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/

Triple Enduroman UK 2011

Stray Cattle, Unrelenting Rain and the Magical Properties of Hot, Salty Soup

After finishing 5th at the Double Enduroman Lanzarote earlier in the year I took a few weeks off serious training and, as with any ultra-distance event, there was a period of anti-climax in the following weeks. However, I’d discovered years ago that the best way of preventing post event blues was to have the next event planned and entered beforehand.

I had already entered the Triple Enduroman UK the previous year and it was to be the biggest athletic challenge of my life so far. I slightly modified my training after the Lanzarote Double with the main difference being Ironman tempo efforts on the bike. There was only so much training time available so volume didn’t increase at all during the build up. The main difference at this event was that Brian Mullan (who had competed with me at Lanzarote) and my sister Anna were going to help crew for me during the race.

The event was held at Avon Tyrrell outdoor centre, a country house with substantial grounds and a small lake. In true Enduroman style the course was to prove challenging, so much so that – due to longer anticipated finishing times during the Deca and Quintruple Enduroman events already in full swing - the start time was brought forward several hours to enable more people to finish within the cut off.

Perfect conditions for the swim (Photo Enduroman).

Swim

At 8am on Friday morning twenty one athletes made their way towards the lake and waited for the start. After Lanzarote my big worry before the swim was the cold as I would be in the water for another 2.4 miles. Steve Haywood measured the water a few minutes before the start and announced it was 20 degrees which was a huge relief.

View of the swim start and finish.

We made our way into the water and after floating around listening to the familiar nervous banter we were off. The course of multiple anti-clockwise laps with drinks and food available whenever we required it. I had previously put hot energy drink and gels by the side and asked Rev (one of the loyal helpers) to ensure some was poured for me every few laps. Amazingly I reached the first buoy in first position, and was never passed during the remainder of the swim. I aimed to maintain a comfortable pace from the outset, but was conscious of not staying in too long and getting cold. I simply kept the pace up to stay warm. Despite the regular feed stops I was cold by half way which was both surprising and worrying: whether it was low bodyfat or a weakened immune system causing it I don’t know but the second half was a massive struggle to stop my body grinding to a halt. I was more than relieved to eventually be informed I had one lap to go, and was finally pulled out in 3hr 49min. There was then a walk of a few hundred metres to the campsite where we were to change for the bike leg.

How many laps...?

Bike

Because it was a multi-lap bike course, there were plenty of opportunities to change clothing so I wrapped up to begin with even though it was a warm sunny morning. The first few laps were a case of relaxing into a rhythm and getting warm. The course was rural and undulating with no particular challenges apart from the final climb back to the race venue. As was the case in Lanzarote I decided to snack lightly while riding, use isotonic energy drink throughout and replace a bottle each lap. As every lap was taking around 45 minutes it worked out perfectly. At mealtimes there was also hot food available to ensure we were getting enough calories during the event. The only problem was that Brian and Anna weren’t arriving until the next day so every time I needed to swap clothes or fetch some hot food I had to leave the course and get it.

The laps passed without any drama and the weather was dry with intermittent sunshine throughout the rest of the day. I maintained a high cadence throughout and I rarely saw anyone on the course even though there were now three events sunning simultaneously. Once the light began to fade I fixed my lights – as there was no lighting of any kind throughout much of the course high powered lights were essential. In true A Team style a mechanic at work had cobbled together a bracket from spare parts which allowed the light to be attached below the tri bars so I could maintain my riding position throughout the night.

336 mile time trial - I hardly saw anyone at all (Photo Enduroman).

Riding through the night proved to be as interesting as it had been in Lanzarote. There were periods of low-lying fog where I could only see a short distance in front and it felt as if I was isolated in a small bubble for hours on end. The only company throughout the night were wild horses and cattle who kept straying onto the roads. This became quite unnerving at times as the only warning I had on the descents was seeing their eyes light up as I approached them. People often assume ultra are boring but this course was a world away from the usual criterium style courses used elsewhere.

Because I had no crew yet I was stopping each lap to swap bottles and food, but Paul Thompson (the Lanzarote Double winner) appeared in the late hours of Saturday and helped refill my bottles saving me a decent amount of time for a couple of laps.

I was starting to weave across the road in the early hours so decided to have a short rest. I went back to the tent and set my alarm to go off in 50 minutes. As it was a clear, cold night I lay there and basically shivered for what seemed like 5 minutes before getting back on the bike feeling much worse than I had before (I was later told it had dropped to 4 degrees during the night). Some competitors had sensibly ridden through the night and I was down to fourth place by the time morning came.

Anna helping me refuel on the second day.

I eventually warmed up again and spent the next two hours focussing on the fact breakfast would soon be available. As it meant me leaving the course again someone kindly offered to get it for me and have it ready by the time I completed the next lap. Sure enough, 45 minutes later I returned and had a full English breakfast, bowl of porridge and coffee waiting for me.

Peel me a grape.
 

The sun gradually appeared and race conditions looked very promising. The laps continued to pass by but on each lap the small inclines seemed to become longer and steeper. I was lapping each lap consistently and felt surprisingly good in the final few hours. Brian and Anna had by now appeared and I was changing bottles and restocking much quicker than I had been previously.

 

Quick five minutes...

Run

After 28hr 29min I finally climbed off my bike for the last time and began to prepare for the run. It was a warm sunny day by now and the first few laps were really enjoyable. There were 76 off road laps to cover, half a lap gradually climbing and the other half descending towards the lake. I set off running continuously as I felt so good, but remembering how I had felt at Lanzarote a few months earlier I forced myself to start walking all the inclines.

A balanced diet of sugar and caffeine.

Anna and Brian did a great job of keeping me fed and hydrated and eventually set up my own aid station table which I could use every lap. I had a mixture of every kind of food available throughout the run, and went through phases of wanting certain foods and avoiding others. The main concern was to maintain a constant supply of easily absorbed calories with the hot meals providing the most important feeds.

As the laps were so short I eventually had the chance to see more competitors on the course, from my race and the other events. From late afternoon onwards the Deca and Quintruple athletes started to appear on the run course to begin yet another marathon, and one of these was Anthony Gerundini who I had previously met at the Lanzarote Double. He would eventually win the Quintruple event. Another athlete from Lanzarote was Chris Ette who was behind me but running consistently with a very good support crew (his mum!). He was Eddie Ette’s son, an experienced ultra-endurance athlete and an ex Royal Marine so he was a real threat.

During the first marathon.

I ate lunch and the evening meal while I walked, partly as I felt good but also to prevent my legs becoming stiff. By evening I was in first place as one had dropped out and a couple had gone to their tents for a rest. As evening came I gradually put more layers on and started to use my head torch as the run navigated down some rough tracks and through some woods with barely a trail to follow. Because of the uneven terrain, tree roots, mud, puddles and complete lack of light the course was the slowest one I had ever run. I also twisted my ankle on a tree root which gradually began to become very painful. Any ideas of a fast finishing time were by now completely out of the question and I was already hours behind my target schedule.

With Brian at meal time.

The sky gradually clouded over and eventually it began to rain. I had a huge variety of clothing with me so I was prepared for as many changes as necessary, and I soon covered up with hat, gloves tights and waterproof top. Brian and Anna continued to ensure I had enough food and drink throughout the evening, and I was becoming more concerned about getting regular hot drinks whenever possible. I continued to feel comfortable until the early hours of Sunday morning when I gradually began to feel more tired and my legs started to stiffen up. This was the first time during the entire event I had really struggled and it deteriorated further over the next few hours.

I was forced to walk for much longer periods, and it was at this time another club mate – Chris Brobin – turned up to watch. He had recently moved to Bristol and was also a friend of Brian. I walked a lap with him at possibly the worst point in the race and remember slurring a load of incoherent bollocks during the time we were together.

Snack time - the rain would soon arrive.

I wasn’t sure what to do about my physical condition. I was continually eating and drinking, I felt warm and I was mentally very positive. My legs simply refused to work and I was hardly running at all. To compound things further, I could now feel every stone under my shoes which made running (and walking) absolute agony. The twisted ankle was now worse than ever and it was preventing me from dorsiflexing my foot properly. I was eventually provided some powerful painkillers by the medic but they didn’t seem to make any difference, and I was eventually reduced to a walk.

The caterers were scheduled to provide breakfast at 7am so I decided at around 6am to have a short rest before I had a proper feed. I limped to my tent and had about 30 minutes rest. Again, I didn’t seem to sleep but I felt so exhausted I just needed to switch off for a while. I then returned to the course and shuffled around another lap before disappearing into the catering tent. I sat for a while and had as much hot food as possible including at least three bowls of porridge. I then filled my flask with sweet coffee and resumed racing.

Soaked!

By now the weather was getting worse. The temperature had dropped, the wind had picked up considerably and it was continually raining much harder than the night before (this was the same day as the Bala middle distance triathlon which was severely affected by the weather).

Refueling for the hundredth time...

Initially I felt as bad as before but I gradually began to pick up. The legs began to work. I didn’t feel every stone beneath me, the ankle pain subsided and I was able to run for longer periods. By now everyone was piss wet through - including all the helpers - and it was a case of dressing appropriately and maintaining hot fluids. The course was now waterlogged and deep in mud at the bottom end of the course which slowed progress even further, and the wind was so strong the organisers were forced to deflate the finish gantry. I was by now covered head to toe in several layers and never once felt cold. I was therefore amazed to see people on the course still dressed in vests and T shirts looking absolutely frozen and barely moving.

Second day of running, soaked through.

I soon learned I was down to second place as Chris Ette had overtaken me while I had rested during the night. For the next few hours we were never further than one or two laps apart from each other, and at times we ran together. I was feeling 100% better than I had during the night and was lapping as fast as I had been the previous day. Chris was running well and it was a real motivator to have him so close. I still wanted to win but it became apparent that the only way this would happen would be if one of us snapped. I’m sure he realised the same thing and consequently the remaining laps involved us shadowing each other, beating each other into the corners and dropping each other at the aid station. It was a real buzz and I was really enjoying the surreal nature of the whole situation: we had started racing over 48 hours ago and neither of us was prepared to roll over.

Life saving hot soup in the last hour

I had by now received more painkillers and was consuming regular hot tea and coffee. There was also someone Anna had met at Club la Santa watching the event who lived nearby. Before I knew it they had returned home to bring a flask of hot tomato pasta soup to share out. I ran two laps drinking it and it was the best race fuel I’ve ever had. I also changed my clothes as they had become wet despite the waterproofs.

Last few miles with a change of clothes.

I never closed the gap on Chris, and eventually he began his last lap. Everyone was required to complete their last lap in the reverse direction to greet the other competitors, and it was great to see him approach. As he passed I congratulated him and he called me a twat which was a fair comment. One lap later it was my turn and I ran the entire lap, something I hadn’t managed since the first few miles the previous morning. I felt much better than I had at the end of the Lanzarote Double which is something I still don’t understand. I finally crossed the line in 53hr 23min to be met by Steve Haywood and Eddie Ette (who had probably had less sleep than me). After a few seconds getting my head together Brian and Anna came over and we quickly made our way into the warmth of the catering tent.

The P2 having a well-earned rest - note the rear light integrated into the seatpost.

After some more hot food Anna bundled me into the tent under a couple of duvets and put some snacks and drinks next to me. She and Brian had to return home so basically ensured I was self-sufficient for the next few hours. I was completely finished - mentally and physically - but it was an understandable fatigue rather than the total shutdown I experienced at Lanzarote. I then spent the rest of the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep before finally reaching a deep sleep later that night.

Reflection

The race was very well run in difficult conditions, and Enduroman again proved to be the real deal in ultra-endurance triathlon organisation.

The day after - up yours Weightwatchers!

I was happy with my performance but was not sure what happened during the early hours of the second night. I think I paced the race correctly and dressed appropriately throughout. As I was constantly feeding throughout the race, and always felt adequately warm, it was hard to pinpoint what made me feel so bad and what reversed the situation so quickly. Apart from the painkillers, I think the main factor was the hot breakfast and soup during the final morning. The only period where there was no hot food supplied was during the night, and this is when I suffered. Over one night this is manageable but by the second night – especially in wet weather – I believe the body needs hot calories to maintain adequate endorphin levels.

Iron cankle.

For my future ultra-distance events there are three main priorities I believe can maximise performance and minimise time wasting: eat and drink as many hot calories as possible from the outset, ensure there is a support crew if possible and increase running mileage in training. For an Ironman I firmly believe cycling is the priority throughout the preparation. However, once you start racing ultras where the minimum run distance is 52 miles (in this case 78 miles) you simply can’t run that distance unless there is a certain amount of running miles in the legs. I had modified my bike training after Lanzarote to spend more time at mid-high end aerobic intensity and this resulted in a much higher position on the bike. I therefore think I would approach training for future ultra-triathlons with a ratio of 50% running, 40% cycling and 10% swimming.

As in Lanzarote I had used my training shoe, a road version of the Brooks Adrenaline. I had assumed the route around the lake would be similar to Sale or Chorlton Water Parks but I was way off the mark. To provide more grip and give me more protection from rocky ground, in future off road races I will use the trail version of the same shoe. You live and learn. 

Thanks to Anna and Brian for helping during the event.

Race details here: http://www.enduroman.com/uk/

Double Enduroman Lanzarote 2011

Swimming Backwards, German Buffets and the Joy of Shitting in a £400 Wetsuit

A long day ahead...

After achieving my lifetime goal of racing at Hawaii, the only thing that would motivate me to train as hard was always going to be an ultra-distance triathlon. I had always been fascinated by ultras and followed races such as the Mexico Deca and Hawaii Ultraman, and was especially interested in the feats of early British competitors such as Erik Seedhouse and Bob Brown.

I had originally entered UK Enduroman Triple in the summer as my comeback race, but then Enduroman announced the Lanzarote Double at the start of February and I couldn’t resist. I entered it with Brian Mullan, a club mate who was also experiencing his first ultra-triathlon. After four years without serious training or competition, I felt the same excitement of the unknown as I had when I prepared for my first Ironman in 1997.

Event video courtesy of Enduroman.

The event was based at Playa Blanca on the south west coast of Lanzarote, and we stayed there at the official race hotel. It was perfect for our simple needs - comfortable dedrooms and an all-you-can-eat buffet . We spent the days preceding the event tinkering with our bikes, recceing the route and generally passing the time surrounded by Speedo-clad Germans. The highlight (and possibly most bizarre experience, other than the nightly entertainment) was being drug tested by the International Ultra Triathlon Association. We were quite flattered that they thought a couple of tosspots from Manchester posed such a threat.

Even tosspots get tested.

Swim

The swim was a six-lap affair and took place in the sea to the west of Playa Blanca. During race week it was fairly calm and warm which was a relief as I tend to get very cold in water. However, on race day there was a significant swell and it definitely felt colder. The start was far more relaxed than I’m used to in Ironman. People were milling around making final preparations and chatting to families and friends, and we all gradually made our way down to the sea for the start.

As the field was small there was none of the usual aggro, and we all found our own space. The down side was that we didn’t have feet to follow and the buoys were difficult to sight. Due to the swell we covered the out leg of the course with relative ease, but had a much harder time returning. At some points in the shallower areas I could see the bottom and realised I was going backwards. The main focus was to relax as much as possible, maintain a high arm turnover and not get frustrated by the slow progress.

We were also able to feed every lap at the turnaround boat, so I alternated between energy drink and a gel each lap, partly to fuel the following hours, but to also maintain my core temperature.

My stomach had felt ok during the build up to the race, so I wasn’t too bothered when I started to feel the need for the toilet at half way. However, as the swim progressed it was becoming apparent that I wasn’t going to be able to last until the end of the swim. I therefore had the choice of a) exit the sea and find a toilet, or b) shit myself. As I wasn’t prepared to lose up to twenty minutes unnecessarily the choice was obvious.

I fairly certain I’ve never deliberately shit myself so it was a strange feeling to let it all go while simultaneously being battered by the sea swell. A little lighter (and warmer) I carried on and ended up repeating it twice during the remainder of the swim.

The sea conditions were gradually taking their toll on everyone. By the last lap my arms were getting very tired, which is something I hadn’t experienced in training, even with three hour swims in my wetsuit during training. Due to the swell and sighting problems I've no idea how far I actually swam but I eventually exited in 2hr 32min, absolutely freezing and relieved to be on dry land again. Balance was initially very difficult and I had to be pulled from the water and steadied before I could make my way to transition.

With Eddie Ette on the way to T1. Frozen.

Bike

The bike route consisted of several 35 mile loops which took people North towards El Golfo before returning to the race venue. After a relatively long transition I eventually began the bike, and shivered throughout the first lap despite the fact the racing conditions were ideal. The aim was to take it steady and fuel consistently from the start. I planned to use energy drink, sweets and a cereal bar during each lap, and eat something properly at the end of each lap.

The coastline as we rode North.

The race progressed uneventfully as I ticked off the miles and I eventually warmed up and felt very comfortable. There was a headwind on the way back from El Golfo but the conditions were much better than they often are at that time of year. Because competitors were spaced out over such a long loop the only time we saw each other was on the out and back section in and out of Blaya Blanca. I was initially struck by the speed some people were riding. Paul Thompson and Guy Willard were flying and I was convinced they would eventually blow. I was wrong! They maintained an amazing pace throughout the bike. I also saw Brian a couple of times and he looked very comfortable and seemed to be enjoying the whole experience. 

On the loop around El Golfo.

I soon realised that to be more competitive in future events I would need a support crew. Both Brian and myself had travelled alone, and didn’t realise how much time a support crew would save. My food was packed away to protect it from the sun and my clothing was in the transition tent. This meant I had to go off course to change any clothes (especially as it got colder during the night), and spend time finding the food I needed. Other support crews were happy to help where they could, but I seriously underestimated how much time this would take. As it happened every lap, I estimate it wasted at least 30 minutes overall. The stomach problems also continued during the bike. There was thankfully a Portaloo at the beginning of the far loop and I stopped on several laps, losing more precious fluid each time.

A view I became very accustomed to!

As night gradually fell we fixed our lights, put on some extra layers and donned our reflective vests. The Northern part of the course was unlit, so the only visibility we had was from our lights. Everyone agreed afterwards that this was the highlight of the race: riding in pitch black and completely silent except for the sound of our breathing and the waves crashing on the rocks. We could just about see the silhouette of the volcano ridges against the cloudless sky, and if we looked up every star was visible. I’ve never seen a sky that clear.  

I felt comfortable throughout the entire bike, pushing as hard as I was comfortable with. I eventually finished in the early hours of the morning in 14hr 48min which was much slower than I had hoped for. I don’t use a cycling computer during races as I don’t see any benefit whatsoever: you can only go as fast as your body, race course and conditions will allow. Looking back I don’t think I should have gone any harder. There were people who biked much faster than me but finished the race way behind me as a result of the faster bike split.

Run

As with Ironman, it’s always a relief to climb off the bike and start running. After a quick change I started running and the plan was simple: I would start slowly, walk at regular intervals and avoid stopping at all costs.

The run course consisted of multiple one-mile loops around the hotel, and included a section along the sea wall. There were two aid stations, one at the race finish and transition, and the other at the far part of the course near the lighthouse.

Just after sunrise, around 30 miles to go.

I ran the first few miles with the only break being when I briefly stopped each lap to pick up a drink or snack.  I soon began to force myself to walk the short inclines, and as the race progressed these walks became longer and more frequent. As the running surface alternated between tarmac and concrete the legs grew stiffer and more painful. I rarely felt physically fatigued except for around 4am–5am where the thought of sleeping was extremely tempting. We literally ran past our room every lap and it would have been very, very easy. The stomach issues had thankfully resolved themselves by the start of the run, and I only needed the toilet a couple of times during the final stage.

I briefly saw Brian during the second half of the run and he was running well, possibly because he had gone into the hotel and made use of the free breakfast buffet, once when it had opened and again as it was about to close.

As it became lighter holidaymakers began to appear and didn’t give us much attention as we shuffled past them. The sun was out and conditions were perfect – I was really enjoying it despite the discomfort and knew I would finish whatever happened. I wasn’t sure what position I was in but during the last few miles I was keen to improve my position and get as good a time as possible. It was frustrating to be unable to run more as the legs were now destroyed and running was very painful. There’s only so much Coke and Red Bull can achieve and it was simply a case of digging in. I hadn’t trained through a British winter to not give 100% on the day, so it was a case of jog whenever possible and speed-walk the rest.

Nearly there!

I eventually completed the run in 10hr 5min, finishing in 5^th place with a total time of 27hr 27min. I thought I had an extra lap to complete and was determined to carry on until Eddie Ette eventually showed me the timing chip data to convince me. I initially felt no worse than after an Ironman, just in need of sleep. I sat for a while with Paul (1^st) and Guy  (3^rd) watching the remaining competitors but exhaustion gradually set in and I started to feel in serious need of a dark, quiet room.  My legs had seized up but I managed to limp back to the room where I collapsed onto the bed. I didn’t really sleep, but I started shivering and my entire body quickly seized up. I couldn’t physically move, felt terrible and ended up lying there for a couple of hours.

I gradually started to feel better, had a shower and shuffled back out to watch the remainder of the event. Most people were walking by now but Brian looked as fresh as ever. I started to feel hungry so had some pizza and chips at the hotel buffet and then went back out with a beer to watch Brian finish.

Reflection

I would have raced the event no differently apart from walking more earlier on during the run. I would also definitely want a support crew if possible. As the bike split was disappointing I think I should have spent more time riding at Ironman pace. Most of the training I did included hard turbo intervals or very long rides, mostly at L1 – the middle ground is what I lacked during the race.

Tired but happy at the awards ceremony. I didn't dare try to kneel.

The event was very satisfying as a first ultra-triathlon, and the race is sure to become a classic event. The Enduroman team are genuinely passionate about the sport, the local government is behind the event, and there is a real demand for an ultra-triathlon on a challenging, scenic course. In a sport where most races are run around multi-lap criterium style courses with pool swims, this is a real test on a much less forgiving course.

Race details here: http://www.enduromanlanzarote.es/