Written by Mimi Anderson - http://marvellousmimi.com

The Jungle Ultra is a 230k self sufficiency staged race over 6 days in the Jungles of Peru.

Peru is a country I have always wanted to visit and to be given the opportunity to race in the Jungle was a great excuse.  Although I did have my worries, lots of bugs, snakes and for me the worst fear were the river crossings, but if you don’t confront your fears they will never go away and will always be a hinderance – time to take a step into the unknown.

I met up with Debbie,Tobias, Kevin, Steve and Chris at Heathrow where we had different short haul flights to Madrid, then continued our journey to Lima together and were split up for the final flight to Cuzco – now our adventure was about to begin.

My marvellous friend from South Africa Guy Jennings at arrived the day before, but was waiting at Cuzco along with some of the others for the long bus trip to base camp.  We clambered into our mini buses and set off on a six hour journey, travelling along twisting and narrow mountain roads, with stunning views at every turn.  There were occassions when the road disappeared into the valley below (I kid you not!) I had to close my eyes otherwise I would have got out of the bus and walked.

We stopped off at a village to stretch our legs, what an amazing place it was, full of colour, buzzing with activity and the most wonderful coffee shop I have ever been too, camps coffee (you know the liquid stuff) and hot water from a thermos flask, but tasted delicious.  Guy bought some local bread and cheese which was extremely yummy.

Over 6 hours later we arrived at the base camp in the Cloud Forest which joins the Andes Mountain range with the Amazon basin and Manu Park, 3,400 meters above sea level, it felt like standing on top of the world.

It was dark and the rain had started to fall which didn’t make getting our luggage out of the mini buses down the camp very easy, thank goodness for my dolly trolley.  Our homes for the next couple of days was to be two men (or women) tents; I shared with Debbie who like me talks a lot so you can imagine when everyone was tucked up in their sleeping bags Debs and I continued to chat! (we did do it quietly promise!)

I’m not a huge fan of bugs and creepy crawlies so you can imagine how I felt when I had needed a pee in the middle of the night – I lay there trying to think of something else, when this didn’t work there was nothing for it but to grab my slipslops and head torch and head out into the unknown!

Having searched around a bit I found a nice spot checked there was nothing nearby , all clear, time for a pee (with head torch off so I didn’t attract any unwanted visitors) You know those moments when you want things to happen quickly in case a snake decides to come a bit you in the bottom – this was one of those occasions when I peed for Britain – on and on and on………..good grief, it was a relief to get back into my sleeping bag in one piece feeling quite smug that I had been so brave

The following day was kit and medical checks and collecting our race numbers.  My number was 101 which made me giggle as I thought of the TV programme Room 101 where you can send something you don’t like down the rubbish shoot – perhaps I would be doing that with my number at the end of the race, who knows.  From where the tents were pitched to the breakfast hut was a downhill walk along a track then steps, this was easy and no one gave it a second thought, the way back however was a different matter, I would find myself having to stop at least twice coming up the hill as I couldn’t breath.  Much to my relief everyone else was having the same problems with the altitude.

Backpacks had been packed and repacked, weight shaved where possible until there was nothing more I could take out to make it lighter, starting weight was 10kg which I was very pleased.  On the start line the locals had made each of us wonderful bracelets out of Huayruro seeds, a good luck charm. For me they bought back lots of wonderful memories as my father used to have thousands similar seeds which for betting in card games.

Just before the start myself and Helen walked up the road (not a road by UK standards) to have a pee, both agreeing that running up this for half a km at the beginning of a race wasn’t going to be easy or pleasant.

After a few words from the local Mayor it was all systems go…..well the legs worked but the breathing couldn’t keep up so I found myself walking and running, not the way I usually like to start a race, but I needed to get ahead of as many people as possible as the next section was single track and I didn’t want to hold anyone up.  On a positive note I was running with Guy who is usually way ahead of me – poor man had to put up with my endless chat for the next 10k or so.

Leaving the road we headed into the Cloud Forest along single track which was beautiful as it meandered down to the river below.  At one point the track became extremely narrow and I was worried about loosing my footing and falling, probably best not to look down.

As we got closer to the river the track became steeper but the scenery continued to be amazing.  Much to my surprise and shock I got stung on the bottom by a kamikaze wasp, OUCH – not sure what I had done to upset it.

We reached the river in good time with only Drew and Tobias ahead – not that I was being competitive! grabbed some water then clambered up the mud slope out of the river bed and proceeded to stagger up the steep track to the “road”  Guy who is like a mountain goat (even with his two hip resurfacing operations) was way ahead of me and didn’t seem to be puffing or panting, unlike me who sounded like an old train as I heaved my body upwards occasionally stopping to take in the view (ha ha!)  It was a huge relief to finally reach the top and get my breath back.

The last 21k of the day was downhill along the road.  Let me describe the road.  Its full of huge holes, rocks, landslides, waterfalls flowing down and over them so not difficult running but I didn’t want you to think we were running on a lovely tarmac surface!  My breathing became easier with every step, beautifully coloured butterflies adorned the roads, waterfalls were beautiful and there were different coloured flowers at every turn, it really was a beautiful run.

I arrived in camp in a great time and 3rd overall for the day, a good 34k.  Guy unfortunately had to take it easy on the last section as it played havoc with his hips (he beat me easily on all the other days).

Camp that night was at 1,600m above sea level at a lodge called Cock of the Rock which is the name of one of their local birds.  We were spoilt with a wonderful dip in the river, showers (very basic) and the hammock station was under cover in case it rained. The Woolley Monkeys thought it would be fun to try and nick our food!

Putting up my hammock for the first time wasn’t as difficult as I had thought it would be – luckily for me Drew knew how to put them up so he did help me.  Later that night once all the hammocks were set up the supports started to come away which had Tobias not noticed would have resulted in a domino effect!  RD and crew called and eventually everything was sorted, time for bed.  That night I froze, I don’t think I have ever been so cold in a race before (not even in the Arctic) I had no more clothes to put on so I wrapped myself up in my flysheet which helped a bit; for once I was relieved to see the sun come up.

Day 2 – 32km

Getting dressed this morning wasn’t very pleasant as all my kit was still wet from the day before and I was struggling to get my body temperature up – my teeth were chattering so much I thought they might wear out!  Drew very kindly lent me his lightweight down jacket which instantly made a huge difference enabling me to eat my breakfast without chattering teeth!

The course today was to take us into the Jungle proper which I was very excited about.  First we had a 14k road section (remember what I said about roads!) which lead us to a large village where all the locals came out to cheer us on, the children waved flags and ran up the street with us.  The 2nd CP was just before the left hand turn into the Jungle.  I topped my water bottles up and headed down the jungle path.

I have to admit I was feeling rather excited, what would I find, perhaps a snake or a large hairy spider!  The going underfoot was muddy, the track was covered in a layer of fallen leaves and I had to watch my footing as there were roots that stuck up from the ground.  The canopy overhead hid many amazing birds and bugs of all sizes.  The hugs would drop onto your arm as you ran past a low hanging branch, these had to be removed quickly before they decided that you were dinner!

Quite happy in my own little world,  looking around, listening to the sounds of the jungle I had my first WOW moment.  The most beautiful large butterfly I have ever seen fluttered past me and danced around my head.  It had florescent blue coloured wings.  I remember stopping dead in my tracks for what seemed like ages looking at this stunning insect, eventually managing to get a picture of it but sadly with its wings closed – still beautiful.

To my surprise about 3 km further down the track was CP3 which was supposed to have been 10k from the last CP, either they were in the wrong place or I was going very fast!! (as it turned out the CP was in the wrong place – shucks!)

Heading towards the final CP of the day took longer than anticipated, the jungle was warming up and humidity levels were high.  There were lots of water crossings, in fact at one point I had to wade down a river which was lovely and cooling on the feet.  For the first time I saw long lines of large ants carrying leaves, quite an amazing sight.

It was a huge relief to see the CP.  I was low on water feeling very hot and bothered, but after replenishing my bottles I didn’t hang around as I just wanted to get finished, it was after all only 6k to go.

Having left the CP my energy levels were low so decided that I was going to enjoy the last section, not put any pressure on myself, take photos and take in the scenery;  this I did and loved every minute, even did a bit of singing!

Every competitor had to go through the same routine on arrival at camp; take shoes and socks off and soak our feet in a mild solution of antiseptic to avoid our feet becoming infected, I quite enjoyed this as it was 10 minutes of sitting down chatting!

The camp we were staying in belonged to the rangers, no hammocks tonight but very large 4 man tents; Once my pack was safely put into my tent Guy and I went down to the river for a dip – Well I say a dip, Guy just got in, where as muggins here took ages to get myself into the cold water but it was worth the wait as the cool refreshing water washed over my legs.

Race briefing for the next day was due to start at 6.30pm, unfortunately at about 6pm the heavens opened it the rain came down, no one in their right mind was stepping outside their tents.  Our tent sprung a leak in the roof so being girls of many talents we taped it up – brilliant.  However the rain continued to come down, the tent roof began to bow with the pressure of the water all hands on deck as we pushed the tent roof upwards causing gallons of water to fall to the ground.  Poor Helen moved round the tent as the night went on to get away from the water which seemed to be spookily attracted to her and in the early hours of the morning one of the tents collapsed (thankfully on one was inside at the time)

Day 3:

Todays start was delayed by an hour due to the heavy rain, but as soon as it stopped and the sun made an appearance the temperatures rose as did the humidity levels.

The first 5k was a lovely run, the last section along a very fast flowing river.  My heart rate was pretty high at this point, not because of the running but because to cross the river we were to be put in pairs on a zip wire, not something I was particularly looking forward to with my fear of water.

On arriving at the CP our numbers and times were taken and timing was then stopped until we reached the other side.  Guy was great and gave me a big hug as he knew that for me this was a big challenge  and I had to fight hard to hold back the tears.  Finally it was time for Kenny and myself to go.  The harness was too big for me so I was a wee bit concerned that I would fall out of it, but they assured me everything was quite safe.  Once on my way across it wasn’t quite so bad, but I did have to laugh or it would have been tears of fear falling down my face!

Once on the otherside  I was extremely relieved and continued on my journey.  The stage today was known as Logging as we were to go through the local logging routes.  The devastation these cause to the jungle is unbelievable, mud up to our waists, slipping and sliding everywhere (I don’t think I have ever been so muddy before) and each time I got covered in mud there would miraculously appear another stream or river to cross.

As I ran along another fast flowing river towards the final CP of the day my heart rate went sky high, at some point I was going to have to cross this river and as far as I was concerned there was no way I could wade or swim across it was far too fast flowing for me.  I thought my biggest nightmare was about to come true, I was terrified, how was I going to do this, I had to cross the river to finish the stage, even telling myself to man up was going to be a problem.  The CP guys were cheering and waving their arms about as I ran towards them, all I could do was burst into tears when I reached them saying I couldn’t go across the river, I would drown if I did.  My fear of the fast flowing water had fuddled my brain, not enabling me to think properly or remember what had been said at the race briefing, there was in fact a boat to take runners across – you can imagine my relief, although even in a boat it wasn’t very pleasant.  Once on the otherside of the river I kept going, but mentally it took me a long time to get over what I had just been through and I did pathetically find myself crying for the next half an hour for no reason at all.

Mud was everywhere, I slipped and slid my way along the course and at one point starting singing “mud mud glorious mud” – now I know how a hippo must feel!

Arriving in camp was glorious.  We were privileged to be staying in a local village who later that evening put on a wonderful display of music and dance together with some fantastic food. During the ceremony they passed around a small fish for us to sample that had been cooked in bamboo in its own juices, absolutely delicious.

I slept like a baby that night, the only thing I remember waking me up in my Hammock was Guy who kept on prodding me.  I thought nothing of it until the following morning when he said”christ woman, for someone so small you snore very loud”  OOPS! (it was I would like to add the only evening I snored!)

Day 4

All the runners woke early to prepare themselves for another day.  I had slept like a baby but apparently no-one else had enjoyed such a blissful nights sleep in their hammocks due to a certain person snoring!  I did wonder why Guy kept on to wake me up during the night, I just thought his hammock was FAR too close and wished he would stop being so restless – ooops!

Todays stage was lovingly known as “The Lull” and was a mere 26k – simples! FAR FROM IT

In all the races I have done this stage has to be the hardest.  Not only because of the route but as it turned out we did 10k more than we were supposed to have done. On my notes for this stage all I have put is “HORRID”

I was excited about today,  we were privileged to be running in Manu Park which usually isn’t opened to members of the public unless they are with an official guide; boy were we in for a treat.  Because today really was tough my mind seems to have blocked a lot of it off, but from the village we meandered down tracks towards a CP at the river where our time was stopped while we waited for the boat to come and take us across; a great time for a chat and photos.

Once across the other side of the river the timer was started again and we continued our journey into the heart of the jungle.  The going got tougher and tougher and the distances seemed to take forever.  Myself, Dominic and Henrik were all running fairly close to each other which was great and lovely to have the company, especially as the tracks were becoming narrower and a bit hairy in places.  Running wasn’t too bad but we did have to watch our footing and try not to trip over roots.  On one occasion we had to carefully maneuver around a wasps nest and a large number of very large ants which of course ended up all over our backs but thankfully we were all able to wipe them off each others packs or it could have been quite nasty.  We stopped not far from the river to look at the amazing shapes and beauty of the trees, they really were quite stunning.

The track now really did become extremely narrow, so narrow that in one place it had collapsed leaving a gap which had to be crossed.  Sounds easy but when you looked at the distance you had to fall it was pretty scary. The only way across was by hanging onto a vine (felt a bit like Tarzan at this point but not as nimble!)  I didn’t like this section and if I’m being completely honest it terrified me as pulling yourself across wasn’t easy.  Thankfully the three of us helped and supported each other.

Eventually we saw the river, hurray not long to go now.  We clambered down to the boat which took us across the river where we then had to climb up to the CP using a rope for support.  Muggins had slightly lost the plot at this stage as it had taken far longer than anticipated to get to this point and as I climbed to the CP I had a camera thrust in my face…..not good timing, especially when you think you only have another 2k to go and we are told that the finish is a further 10k away………….you can imagine what we all said!

At this point I needed to have 5 minutes away from everyone.  The CP staff were fantastic and their usual cheerful selves but unfortunately it wasn’t what I required at that particular point in my journey.  Having filled my water bottles I left the CP and waited just round the corner for the boys.  Dominic followed fairly quickly but Hendrik decided he wanted to spend a bit longer.  We were joined by the South African photographer Theo.

We followed the red marker flags further into the jungle discussing how far we thought we had actually run and surely this must be longer than 26km – either that or we were going much slower than we thought!

The next section was by far the toughest.  Two hours later we kept thinking the finish must be just round the corner, but no sign of life could be seen or heard.  Then came the hill – well it wasn’t exactly a hill it was near vertical muddy slope and it went on and on and on and on.  Poor Theo spent his time trying to prevent his camera getting covered in mud, for every step taken you would slide down about two and any branches that were available to hold onto for support were yet again covered in bloody ants!  I would stop every so often to admire the view (get my breath back!) and make sure that Dominic was ok as he had fallen behind.

Getting to the top was a fantastic and a great sense of achievement, surely we must be nearly there?  If there is an up there is always a down and yes, the down was just as bad and as long as the up. However, we got very excited when we heard voices coming towards us, yippee we are nearly there.  NO ….it was some of the crew bringing us extra water.  I was fine but Theo had run out and had been sharing mine, so great timing.  We asked how much further to go and they said one and half hours!  WELL a bit of a muttly moment; we were not happy bunnies.

Just over 9 hours later we ran to the outskirts of a village, I didn’t want to get excited at this point just in case it wasn’t the finish, but then more people appeared, more noise and clapping and I ran to the finish line followed by Theo taking photos.  I have never in all my life been so relieved to get to the finish of a day, a day I thought would never end.  Physically I was fine, but mentally it had broken me.

The crew as always came to my rescue, sorted out a shower and feet then I felt fine again.  It was good to see everyone finish today, great running by all and proud to be part of such a great group of runners.

Once again I slept like a baby, although I didn’t snore!

Long Stage 65km

The long stage had been shortened because of the extra 10k that we had done yesterday, although personally I would have been happy with the original distance.

The first 15k was uphill, through the village we had been staying near, encouraged and supported by all the locals who had come out to wave us on our way.  The route took us over a bridge and towards the next village where we would find CP 2 located on the river.  There was now 45km of running along the river with well over 50 river crossings – not something I was looking forward to.

Having sorted out my water bottles I continued along the river and met up with Kenny who was taking stuff out of his shoe.  I waved chatted briefly and continued on my way knowing he would catch me up.  The first river crossing wasn’t too bad and I felt extremely brave.  Kenny overtook me and I waved him good bye.  I was enjoying the scenery and even managed to spot an otter like animal coming out of the water.

The next river crossing looked slightly more of a challenge.  slow flowing water to begin with, fast in the middle then slow again.  Panic set in at the thought of having to cross this, but to my delight I saw Kenny standing in the middle of the river waiting for me – how marvellous was that.  He knew I had a fear of water so had waited for me instead of going on, that was a truely wonderful thing to have done and something I will never forget.  We stayed together for the remainder of the day, two mad Scotsmen exchanging stories and laughing.  Running along the river was wonderful, we saw abandoned lorries, locals fishing, washing their clothes, or just out for the day having fun.  Invariably I would fall over in the shallow part of the river and always in front of witnesses – very embarrassing!

At one point the branch of a tree caught my pack and as it twanged off hundreds of biting bugs landed all over me, it felt as though I was on fire as they bit into me.  Kenny was trying to get them off, hands and body were going into weird and wonderful positions in an attempt to get the little critters off me and prevent any further bits, the easiest solution was to get into the river and splash water all over me – horrid.

On leaving the river we re-entered the jungle then back towards another river where we were ferried across for the final climb up to the village where we were staying for the night.  A fantastic day, great company, amazing views and quite simply a WOW day.

The following day was our rest day and we were treated to archery, dancing and songs from the villagers a wonderful experience.

Our last morning and we were all up extremely early ready for the start – the sun hadn’t even come up at that stage!  The last day is always a mad dash and I really didn’t think that my legs were capable of dashing, but as always my body surprises me and I felt fantastic.  We ran through farmers fields, over a bridge and through the large jungle town of Pilcopata.  The whole town had come out to see us cross the finish line which was fantastic and extremely emotional.  I had finished, completed a race I never even thought I would have the courage to start, but once again I proved to myself that I am capable of more than I think I am have begun to conquer my fear of water.

This is a race you must try, its an awesome location, great crew and organisation, plus you will have the adventure of a life time.  What made it so special for me was the wonderful group of people I was with, each and every one of us got on and shared this great experience whether a runner, medic or crew.  I was very proud of my friend Guy Jennings who after not just one but two hip resurfacing operations fought his way back to fitness and came 3rd overall, a moment I will never forget.

I have missed out so many things in this report and haven’t found the words to describe some of the wonderful things I saw and experienced but I hope it gives you an idea of what happened during my wonderful week in the Jungles of Peru.

Written by Scott Harris - http://runninganimo.com

Silly rain. I hide under my buff as the rain gently falls focusing on the task at hand.

I recall the elevation profile which I’ve committed to memory, how far apart each of the aid stations are and the 50k or so of the route I know. So focused am I, I barely notice a photographer half a metre from me taking a photo. I’m staring intently straight ahead, not at anything in particular just the race plan I’ve settled upon. I have times in mind for arriving at Teror, Tejeda and then Garanon. Beyond this I haven’t really planned. I know I haven’t trained as much as I should have since the start of the year. I push this negative thought from my mind as another photo of me is taken close up. My attire must be slightly amusing or maybe it’s unusual to see an Englishman dislike rain. Someone starts shouting “Fran” holding up a dropped race number. I maintain my focus as we all start to shuffle forward to the start line. The countdown begins. I remind myself to be patient, to run my own race and to not get ahead of the schedule I’ve set myself.

We’re off! 430 runners charge out of Fontanales. The pace is I as expected but I just settle into what feels right. It doesn’t take long to fully appreciate the impact the rain is having on the route. Descending is difficult as I slip and slide trying to maintain my balance. I can’t really extend my stride due to fellow runners so I’m forced to try breaking more than I’d like. At one point both of my feet are sliding from underneath me but I manage to stay upright somehow. It reminds me of the race I did in Madeira, slippery, wet and steep. Soon the downhill becomes an uphill and I realise it’s going to be a long hard day.

I don’t stop at the first aid station in Valleseco. I start to recognise where I am which is comforting. I overtake a couple of people on the start of the descent recalling where I need to be vigilant to a couple of left turns. The rain doesn’t impact this downhill part which makes it much more enjoyable. Both turns are well-marked as I get closer to Teror. I’m happy with how long it has taken me to get here but now it’s time for the first long climb of the day up to Cruz de Tejeda. I know most of the climb apart from the initial part where steps are waiting. My calfs start to ache, I’m slightly disappointed they do this early.

I alternate between walking, power hiking and a little bit of running as I continue up the climb. Mentally I know this is the first hurdle. The second being completing the climb up to Roque Nublo. I top up on water at the Talayon aid station and push on. I look up every now and then but try to only think about the two metres I can see under my visor. Last time I was here doing a recce in early February I ran most of this part, it’s frustrating that I’m not now, doubt creeps into my mind. I look up again to see blue sky waiting at the top of the climb. Whenever I come to Gran Canaria this is often where the weather changes and I’m very pleased to see today is no different. I hit the top of and take the short section of road as the sun warms my face and spirit.

Just before I re-join the trail I overtake someone wanting to enjoy the descent into Cruz de Tejeda. The sun is out, I’m on very familiar trail and I run downhill with a smile. Extending my stride, speeding up leaping over rocks rather than going round them. I hit the road section and quickly pass through before beginning the descent to Tejeda. It feels like home. I know this section well after living in Tejeda as I  prepared for the race last year and returning twice since. I have to turn my autopilot off as I approach Tejeda knowing the route will probably be different to what I’m used to. It is. I run past the apartments I’ve stayed in knowing exactly how far this section of road is before the route becomes trail again.

I should get to Garanon in 5 hours 30 minutes as planned. I take my time on the climb up to Roque Nublo. There is little shade on the climb as mid-day approaches. The race is going well and I’ve little to complain about as I enjoy the views. I keep climbing and can see Tenerife in the distance with one side of Mount Teide covered in snow. I’m soon at the top and continue on towards Garanon.

The plan is to replace my food , top up on water and re-apply sun tan lotion. Unfortunately I got a little burnt on a recce a couple of days before the race. I double check I have everything I need and repack my drop bag only to rip it! I ‘ve no idea how to repair it before leaving. I stare at the tear for a moment wondering if I should try to repair it but unsure as to how? I find tape in the drop bag I had in case my feet needed attention and use that as best I can wasting a few minutes that I probably should have spent eating.

The very steep climb out of Garanon isn’t fun. It hurts, I don’t enjoy it and I can’t wait to begin the descent. I stop a few times looking over my shoulder to see how others are doing. I keep going hands on knees leaning forward. As I approach the top I see a snowman! Never thought that would happen in Gran Canaria.

I start the descent knowing this will determine the remainder of my race. It’s goes okay but I’m not running as fast as I want to, I regret not eating more at Garanon which I probably would have if it wasn’t for ripping my drop bag. After the next aid station at 51.2k I start to struggle. Even an easy hill gets the better of me. It gets steeper yet and I’m glad I didn’t put any expectations upon myself from here. The gap to the aid station is only 14.6k but it feels significantly more. After the long climb there is some easy running but I have no speed. I keep going knowing there is some very technical downhill just before the next aid station. It is the most technical terrain I’ve raced on slowing me to a walk on a couple of occasions. I let a couple of people pass who are clearly more comfortable than me on this terrain.

At Artera now with only 17.4k left. This is the part I did a recce of a couple of days before the race.  Mostly flat with a bit of downhill. I top up on water and leave trying to find the speed that normally returns to me during races of this length but it isn’t there. I do what I can knowing the time I had in mind isn’t going to happen. Mentally this doesn’t help. The visions I had of myself charging towards the finish line from here clearly isn’t going to happen. I continue on settling in to an okay speed having been on my feet for most of the day. It isn’t until shortly after passing the last aid station that my mind awakes. The terrain becomes more engaging as I have to pay attention. I find more speed and determination running down the canal wondering where this strength and power has been hiding! If only I felt like this after the long decent from Garanon!

.

I have new motivation as day light starts to fade. I’m not getting my head torch out, that isn’t happening.

I look at my watch, slower than last year. Damn it! I just want to finish and get it over with having not particularly enjoyed the second half of the race. I cross the finish line before dark in 11 hours 29 minutes taking 54th place. Tired, frustrated, grateful and looking forward to sitting down.

It was a good race even if it didn’t go quite as I had hoped. There is a good chance I’ll be back next year better prepared and ready to tackle a new route. It’s a beautiful island, with good organisation, well stocked aid stations and well marked from start to finish.

Full results here

My race report is on Run247. Plenty of content here to keep you busy whilst you rest your legs.

It was nice to meet up with Laureda and Michael who both took on the 125k race. Far braver than I!

Written by Daniel Hendriksen

The advantage of running the Spine Challenger for the second time is that at least one knows what one is letting oneself in for. The disadvantage, of course, is that one knows just what one is letting oneself in for. After suffering prodigiously on my first outing last year, it seemed only sensible to undertake the race again having learnt all the lessons from the first time around. After all, that would surely make things easier? Wouldn’t it?

So much for the theory. I assembled, along with a couple of hundred others, for pre-race briefings and admin checks in Edale on the Friday evening. The "Challenger" is fondly known as the "Fun Run", at 108 miles up the Pennine Way being very much the baby brother of the full, 268 mile variant. Once again I found myself very grateful I had been spared the moment of lunacy and avoided ending up signing up for the full beast.

Admin done, we retired to The Ramblers for some pre-race hydration. My good friend and staunch ally Dave Carr not only supplied me with orange juice, but thoughtfully plied Ed Catmur, one of the two main contenders for the race, with several pints of beer. As a plan to hobble one of the better runners it may have had merit in theory, but his prodigious consumption in no way proved detrimental to Ed's subsequent performance.

The alarm was set for 0530 on Saturday. Here, the first hitch presented itself. The lock on my door in the Ramblers appeared to have jammed, and I couldn't get out the room. There was no way out the window; the pub's phone (unsurprisingly) went unanswered. Even the old standbys of berating, and then beating, the lock failed to budge it. I was having visions of the most improbable DNS in racing history - locked in the pub. But necessity is the mother of invention, and with some cunning work with a chair leg and the end of a spoon, the door eventually yielded (don’t ask).

Faultless in their preparations to a "T", the race organisers kindly arranged for it to start raining as 67 "Challengers" trooped to the starting line. It would never do to be going over Kinder Scout in the dry. Marcus Scotney (last year's winner) set off into the mist so fast that by 30 seconds into the race, I'd seen the last of him. And that was with heading off at the front with the chasing pack.

As we climbed up Jacob's Ladder the wind blew ever stronger, until it became a struggle to retain balance or any sort of running rhythm. "Kinder Downfall" became "Kinder Upfall", the wind blowing the water up the hill and so thoughtfully providing a nice cooling spray. Wouldn't want to over-heat on the climb. Despite a couple of falls in the wind I was very relieved to get to Snake Pass intact and still more or less with the front pack - which were now the race leaders, Marcus having retired following a fall onto the rocks in the wind.

At Snake Pass we were somewhat surprised to be coralled in a Mountain Rescue van. There were rumours the race had been stopped behind us, whilst the organisers debated the safety of crossing Kinder Scout in the conditions. Having just done so we were naturally keen to continue, and after a chilly 25 minute stop the decision was taken to delay the start of the main race by a couple of hours but allow the Challenger field to continue.

I ran the next section with Jansen Heath, with whom I had had a tussle on the "Nomad 50" earlier in the year (alas coming off second best). A gnarly runner, it was quite apparent he was moving very well indeed, and zipped off into the distance some time before Torside.

Having waved goodbye to Jansen, I only saw one other runner in the next 30 miles. I was moving at roughly the same pace as Lee Walker; he had a support crew so would overtake me, then whilst stopped with his team I would leapfrog him again; we eventually got to the finish within 6 minutes of each other! In the absence of a support crew I brewed up a hot chocolate somewhere around Wessenden, but probably got more cold whilst stopped than any benefit from the hot drink! The wind blew away all day, sometimes in my face, sometimes from the side, but always making running rather harder work than normal. My left leg began to hurt in all sorts of unaccustomed places; a puzzle which I eventually deduced to be having to use it to stabilise from the westerly wind. Alas I had forgotten to pack a mirror so couldn't trial running backwards to let the right leg share the pain. When the wind was coming into the face it saved the leg imbalance problem, but whilst fumbling with my eye protection I managed to snap the glasses at the bridge, so rendering them completely useless. A camel's transparent eyelids would have been useful, although hilly wet and cold is generally not their principal choice of habitat I understand.

As darkness was falling I approached Hebden Bridge, the one and only checkpoint on the Challenger at around 46 miles. Lee was sat on a chair by the roadside a couple of miles before the scout hut scoffing a pizza, kindly donating a slice which helped power me up the last couple of hills before the checkpoint itself. Slithering down the muddy track I met Jansen just leaving, the last time I would see him on the race. We exchanged a man-hug and he went on his gnarly way into the darkness.

Well, thank goodness for the Trackers. David Carr and Ally had seen my arrival, and bless them both, what a welcome. Coffee, bags sorted, every whim attended to, and the biggest plate of chilli imaginable. Organiser Scott did his best to put the dampener on things, warning of the deteriorating forecast (driving rain to accompany the high winds, turning to hail and snow on the Fells, of which there were plenty to come). I didn't care. What I like about a 108 mile race with only one checkpoint is that when you are at that checkpoint, the next checkpoint equals the finish. Only one leg to go? How hard could that be, whatever the weather? Plus, I was prepared. I had recced the next 40 miles the month before, carefully noting all the barns and useful spots for getting out the weather and getting the stove going. What could possibly go wrong?

So after an hour of pampering, it was off on the final (63 mile) leg. And boy, was that night tough. It just went on and on and on. Hour after hour after hour of unremitting darkness, high wind, hail in the face. My first planned brew was in "Top Withins", the semi-ruined farmhouse said to have been the inspiration for "Wuthering Heights". It has a roofed and enclosed room with a bench and handy stream, just right for a night halt. I had been fantasising about that brew for a good hour. Naturally, it was locked. A “pepperami” sat shivering on the doorstep was not what I’d had in mind. This was followed by a fall, which broke the hooks off my chest sack. In taking off my gloves to try to secure it some other way, I dropped one in an icy puddle. Whilst changing my hat for a balaclava, I managed to dislodge the strap from the business end of my headtorch; by definition, I couldn't get the light to the strap clips and had to bodge a repair by feel alone, with barely functioning hands. Luckily, an empty but open garage I had spotted on my recce remained open and empty, so at last there was a chance to get out the wind and rain, and to get the stove on and sort myself out a bit. And so the night went on, gradually sucking the life out of me with the unrelenting wind. I began fantasising of ways of stopping; fake a sprained ankle? or sore knee? or an imaginary vomiting illness? Or anything, really, to avoid having to keep going.

Just as I was getting really low, I reached the Oakworth marshal, sat in her nice warm car. Bless her, she let me sit inside for 10 minutes, warmth, life and energy gradually returning. It's amazing what a power nap can do, especially when being plied with cookies. I left rejuvenated, seriously cold when getting out the car and setting off but now able to move a bit faster and so begin to generate my own warmth.

And so into Gargrave, the 70 mile point. I'd been looking forward to this as last year the public conveniences had been open so I knew I could again get out the weather, refill the water bottles, and get my stove going. Inevitably, locked. Five minutes in the phone box to scoff some rations and I was shivering uncontrollably, so resignedly set off for the bog trot through the fields to Malham, where the Harry Potter-esque "Checkpoint 1.5" awaited. By now my legs were increasingly leaden, and it was with an arthritic shuffle that I staggered down the track to Malham cove, laboured up the steps to the cove, and laboriously picked my way through the limestone pavement to Malham Tarn. The previous year this checkpoint had been a tent by the cove; the organisers have clearly gone soft as this time, there was a room in the Field Centre. With heating. And an urn. And a lovely bunch of volunteers who plied me with tea and coffee, whilst I stuffed as many calories as it is physically possible to consume in 10 minutes short of munching on a bar of lard.

Said lovely volunteers sent me on my way with dire imprecations of the worsening weather scheduled for that afternoon. This being more or less breakfast time (it all blurring into one at this stage), I decided to try to get over Fountains Fell and Pen-y-Ghent as quickly as possible, before the weather deteriorated from challenging to appalling. "As quickly as possible" seemed likely to mean at approximately 1.5mph on my pre-stop shuffle, but the magic of the break (or maybe simply the dawn of a new day) put new fire in my legs. Much to my astonishment they responded to the instructions to shift, and my spirits soared as I climbed the interminable drag up Fountains Fell. Perhaps the only thing that could have cooled this new-found ardour would have been a major kit failure. Of something vital and irreplaceable, such as my shoes. So it was with some chagrin that, feeling my little toe getting chilly, I looked down at my shoes and noted with some trepidation two large rips up by the little toe. Which had also rubbed away the sock, leaving the toe exposed to the elements. Whilst climbing in the snow. With 20 miles to go, and a deteriorating weather forecast.

Not so good, but when the options are (a) go back, (b) stop, or (c) go on, I figured it didn't need a great deal of deliberation to proceed. As I crossed the summit of Fountains Fell, the wind hit me in full force, and Pen-y-Ghent glowered angrily across the valley, shrouded ominously in mist. My sense of foreboding rose at the prospect of having to cross Pen-y-Ghent, then Cam Fell, in a howling gale with a failing shoe.

On the descent I bumped into photographer Mick Kenyon, of "Racing Snakes" photography. I asked him if there was an outdoor shop in Horton, hoping to buy a new pair before venturing onto Cam Fell. This lovely, lovely man immediately offered to swap his shoes for mine - "I'm half a size bigger than you but they should get you back". Feeling that donating shoes to a complete stranger was beyond the call of altruism I attempted to demur, when a further idea came to Mick. "My lad is parked up at the bottom in the van. He's the technical rep for Salomon, he'll sort you out". Well, he wasn't in the van. He was half way up Pen-y-Ghent. And so this equally lovely man jogged back to the van and drove round to Horton, where I met him in the café. This truly wonderful chap then removed my horrible gopping smelly shoes (to save me the effort of bending over), and in their place provided me with a pair identical other than the minor detail of not exposing my toes to the elements. Whilst this rather one-sided transaction was occurring, two other supporters plied me with their tea and coffee ("it's partially cooled so you can drink it straight away"), whilst another ordered me a vast vat of tea and bowl of stew. Now THAT'S the ultra-running community in action!

And thus fortified, I headed off for the final 13 miles, over Cam Fell. I am not going to write much about this, as the very memory chills the soul. Suffice to say, the promised deteriorating weather materialised with a vengeance. The wind, always heavy, grew to even greater proportions than that over Kinder Scout. And now it propelled rain, not a fine drizzle but the hosepipe sort of rain, the sort that defeats the sturdiest of rain gear. I think I covered those 13 miles quicker than any other, mainly through the joint aims of getting out the rain as quickly as possible, because only by working hard could hypothermia be avoided, and I was very keen to avoid having to get out my headtorch as this would have meant slowing down for a few seconds.

And so to the warm lights and welcoming sight of Hawes. Wet clothes off, congratulations to Lee who had arrived six minutes before (and looked a jolly sight better than anybody had the right to after that crossing of Cam Fell), and carbohydrate-based refuelling in the Fountain; always the highlight of any ultra-marathon!

What a weekend. The running was good, the camaraderie, good humour and support of the army of volunteers made it unforgettable. And there are still 363 days to recover before doing it all over again……!!!

Written by Justin Bateman - http://jb73.blogspot.co.uk

That little arrow in the picture above was to be the most significant symbol since I started running. Just 18 months ago I hadn't run more than a half marathon. Now I was about to start a race on one day and not finish until the next.

The week leading up to the race went slowly, to say the least. Alternately nervous, excited and terrified, it was basically just waiting around and reminding myself that I'd done everything I could to complete the race. At 86 miles, the Ridgeway Challenge is 36 miles longer than anything I'd run before and therefore made me wonder if I could actually do it. This in itself though was exactly what I wanted - starting something that I didn't know I could finish. Robbie assured me I could, as did Jackie who had just completed Lakeland 100 whilst injured. It was just a question of wanting it. I wanted it.

I also had a plan. Being brave is important, but so is knowing your limitations. I researched this race via other people's reports, talked to friends who had recently completed their first 100-milers (Tim Lambert's blog post on the North Downs Way 100 is a cracker, and Naomi Newton-Fisher's on her Thames Path 100 taught me a lot), and picked out what I thought were the most important parts. They came down to this:

• Start slower than feels natural
• Walk all of the hills, and that means all
• Eat at least once an hour
• Sip water throughout
• Tend to any blisters or chafing early
• Keep warm at night
• Just focus on getting to the next checkpoint, not the overall distance Thanks for the reminder Jenni!)

In the build-up, a lot of people asked how long I expected to take. Based on my 9:48 at South Downs Way 50, I initially thought that 20 hours would be a good time, but after hearing how much tougher it gets after 70 miles when you haven't been that far before, I revised this to 22 hours. I don't want to put any needless pressure on myself, and besides, anything over 50 miles would be a PB anyway. Using the excellent pacing calculator on climbers.net, I printed out the splits for my crew (more on whom shortly) and then promptly forgot about it.

 

With a drop bag option at the halfway point and full support at regular checkpoints, there's no reason you can't do this race completely solo, and I would happily have done this myself. However, my girlfriend Cate wanted to be as close as possible to keep an eye on me and pull me from the race if I wanted to do anything stupid like carry on with a broken leg, just to say I finished. In order for this to happen though we needed a driver and up stepped good friend Crossy. No stranger to distance running himself, always up for an adventure, and perhaps most crucially, very laidback, he was the perfect person to accompany Cate and help make sure I stayed alive. (By the way, I wasn't expecting this to be all that dramatic but when you hear about someone dropping out of a 100-mile race with hypothermia after 98 miles, it's not entirely impossible.)

 

So, on Saturday 23 August 2104 we all headed up to Ivinghoe Beacon, with Ilsuk who I'd done the night recce with, and for whom this was his first ultra race. With only 92 entrants it was always going to be a low-key affair and it felt very chilled out as we registered and waited to start.

 

 

I shook hands with race Director Tim Mitchell, chatted with Ilsuk, Sean and Becky and felt more relaxed than I had all week. As Robbie says, this is the fun bit!

 

Still not sure what this pose was about. I blame Crossy

We walked down a hill, then up one to the start and we were off. Seanie skipped off like Kilian down a mountain trail, Becky disappeared and even Ilsuk had gone ahead. I was happy to take it easy and see what happened. 

 

 

Based on our night run, I fully expected Becky to make the female podium and for Seanie to do really well, despite not really training. Bloody young people! I soon saw Ilsuk who appeared to be waiting for me and we jogged along together, enjoying the sights and taking it easy.

 

 

I can't remember masses about the first 10 miles except that I stopped for a wee and then took this photo (above) of Ilsuk. There were some pleasant glades and trails and I vaguely recalled that if I reached CP1 at Wendover at about 1:45 I'd be on track. I had, however, decided not to use my Garmin for several reasons. Firstly, the battery probably wouldn't even get me to halfway. Secondly, seeing the average pace drop can be a bit disheartening, even if you don't care too much about time. Finally, I quite liked the idea of not knowing how far I was along at any point. 

 

At CP1, Wendover

We came into Wendover bang on schedule, said hi to the crew, felt a bit bad that I didn't need anything from them and sauntered off with Ilsuk. Everything was going well, although at times I was struggling to keep up with Ilsuk. I mean, I could have kept up with him but I just wasn't sure if I wanted to, given how far we still had to go. Mainly it was very comfortable though, and after a near miss with an angry-looking cow, we went through some beautiful woodland trail. I was just telling Ilsuk how much I loved these paths when I caught my toe on a tree root and fell over, incorporating a neat forward roll into the movement. At least, that's how it felt. More likely it just looked like a lanky idiot tripping over in the woods. Ilsuk dusted me down and aside from a bit of a graze on my knee, I was fine.

 

Nothing like as bad as it looks

 

The next checkpoint was Whiteleaf at about 17 miles and I think I got there slightly ahead of schedule. I probably then used that buffer up putting a plaster on my knee, and got a timely reminder from Cate about taking an S!Cap before going on my way, grabbing a tasty homemade ham, cucumber and hummus wrap from Crossy as I went. Ilsuk had gone on ahead and I might have caught up with him if I hadn't got lost in Princes Risborough.

 

Coming off the trail and onto a main road, I took a right instead of a left and found myself by the train station. I retraced my steps and got back on track after about 20 minutes. It wasn't ideal but figured it wasn't worth getting upset about in the grand scheme of things. And even though I was in no danger of winning the event myself, it was good to know that people as experienced as Marcus Scotney could get plenty lost and still go on to win.

 

Then the rain started. Just a light drizzle at first but then full-on hail, so I jacketed up and felt my feet getting totally soaked. Alarm bells went off as I wondered about blisters forming but couldn't do anything until the next CP anyway so just pushed on.

 

A marathon done, just 60 miles to go!

 

By the time I got to CP 3 (Hill Road), I'd done a marathon and wasn't feeling all that great. Nothing in particular was wrong, the rain had stopped, I just felt a bit weary. Understandable, but not ideal. I topped up with water, had an S!Cap, an ibuprofen, a banana and Nutella wrap and pressed on. It was only 5 miles to Swyncombe and the next CP and for a while Ilsuk and I ran together before he dropped back slightly.

 

Before I heard the football score

Before I knew it, we were there, topping up on water, eating a banana and finding out that Arsenal were a goal down to Everton after about 30 minutes. It occurred to me then that in the course of my race I would miss Football Focus, the afternoon games, the late kick-off, Match of the Day, and probably still be running during the MOTD repeat on Sunday morning. I put those thoughts out of my head, hoped for at least an equaliser for the Arse (it finished 2-2) and prepared myself for the 12 miles to Goring and halfway.

 

I was expecting this section to be one of the hardest but it was amazing. There were a few poppy fields, which I assume is were they grow all the heroin...

 

.. and then some of the most wonderful trails along Grim's Ditch as the sun was going down.

 

It helped that a lot of this was downhill but I felt really good and fairly flew along some of these sections, still remembering to walk now and again, eat, and drink as often as I needed to. Which, it turned out, was quite a lot. In fact, by the time I hit the river and met these curious chaps...

 

... I was getting low on water. With only a few miles to Goring though I figured I'd be all right and looked forward to a feed and a change of clothes.

 

The sunset in Berkshire

Cate and Crossy were already in the hall having had some lemon drizzle cake (which I never saw, annoyingly) when I arrived, thirsty and hungry. As they had been all day, the volunteers at the checkpoints could not have been more helpful, getting me food and drink while I sat down. Crossy filled up my water bottles and Cate asked me the vital questions: How are you feeling? Do you need an S!Cap? What's the capital of Peru? (It's Lima.)

 

This is how pleased I was with my pasta

I was slightly surprised to see Becky and Seanie in the hall, although the latter was about to leave, and wondered if or when I'd see them during the night.

In the first few miles after Goring there are a lot of uphills (or it certainly felt like that) so I walked them and introduced a new run-walk strategy of running for 9 minutes and walking for 1. It wasn't exactly dynamic but it enabled me to break it up into manageable chunks and keep my heart rate down while providing natural drink breaks. Sounds a bit rubbish, only running for 9 minutes at a time but it's still 54 minutes in every hour so I felt like I was doing the right thing.

After a few miles of this...

... I reached the Bury Down checkpoint at 52 miles. Becky was there with her running partners and asked if I wanted to join them. I had a hot chocolate I wanted to finish so said I'd catch up. I also wasn't sure if my run-walk approach would fit in with their pacing so didn't mind too much if I didn't catch them. As is transpired, I must have passed them a short while later while someone (Becky) was answering a call of nature.

 

My slow/slightly less slow approach was seeing me overtake a few people although this fell apart a bit when I carried on straight instead of turning right. The guy behind me whistled and I finally realised it was meant for me and got back on the trail. When I caught up with him he told me that a friend of his had been in sixth place before getting lost for 50 minutes. Luckily my detour was about 5-10 minutes at the most.

 

Then I was on my own for another stretch before seeing a headtorch up ahead. And then another light, but the second was a hand torch, and I realised it was a couple walking. I was about to catch up with all of them when my headtorch went off. For a minute I thought I'd hit the switch myself, but after several presses it wouldn't switch on. I stopped, used my iPhone torch to put spare batteries in the headtorch and resolved to use only the lowest setting as far as possible from now on.

 

It was gone midnight by now and my appetite had pretty much gone. I knew I needed to eat but was really struggling so had a gel with caffeine. The effect was almost instantaneous and suddenly I was flying (speed is all relative - probably 10 minute miles at best at this point!) and knowing the route I felt good again. Then there was that light again. I jogged up alongside preparing to say hi, how are you? before going on. But then I saw it was Seanie!

 

He was really struggling and seemed delighted to see me so I was more than happy to stay with him. Maybe if I'd been battling for a podium place, I'd have made my excuses and gone on but running together seemed like much the better idea. Before long we were at Sparsholt Firs for a cup of tea, a banana and an offer of a massage "anywhere you like" from a volunteer who may just have been more delirious than I was. I declined this kind offer, although Crossy seemed pretty keen. What happened after I left, I don't know. What happens on an ultra, stays on an ultra.

 

CP7, Sparsholt Firs

The next 8 miles to Fox Hill felt fairly slow, although I was so far ahead of my 22-hour schedule by that point, I wasn't all that bothered how long it was taking. The only parts of this section I can remember are me getting hiccups after eating a Nakd bar (I think these might have saved me during the night) and them only disappearing when Seanie's blister burst which he had to plaster. It must have been the shock of seeing his feet that got rid of the hiccups. Gamely, he pushed on through the pain and we reached Fox Hill at about 2:45am.

 

Black tea with sugar, please!

It was at this point I discovered to my surprise that Seanie and I were in 16th and 17th places. We celebrated my having a boiled potato dipped in salt, a hot drink and a warm by the fire - probably the most welcome sight of the day or night, especially given that the temperature was down to about 3 centigrade at that point. I genuinely felt I was in the better situation running than manning a checkpoint, although the cheery volunteers assured me they were happier where they were.

I warm my hands, Seanie warms his arse

From this point on I didn't know the route, it was at least 10 miles to the final CP, and I could tell Seanie was suffering. Don't get me wrong - after 70 miles I was tired but at least I don't have any blisters to contend with. It was also hilly and exposed in places and so we just kept at it, jogging a bit, walking a bit, but always moving forwards.

 

Finally, there was the hint of some natural light on the horizon.

 

 

The fields came into full view as the sun slowly revealed itself and finally we thought we saw someone at a gate. It was just a post but shortly after that a sign for CP9 appeared and gave me a huge lift. As we came into the Barbury Castle checkpoint (where this is no castle, so don't get your hopes up) Seanie spotted his wife Ruth and dog Chewie, who had turned up unexpectedly to see him. Cate and Crossy were also there and it felt like we'd already made it to the end. The sun was coming up, giving me the sunrise I'd been dreaming of on this run, and there were hot dogs on offer. Seriously, a hot dog at 6am wasn't what I thought I'd want but boy, it went down a treat.

 

Hot dog o'clock

I took the opportunity to make a toilet stop and in so doing, my whistling saviour from earlier nipped through the checkpoint and overtook us. I don't think Seanie and I could have chased him down even if we'd wanted to but we set off hoping to finish the job in the next hour and a half. Five miles in 90 minutes sounds painfully slow but well, by then it was painful. There was a constant mental battle between wanting to run to get it finished and the pain associated with actually running.

 

As we were trying to figure out if we could see Avebury in the distance, someone - first lady, Paula Hewitt, as it transpired - trotted past us saying "Not far now." We saw her turn right off the trail and presumably the final stretch to the finish, and followed. I spotted someone on the path behind us and suddenly panicked that we were fading too fast and wouldn't even get in the top 20 so I urged Seanie to pick it up. But the guy never materialised and we jogged it over the line together, with a couple of race officials, Cate and Ruth applauding us in. It was 7:38am, 19 hours and 38 minutes since we'd set off.

 

Done

Before the race I was a bit worried that either it wouldn't live up to my expectations as an experience, or that my body would let down in some way. Happily, neither of these things happened, and I surpassed even my loftiest goals. I probably still didn't eat enough but other than that (and getting slightly lost), I feel managed my race as well as I could and I'm delighted with how it went.

 

I'm also really pleased that I ran with Seanie and that he made it on basically no training (the git). Becky arrived about 15 minutes after us at the finish, also blistered and broken but brilliantly, second lady. I knew she'd podium! Ilsuk had knee and blister trouble too and despite walking all the way from Goring, still managed to get in under 23 hours, a truly heroic effort.

 

Of the 80 starters, 54 finished, which I think shows what a challenge this race is. Well done to everyone who started - putting yourself out there is a huge undertaking in itself. It would also be remiss of me to not mention the winner, Nathan Montague, who finished in 12 hours 13 minutes, breaking the course record in the process. An amazing performance. 

 

Finally, some thanks are due. To race director Tim Mitchell, all the incredible volunteers who were up all night to give us a kind word and food and drink - you guys rock. We literally couldn't do this sort of nonsense without you, so thank you. To Robbie Britton, who has spent a year or so coaching me, imparting his wisdom and convincing me I could actually do this. To everyone who sent emails, texts, tweets, comments on Facebook showing support and love. And to most of all to Cate and Crossy who sacrificed a night's sleep and so much more to help me out and make this journey as incredible as it was. You were amazing. I love you guys! I actually have a little lump in my throat as I type this - thank you both so much. 

 

 

Where not my own, photos are courtesy of Cate, Crossy and The Trail Running Association. Check out their website and if you're of a mind, sign up for this race next year - you won't regret it.