as much food as you wanted, and it was just what everyone needed.

 Lap counters working in shifts (Photo Martin Leitner).

Every hour I moved further up the leaderboard and still felt very comfortable. The lap counters were being replaced every few hours with other volunteers, and they were continually cheerful throughout the event. They had to wave to us each lap to ensure they had seen us and recorded every lap.

I had enjoyed racing through the dark at the Double and Triple events and I again found myself feeling really good as the race approached midnight. I was enjoying the whole experience and feeling very positive about reaching 120 miles by the finish. The twelve hour point is an obvious milestone in the event, and it was a very welcome sight to be guided around the cone to begin running in the opposite direction. It was during this lap that competitors got the only opportunity to see the faces of the other athletes, and there were faces on the last turnaround I hadn’t seen at all during the entire event.

As the race progressed, my brain began focussing on the strangest things to provide some mental stimulation. By far the most exciting activity was going to the toilet. During previous events I had always gone as I kept moving to save time, but also to prevent the legs seizing up. I didn’t think this would go down well on a running track so the side of my car at trackside became my personal toilet. For the final 12 hours every time I felt the need to go I would hold it in for a couple of laps for something to look forward to.

Leaderboard being updated (Photo Martin Leitner).

I also became obsessed with the leaderboard, again without any particular reason. I wasn’t too bothered with my position, but the updated information provided something to focus on. I spent hours working out different scenarios based on increasing pace/maintaining pace/dropping pace and where I would eventually finish, and it was all completely pointless. I’ve never done so much mental arithmetic in my life.

 24hr aid station serving anything and everything (Photo Martin Leitner).

The runners’ high from the previous night had gone and my pace started to gradually drop in the early hours. I began walking every 15 minutes, and by sunrise I was only running for up to 10 minutes at a time. I was still fuelling, and the helpers provided hot drinks and snacks throughout the night. If I asked for a hot drink it was ready the next time I came around – awesome service.

My legs were feeling progressively more tired and painful, and I realised I should have brought some painkillers, especially as they had been so useful at the Triple. Hugh Pinner offered me some in the early hours which seemed to be effective but once they wore off I was back to the same discomfort. I finally caved in and went to sit on the toilet and play Angry Birds for 10 minutes.

Much the same, only darker and wetter (Photo Martin Leitner).

Someone told me at the Double that you feel much better when the sun rises, which turned out to be complete and utter bollocks. It hurts just as much, only you can now see where you’re going. It proved to be the same situation again as I began walking much more. I had previously climbed to fifth place during the night, but in the last 6 hours I gradually began to drop one place each hour.  The only positive event was going through 100 miles in 19 hours 19 minutes. I had achieved the bare minimum but was well aware that I couldn’t cover 120 miles if I continued at the same pace. 

Other runners were going through different phases of running well, walking and disappearing off the track to their tents. A few who had gone through bad patches in the night were running well in the later stages, and I was hoping I would similarly improve. As I had improved so dramatically after breakfast at the Triple, I spent the early hours of the morning obsessing about when breakfast would be served, and what it would consist of.  With around 4 hours to go I was walking along stuffing myself with bacon, sausage, egg and beans. Once I’d finished that I had some porridge and a cup of coffee, and then waited for my legs to start working again. Needless to say they didn’t and the last 4 hours were the hardest and most painful of my life.

Change of shoes for excitement (Photo Martin Leitner).

The pace continued to drop as I walked more and with 2 hours to go I was in a bad way. The morning was warm and sunny but I was wrapped in thermals, gloves and a hat. I hadn’t stopped at all during the race, but I ended flopping into the boot of my car for 5 minutes. Anna changed my shoes for me (mainly for excitement and variety) and I shuffled back onto the track. My legs had begun to seize up and I was struggling to walk in a straight line. I tried to run but it was virtually impossible so I tried different ways of getting my legs to move. I worked my arms harder to initiate movement, and I tried tilting forwards to virtually fall into a run. Neither really worked as the legs were completely buggered.

Tim Noakes – the renowned South African exercise physiologist – talks about the Central Governor, a mechanism in the brain which controls how hard we push ourselves. It acts as a trip switch when it fears the body’s survival is at stake.

I always push as hard as I physically can when I race, and there’s always the battle against easing back and reducing the pain, especially in the last few miles. During every race until this it seems that I had come to an agreement with my Central Governor during the final stages. I would dig as deep as I could, it hurt unbearably but I was always able to keep going and function after the finish. It was therefore unknown territory to feel my body gradually shutting down, as I weaved and staggered my way around the track at under 2mph.

While I was limping and staggering along like a drunk, the leaders were pushing each other for the win. Peter van Winjngaarden had been leading for most of the race, but had begun to trade the lead with Simon Handley in the final few hours. They were running so well it was hard to believe. I had been in a similar situation to them at the Triple so it was mentally hard to watch them performing so well while I continued to deteriorate.

Sense of humour failure in final hour (Photo Martin Leitner).

I had another couple of visits to my boot in the last 2 hours, and felt worse every time I resumed ‘racing’. The mind was willing but the Central Governor was having none of it. The switch was flipped and I eventually ground to a halt fifteen minutes from the end.

I told Anna I was getting in the car and wouldn’t be getting out again. I eventually reached my car and eventually managed to fall into the boot. My body was in agony and – as was the case at the Double – I started to feel very unwell. Anna thanked the lap counter for me (who couldn’t understand why I couldn’t carry on to the end!), came over to take my shoes off and covered me with the duvet. She continues to remind me that it was technically a DNF.

Support crew was less than impressed (Photo Martin Leitner).

I began the familiar delirious state, drifting in and out of sleep, unable to get remotely comfortable. I remember hearing the hooter signalling the end of the race, and I later heard some applause at the prize giving. I really wanted to be there but I couldn’t move at all, and if I tried to sit up I immediately felt sick and dizzy.

I eventually found out I had covered 114 miles, the equivalent of running from Stockport to Northampton.  I wasn’t particularly pleased with it but it wasn’t embarrassing either, especially for a first attempt. The winner had achieved 141.6 miles, only 2.5 miles in front of second place.

I remained in the boot for another couple of hours, and by the time the nausea and dizziness had passed everyone had left. I was planning on driving home which proved not to be one of my best ideas as my legs were still virtually immobile. Anna told me I was stupid insisting she drove instead, and we eventually left in search of the nearest Burger King.

No signs of life at the end - hard to describe the pain.

Reflection
100 miles is a long distance to run and it can’t be blagged. In training I had covered the most volume I dared manage in the short space of time between the Triple and the 24 hour, and under the circumstances I think I did the right thing.

I terms of race strategy, I should have walked more often from the start. Because there were no inclines that would force a walk, it takes a lot of self-discipline to walk in the early miles. As I hadn’t done any long runs in training, if I had run for 1 mile and walked a lap throughout the entire event, I think I would have covered a greater distance.

Final standings (Photo Martin Leitner).

I intend to return next year to achieve at least 200km. As I have entered several ultra marathons earlier in the year I should be much better prepared for the shear distance of the event. As I’m not swimming or cycling any more, I’ll also have much more time to increase volume and – more importantly – gradually increase the long runs in a safe, progressive way.

The race was very well run and fantastic value for money. I’ve never raced in an event which had so much hot food and drink available for 24 hours, and nothing was too much trouble for the volunteers.

Race details here: http://uk.srichinmoyraces.org/ultras

Race photos (courtesy of Martin Leitner) here:
http://gallery.srichinmoyraces.org/great-britain/ultras/24h_2011/