Insomnia 24 is one of the breed of 24 hour races that seem to be growing in popularity recently. They allow a good race village atmosphere with involvement from spectators on a regular basis, given the looped course nature of the run and allow both solo and relay runners. I’d never run one of these races before so when I saw this one set up only a few miles from home I thought well, its worth a go.
There were toilets, a food stall, bar and even a band and as expected the field for the 1st race was quite intimate, that meant the field spread out quite quickly so that most of the time you were on your own until the odd relay runner sped past, but I’m sure it will grow and anyway, running solo doesn’t bother me at all. On Nomad 50 in June I ran the last 19 or so miles out of 31 without seeing another runner.
I wasn’t too sure what to expect or how to run the race but that kind of excited me. Something new to work out. What I did know was that Louise would be able to be involved. She was able to park up the van next to the course and say ‘Hi’ from her sunbed every hour or so!
The race was supposed to be a 10k loop round fields close to Ashby but in the end the organisers had to cut the loop to 5.67miles.
The weather on Saturday was very hot and as usual I reckon I set off a bit too fast. The 1st lap was dreadful. My feet must have swelled up in just a couple of miles since by about ½way round the loop they were killing me on the outsides, where I seem to be developing bunions. I was also finding the route hard work too. There was no real track anywhere and most of the route was over ankletwisting grassy farmland and when I got to the van for the 1st time I stopped to take off my Sealskinz and changed into my Rapa Nuis too, which are lower stacked and better on technical stuff than the Stinson ATRs.
Then I had to stop on the 2nd lap too for a diarrhoea dump. It was at least the 3rd of the day & I was worried I’d picked up Boz’ bug. I convinced myself I was going to be sick and have to drop out, but it was probably just the heat.
I did find it hard to tell who were solo runners and who were in the relay but for the 1st couple of laps I was in the lead (solo)! After that one guy then another overtook me and it stayed like that into the dark. The heat got to me a bit and I started to have some pretty challenging ‘never again’ moments. I know by now that I will get these and that they will pass but I always forget just how strong they are. For a while I was really not enjoying it and never doing one of these long runs ever again. I felt like it was really slow going and I was having a problem with the heat. I also kept going over on my ankle on the terrain. I might have lost weight and speeded up a bit but I still have problems running in the heat and this was really getting to me.
My average speed dropped like a stone. I didn’t stop for longer than a couple of minutes per lap and I wasn’t eating anything, though I was religiously taking the Perpetuem and Succeed and fortunately that did keep me going.
One problem that made it seem worse than it was, was my watch. To make the battery last the 24hrs I had it on Ultra mode. That meant it took a fix once every minute. On a straight line route like GUCR that is fine since it reads back to the last fix and gives you a pretty accurate distance but on a really twisty/turny route like this one it reads quite a bit short since when it reads back it tends to cut off part of the loop.
Eventually I realised that this was happening but couldn’t turn off the mode since otherwise the battery would run out. Eventually, the following morning in order to check the distance I stopped the ultra-mode at about 59% battery life, and carried on in normal (1 sec fix) mode. That worked a lot more accurately and I did reassure myself that I hadn’t been as slow as I thought I’d been. The battery died on the last loop and went into default watch mode so I nearly got it right. It didn’t matter much though since all I needed was to know when the 24hrs was going to end and the watch mode told me that.
Anyway back to the race, as the day wore on the weather cooled a bit & correspondingly I started to feel a bit better in myself & as a result my mood changed & I started enjoying it and I started to eat more real food too – mainly bananas and caramel shortcake at the half-way point checkpoint, which was a really well stocked oasis of food and encouragement.
As it got dark the organisers were happy for Lucy to join in off her lead and Louise/Lucy did 3 laps (about 17miles) with me between about 9.30pm and 2am. That was good as it did give me someone to talk to, Lucy seemed to enjoy it and the marshals seemed to enjoy seeing her too.
I didn’t see too much wildlife in the race. I thought I heard a Jay and at one point a pheasant shot out of the hedge just in front of that but otherwise all I really saw were slugs, hundreds of them particularly in an area I called Slug Alley. With the slugs appearing to moonbathe on one of the few short areas of narrow grassless track on the loop It didn’t take long for this area to become slug carnage.
After Louise and Lucy left me I did another 1¾laps in the dark then as it got lighter there was a very pretty red sky. It might have heralded a shepherds warning but it looked good. So often in night-time ultras I have run, dawn is just a gradual lightening from black into grey and when you do get a good colourful dawn it is really encouraging. I had quite unusually been relatively perky overnight. There had been no hallucinations and I seemed to keep up the pace relatively well (my headtorch was good and lasted all night on one charge easily) I did slow off a bit since it was awkward to see where your feet were placing but I wasn’t as slow as I sometimes am overnight. I did slow off a bit in the lap before dawn though. I was suddenly engulfed in tiredness and couldn’t stop yawning. But it didn’t last more than about a lap. I had a rice pudding and some pasties and as it became properly light again I started to speed up again too. By this time I’d no idea where I was. I hadn’t see the other 2 runners who were ahead of me but at least they hadn’t lapped me, so I assumed I was still 3rd.
When Louise got up (about 6.30am to make me a cup of tea) she went to look and found out that one guy (the one in the lead) was way down the list, having stopped or rested overnight. I was over an hour behind the new lead runner though, but in 2nd place.
At that point, with about 5 hours to go I realised I was never going to make an hour up on him so looked at trying to maintain 2nd instead. My times actually improved though, since subconsciously I was clearly trying to see just what I could actually do. Several of the marshals asked if I was going to take a rest but I said not. I didn’t see the point really. I am used to carrying on through the night and it seems a waste of the effort put in up to that point to take a break and I am sure that had I rested for more than a couple of minutes every joint in my body would have seized up.
It was about then that another solo runner came past me. He seemed very fresh and stormed away so I was hoping he’d had a break overnight. Louise said he was on a lap less than me so I didn’t really worry too much, especially since there was only enough time for about another 3 laps by then. She also told me though that the lead runner had slowed and now he was only 25mins ahead.
Bloody hell, I thought, that’s all I needed at this stage, a reason to make a race of it! As a result I did speed up a bit more and over the next lap got the gap down to 15mins. There was probably only enough time for one more lap, and though I didn’t think I could make up another 15mins in just 5miles I gave it a go. As it was, I guess he realised I was just behind him, and getting closer, since he speeded up and did his 18th lap in 23.16. At that time he could have gone on for another loop, but chose not to, relying on me not having enough time for an extra lap, I guess. I wasn’t too clued up on the tactics of this sort of run at the end – I thought you just ran till the 24hours ended initially, but apparently as you approach the 24hour deadline you can start a last loop before the 24hrs are up but only get an hour in which to finish it, since time ends wherever you are at 1pm and if you aren’t at the finish by then, your lap doesn’t count.
Since I’d just run a 1.13 and 2x 1.19 loops loops that meant that I’d have to finish my current lap by about 23.40 to stand any chance of finishing a 19th loop. The 3rd placed runner did go on but he was on a lap less and though he thought he was 2nd he finished his 18th loop in about 24.40, and came 3rd.
I finished my lap in 23.51, meaning that I’d have had to run the 19th loop in 1.09 or less to get back before 1pm. It didn’t take long to work out that I’d never do it. Even trying really hard I’d never have any prospects of finishing in that time. I had really surprised myself by being able to pick up the pace on the 2nd day, back to times I’d been doing the previous afternoon but I knew I wouldn’t be able to knock another 10minutes off on a further loop.
Had I managed another 10mins faster somewhere on the course and got to the end of my 18th lap in say 23.40, rather than 23.51, I might have been able to do it, though to be fair I was pretty knackered by then having tried to push it over the last 2-3 laps anyway and so called it a day and settled for 2nd place, something I would easily have taken at the beginning and giving the lead runner at least 35years on me.
I have never been so close to actually winning a race since I ran the Masters fell run with the Lincoln Bounders team in 1994, 22yrs ago - the only race I have ever won but I was more than pleased enough and I really enjoyed the experience. Throughout the race the organisation was spot on. At times I wish I could have been one of the relay runners stopping off at the burger bar at the end of the loop but I really couldn’t fault the tireless support of the marshals at the various points of the loop, especially the guy at the ‘squiglly bit’ (by the end of the route I’d given all the sections different names, once of which ‘hilly loop’ became ‘pointless loop’ by the end) who stayed at that one spot for the whole of the 24hours and was unfailingly cheerful and encouraging every time I passed him. As such this may not be my last 24hour race and the run does deserve to get more popular, as I’m sure it will.
I was very stiff Sat afternoon. My R hip/back/R knee/R ankle were sore. My toes were sore too but not blistered despite having had wet feet from the grass for at least 12hrs. My bunions could have been a pain (well I guess they were for the 1st lap) but taking off my Sealskinz, which I was going to use to stop the grass wetting them and changing into my Rapa Nuis sorted that. Once again I seem to have got off pretty lightly really.
Looking at that the loop stats, my 1st 3 laps were probably a bit fast in the heat. They also show that I didn’t actually speed up when it got cooler, it clearly just felt easier but the slowest lap was the one just before dawn. On that lap I did feel very tired and demotivated and I was also slow on the next one too. My last 3 laps though were actually faster than anything from lap 9 onwards, so once again I was more than pleased with my staying power.
Copyright Steve Ashworth www.lakedistrictimages.com
“The Lakes Sky Ultra™ is one of the spiciest races in the country. 54km of Lakeland paths, trails and tussock, 4300m of vertical grind, grade III scrambles, rock chimneys, super fast descents, knife edge arêtes – this race has it all. It is not for the faint of heart, and racers will need to be competent on steep rock sections. It will be extreme. It will be gnarly. It will be hardcore. It will be awesome.”
Back at the beginning of June I was asked by headline sponsors, Salewa, to report on the race and thoroughly test some of their mountain running kit. My running was going well but I certainly wasn’t training for a mountain ultra, so it was with a lot of excitement and a little apprehension that I agreed. I had plenty of miles in my legs but not many recent ones in the mountains – and not much time to do any specific preparation. I upped my mileage and searched out the hilliest local routes in an effort to do the race justice, but if I’m honest there’s not much in the south-west that comes close.
The morning of the race heralded almost perfect weather: overcast, dry and still with a bit of atmospheric morning mist to hide the huge climb from Ambleside to Fairfield. Ideal for running without worrying to much about overheating, being blown off the mountain or having to carry a warm set of clothes. Last year’s event was held in strong winds and torrential rain: a great test of waterproofs but an additional level of epic to contend with. I was glad to be spared it and also to have the opportunity to race the full course.
Starting promptly at 0700 the leaders raced off up the first climb while the rest of us settled into a rhythm of walking/crawling uphill and running the flatter and downhill sections. I’ve run several sections of the route before, but not very recently and never linked together; thankfully the excellent route marking meant that, even in the mist, navigation wasn’t an issue and we could concentrate on enjoying the terrain and scenery.
The LSU profile tattoo produced by Sky-Lines
Route highlights include the descent of Helvellyn by Swirral Edge, which I’d never done before; the drummer on the summit of Catsycam whose heady rhythm echoed around the mountains; the classic ascent of Striding Edge, diligently following the markers along the most precarious ridge line; the roped descent and the awesome shoe-filling scree down Eagle Crag followed by the hardest ascent of the day – literally crawling up the bleaberry-covered slopes of St Sunday Crag. Climbing the classic line up Pinnacle Ridge as part of a trail race was incredible: airy, exposed and, for many including myself, the best part of the day. Rope handrails on Eagle Crag and Pinnacle Ridge added a European via-ferrata type feel to the race and some much-needed assurance on the steep descent of Eagle Crag.
We were well looked after at the aid station in Patterdale by friendly marshalls and Team Nutrition who provided electrolyte drinks and some great additive-free snacks to supplement the snacks available at aid stations along the route.
The Lakes Sky Ultra is a race of two halves: technical terrain and almost two-thirds of the ascent in the first half followed by faster running on better trails in the second. From the half-way point at Patterdale, a long steady climb took us over The Knott towards High Street before cruelly dropping us down past Blea Water to Haweswater; the beautiful scenery almost warranted the descent! By this point I was finding it hard going, especially the descents, and I teamed up with a couple of other lads and we ran together from Haweswater to the finish. The camaraderie experienced on longer races is one of the best parts of the sport and I’m sure I finished faster due to the support of other runners. The running from Haweswater to the final checkpoint at Kirkstone would have been brilliant if I’d had anything left in my legs.
The final excitement came in the form of two “King of the Mountains” stages sponsored by trekking pole company, Leki. An uphill race, scrambling up Red Screes, was won by Thomas Paris and a fast 5km descent back to Ambleside was won by Donald Campbell, who also finished first overall in an impressive 07:30:40, a new course record. Sarah Ridgway finished first female and 9th overall in 08:38:46, smashing her own course record from last year.
Copyright PaulWildmanMitchell
For me, the finish was an emotional relief after a tough day’s racing. A comfortable seat and a hot meal was the perfect remedy and we sat and cheered the other finishers in. The LSU cow bell was better than any medal – I’ll be taking it out when I’m next supporting a race and making loads of noise!
A huge thank you to Charlie Sproson of www.mountainrun.co.uk who also organise the Keswick Mountain festival races and his amazing team of marshalls who worked tirelessly over the whole weekend: the route was awesome and you were brilliant! The photographers on the course worked hard and managed to get into several amazing places to capture some great images for everyone involved, thank you to Paul Wildman Mitchell and Steve Ashworth of www.lakedistrictimages.com for the use of their images. Thank you as well to race sponsor Salewa who supplied me with some great kit.
I’ve reviewed the Salewa Lite Train shoes (great low profile lightweight mountain running shoes) and Pedroc Alpha jacket (Lightweight, packable and windproof insulation piece using Polartec Alpha insulation) before and I still really rate them so I was pleased to have an excuse to test some of Salewa’s other kit. A common piece of advice is never to try something new on race day, especially shoes and bags – I got my shoes less than a week before the race and the bag at the safety briefing the evening before! Fortunately they felt good so I went with them and didn’t have any problems.
I used…
Salewa Ultra Train shoes £120: Light and cushioned, I tried these for just 5 miles before the race and they performed excellently. No blisters and the Michelin rubber is especially good on rock. They offered a bit more protection than the Lite Trains. I did find the grip slightly lacking on steep grass but they aren’t designed as a fell shoe and they’re great on rock and gravelled trail.
Salewa Pedroc Shorts £55: Awesome cut and colours make these great everyday shorts as well as running shorts. Made of a stretchy soft-shell fabric they are tough and wind-resistant which works very well in the mountains. They’re also Bluesign-approved and Salewa are members of the Fair Wear Foundation which makes me even happier to endorse them. I wore these with a pair of Runderwear Boxers (you can read our full review of these here) which are also highly recommended and provided a completly chafe-free 11.5 hours.
Salewa Pedroc Training Tee £55: A comfortable, good looking, bluesign-approved baselayer tee with a quarter zip to aid ventilation. I was happy in this all day, warm enough in the morning but cool enough later on with the zip undone and no chaffing. The tee uses Polygiene anti odour control so it would also be great to take on a multi day adventure.
Salewa Lite Train 14 bag: Not available until spring 2017 (I’ll add a link when it becomes available) and brand new to me on race day but thankfully very comfortable. I especially liked the twin shoulder straps which managed to comfortably distribute the weight but offered a lot of ventilation. The bag also has a sternum strap rather than a traditional waist strap which – combined with an internal compression system – made it very comfortable stable. In all honesty, the bag was bigger and therefore heavier than I needed – it would be great to see a 8-10 litre bag in the same design in the range and a couple of pockets on the front would also be nice. It carried very well though and didn’t rub at all. It’s made from bluesign-approved fabrics which makes it one of the most ethically produced running bags on the market.
Overall I had an amazing experience and I would hugely recommend the Lakes Sky Ultra to anyone who wants a proper mountain running challenge. It’s left me a bit battered but really excited about running and racing in the mountains. I feel I learnt a lot and I’ll be better prepared for my next mountain ultra; I can’t wait!
Standing in a field in Winchester wearing the signature CR team yellow vest, the pressure was on. I had the fear. Big time. I eagerly awaited the signal of the 6am horn, so I could get started on the journey on the South Downs Way to Eastbourne – a mere 100 miles and 12,000ft later.
Saying farewell to my boy. Photo: Stuart March
Training had gone well, but I could have done with another week’s taper. I was starting with a bit of an on-going foot injury, but I wasn’t overly concerned about it. It hurt in the latter stages of the Highland Fling, but the ground on the SDW is more forgiving than the WHW.
For once, I trained – for a whole month - in temperatures that the south of England usually enjoy this time of year. It’s not often we can say that, but it looked like the weather gods had turned the map of the British Isles upside down. In Glasgow, we were basking in sunshine, while the southerners were enjoying something more typically Scottish.
I have been known to obsess about climatic conditions. The week of the race the temperatures rose quite sharply, but looked to fall again for race day. I could handle 20 degrees. Maybe.
Winchester to Queen Elizabeth 22 miles (3:28hrs) 38th
I said my final farewells to my crew – Marco, Paul and Cairn – at 6am on the dot were off.
Lap of the field with Wendy - on her 14th CR 100 race
Photo: Stuart March
I had some lose figures in my head (and pocket) but it was hard to firm up a race plan. Although I had recced the whole course over two weekends, I’d messed about chatting and taking pictures. It was more about learning the route and much less about running sections at race pace. I used the past three ladies’ winners as a steer. I knew I’d be slower at the start, but that’s just how I roll. Anyone that I asked about my goals, the answer was “I’d like it to start with a 17”. Maybe it was more of an affirmation, but I still made me feel pretty cocky saying it.
Photo: Stuart March
Photo: Jon Lavis
Photo: Jon Lavis
Rather than pluck numbers of the sky, I kept my plan pretty simple. Easy and by effort. It’s pretty basic, but it always amazes me how many people I overhear saying they are going too fast at the start. I had the lyrics to Guns ‘n’ Roses. Patience going over and over in my head “…take it slow. It will work itself out fine. All you need is just a little patience”.
It was lovely chatting to Wendy, Kit-Yi and Leanne on route to the 10 mile aid station at Beacon Hill Beeches. I pressed on, as I’d carried enough to see me through to the first crew point at 22 miles. Or so I’d thought.
Although the temperatures were kinder, the humidity wasn’t the best for running. I was pretty much drenched by then and drinking way more than I usually do. I’m so used to running around the trails and hills in Scotland and the Lake District, so being in an area I can’t top-up-al-fresco is alien to me.
Photo: Jon Lavis
I was catching up with a briefly chatting with a few runners over the next few miles and then ran with Radio 2’s Vassos Alexander for a few miles. Check me, randomly throwing in a celebrity running buddy! He’s a really nice chap, who just loves life and shows genuine interest in people. We chatted loads before parting company at Queen Elizabeth.
Queen Elizabeth Car Park to Cocking 35 miles (3:28 - 5:39) 23rd
By the time I’d met my crew I’d tipped over to the incoherent side of dehydration. I guzzled loads, picked up two bottles and a few snacks and left, with a view to keeping support points to a minimum.
Photo: Jon Lavis
The results tell me I was 38th position. I passed Sarah Sawyer before the checkpoint and I knew Jess Gray was ahead, so I was second female. I’d asked my crew not to give me any updates about where I was in the race until at after half way. And even then on a need-to-know basis.
I marched up the hill through the wooded trail feeling a little woozy. The humidity was really taking its toll here and I struggled to run on the hills. The next section is a bit of a blur. I drank nearly a litre of fluid over the six miles and I could have done with more. At Harting Downs (27 miles) my crew told me everyone seemed to be struggling with humidity, so I took comfort in the fact it wasn’t just me.
Harting Downs. Photo: Jon Lavis
From then I had an invasion of negative thoughts going on, and I was quite literally shaking my head. I was using Eddie’s trick of simply counting, which seemed to clear the crazy and helped loads.
My niggling foot was ok on soft ground, but anything rocky and it was a bit ouchy. Although my shoe choice - Salomon S-lab Sense – were perfect for the course, terrain and conditions. They probably weren’t the wisest choice with a foot issue and the small matter of 100 miles. My crew had my back-up shoe, La Sportiva Bushido at the ready. But I never changed into them. In hindsight…yes, hindsight is a wonderful thing.
Grimacing on the rocky descent to Worthing, I arrived to see the smiling faces of Iain and Sharon Bareham. It was lovely to see them. I was told by the CP marhals that I was first lady, but knew that was a mistake. I arrived at 5:38. Two minutes ahead of my sketchy 5:40 target.
Cocking to Washington 54 miles (5:39-8:49) 14th
I was looking forward to the hike out of Cocking. Two chaps went running past me, which made me doubt my effort. Maybe I shouldn’t be walking. But it was hot and it was early, so I let it slide. I passed them both again within about two miles.
I was slowly starting to come around again. By the time I hit Bignor Hill, I was back in the game. I stopped to pick up some water, as I wasn’t meeting me crew for a miles. On arrival I was told Jess was 10 minutes ahead. I was surprised it wasn’t more, but wasn’t concerned. The same chap went to double check and informed me it was 14minutes. I was still surprised it wasn’t more.
The little jog up Bignor reminded me of the great day I had with Karen Hathaway on the course. The views are just stunning. I nearly planked a few times taking it all in.
I met my crew in the sprawling metropolis of Amberley. Picked up some fluids and Shotbloks, downed some fizzy water…and then spent the next mile belching. Classy. But I was in my happy place. Lesson learned. Getting so dehydrated early on caused me at least 15 miles of discomfort.
I was starting to pick it up again and ran straight through Kitchust Hill and Chantry Post aid stations. I had enough to keep me going, and just wanted to focus.
The descent to Washington seemed to take longer than expected. I passed a wedding party, who must have been delighted with the influx of sweaty runners. Although, I had just caught three of the wedding guests peeing al fresco, so swings and roundabouts and all that.
Marco and Cairn were sitting on the grass along from the church and told me I’d now closed to 9 minutes on Jess, but when I got to the checkpoint (54 miles) she was still standing there. I didn’t hang about, as I had to find where my crew had parked.
Washington to Clayton Windmills 70 miles (8:49-11:44) 9th
I picked up some supplies from the guys and moved on, seeing Jess approaching. I was crossing the field when I heard someone approaching rapidly. I thought Jess had really put a sprint on, but it was Marco. Panicked because I forgot to pick up my headtorch, which was a race rule to carry from Washington.
I chatted with Jess briefly, before pushing on. I know she’s feisty so didn’t expect her to give it up easy, but I refuse to look back in races. Whenever I see someone looking back, I know I’ve got them.
I was trotting along quite nicely and heard what I thought was something banging in my back. I presumed it was my head torch, so tried to body shuffle readjust. Then I realised it was Jess’ footsteps, as she was literally on my heels. This continued for the next four to five miles to Botolphs (61 miles). Us, inches apart. Earphones in. Stoney silence. I found the situation a little bit disconcerting. It wasn’t until I got to aid station and stopped to pick up some Coke, I looked back and she wasn’t there.
I marched up the hill and was greeted to the sight of a smiling Dan Lawson – looking like he'd gone up a few pantone numbers on the tanning colour chart. Maybe it was the stress/exertion of the previous few miles, but I was starting to dip a little again. Dan was out for a jog and was planning on turning at to Devil’s Dyke, so jogged along chatting loads. I concentrated on getting some calories in without barfing.
I crossed over the road at Devil’s Dyke a bit confused about where the crew point was. I thought it might have been the next car park, so pushed on. I heard some shouting behind and turned to see Paul, Marco and Cairn running down the road with carrier bags. It was a comical sight. They confirmed what I already suspected, Jess had dropped out. I swapped bottles, picked up a few bits and ran on down Saddlescomb, joking with the two guys I passed that they were getting chicked.
At the farm, I briefly chatted to Jason Lewis who was stopping his race there. He’s since discovered he had pneumonia, so that’s a pretty legitimate DNF story. I didn’t stop at the CP, but I got a real buzz from the cheers I got from the ladies there.
I was feeling on top of the world and just loving it. Unlike traditional road running distances, the best thing about ultra-running is that you can hit some horrible lows in races, but pull it back to high-kicking status.
I remember the road crossing at the golf course being super busy, so I stopped, took my earphones out and looked left and right about 10 times. No road crossing dramas this time.
I saw the ever-smiling Mark Perkins with his wife Sarah and their kids approaching. Mark is also on the Centurion team and although we’ve chatted over the last couple of years, we’ve never actually met in person. Fever-pitch excitement. Sorry for the squealing and sweaty hugs, guys.
Next stop the Clayton Windmills. Although I didn’t actually stop, just acknowledged my arrived and left. I was starting to feel a little bad as all the aid stations volunteer were amazing and poised ready to help and I like “Eh, can I go now”… and pushed on to meet my crew two miles later.
Clayton Windmills to Southease 84 miles (11:44-14:13) 8th
Then I met The Naveseys! It didn’t actually see them at first. Just their MASSIVE German Shepherd Zach. Hugs all round. Except for Zach. He was eyeing me up as an afternoon snack.
Then I had some company from a super cute five-year-old, Charlie, who broke away from his parents on a family walk to run alongside me. The kid had some great chat and some serious endurance, so I had to play the race-back-to-Dad as fast as you can game.
I met Marco and Paul at Ditchling Beacon (72 miles) for some last supplies before the 12 mile stretch. After saying farewell, I was starting to feel the effects of sweating and chafing. I’ll spare you the graphics but I reapplied some Vaseline, peed what can only be described creosote and popped a blood blister on my foot with the pin from my race number. I didn’t really spare you anything there, did I?
After I popped the blister, I did that half-run, half-limb run down the descent to Housedean Farm aid station. But hey, it took the focus off my quads. It’s funny how something can hurt, but another issue comes along to replace the discomfort focus.
I stopped for two cups of a Coke and a brief chat to the aid station volunteers and John from Lyon and Simon before heading over the bridge.
On the climb (sorry don’t know the official name) which seems to make an unnecessary u-bend, I saw a runner in the distance. I was trying to make out who it was. It looked like Duncan Oakes. If it was, he was having a stinker of a race because he’s a machine and frequently schools the youngsters on racing. Anyway, whoever it was knew it was me gaining as they seemed to pick it up.
My quads were aching again, but nothing more than the I’ve just run an undulating 80 miles kind of ache. Foot and blister were fine though. See?
I passed through the village on my way to the railway crossing and the final (timed) aid station. This is where I stayed during my recce, so was in familiar territory. I also knew there was a nice climb coming up, so didn’t want to prolong the effort.
Southease to Eastbourne 100 miles (14:13-17:12) 6th
I caught up with Duncan on the climb. He was, as ever, smiling and being very gracious. On any other day Duncan would have been well on his way to finishing the race by that time. But he was suffering from a chest infection, so put ego and plans aside just to finish. That’s why everyone has such huge admiration for Duncan. He just gets the job done.
There was another runner in front with a pacer. Even from a long way off I could see he was distressed about seeing me. I honestly couldn’t have cared less.
At this point I was estimating a 17:25-17:30, based on previous ladies’ winners’ splits. Again it was hard to gauge, but I didn’t want to mess about and miss the sub 17:30.
Then I saw Claire Shelley bounding towards me with her usual plugged-into-the-mains energy levels. You can’t help but smile when you see Claire, so it was lovely to see her. Then her sidekick and my CR teamie, Drew came through the carpark saying all the right things like “flying”, “crushing it” etc. Didn’t even matter if it wasn’t true, but it gave me real boost.
I know the next crew point is called Bo Peep car park and the clue is in the name, but there were fecking sheep everywhere. Which is fine, if they didn’t think you were chasing them and frantically running all over the place! My footwork was struggling to negotiate frantic sheep.
Last support point, I picked up some Coke, a Garmin back up and my Petzl Nao. I carried the Tikka for kit purposes, but the Nao is far superior. Especially with a defunct brain. See you in Eastbourne, guys.
I was happy to do this section in (almost) daylight as I was concerned about the faint track in the grass. It’s hard enough to follow during the day. Thankfully I didn’t need to turn on the headtorch until about half a mile before Alfriston.
I arrived at the aid station and pushed on to come face-to-face with a herd of cows. I wasn’t so gallus then, as I circumnavigated the field, knee deep in cow shit. There was just no way I was going through them. I even turned off my head torch so they couldn’t see me. True story.
After stopping at the Alfriston CP, Dean Oldfield and his pacer, Stephen passed me again. Obviously super impressed with my cow whispering skills.
There’s a long climb out of Alfriston which, on fresh legs, is very runnable. But a fast hike was suiting me just fine. Then is plateaus across some grassy sections, before a steep descent in the final aid station in Jevington. Last year’s lead runner got lost here – yes, with three miles to go – so I was being very cautious.
Again “Do I need to come in?” No, bye. Another big climb up to the final trig point, where the race route breaks from the SDW and follows an alternative course down to Eastbourne. I made the mistake during my recce run, missed the trig and ended up going to Eastbourne twice. Even in the dark I was baffled how I ever made that mistake.
I can’t remember what time I hit the trig, but I was amazed at how much time I had to get to finish only 2.5 miles away! Of course in my excitement, I missed a turn and ended up scrambling back through some jaggy bushes. Only thing I was concerned about was not ripping my skort.
Then I was out on the road. Nearly out in front of a van, because my legs didn’t stop in time. I honestly couldn’t believe how much energy I had.
Although I’d run this section before, I was starting to worry that I was on the wrong road. It wasn’t until I recognised a few buildings that I settled and reminded myself to enjoy the final stretch. Then I took the left turn down the path to the sports centre – which seemed to take longer than last time.
And there it was. The mecca that is Eastbourne Sports Centre. The race involves a lap of the track before finishing under the gantry. Cairn was sitting poised ready to kick my ass on the sprint again. But this time he burned out and had to wait for him. Pah! Take that, kid. In his head he still thinks he “won” though.
So I finished in 17:12:41…. Happy, happy, happy! Maybe I could have gone for the 16:56 record, but it's not worth pondering over.
Best crew ever!! xx Photo Stu March
Thank you so much to my amazing crew, Marco, Paul and Cairn who were, as always, simply phenomenal. I couldn't have done it without them. Paul continues to be my lucky charm.
Big hugs to James, Nici, Drew and all the aid station volunteers. The support around the course was truly amazing.
Think I’ll be grinning about this for a long time.
Although arriving home, Cairn was telling me about all the things he was going to say for “news” at school…running a kids’ race, ice cream on the beach, sleeping in a van. When I asked if Mum winning a race would feature in this list he replied “Mum, you didn’t win. People finished before you”. So harsh.
Men's race Neil Kirby 15:30 Ian Hammett 15:46 Ally Watson 16:28
Having only recently discovered that I didn't have the points to enter UTMB next year, I was in the frustrating position where I had to run a race to, well, run a race. It's a topic that has been discussed and slammed at great length, but I wouldn't get a foot in the door without the nine points required. I was two short and realistically my only options were the White Rose 60 last weekend and the CTS in Dorset in December.
While still nursing the aftermath of Spartathlon, I chose the White Rose 60. It was always going to be a big ask, but all I had to do was get around in one piece. Ships burned. No excuses.
As a late entry - with low expectations on racing 60 miles - only a few people knew I was doing it. Even the super-observant John Kynaston missed my name on the entry list. He was surprised to see me at race registration, but within five minutes we'd already agreed on a mini competition - cloest lap times - and he was relaying stories of the good old days when he used to beat me. #backinthedayJK
The White Rose Ultra has three race options: 30, 60 and 100. The 30 mile is stunning loop around the High Peak, Colne Valley and Pennines. The 60 is two loops and the 100 in three loops with an extra bit thrown in. It's relatively low key and relaxed. A sharp contrast to my last gig in Greece.
I was so unprepared for the race that I was still debating shoe choice at registration. I had no expectations and no course knowledge, but was hoping to finish in 10 hours something. Just plucking numbers with a goal of 5ish hour laps. Mainly because I had to drive back to Glasgow after the race.
At 8am the 30 and 60 mile participants we set off. The 100 mile race started at midnight, so most were already one lap down. There was no distinction between who was in what race, so it was hard to tell who was competing against who.
There's a lot of road on the course - maybe 40% - but it was either up or down. And what was off road was boggy. Bit of a mixed bagged really, so glad I chose my Salomon S-lab Sense.
There are stocked checkpoints every five miles, so it was easy to break down the lap into six sections. I carried my own Torq bars, Shot Bloks and Gu gels though.
Pic by SportSunday
My plan was to take the first lap steady, stick with people and get my bearings. Although the course is well-marked it's a bit tricky and easy to miss some of the turn offs. I was called back once (thanks Kate) and was very hesitant at some junctions until other runners caught up and kept me right.
The weather was absolutely glorious. Hard to believe it was November 1. At points it was quite toasty and I got really dehydrated and had a tough couple of miles before the CP at 21 miles.
I was back at race HQ in 5 hours 17, quickly picked up some supplies and moved out onto lap two. Speaking to some of the 30 runners, they couldn't fathom why anyone would want to go out for another lap, but I was fairly relax about it. Maybe because I am used to lapped races, but I think it was because I could relax and just enjoy it having already covered the course.
With Chris Baynham-Hughes. Pic: Mark Oliver
Starting out on lap two I realised I'd forgotten to pick up my bottle of Coke. Giving my inability to eat - and my caffeine addiction - I rely quite heavily on Coke during races. All I could think about for the first five miles was Coke - and CP didn't have any. Crisis.
Pushing on I spotted Matt and Rich Wilson ahead. I'd overtaken Matt in the Lakeland 100 last year and the Lakeland 50 this year, which he wasn't enamoured about. It was pretty apparent they (Matt most likely being the instigator) weren't happy about me catching them, as they seemed to find another gear. But the gap remained the same for a few miles.
Most of the route is on country roads and trails, with a few road crossings to negotiate. Approaching a road crossing at around 37 miles, I made the assumption that the roads were really quiet (as they had been all day) and ran straight out. Not wise, as I was hit side on by a car. I was knocked onto my right side and just lay on the road - trying to assess the damage. Another car stopped and there was a bit of frantic panic above me, but I don't really recall what happened.
The poor lady who hit me was obviously shaken and kept repeating that I'd just run out in front of her. The other chap was trying to help me up but I was bit shocked and trying to let the initial pain subside. He was really kind and asked to give me a lift home or to the hospital. He looked a bit baffled when I declined as "I was in the middle of a race". Really I was thinking: "Naw, mate. I need to the two points for UTMB".
I pretty much left them standing and got going again. With my heart rate maxed out and on the brink of tears, I couldn't believe what just happened. To be honest, the fact that it hasn't happened to me before beggar's belief. I was just really lucky it was a cautious driver and not some boy racer - or anyone who drives a Merc.
My shoulder, hips and ribs took the brunt of the hit and fall, but it wasn't too painful. Although I was winded and had some discomfort across my chest, I made the decision to keep going. Then my next thought was: Those fecking Wilson Brothers have got away.
Being super cautious on the roads and sticking to running towards the traffic, I crossed over to take the left turn to see Frank's crew waiting at the junction. I planned on being cheeky and asking if they had any Coke, only to see on approach a little angel with a can of Coke his hand. They had overheard me asking at the last checkpoint. It was a god send.
By the time I got to 45 miles, I'd caught up with the Wilson Brothers again, but they kept pulling away. Ideally I would have liked to have passed them, but I didn't want it as much as Matt did - who was checking every half mile to see where I was. Watching the turning headtorches made me laugh.
I was just quite happy with finishing. I never knew where I was in the race. It wasn't until I got to a CP at 51 miles that I was told I was first lady and 5th overall. After I was trying to work out if I could break the ladies record set by Shelli Gordon last year in 11:08.
The shuddering was hurting my chest and ribs and I was so paranoid that I'd fall, but I knew if I was going to miss the record it would only be by a couple of minutes. My friend and CR teamie Eddie had sent me a charm bracelet with the words "make it happen" on a few weeks earlier and I started chanting this over and over. Still not the craziest thing I'd done that day. I finished in 11:05.
It was definitely adrenaline that kept me going, as within half an hour of finishing I was feeling it. I could barely get my shoes off. The four-hour drive home was horrendous, arriving after 1am - and then I couldn't sleep for the pain in my ribs and hip.
A race too far for me, so time for some proper recovery now. Even without the incident, my body is broken and I'm knackered. I would normally use the expression "I feel like I've been hit by a bus" but I don't want to pre-empt anything.
You know one of those races that you're never ever going to do? Like never? That was my initial response when I first heard about Spartathlon. That heat and all that road, forget it. But after a few years in the sport, the crazy gets crazier and the unthinkable becomes infatuation. It's one of the world's classic ultra-distance races, so ranked high on my bucket list.
I was reminded by running friends in a similar way as I was when I signed up for GUCR a few years ago. "But, Debs, you hate running on the canal". I doesn't bother me so much now, but it did then. New for 2015 was "But, Debs, you can't run in heat". Valid and vital point.
The prospect of the heat terrified me and I'd pretty much resigned myself to airing on the side of misery during the race. But it wasn't the car crash I expected it to be. Granted, it wasn't as hot as in previous years, but it was still beyond the melting point for my fair skin.
I'd basically sweated my ass off in the month leading up the race in saunas, hot yoga and a heat chamber. At my last heat chamber session I was surprised to report I actually felt quite comfortable for the hour. My confidence was a few rungs up from last ill-fated holiday runs and I felt as prepared as I was ever going to be.
Previous participants spoke so highly of the experience, but how could running along the edge of road be the "best race ever"? What could be so "special" about it? Why would your get the race logo tattooed on your body?
Regardless of what the influx of international visitors think, the Greeks are very passionate about the race. It's ingrained in their history and culture as it mirrors the journey made by Pheidippides, the messenger of ancient Greece, who covered the 153 miles (246km) distance to request assistance from the Spartan armies.
Individually, there's nothing extraordinary about the race characteristics: The heat, the relentless road, 8800ft of ascent, the mountain at 100 miles, or the speed your need to travel at to stay within the strict cut off times. It's the combination of those factors that stop the majority from making it from Athens at day break to Sparta before sunset the next day. Even despite the race's strict entry and qualifying criteria, the success rate speaks volumes about the difficulty of the undertaking. Typically around 40%, but it's been as low as 23% on a few occasions.
Brtish Spartathlon Team (britishspartathlonteam.org)
This year, the field was very deep. "Stacked" as my Stateside friends would say. Arguably the best the race had ever seen. The male and female 24-hour world champions, Florian Reus and Katalin Nagy were starting, along with previous winners and placers and a few high calibre international athletes. On paper, that would increase the percentage of finishers, as the cut-offs wouldn't or shouldn't be the major issue.
As countries are allocated a specific number of places, everyone comes as a team. So we arrived as a mixed squad of 23 in our fancy dress kid-on GB kit. All part of the razamataz which I , of course, whole-heartedly embraced.
Even after the race, my recollection of the experience all merged into one big mish-mash, so this is a bit sketchy.
The Start: Picture by Sparta Photography Club
At 7am, as daylight was creeping in, we set off through the streets of Athens - causing a major traffic jam as we went. Even after 33 years, I don't think anyone knows whether the motorists are honking their horns out of support or to show how pissed off they are. We went with the former, smiling and waving like idiots.
I was pretty relaxed, but I could feel the tension around me. People racing early on, breathing harder than what is deemed appropriate for a 153 mile race. The mix of adrenaline and the fear of the dreaded cut-offs incite people to get-the-miles-in-early.
Media chat with Paul R
The cut offs aren't particularly tight, but there's no room for error. It's certainly not a journey you'd embark on for the social aspect. Each of the 75 checkpoints (placed around two miles apart) have their own closing time. And each checkpoints had a board displaying the CP number, distance covered, distance to sparta and closing time. Less of a gentle reminder and more of a don't-even-think-of-sitting-down-here statement. The happy bus is always looming in the background waiting to pick-up the stragglers.
The checkpoints are well-stocked and you can leave a dropbag at any one of them, but I was lucky to have Marco crewing for me. He would meet me at the designated 15 support points.
Playing in the traffic
The first 20 miles are pretty uneventful. Just roadside, a few climbs and lots of a traffic. I won't lie to you, the landscape doesn't change much. But I was promised it would get slightly better after the first 50.
The run along the coast was beautiful though. Picture postcard crystal blue. Never had water looked so inviting. I'm sure every runner must have looked longingly at the sea - mainly because we were getting fried at that point.
Although we started in a nice stand-about-in-vest temperature - which is the equivalent to a very good summer's day in Scotland - it started to really heat up by around 11am.
Shortly after this, I would see Marco for the first time in Malaga. CP11, at marathon distance, was the first time support was allowed. I arrived a few minutes ahead of my 4hr 13 plan, picked up a few supplies, changed bottle and pushed through.
At checkpoint 12, ice become my new best friend. I stuffed it in my hat, my bra and a band around my neck. It was heaven, and the difference between shuffling and swaying and actually running.
Ice in my hat, bra and neck band. Pic: Sparta Photography Club
Whenever I use ice for an injury or inflammation, placing it on my skin is always uncomfortable, but in Greece I didn't even notice. Not only had the ice melted by the time I reached the next CP two miles later, it had dried too. I repeated this exercise at every CP during the daylight hours. Even the race marshalls were impressed with the places I could stuff ice.
My next mini goal was to get to CP22 at 50 miles in eight hours. That would be 90 minutes ahead of the checkpoint. After 60 miles, the route is very undulating and with absolutely course no knowledge, I was winging it from there. I got to CP22 bang on 8hrs.
50 miles down and HOT . Pic: Free Life Productions
The 10 miles after this were certainly the hottest, but I was managing it OK. I'd pretty much lost the ability to eat, so was bonking quite a bit. I went through 100km in 10hr12, still on schedule. I was willing the hills to appear, just to break the motion of running. A good stomp was needed.
It got dark just before 8pm. I love running in the dark, so was looking forward to this. When I got to Halkion at CP32, Marco told me that Paddy was having a rough time with his stomach and was not far ahead. Paddy is the king of pacing and strong finishes, so thought he'd come through it and sprint the final 50 miles.
With the night came the inclines, rocky tracks, ferrell dogs and wild cats with their glow in the dark eyes, rustling in the bushes, blisters and achy legs. The Morton Stretches helped (pictured) but I opted to change into compression tights, just for the comfort factor.
Leaving Lyrkia at 92 miles, en route to the dreaded 1200 metre mountain, it was relatively flat for a few miles and I was enjoying the dark and coolness. Then it started to climb and I was forced for hike. The climb went on for-like-ever. Zig-zagging. Every time I looked up there was more. Around a corner, and more. But the time I reached the "base of the mountain" (98miles) checkpoint, most of the ascent had been tackled.
Pic by Adrian Bratty Kouyoufas
I sat down for longer than I should have. Actually I shouldn't have sat down at all. Sitting on the job is not something I would condone in any race, but this wasn't a race against anyone other than myself. Plus I wasn't exactly bouncing at the prospect of the feck off climb in front of me.
I changed socks and popped some blisters with the pin from my race number - classy lassy. And then the GM appeared. I was so happy to see her, as I thought I'd have company for the climb. My brain took a while to register that we was wearing a down jacket and a very sad face, and had obviously dropped out.
I took a base layer, as stopping had caused me to chill quickly, and off I went. I lasted about seven minutes with the layer. The climb wasn't quite the drama I thought it would be. As usual, mountains always look bigger than they actually are. In reality it was only a 30 minute stomp, with a few sways and couple of stumbles back.
I declined the offer of a comfy seat and blanket at the summit and headed straight down. The descent was worse than the ascent. A steep bed of scree and a defunct brain was not a good combo. After sliding and toe-tripping on a few rocks, I decided to cut my loses and walk. Looking around, everyone else had reached the same conclusion.
At the next checkpoint, I realised I'd seen the same twin lads at practically every station for over 100 miles. I don't even know who they were supporting, but their encouragement was fabulous. Even if they only words we exchanged were "bravo" and "thank you".
For the next few miles I was leap-frogging with a chap who was wearing what can only be described as a shell suit. It was quite apparent that he was getting upset about getting overtaken with a female. We exchanged no words or glances, just the mutual annoyance that we couldn't shake each other off. I won.
I then went past Traci Fablo, Team USA and world 48-hour record holder. On any given day that would be a running career highlight, but it wasn't a fair race. She was struggling with injury and would later drop.
Arriving at Nestini (106), I saw that Paddy had dropped and joined Marco and Sharon. I picked up some supplies and despite the fact that I was enjoying the chat and social interaction, they threw me out.
The next 20 miles were all a bit of a blur. It started to rain. I was still warm, so continued to kick about in my vest. At CP53 an official seemed quite concerned and asked me if I need a raincoat to which I replied "No, I'm Scottish". He found this so funny he took to Facebook. I couldn't work out how everyone seemed to know about it.
As I slowed, became increasingly incoherent and was soaked through, I did start to cool down. At the CP60 I sent Marco to car the for a change of clothes. Whilst huddled in door way, Mike Wardian's brother asked if I'd passed a skinny guy with a beard. I did try to speak to Mike at a previous CP, but he was on another planet. I told Mike's brother that he was really far gone and he might want to go get him. He informed me that he would never drop out. He was wrong. I later learned that he had chafing that would make every man cry at the sight of it.
There's a lot of climbing between 120 and 135 miles. A lot, for tired legs. I was wandering up a never ending hill along a road side. It wasn't even a hard shoulder, just extra tarmac. Lorries were trundling past and spraying me water, but the honking horns and howls of "bravo" kept me awake. And smiling. They were no race signs and I was starting to panic. Up and up with no reassurance that I was going in the right direction. I think I would have rather lived there than retrace my steps. I was so relieved to finally get to a lonely CP and signs of race life.
After the climb, I was overheating inside my jacket and being on the warm side was making me slow down. I needed some freshness so went back to bare arms even though we were being hit by a thunder and lightening storm. Scottish, right?
The best thing about the race were the people. From Athens all the way to Sparta, the people of Greece go nuts for this race. They love it. Kids were out of schools high-fiving and asking for autographs, office workers were out cheering, people were hanging out of windows or out in the street taking pictures.
I can't imagine running alongside a main motor route in the UK in the dead of night, and getting positive encouragements from drivers. I did have a few close shaves on the country roads because we were running into the traffic, but the vast majority were very respectful.
The worst thing about the race was being alone with my thoughts. For obvious safety reasons earphones aren't aloud, so no music. There was just no switch off. I just had numbers - miles covered, time, distance to next CP, miles per hour, closing time, miles to go - going around in my head constantly.
Between 115-125 miles were my lowest points. I'd worked out that if I did four miles an hours I'd finish within the 36 hours time limit. So I stomped at 4mph. Then an Austrian lady went passed me and I had a serious chat with myself. And the numbers in my head. Not only did I not want to lose placing, the idea of walking 30 miles was inconceivable. Thankfully sense prevailed and I got going again.
You know when you're in a race and you can cover 5 miles without even thinking about it? Well, that didn't happen in this race. I was aware of every single mile. I decided to pick up my sleeves at the next checkpoint. Not only because it was pissing down, but it meant I could also so cover my Garmin.
I got to CP68, but couldn't see Marco. The hire car was there, but there was no sign of him. So I started running up and down the road shouting his name. As I was looking slightly demented and official came out to help. Then Marco appeared from behind the rocks with a smile and a pack of baby wipes under his arm. It's all about timing.
Sleeves on. Garmin covered. Don't peek. That's got to be at least two miles... Ah 0.36 miles! Although at the pace I was moving, I was looking at 30 hours. Considerably better than the 35 hours I was calculating at no so long ago.
The road to Sparta is very undulating and the space to run is very narrow, but I kept chipping away at it. Walking the inclines and trying to get some life into my legs on the downhill.
At CP71 I stared at the sign trying to mentally convert 12 km into miles. One the stewards asked if she could help and explained what I was trying to do, to which she informed me 12km was 10 miles. I just left it and pushed on.
I met Marco at the last support point with only 6 miles to go and took few sips of coke. On paper, the last few miles look amazing. An absolute flying finish. But wow, my ITB and glutes were not happy about it. In hindsight I was completely out of it. I hadn't really taken in any calories in the last 20 miles. In my head I wasn't hungry and I was in the final stages, so therefore I was fine. Emphasis on: In my head.
I could see Sparta, but I seemed like a very long way away. And I just knew that statue was going to be at the other side of town. Guaranteed. I was trying to do that positive - Just-think-about-what-you've-achieved thing, by my head was having none of it. With 5km to go Fergie went past in the car screaming like a crazy man, just before I hit CP73 on the outskirts of town.
Some kids started to cycle alongside me, but even though got scared and fecked off. So I shuffled at what felt like a glacial pace, but I'm probably being generous there. I past a petrol station and a road...and then stopped. Where to now? There was a bridge, but I couldn't see anything past that. Of course there were no race signs, because there was no deviation from running in a straight line! But I wasn't of sane mind at that point. I was trying to signal to passing cars to ask directions, but I must have looked NUTS. Then one of the officials spotted me flapping about and came running towards me. The final CP was hidden behind a tree covered roundabout.
I crossed the chip mat and picked up my Union Jack. I was on my way now. A lovely lady biked alongside me and I'll never know how she managed to keep balance at the pace I was going. We talked about the fabulous support from the Greek people and she told me how she used to come out as a kid and run the finishers in. I asked her how far it was to the statue and she said 1km. I knew it was a 1.5 miles, so I don't even know why I asked. She left me in the capable hands of a group of young children on bikes and went back to the checkpoint.
My conversation with the kids went...What's your name: "Debbie" "Beddie?" Debbie" Gebby?" "Yes".
Followed by "How far?" "Not long". Two minutes later "How far?" "Not long".
Then we turned right into the street where the statue was waiting at the end. I did seem like forever, but it was a great forever. I was treated like a hero. Even as I type this, I can still feel it and hear it.
That moment when I reached for Leonidas foot...just phenomenal.
I get it now. It is truly special. There's no other race like it. For the majority, it's not about time or position. The next day the only thing strangers asked was whether you finished or not. It's all that matters.
That race I was never, ever going to do? Well, I did it. And it's the best race in the world.
Huge congratulations to everyone who finished, especially the British Spartathlon Team. Thank you to the organisers, stewards and the wonderful people of Greece. Special thanks to my Mum for looking after my boy, to make these trips possible. Last but certainly not least, to Marco for top-notch crewing. Your turn next year. Thankfully you'll be hard pushed to find a shitter hire car.
With Round the Rock being my one and only local Ultramarathon and being an ultramarathon runner it makes sense that this race features on my calendar almost every year since its inception in 2011. I, like most other local runners are very passionate about this stunning race and sing it’s praises regularly when overseas doing other races. It’s for that reason that I’ve written this, to spread the word about an awesome event on a stunning island just thirty minutes away from central London with great air links from all corners of the UK and further afield. There’s no excuses not to have a go and at 48 miles it’s a great introduction to Ultra running.
As this is about the fourth time of me running it and as virtually all my training for other races is done on various parts of the course, I won’t go into all the bits of detail. I usually only write these reports due to my failing memory but I don’t need to do that on this occasion, I can just go back out and run the bits I’d forgotten about.
RTR usually takes place on the first Saturday of August or thereabouts which is mid summer and can be quite a warm race but it’s not uncommon for us to experience very swift changes in the weather being such a small island.
The briefing takes place the night before at a fancy four star hotel central to everywhere and close to the race start and finish. It’s thorough and quirky with a real “small race vibe” although it has great otential to grow. The arrival of stars such as Steve Way and Paul Martelletti are helping to put the race on the map along with excellent financial rewards for the top runners. Steve and Paul took away £2000 last year for finishing in less than 6 hours. Paul went on to beat his record this year and finished in 5:42 to win a bit more cash. Alright for some! After the briefing you grab your race pack which includes your good quality technical Tshirt, a useful bag and your race number along with as many safety pins as you would need. The race organiser Digby makes very sure he welcomes everyone equally, regulars, islanders, new comers from UK and other countries. It has even been known for him to accommodate racers who haven’t been able to find or afford accommodation. Anyway, his ego is inflated enough so I’ll move onto the race.
It starts at 06:00 in a central part of St Helier. Much improved toilet facilities at the nearby marina and water available for all along with a van to dump your drop bag in. You have access to this at the half way point. Racers gathered and chatted and before we knew it there was a quick countdown and we were off, hurtling through the streets of St Helier along the edge of various harbours and past the ugliest industrial part of the island – all within about five minutes. The pace at the front is blistering and the field of around 70 (including about 8 relay teams) spreads quickly. The key to this race is to keep the sea on your right as you head around in an anti clockwise direction. The first leg of the race is 10.9 miles and skirts the south, south west and westerly coast lines until you get to St Catherines breakwater, the first check point. This first section is 100% on road, pavement and a little gravel trail with only two significant hills. They’re small but provide a welcome excuse for a walk following a good hour of lively road running. Not really a fan of road stuff anymore but it’s good to get a few quicker miles in the bank at the start. The route passes beautiful properties and a lovely coastline with constant views of the sea and the ever changing seascape as one of the largest tidal ranges in the world alters the appearance of the island. This year I started off way to fast but was enjoying chatting (between panting) to a friend who should have been way ahead of me and ultimately finished as first lady. I pushed a bit too hard and was very happy to get to the beautiful harbour village of Gorey overlooked by the imposing castle so I could have a toilet break and excuse to sit down for a minute and get my heart rate down a bit. That was the last I’d see of Leanne and the other four or five runners that were within sight.
Gorey
Gorey to St Catherines is a short, rolling run of about 20 minutes but it looks a lot further than a couple of miles. This year I made a conscious effort to fly through the checkpoints so slowed to fill up my water bottle and ran off in search of check point 2 which is at the 22.9 mile mark. I am always excited at this point as I think it’s the start of the cliff paths and more excuses for walking but I always forget there are a few more miles of hilly road running before you get to the cliff trails proper. You have one fairly long uphill on a quiet country lane before it flattens out a bit. My morale was damaged as I was overtaken by a couple of runners but I realised they were relay runners and my confidence resumed. A little bit of trail and a long road downhill brings to you to another pretty harbour village call Rozel before heading up to White rock and the start of the cliff paths, the hilliest and my favourite part of the course.
Rozel harbour
I moved well along the cliff paths but I think over cooking it on the first leg was taking its toll. My legs felt lethargic and I could feel hot spots on most of my toes but I kept on plodding and enjoying the ups and downs. I saw very few other racers and virtually no other people at all. The few dog walkers I did see were very encouraging. Along this usually dry and always hilly part of the course you pass a couple more little harbour villages – Bouley Bay and Bonne Nuit before getting back on the road for two miles which takes you into Check point 2 and the half way point (ish). Unfortunately on my way towards Bouley Bay I lost concentration, twisted my ankle, stubbed my toe and fell face first for about 15 feet straight into a thorny bush, banging Knee in the process. My knee swelled up instantly and the large cuts oozed blood all over my leg. My arms, neck and hands were covered in splinters and blood and my knee was excruciating. I sprang to my feet to check no one had seen me and limped on, admiring my appearance of being covered in blood. This would have made a great photo I thought but unfortunately I was sweating profusely and it all washed off. Except for my knee which continued to bleed for about 8 hours more.
Portelet bay
I made it to CP2 in record time, about 5 minutes quicker than last year. I was hoping to knock 19 minutes of last years PB and finish in just under 8 hours, thus earning me a “GOLD medal”. To explain this quickly, you get a Gold medal for any time under 8 hours, a Silver medal for between 8 and 10 hours and a Bronze medal for a finish between 10 and 12 hours. After 12 hours you get a hug from Digby. Probably better to DNF and just go home! I had several silver medals and had brought my time down from 9:25 in 2011 to 8:19 in 2015. I left the checkpoint promptly after ditching my T shirt and filling my mouth with Jelly babies like I was stocking up for a winter of hibernation. After another mile on the road I re-joined he coastal path at Sorel point, the northernmost part and ran for half an hour to Devils Hole passing some of our only wildlife, the Manx sheep….
….and onwards towards Greve de Lecq. By this point I’d caught up with a chap from Jersey who now lives in the UK. I think he said this was his fifth time doing RTR. We met up with another guy and enjoyed a run together along the short road section leading down into the bay of Greve De Lecq where the local occupants were preparing for a small music festival appropriately named “Groove de Lecq”. The view heading down the steep decent was incredible with the water in the bay a stunning turquoise colour and incredibly clear. Very inviting but unfortunately not on todays menu. From there you have a very steep hike for about five to ten minutes and then carry on along cliff paths to Plemont which again looks stunning. You continue onto Check point 3 which is at Grosnez and the 30 mile mark
The remains of Grosnez castle
From there I ran on my own and didn’t see another runner for the rest of the race. I descended from Grosnez down onto St Ouens bay, the view from here is incredible (see below) and started to run along the 5 mile beach but the tide hadn’t long gone out and I changed my tactic and scrambled up onto the main “five mile road” for an hour of very boring plodding with a bit of walking chucked in.
Beaches on St. Ouen’s Bay, Jersey, Channel Islands, United Kingdom, Europe
Corbiere Lighthouse
At Corbiere you get back on the cliff paths for my favourite part of the island, a three mile run taking you to the bay of St Brelades. The views are incredible looking down into the blue sea filled with kayaks, paddle boarders and super yachts. Another mile running along the beach and then up onto Portelet common for a short loop before joining the road and continuing down a steep decent that brings you to St Aubins harbour. Throughout the race you have a choice of running along beaches or the road/pavement closest to the beach. If the tide is high you have no choice. If the tide has just gone out, the sand will be wet and rippled which will cause ankle issues and wet feet. Low tide is great as the sand should be dry but firm and you can cut off a significant chunk of the total mileage. I am always flexible with my plan but usually coming to St Aubins harbour and seeing the finish line about three miles away in a straight line or four to five miles away following the pavement/esplanade I usually take the shorter option. It may have been a bad move as within minutes I was knee deep running through the sea but psychologically I was making better progress going in a direct line. I will never know which would have been quicker. Half way across the bay I watched my target time of 8 hours slip away but I pushed on hard to finish in less than 8:10. My final time was 8:09:48. 10 minutes off my PB but unfortunately still no Gold medal. That will have to wait until next year.
St Brelades Bay
There was a nice atmosphere at the finish with a few runners in front, Digby handing out free beer and lots of support for the people left to come in. I hung around for a few hours waiting for some friends and enjoying the sunshine and a dip in the sea. There was a BBQ and awards evening but unfortunately I had a few too many beers at the finish and passed out at home. Maybe next year!
Don’t ask!
I highly recommend this race and often do to anyone looking to take the Mrs/Mr away for the weekend and incorporate a cheeky race, any elites looking for a bit of cash, any first time ultra runners and anyone who just wants a challenging 44-48 miles trail run with awesome views, friendly people and about 1000 metres of ascent/descent.
On reflection of my own performance, I feel that if I had ran faster and walked less I probably would have finished in a quicker time! It was a hot day which seemed to slow everyone but the winner down. I didn’t have my ipod which may have gotten me out of a few slumps. All a load of shite. Excuses only satisfy those making them. I wasn’t fast enough……but I loved it once again.
I couldn’t recommend this race enough, get entered.
A Jersey cow
Thanks as always go to my sponsors Mercury Distribution. Without their help I wouldn’t be able to complete these races. Thank you
Some images stolen from Google and no running images as I forgot my ipod. Use your imagination
A year ago, Richard and I took part in the Grim Reaper Ultra 70 mile race. It was a step up for us. We had run the Brecon Beacons Ultra in 2014, which was 46 miles but we didn’t feel ready to make the leap to a 100 mile race. I mean it’s a hundred miles for goodness sake. So we settled on attempting 70 miles. The story of that race is here, suffice to say Richard won it and I came 5th after a major bonk at 30 miles.
One Century is Enough
This year we headed back to Lincolnshire with one plan, to beat our times from last year. We had initially planned to run the Grim Reaper Ultra 100 mile option but having completed the South Downs Way 100 just a few weeks before we decided one century was enough for this year! We agreed it would be more interesting to try and better what we did last year and bang out the 70 mile race again. Our friend Gemma, whom Richard had just about beaten into second last year, had signed up to do the 100, so we felt a little bad dropping down to 70, but we knew we could still support Gemma on the course.
The Grim Reaper Ultra is a race which is growing in popularity. It’s held in the beautiful surroundings of the Grimsthorpe Castle estate near Bourne, Lincolnshire. The house and gardens are open to the public and it is certainly a very picturesque setting. The main building is a cross between a castle and a stately home and overlooks a lake and the vast estate on one side. The entrance gates are approached on a long drive lined with trees and lush green lawns.
My Wife as Crew
On race weekend the lawns on one side of the approach are used for camping and are covered with tents of all shapes, sizes and colours. There are three race options. You can run 40, 70 or 100 miles on a 10 mile course round the estate. The loop includes a variety of scenery and terrain which keeps it interesting. There are no aid stations en route but at the end of the loop you have access to your tent and there are some basics on offer at the registration tent, such as crisps, nuts, bananas and water of course. You can also get a coffee if you don’t mind waiting six hours for the kettle to boil.
This year, Richard and I were lucky enough to have my wife crewing for us. Victoria would be there to have hydration and nutrition ready for us and to make sure we didn’t hang around too long at the tent at the end of each loop! The three of us arrived on the estate a little late in the day after a stop start car journey from the south coast and a huge burger and chips meal at an Ok Diner on the A1. We had to set up the tent in the dark, but at least it wasn’t raining.
No Film Required
With race start not until 9:30 we had plenty of time in the morning for breakfast, photos, registration, clothing and kit prep. We were able to get hot water from the registration tent for our mini porridge pots and there was plenty of bottled water for us to use. Registration involved collecting a race number and a little device for clocking in to the checkpoints on the course, which was attached around the wrist. I had decided that, as I filmed last year’s race, I wouldn’t be filming this time. So I had no batteries, SD cards or cameras to mess with. I had various changes of clothing if needed and my Salomon Hydration vest. I have recently taken to using the soft flasks in the front of the vest rather than the bladder in the back. For the first lap I filled both flasks with water.
Keith, the Race Director, gave the briefing just before 9am. The way the tents and registration area is set out means that as you finish a lap, you most likely pass your tent on the way to clock in at the end of the lap. You would then have to back track to your tent to refuel or change or whatever. It made a lot more sense to us to take time at the tent first and then essentially leave to go out on the next lap passing the registration tent to clock in and then out immediately after. We confirmed with Keith that it was ok to do this because we were convinced the rules were different last year.
Ildylic Location
The Grim Reaper Ultra starts at the top of the hill which leads down from the castle to the lake. It sounds idyllic and indeed it is. The race was started with the loud crack of a whip at 9:30 and we were off. Richard went off like a crazy man, as did Adam Holland who was doing the 100 but set off like he was running a marathon. I had a plan to complete each lap in around 1 hour 40 minutes and I wasn’t going to be drawn in to going after Richard. He would complete the first lap in 1:21!
The course drops down to the lake and snakes round the edge before leaving the tarmac and climbing a dirt track. This track meanders through fields and a small wood emerging back on a tarmac road for a mini climb to the forest section. This climb is easily runnable in the early part of the race but becomes a definite walking section later on! Once off the tarmac the climb can be muddy and slippy but it’s not long before you come out to a wide open forest and a long, straight, flat part of the course, where you run on soft grass for about a kilometre.
Varied Terrain
Out the other side of the forest and there’s another section of dirt road which winds for what seems like forever before you turn right on to an old railway line. This is a lovely part of the Grim Reaper Ultra course, along a cool, tree-enclosed, high-sided path. You run for a mile before passing under a bridge. Soon after comes the first checkpoint half way round the loop. You take your dibber thingy and pop it in the device. Once it beeps you know it’s logged you. Then comes the worst bit of the course. Believe me, as the laps tick by this next section becomes the bit you just have to grind out. It’s a 5k section of tarmac heading from the furthest point away on the loop back towards the castle. It’s flat and mostly straight and seems to go on forever. You can see the castle in the distance for much of it too. There is a very welcome downhill at around 4k and once you get there you know you’ve nearly done it.
Finally comes a left turn back on to the grass on the opposite side of the lake from where you were at the start of the race. You run a hundred metres by the lake side, over a ford and then left, up a gradual incline in a field to the second checkpoint, 3k from home. There’s another gradual descent through corn field and another climb in to another small wooded area, a final field and then the last kilometre on a path through the woods to the driveway of the castle. Running up the drive with the castle in front of you is a welcome sight even at the end of the first lap! Other runners, crew and supporters all clap as you make your way along the driveway. It’s a good feeling.
Moving through the Field
I took my first lap nice and easy and kept to pace. When I got to the tent, Victoria told me that Richard was already 15 minutes ahead, but that I shouldn’t panic and should stick to the plan. One part of the plan was not to spend very long at the tent at all. Last year I spent far too long feeling sorry for myself at the end of each lap and I was determined to keep aid station stops to a minimum this time. One quick drink of Coke and I was off for lap 2. Contrary to what we expected the sun was out and it was getting very warm. I passed Gemma at some point on the second lap and she was suffering and worried she might not make it round the 100. At the end of the first lap Richard was in the lead in the 70 mile race and I was 7th. However, over the course of the second lap, although I was keeping to pace, I seemed to be passing an awful lot of people. I thought I must be moving up the rankings at least one or two places. The thing is, without asking as you pass, you don’t know who is running 40, 70 or 100 miles.
By the third lap I had got Coke in one of my soft flasks, I had eaten a baby food sachet and had consumed one mug of Huel. I was determined to try and keep the bonk away as long as possible! This time last year I was really starting to feel it and was completely done in by 30 miles. Thankfully no such problems in 2016. I got to 30 miles and still felt like I had energy to keep running. I had also decided I was going for a swim! Last year on every loop we passed a spot next to the lake which was perfect for going down to the water’s edge and perhaps dipping your toes in the cool water. Well, it took me all day but on lap 6 last year I couldn’t resist any longer and I stripped to my pants and waded in. It was lush and soooooo refreshing.
Can’t Resist the Water
So on returning to the Grim Reaper Ultra I made it my mission to get in that water as often as possible. Despite going out with the intention of racing and trying to get a decent place, I just could not say no to that water. I deliberately took a spare pair of pants in my backpack on lap 3 and when I reached the spot, about 4km from the end of the loop, I stripped to my pants and socks and dived in. I only spent a minute or two submersing myself, but it was wonderful and I’m sure it put a spring in my step. I obviously lost a bit of time but it may be that in fact I gained time because of how fresh and alive swimming made me feel. Victoria had told me at the beginning of lap 3 that I had moved up to second place. When I got out of the water the only people who had gone past were quickly caught and passed again soon after, and I don’t think they were 70 mile runners anyway. I went in the water again on laps 4 and 5.
We had agreed that when we were approaching the end of a lap that we would text or phone Victoria to let her know what we needed and she would have it ready for us when we arrived at the tent. Towards the end of lap 3 I phoned and was surprised to learn that Richard was still there. When I got to the tent Victoria told me that I was definitely catching him. A quick coffee and a fill up of the flasks and I was on my way again. I was half expecting to see Richard up ahead at some point round the loop, but I didn’t see him until the next time I arrived at the tent, after 40 miles. He was almost ready to leave, so I tried to be ready in time to leave with him. I didn’t quite manage it and he sped ahead as we left the checkpoint.
Catching Richard
I was running quite well. I was running the first part down to the lake and up the dirt track, but by now I was walking up the tarmac climb and up to the forest at around 2 miles. I was ok running through the straight forest section and all the way along the railway line. I would then stop and walk for a few metres after the first checkpoint before starting the long road run. My reward for running all the way along the road was my swim at the end. It was so hot that I ran half of lap 4 and all of lap 5 shirtless, and although my hydration vest did rub a bit, I think it was worth it. Once the swim was done, it was a very short climb to the second checkpoint and from there it really felt like I was almost home. It certainly helped breaking the loop in to sections like that in my head.
I first spotted the Andorra Ultra Trail a few years ago as I trawled through race calendars looking for 100 mile races and with it falling in a busy time of year it's clashed with a few races I've done in the past like Lakeland and Al Andalus, so this year I decided I'd shake things up rather than do the same races over again and get entered.
The first thing that struck my attention was that the ascent is more than double that of the Lakeland 100 and about 35% more than the UTMB or Northburn 100 milers. I was fully expecting it to be the hardest 100 miler I've done. The previous winning times are over 30 hours and the cut off time is 60 something hours to give an idea. Seeing as my body doesn't cope well going over 2000m I knew I'd have to at least get out there a little bit before hand to get a feel for it.
After my last trail run coaching holiday in June I headed over to Andorra and completed the majority of the route (about 90%) in 4 days carrying a small pack with my overnight stuff in. Generally when I spend much time above 2000m running I feel totally breathless even at walking pace. The average height of the race is about 2100m with only the start and finish and the mid way checkpoint down at around 900m.
In terms of planning I reckoned with a 7am start on the Friday morning, I could finish at some point on the Saturday, maybe just before dark. I expected somewhere between 36 and 40 hours depending how badly the altitude got me. The legs are stronger than ever at the moment so I didn't really consider having any problems in that department, and after recceing the course I knew what I was in for, the big ? was how my body would do with the altitude.
So lets drop straight into race day and just before 7am everyone is gathered in an old street of a small town Ordino in Andorra, there's a buzz of excitement around as 397 runners are ready to depart with a short loop around the town before starting the first climb, over the first 15km we climb up to 2600m the first high point on the route profile, I believe there was 16 points over 2400m. I started pretty conservatively knowing that there's obviously a long way still to go. I was probably just inside the top 30 and passed most of the climb talking to a Japanese runner who would eventually finish 2nd.
After a long descent down to the first checkpoint at Sorteny Refuge just under 20km in just under 3 hours I was feeling ok so far and moving quicker than on my recce run as with the course markings it was very easy to follow the route. I was in a good rhythm and moving ok but started to feel my breathing deteriorate around 30kms in. There literally was not a cloud in the sky for the whole weekend and the views all around were amazing. I was excited about heading up to the highest peak of Andorra at just over 2900m, Comapedrosa which would be around the marathon distance having done over 4000m of ascent to this point. My pace was barely moving as I gasped for breath just trying to move forwards. I knew we'd drop down lower after this so kept pushing on slowly to be greeted at the summit by a bag piper and some enthusiastic marshals.
A couple more climbs, some massive descents and about 25km I would be at the first big aid station and looking at the time I figured I'd be there before it went dark which despite how bad my breathing was I was still moving well enough to finish just inside my expectations. I passed the next few miles with a Spanish guy and practicing my Spanish on him seemed to pass the time well. It wasn't long before we reached the descent into Margineda and we slowly drifted apart, I even passed a handful of runners.
I'd been managing to take in more calories than I normally would and spent about 10 minutes at the checkpoint eating drinking and getting the head torch out etc ready to push on into the darkness. From memory I think I was about 25th at this point. The next few km is a pretty aggressive climb of about 600m before a lot of climbing from 1200m to 2600m which took me about 4 hours for 8 miles!
The first 50 mile had taken about 17 hours 20 min knowing I had just over the same again to do I thought that my finish time would be probably 38-40 hours if I continued at a similar fashion. My breathing was particularly bad here and I spent a lot of time just sat down taking deep breaths and coughing a lot which was frustrating but I persevered and tried not to look at how slow I was averaging. The next section all the way up to the 130km/80 mile checkpoint at Pas de la casa is pretty remote, there are no roads or anything other than a couple of old stone shelters and huts, I guess if you set off on this section you've got to keep going until the checkpoint otherwise you'll still have a 3 or 4 hour hike to get off the course down to a road. The section stays above 2000m with 5 main climbs to 2500m/2600m or so.
I had an even rougher section through here as I was coughing a lot and having to rest every few minutes even when slowly walking up hill. I had a dip in a river a couple hours later as the weather was getting nicely hot again and after that caught up with two ladies who were moving along well. Myself and the American lady were pretty close together for about 30kms and although my legs didn't feel like they were doing anything, my lungs were working hard to even keep up.
After reaching the Pas de la casa checkpoint I knew it would be tight but I'd be able to finish pretty close to darkness and I was fairly certain I'd finish before midnight. There are 3 big climbs then a final 15km down hill to Ordino. It's basically a marathon from the 80 mile point but you can forget your usual marathon pace when there's a few thousand meters of ascent and you've already run for about 31 hours. I basically just continued on as fast as I could manage (slow as!) and ticked off one climb at a time. I wasn't feeling any worse now, just coughed and wheezed my way along. On the final descent I passed a handful of people, my legs were still happy to run as fast as my lungs would let them. I reached Sorteny checkpoint for the last time and whipped out the head torch for the final 8km or so. It seemed to drag a little looking for the finish but there were still supporters out in the town as I rolled in at 11pm on Saturday night having run for around 40 hours 30 minutes.
In terms of how I feel about the race, it's about where I expected time wise though it's just frustrating that on the races where there are significant amounts run at altitude, my performance declines heavily compared to those where the highest altitudes are 2000m or so. It's a fantastically organised and challenging event, I was disappointed there are no finisher medals (you get a nice jacket instead) If you like mountains you should definitely consider a visit to Andorra! There's a lot to do from hiking, running to climbing and mountain biking etc.
This was the third time I’d turned up in Coniston on the last weekend in July to start this race. The UTLD has grown from strength to strength over the years and the atmosphere is always fantastic. In 2014 I finished in 25:44 which I was really happy with. At the time I was relatively new to ultra-running but as time went by and I had a few more races under my belt, I started to realise I could probably run a bit faster if I tried again. I returned in 2015 with the intention of doing just that, but it wasn’t to be. I had a viral illness and was feeling rough even before I started. I ended up pulling out around the 40 mile mark. So I was back in 2016 to have one final crack at the Lakeland 100.
I was very aware of Lizzie Wraith’s record of 24:15 which she set in 2013. It was a good deal faster than my 2014 time, but I thought that if everything went to plan I’d have a chance of breaking it. This was my main goal. Lower down the list of goals were winning and beating my 2014 time.
Despite working nothing but night shifts for the whole of July, I though my preparation was good. I hadn’t been ill (which was my biggest triumph) and I’d managed to train consistently. The weather was looking good. I was ready.
Photo: Forest Bethell
My plan was to enjoy myself, eat as much as I could and generally look after myself the for the first 60 miles, then see what happened. As everyone knows, the race starts in Dalemain. The reality is that I’m not sure anyone can run 60 miles and still be completely fresh, but I did my best anyway.
Photo: Sport Sunday
I really enjoyed chatting to fellow competitors whilst going up the first few hills. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Friday evening. It was a perfect temperature and the views were amazing. The men were all holding gates open for me, even if they had to wait a while for me to get there – very gentlemanly! I was in 15th at the first CP at Seathwaite then gradually picked my way up to 5th at the fourth CP at Buttermere, 26 miles in. I had the record splits written on a bit of paper in my pocket which I had purposefully not looked at since last year. I didn’t look at them too early on as I didn’t want them to affect my pace at all. If I had been going slower than the splits it may have made me run faster, which would not have been a good thing early in the race. I did look at Buttermere – I was 24 minutes up on the record.
I spent the majority of the night section running on my own. I wasn’t particularly tired or bored but I will admit that I got a bit lonely. I know the route well so there wasn’t navigation to think about. I longed for the sun to come up. Eventually it did as we ran beside Ullswater, and everything was better again. I was running with Michael Jones at this point (who went on to win the race). He was looking really strong and could clearly be going a lot quicker than me but he kept pulling ahead then waiting at gates to hold them open for me. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so kind he could have got an even better time! As soon as we hit the road section before Dacre, he disappeared into the distance.
Photo: Sport Sunday
It was a relief to reach Dalemain. Mainly psychologically as from here onwards the end is in sight. I was now 1hr 4 minutes up on the record. Matt, my boyfriend, had got up early to meet me there with Dingo, our Australian Kelpie. I ate half of a ‘boil in the bag’ all day breakfast (cold of course), changed my shoes and socks (from Salomon s-lab sense ultra to Inov-8 X-talons – neither your classic 100 mile trail shoe!) and was off. Marco Consani had arrived into Dalemain as I was about to leave. I assumed, if his pacing tactics were anything like his wife Debbie’s, he would be passing me shortly. I was right and he passed me before Howtown. I managed to maintain about a 5 minute gap between us up until Kentmere, then he started to pull away from me again. I wasn’t really trying to catch him but it was quite amusing as I was in a similar position in 2014, but I was chasing his wife! I didn’t want to get sucked in to racing the men too early on. I wanted to concentrate on my own race.
The reception in Ambleside was amazing. Matt was there again, as was my brother and his family who had come to support. I thought I managed to maintain what felt like a reasonable pace up until Ambleside. Thereafter I started to struggle. Perhaps it was because the terrain gets flatter and more monotonous, or maybe, having run 90 miles, it would have happened anyway. I wanted the pain to be over, but more than anything I wanted the force-feeding myself to be over. I had been eating constantly for over 21 hours and I was sick to death of it. Tracy Dean, the Lakeland 50 record holder, was out running the 50 course as a ‘training run’ (she is completely mad). I saw her several times on the ‘post-Ambleside’ section which was nice and helped me take my mind off the pain in my legs.
Photo: Matt Bennett
As I came over the top of the final hill and could see the descent to Coniston, Matt appeared again with Dingo. After a quick ‘well done’ he dashed off down the rocky hillside at a dangerous pace shouting ‘come on, come on!’. Assuming he wanted me to follow I did my best to keep up. An elderly women walking down the path said ‘careful dear!’ to me as I hurtled past. I later found out that Matt was actually shouting at the dog to ‘come on’ and didn’t really expect me to follow him. He just wanted to get to the finish well before me in order to take some photos.
I finished in 21:29, 2hrs 46mins quicker than the previous record. If someone had told me when I signed up I was going to run that, I wouldn’t have believed them. To hear that Michael Jones had won did not surprise me at all. 16 people finished in sub-24hrs. In 2014 only 6 runners managed this, which goes to show just how quickly the race and caliber of competition is growing.
Thank you to Marc Laithwaite, all the other organisers, marshals and sponsors who, yet again, put together a truly fantastic event. I also owe a lot to my coach, Ian Sharman, who did a great deal in preparing me physically and mentally for the race, and to Raidlight UK and Contours Trail Running Holidays for all their generosity and support.
