Sri Chinmoy Self Transcendence 24hr Race 2013

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

Ladies, form an orderly queue...

 

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

 

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

Gold: run 135+ miles

Silver: beat my previous distance of 127 miles

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

 Chris realises what he's missing.

Hours 1-4 (Clockwise)

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

 

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

 

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

 

Hours 5-8 (Anti clockwise)

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

Picnic table - spot the Moshlings!

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

Hours 9-12 (Clockwise)

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

The 24hr buffet (Photo Run and Become).

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

 

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

 

Hours 13-16 (Anti clockwise)

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

Hours 17-20 (Clockwise)

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

“Dan, start running!”

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

 

Hours 21-24 (Anti clockwise)

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

 Immediately after finishing. Never again etc etc.

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

Reflection
 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

Kit Review

Skins A400 shorts.

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

 

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

Salomon Fast Wing Vest

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

 

Saucony Omnis.

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

 

 

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

 

Sri Chinmoy Self Transcendence 24hr Track Race 2012

Cheese on Toast, Treasure Hunts and a Guided Tour of a 400m Running Track
 

 

2012 had provided me with a series of consistently improving – if not outstanding - performances in my first full year of ultramarathon racing, and I had learnt a great deal in the process. I’d spent the year stumbling through the night over Lakeland fells, running along river paths (and not necessarily the right ones) on the way to Oxford, shuffling through chocolate box villages in the Cotswolds and had memorised every inch of the Humber Bridge.

However all these races were ultimately secondary to my most important race of the year, the Sri Chinmoy Self Trancendence 24hr track race at Tooting Bec.  To me 24 hours is the ultimate ultrarunning benchmark and the most important measurable standard there is. A secondary reason was to obtain a qualifying standard for the 2013 Spartathlon. I needed to have completed an event of 200km or further, but as races of this distance are few and far between the next available event would have been in 2013 and I would have missed the entry deadline. I therefore had one very simple aim: to run at least 200km in 24 hours.

The 2011 24hr race had been my first serious attempt at an ultramarathon but the proximity to the UK Triple Enduroman meant I hadn’t run enough miles in training to achieve a decent result. I’d run well until 80 miles but eventually ground to a shivering halt having covered 114 painful miles. I was arriving at Tooting Bec for a second time with the fitness that comes with having raced hundreds of miles during the previous few months and was quietly confident I would achieve my goal.

On arriving at the track on Saturday morning the scene was comfortingly familiar. Lap counters were setting up under their gazebos in the stands, organising staff were busy making last minute preparations and the venue was slowly beginning to resemble a campsite with athletes, friends and families pitching tents at regular intervals around the far side of the track. The ultrarunning world is relatively small and the 24hr track running world is (unsurprisingly) even smaller. There were several familiar faces already there and the calm was occasionally interrupted as athletes recognised each other, their preparations temporarily halted as they stopped to discuss their respective race tactics and swap injury stories.

Despite the atrocious weather forecasted throughout the country that weekend we were promised clear skies until 10am on Sunday morning when our luck was to finally run out. This was a huge relief and I had been checking the weather forecasts every few hours in the days preceding the race. Rain can be tolerated during a varied and mentally stimulating race, but the thought of running around a 400m track for 24 hours soaked to the bone is something I’m not in a hurry to experience. 

The format for a 24hr track race is very simple. You run around the track as many times as you can in 24 hours and the person who runs the furthest is the winner. After each lap we were to acknowledge our lap counter and another 400m would be recorded. To prevent overuse injuries (and possibly provide some much needed excitement) we would change direction every four hours.

 Race briefing from Shankara.
 

I’d been debating my race strategy during the previous few weeks and was still undecided until we lined up at the start. The previous year I ran for 20 minutes and walked a lap which resulted in a massive drop in pace in the latter hours of the event. Although I was much better prepared this year I decided to follow a similar tactic by running six laps and walking one regardless of how long the six laps took. By not wearing a watch and relying on lap counting I would also have something to focus on throughout the duration of the race: it was simply a repetitive process of counting ‘1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, walk’ after every lap for the next 24 hours.
 

Only 24 hours to go (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

At 12pm on Saturday 45 runners leisurely made their way to the start line and the process began. I immediately settled into an easy pace and mentally switched myself off. As the experience was likely to become increasingly painful later on I wanted to save any mental energy I had until I needed it. Most people were engaged in constant conversation for hours at a time and as we passed each other I overheard a huge variety of very interesting conversations, some causing me to settle in behind them for a couple of laps so I could listen in.
  

Amazing, a photo where I don't look ill! (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

After every hour a leader board was updated with our overall position and distance covered. My plan was to complete the first few hours slightly slower than last year and maintain that pace so I would cover a greater distance by the end, so it was no surprise to see myself in 33rd place after the first hour. Instead of causing me to panic it reaffirmed I was running sensibly and I continued on in my own little world. Apart from the conversations of the runners the only real distraction was the sound of young children playing in the woods behind the back straight. There seemed to be a treasure hunt in progress and the shouting was periodically interspersed with cheers and laughter as they found the various treats.

There is very little stimulation to be found running around the same 400m lap for 24 hours, and after a couple of hours the views were becoming very predictable. As people often ask what I think about (or look at) when running for 24 hours around a track here’s my attempt at providing an answer. Strap yourself in, hold on tight and brace yourself for Nick’s Guided Tour of Tooting Bec Athletics Track. Remember, the louder you scream the faster you go!:

Enlightenment I was in much need of (Photo Martin Leitner). 

From the start line we run clockwise along the home straight. Half way down the straight someone has positioned his spare clothes and supplies in the seating, also to the left. It isn’t covered and I will often wonder what he will do if it rains. Behind this on the other side of the external perimeter fence there appears to be a footpath as dog walkers and runners occasionally stop and peer at us. A post with a picture of Sri Chinmoy has been inserted into the grass which we pass every lap. I hope I look as serene and composed as he does but know it's extremely unlikely. There are now no other obvious features other than a couple of steeplechase barriers placed next to Lane 1 which will be used to rest drink bottles on later in the race. 

As the track eventually bends to the right we pass the long jump and then the steeplechase water jump. There are small cones placed inside the track to prevent short cuts and ‘100 miles’ signifying the 100 mile point is chalked into the ground half way around the bend.  The first of the personal support areas appears in the second half of the first bend which includes an aluminium fold-out camping table and displays the biggest volume of Powerade (or possibly Gatorade) I’ve ever seen.

 The back straight, where most people pitched their support areas.

 

 As we begin running down the back straight we continue past the rest of the personal aid stations. The first pitches are a couple of impressive motor homes, one with a banner displayed on the side in French offering words of encouragement, both with aid tables placed in front of them on the track. The rest of the straight consists of a series of parked cars and a wide range of tents, some Aldi one-man pop-up specials and others big enough to house a small army. The back straight is covered in sand which will cause increasingly unwelcome discomfort the following day. The line of aid tables provide a huge variety of nutrition and I can’t help but look in repeated wonder at one table towards the end of the straight which seems to be entirely covered with numerous pots of rice pudding. Nothing else, just rice pudding.

My pitch - amazingly well organised! 

Most pitches also include a few camping chairs with various friends and family slumped in them, all occasionally shivering and wondering why they’ve ever agreed to come and help. The support areas continue into the final bend and this is where we reach the highlight of the tour.

Situated in the middle of the bend we pass the official aid station gazebo provided by the organisers. It’s the only 24 hour aid station I’ve ever experienced and it will be a hugely important factor in how peoples races progress. For people without support crew it means it is still possible to be fed and hydrated without leaving the course. There’s a range of snacks constantly available with hot food provided at regular intervals throughout the race, and a request for a hot drink results in it being available one lap later – to all intents and purposes a run-thru fast food outlet.

 

 As much food as anyone could ever need (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

Once we’ve passed the gazebo we then run past the entrance to the track which will occasionally provide the sudden excitement of a car arriving (‘’Who’s in the car? Why are they here? Where have they come from?’’) and leaving (‘’Why are they leaving? Where are they going? Can I go with them?’’). From there it’s around to the finish line where the outbuildings are situated. The first building houses a gym which is open to slightly bemused looking members of the public, and after that we pass the toilets and changing rooms. The last room also houses a physiotherapist who is there to provide help to anyone in need of some TLC . The door is usually closed but occasionally someone leaves it ajar and I get a very brief peek inside as I run past. (‘’Who’s in there? What’s wrong with them? Why’s someone lying on the floor?’’) Exciting times.

 

The lap counters protected by their gazebo (Photo Martin Leitner).
 

As we cross the finish line we pass the leaderboard, digital clock and finally reach the lap counters who are sat overlooking us in the stands protected by a couple of long gazebos. I will eventually repeat this experience 512 times by 12pm the following day.

The ratio of running six laps and walking one lap was hard to adhere to for the first couple of hours as everything felt so predictably easy but I was convinced it was the right approach. In most ultras periods of walking are enforced due to the frequency off hills, but a flat course requires scheduled walks whether it feels appropriate at the time or not. In 2012 I had completed the first 10km in 60 minutes and it was clear I was now running slightly slower (or walking more) as I was 3 minutes slower. As we ticked off the first few hours I gradually crept up the leaderboard until I was comfortably in the top half of the field. This was simply because other people had slowed after starting at a fast pace and mirrored my experience from the previous year.
 

Ticking the laps off... (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

A couple of the runners were flying around the track which either meant they were very good or they were going to blow. It actually transpired they were running to cover 100km in under 10.5 hrs which was the alternative Spartathlon qualifying standard. It actually seemed quite tempting to join them but I knew I would gain more confidence by achieving my own goal and it seemed a more representative indication as to whether I would be successful at Sparta.

As the time reached 4pm we all finished our current lap, turned around a cone at the finish line and began running anticlockwise. This four-hourly event became a major source of anticipation and excitement as the race progressed, and running in the opposite direction meant the view (very) slightly changed as well. 

The weather was ideal for a running event. The sky was clear for the first couple of hours and then intermittent clouds appeared throughout the afternoon. As there was a cold breeze I wasn’t as warm as I had been at Hell on the Humber so I intentionally drank less than I would normally do After completing six laps running I would use the walk to lightly snack on various foods and sip tea supplied by the volunteers at the aid station.

By now the treasure hunt had finished, the children had gone home and the track was noticeably quieter. At around 7pm we were served a hot evening meal which I ate as I walked two laps. Because of the regular meals I didn’t need to eat much in between and the constant variety of the foods offered meant I wasn’t having to tolerate the usual monotony of foods I usually depend on during races. For the first few hours I had been unsupported, but just before the second turnaround at 8pm Carla - my support crew for the event – arrived. She was clearly delighted to be there as she braced herself for a night of thrills to rival any Saturday night London had to offer. Saturday night is party night!
 

The weather stayed dry throughout the night (Photo Martin Leitner).
 

As night gradually fell the floodlights were switched on and I wrapped up with another layer. The weather was still ideal for racing and I was regularly counting our luck as the weather continued to hold out. I progressed with my 6-1 run/walk strategy as it was still manageable and my routine didn’t change at all throughout the night except for drinking more tea instead of using the energy drinks I had prepared. 

There wasn’t very much for a support crew to do in the race but they certainly helped morale. However it seemed logical to minimise any unnecessary time wasting so I placed my drink order with Carla before alternate scheduled walks and we then walked together while I drank it. She eventually left just after the halfway point at midnight after finally being persuaded to go home and get some sleep.
 

The clock with the leaderboard behind (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

It was around this time we were provided with some hot, thick vegetable soup: exactly what everyone needed twelve hours into the race, especially as the initial novelty of the event had long passed and everyone was aware of how sore and tired they now felt. There were now noticeably fewer people on and around the track and this continued to be the case throughout the night. People occasionally retreated into their tents or went inside to the changing rooms, some to return after a few minutes and others to disappear for good.

Hours passed and I continued as normal, occasionally having a coffee or a sip of Coke for the caffeine boost. The routine was the same as it had been since the start: ‘1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, walk’. To entertain myself I began saying the lap number out loud at the end of each lap. I was still climbing the rankings and fluctuated between 6th and 9th place throughout the night. The variations in position appeared to be due to other runners having bad spells which forced them to stop or walk for a few laps - once they recovered they seemed to overtake me and regain their position and the positions would remain the same until they slowed again. As usual I had no intention to stop unless absolutely necessary and only had one break from the 6-1 routine as I visited the toilet, so my overall hourly pace was very consistent if not outstanding.
 

There was a seemingly endless supply of food from the volunteers (Photo Martin Leitner).
 

The volunteers were still full of energy and were working in shifts to cater to the runners’ needs throughout the night.  Breakfast was due at around 7am and was something I was really looking forward to, but I was also unexpectedly offered hot cheese on toast at 3am which was a fantastic boost to morale. Cheese on toast and a coffee? Would be rude not to.

As dawn arrived I knew I was certain to achieve 200km unless something dramatic happened. My slower initial pace had resulted in my later splits improving on those achieved in the 2011 race. I went through 100 miles in 18:26 which was 53 minutes faster than 2011 and I also felt much better than I had the previous year. The effort of maintaining the 6-1 ratio was still manageable but was becoming harder with each hour. I had originally thought I would have reduced it to 5-1 in the early hours of the morning so everything was positive and it was simply a case of staying focussed and providing the body with what it needed.
 

Food, spare socks, Vasaline and painkillers.

 

Carla returned soon after I’d completed 100 miles and I briefly stopped to change socks and shoes. The tops of my toes were being rubbed and both feet were becoming increasingly hot underneath. She bravely helped me remove my footwear and I was surprised to see both feet covered in sand. It must have come from the sand on the back straight so I thoroughly cleaned them before applying Vasaline and swapping my socks for a new pair. I also changed swapped my orthotics from my Brooks Adrenaline to a pair of Saucony Hurricane, partly as they are lighter but also to vary the plantar pressure on both feet. It was now that I began using Ibuprofen to reduce the pain. I’d been repeatedly advised not to use it but convinced myself a few drugs every few months wouldn’t be a problem, and besides that my feet were killing me.

By now I was in 5th place and almost level with 4th. Breakfast came and went (scrambled egg, beans, bacon and toast if you’re interested) and at around 10am - 22 hours into the race - I finally began to adopt a 5-1 run/walk strategy. I was becoming increasingly tired and thought I would maintain a faster average pace if I walked slightly more often. I wasn’t the only one feeling the strain as everyone else seemed to be taking it in turns to stop/walk/limp/shuffle. It was also around this time the weather was due to worsen and right on cue the first drops of rain began to fall.
 

Lap counters took it in shifts throughout the race (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

I soon found myself in 4th place and accordingly to the leaderboard I was less than a mile behind Robin Gardner. I was determined to achieve 3rd place but it was becoming much harder to maintain my pace and I eventually reduced the running to four laps and walking a lap. I was still fuelling myself adequately and felt warm enough so there was nothing else I could do but work around my body’s limitations. My feet were now becoming a problem as the hot spots had now developed into deep blisters covering the majority of the front part of both feet. Cue more Ibuprofen. I also suddenly felt the right orthotic suddenly begin pressing into the lateral part of my right foot which rapidly caused another blister so I stopped and swapped them out for the original insoles. This was something that had never happened before so whether it was due to the accumulated distance run on a completely level surface or because I’d finally destroyed my orthotics I wasn’t sure.

I was approaching 200km and the suspense was killing me so I slowed to ask the lap counter how many laps away I was from achieving it. He informed me I had 2km to run so the mental arithmetic began. At first I thought it was 2.5 laps which briefly put a spring in my step until Carla pointed out I’d got my calculations completely wrong and would have to run twice as far.
 

200km completed. My feet hurt.
 

I eventually reached 200km with half an hour to go and received a cheer from the lap counters. It was a huge relief to have finally achieved the distance and as I passed my car I decided to have my first rest of the entire race. I sat there for a couple of minutes in the rain to simply relax and not think about anything and then quickly decided to carry on, mainly to prevent my body shutting down. Carla was offering all sorts of help but it was now down to me to zip up the man suit, shut out the pain and fatigue and get on with the job for the last half hour. My feet were instantly in agony as I stood up as the blisters had filled with fluid while I was seated, and it took half a lap of hobbling to numb the pain before I was able to continue running.

I was still aiming to catch 3rd and in the process complete at least two more miles before the end. Somehow I began to feel much stronger and managed to run the last half hour faster than I had run for hours. The organisers were giving us a regular countdown so I knew how long we had left  and after completing two extra miles we then worked out I could complete a third mile if I pulled my finger out. Joy! The last few minutes were predictably very hard and as the final whistle sounded it was a massive relief to be able to stop, shuffle to the side of the track, sit down and finally switch off.

I’d been unable to catch Robin as we’d been running at a virtually identical pace for some time. After 24 hours of racing we were separated by a mere 800m but there was nothing more I could have done.  As long as I’m completely destroyed at the finish I don’t have any complaints.
 

Immediately after finishing. My whole body hurts.
 

Carla now had to contend with a shivering cripple while simultaneously packing the car, and achieved it all with the efficiency a German would have been impressed with. I usually begin to shut down and get very cold soon after finishing an ultra and this race was no exception. By now the rain was pouring down and the temperature had dropped considerably so my only concern was to get warm and dry and to get the weight off my feet. Oh, and find somewhere to have a beer.

Reflection

The event was as well organised and friendly as it had been the previous year. Considering this event is a greater challenge than an Ironman and cost £27 compared to £400 it represents unbeatable value for money.

With the focus within ultrarunning switching to the rapidly expanding trail scene there has been a steady decline in the number of road and track events (including the infamous London to Brighton), and the Sri Chinmoy event is sadly now the only 24hr track race remaining in Britain. To me a 24hr race is the purist running challenge there is and I’m surprised so few people are attracted to such events.
 

  In need of beer and a warm bed, in that order (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

127 miles was an improvement but I’m still sure I can run much further in the future. In hindsight I wouldn’t have changed my 6-1 run/walk strategy this year but I think next time I would try running seven laps and walk one instead. The question would be whether I would deteriorate later as a result or whether a faster earlier pace with a controlled deterioration would result in a greater distance overall.
 

The top three athletes (Photo Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott).
 

The blistering was the worst I’ve experienced in years and I’m not sure whether it was because my shoes needed replacing (they do) or because I’ve finally destroyed my orthotics. I changed my socks and shoes as I normally do and used enough Vasaline to supply an orgy, so I’ll have to see what happens when my feet heal and I replace my shoes.

My final distance was 127 miles, 468 yards which was 13 miles further than my ultrarunning debut exactly 12 months earlier, and I’d achieved the Spartathlon qualifying standard. Sparta is now 200km closer...

It became septic the following week. Good times.

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

Race photos (courtesy of Martin Leitner/Dhavala Stott) here: http://gallery.srichinmoyraces.org/great-britain/ultras/24h-2012/

Kit Review

At Hell on the Humber I’d used the Skins A400 range of base layers and compression clothing without any problems. Although the weather wasn’t as warm as HOTH I used the same clothing throughout the race and didn’t suffer any unnecessary discomfort. Once the sun disappeared I added a Gore Windstopper gillet to reduce the wind chill and also wore a pair of Skins arm sleeves, Gore Windstopper gloves and hat. 
 

Gore GT AS jacket.
 

After it began raining the temperature dropped so I added the Gore GT AS jacket as it’s the most waterproof and windproof jacket I own (this is the jacket I should have used at the Lakeland 100). Despite the unrelenting rain in the final two hours I never once felt wet or cold.

 

Saucony Hurricane 14.
 

As usual I did the majority of the run in my Brooks Adrenaline GTS 12 but swapped to a pair of Saucony Hurricane 14 once I began to get sore feet. I use the Hurricane for almost half of my training miles to offer some variety while still providing sufficient medial support and the reduced 8mm heel also provides a less pronounced heel strike. They instantly felt lighter and softer than the Adrenaline and as I didn’t suffer any injuries from the race I’ll probably use the Hurricane for the majority of my training in 2013.
 

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