Written by Gemma Bragg - http://www.themindandmanymiles.com/

It is hard to know where to start writing this…. What an epic adventure and journey the UTMB has been and not just the race itself, but the journey of actually just getting to the start line.

I have dreamed of completing the UTMB route since first going out there in 2010 and if you had asked then if I could have done it, I would have just laughed, I remember being in complete ore of all the people completing this magic journey. Even last year after my second year of running the CCC (the sister to the UTMB) I still didn’t truly believe I could ever run the UTMB and yet there I was on Friday 29th August ready for our 17:30hrs depart with 2,300 other runners lining the start of the 2014 UTMB hoping to make dream become reality. Awaiting the start of a journey that would take us on 104 miles (168km), through three different countries, climbing 30, 000ft (9600m) which equates to more than the height gain of climbing Everest and for a lot of us the anticipation of two nights out on the trails- it was a daunting prospect.

My goal for the UTMB was quite simple… to make it to the start line without injury and to finish my first 100miler (+4 miles) smiling  The race itself is not something to be taken lightly and is one of the toughest 100mile mountain Ultras in the world, attracting athletes from all over the globe, looking to compete in this iconic race and make history. Although I knew that my race would take me double the time of the elites, to complete the UTMB course in itself is a huge accomplishment and is something I have spent much of my year training for and working towards. The last few months building up to the race, all that has consumed my mind has been the UTMB and although I have tried to distract myself it has been hard to focus my thoughts on anything else. The race itself is now in its 12th year of running and predominantly the field has consisted of French competitors, followed by Spain and Italy but each year this field is becoming more international. To date there have been few British women that have completed the UTMB course, this year the percentage of overall female competitors was 13% compared to 87% men, this is the highest percentage of females ever to enter the race.

Jez and I flew out to Chamonix on Wednesday. I was super nervous arriving into Chamonix, as I had been for about the last month! I had been plagued with a back pain the month leading into the race, for which I had been having sports massage- apparently it was super stiff and I am also lopsided on one side! This pain/ stiffness was playing on my mind a lot and tended to be aggravated when sat for long periods of time (lucky I would not be doing much sitting during the race then!). I am sure it was to do with my anxiety but the pain had been really heightened and I spent a lot of time focusing on it and worrying that it was going to jeopardise my opportunity to finish the race, I was taking pain killers, wearing heat patches and doing Pilates stretches obsessively to try and ease the pain. The UTMB exposes you in every respect, and if you have a weakness it will definitely catch up with you along the way if you let it….

My mum and dad were both coming out to crew/ support me during the course this year, as they have for my previous two CCC races. However the day before we were flying out my nan fell very poorly, which meant that my mum had to stay behind in the UK to look after her. It was sad that my nan was poorly and it was sad that my mum would not be with us on the journey as it is something that we have spent a lot of time talking about and both my parents are an amazing support to me, and we knew what this first 100 mile meant…. but this is life and mum told me that she would be thinking of me and whenever I felt at a low point during the race to tap my shoulder and she would be there giving me extra strength and that helped a great deal  my dad therefore would be crewing for me solo, but would have jez and my mother- in- law there on the second night, all being well!

Jez and I having just got our kit checked and picked up our race numbers

We registered on the Thursday morning and I spent much of Thursday preparing kit and generally staying off my feet and having quiet time. Friday was always going to be a difficult day as you spend the whole day waiting for the race. I probably ended up getting up at 08:30hrs and spent most of the day on the floor of our apartment Pilates stretching! Dad popped over midday and took my race bag, with all the essentials needed for the race, he would next see me and be able to support me in Courmayeur, which is about 73km into the race. He would then be able to see me at La Fouly (but not assist) and then at Champex- Lac (122km), Trient (139km) and Vallorcine (149km) all aid stations where you can assist.

kit ready to go…

Race day had been generally sunny but as we went to the start line there was a big grey cloud looming over the mountains and at about 17:20hrs (10mins before the start) the heavens opened and all the runners were there putting on their waterproofs. The start was a sea of colours as 2,300 runners lined the start area and the organisers briefed and got the crowds going, there was music and the countdown and we were off…. Through the crowded streets of Chamonix, I had just run round the first corner and felt one of my water bottles fly out the pocket of my bag, so I had to turn back against the sea of runners and grab it off the floor- not an ideal start but losing a bottle of liquid would be detrimental to the race, so I had to get it back- at least I learnt the lesson early on to put it properly secure into my pack.

not long into the race, embracing the pouring rain!

Running past the bonfire at notre dam before the start of the of the first big climb…

I felt very apprehensive at the enormity that was in front of me but was looking forward to getting out onto the mountains and being in the solitude and for the real journey to begin. I also made sure that I broke the race down into chunks (short- term goals through the race), getting to a certain checkpoint for example, this enabled me to remain focused on the ‘here and now’ moment, opposed to becoming overwhelmed by the overall goal of the race and its enormity. The rain was very heavy to start with and lasted for the first 4-5 hours, you had to wear waterproofs but it was also very muggy and warm which made it quite uncomfortable as you were sweating inside the mac. At about 34km in, they have a big bonfire at the foot of the first big climb and people cheering with their cow bells, it was a great lift to get you ready for the climb and the night ahead, the rain also began to ease off at this point, for which I was very relieved.

I had decided that I would wear thicker socks for the race as they would give me a bit more cushioning and support, this was a bad idea… (never do something different in a race that you haven’t practiced before right?!). The socks were actually too thick which meant that my feet were up against the foot of my trainer and I lost both my big toenails on the first descent- not clever. I thought that I was going to have to wait until I saw my dad in Courmayeur to change socks, but then remembered that I had some thin knee length socks in my bag (as part of my essential kit), so when I got to the next checkpoint I changed my socks- but the damage had been done and I had two very black toenails. I was annoyed at myself for making such a silly mistake, I was also determined that two toenails were not going to stop me finishing this race and succumbed to painkillers (perhaps not ideal) and became very good at scrunching my toes up on the descents to ease the pain a little!

Feeling relieved that I would be seeing Dad soon at the first big checkpoint & i could have some porridge, a tea and change into dry clothes after a long first night….

Heading toward Courmayeur, about 73km into the race, after a night out on the trails

I tried to be as efficient as possible in the checkpoints, so not to waste too much time early on in the race, and I knew that later this time would be very valuable as I would probably need a bit more time at aid stations to fuel up and rejuvenate. I found the first night pretty long and in some respects quite lonely although there were always people around me. I think knowing that this time tomorrow I would still be on the mountains somewhere, was also quite a daunting prospect. The sun rose just as I was summiting the last climb before Courmayeur where I knew my dad would be waiting for me and it seemed to give me a new lease of life. It was also a nice feeling to know that I had done the longest stretch on my own now for the whole race and I would be seeing familiar faces along the route more often form here on in, which believe me helps a great deal. I got into Courmayeur somewhere around 8am and had porridge and a cup of tea and changed out of my soggy kit from the nights rain and into some fresh running gear, which felt nice. I didn’t dare take my shoes and socks off; they were staying on until the end, as I thought taking them off would only make things worse.

I felt really good climbing out of Courmayeur having refuelled and changed and a few words with dad. I must have looked ok as when I got to the top of the next climb a guy told me that I looked like I hadn’t even run and ‘as fresh as a daisy’, I wish I felt that way! My descending is something I feel quite strong on, but unfortunately because of my ‘error’ early on I was finding the descents slower than the climbs. For me though, this didn’t matter as my goal was to finish however long this journey would be and I was determined to cross that finish line.

I have a lot of respect for the UTMB and the course and I knew that it was going to be tough, but I also knew that however tough it got, however in pain I might feel, how tired I might get that this would only be short term. I knew that the feeling of completing the UTMB and getting to the finish line would be far greater than any immediate discomfort. I also knew how much I had trained and spent time focusing on the race, how much I had talked about the race and the people that were supporting me through the race both out in Chamonix and back home. I knew that at the end of the race I had a week’s holiday in the sun, where I could rest and reflect, and I also know myself well and knew that if I did not finish this race I would never forgive myself and I would definitely beat myself up about it for months to come. This was an opportunity I had been given and I felt so privileged to be there and be a part of this amazing event. Obviously if I had a major injury then I would have had to have stopped, but otherwise I was going to finish no matter what. Focusing on these motives through the race I think really helped me have a successful journey, as I never once let the thoughts of ‘I can’t go on’, ‘I need to pull out’ enter my mind, that wasn’t an option.

Determined to get the job done!

out on the mountain, day 2, looking a little tired…

I got to Champex Lac (122km) where I was able to see my dad again and refuel on porridge with a squeeze of golden syrup (I found this to be amazing running fuel). This was the first time where I felt really quite sick and I knew that it was about to get dark again, as I was heading into my second night out on the mountains. I felt quite apprehensive about this and how I would cope with another night, I have also heard a lot of people talk about delusions they experience during the second night or finding themselves falling asleep on the trail, not something you want to be doing when you’re on the edge of a mountain. I got my head torch out, put on a warmer layer and headed out, ready to embrace the Bovine climb- which is basically just big boulders to clamber up. On my way out of the aid station I bumped into Kirsty Read who is a Run247 contributor and we follow each other on twitter but have never met in person, anyway we ended up running the rest of the route together and this was really great. Kirsty and I spoke about our goals, thoughts and ambitions of the race- and had very similar thoughts about it, we were both just as determined as each other to finish! It was great to have company through the second night and to have someone to chat too and take my mind off the fact that we were ascending once more.

I knew that Jez was going to be in Trient, and this would be the first time I would have seen him since starting the race- he had already finished, showered, had dinner and was now back out supporting me, it definitely gave me a boost descending into Trient knowing that he would be there.
We left Trient and I was starting to feel really tired, with two more climbs to go, it must have been about 3am by now on the second night. The climb seemed quite long, but the descent even longer down into Vallorcine (the last big checkpoint) and I did start to see all sorts of animals in the woods- every piece of bark resembled a new animal which just seemed to be silently staring back at me. Finally I heard the sound of the Vallorcine aid station and saw the lights coming from the town, it was a great feeling!

I think that when you get to Vallorcine you know that whatever happens then you are going to make it…. 19km to go, one more climb, however that sure doesn’t make the last climb any easier up to Tete aux Vents, it is steep and boundary and with little legs you almost have to lift them up to reach the next step, it also has about 2 false summits- your there and then you realise you’re not actually there. I remember at one point looking up and seeing all the head torches, having already felt that we had been climbing for ages- I said to Kirsty ‘we’ve got ages to go yet…’ and then Kirsty pointed out that I was looking at the stars! When you reach the summit you then have about 5km of boulder rocks to negotiate along the top before reaching La Flegere, the final aid station before you descend the last 8km down into Chamonix. This mountain seemed to go on forever and I wandered if we were ever going to get off, the light came up just as we were summiting, but unfortunately it was all fog and mist so you could not see much.

You can see Chamonix town below for some time on the final descent and it feels a long time before the distance between you and the town gets closer, but finally we made it down to the road and had the run through Chamonix centre to the finish line. It was amazing getting back down into the noise and hype of Chamonix and you really felt like a winner, everyone lining the streets cheering for you, in recognition of the journey you have been on and seeing the tiredness in your face. Kirsty and I crossed the finish line and Jez was there to give me that long awaited hug, along with Kirsty’s husband Pete.

still managing a smile at the end, this was before i almost fainted!

A relief to see mr jez at the end and have a hug!

It was an amazing experience crossing the finish line and completing the UTMB and something I feel so happy to have achieved. I felt so exhausted at the end that it was almost too much to really appreciate and take that moment in and I really wish I was able to capture the moment in a bottle and make it last forever.

Feeling super happy to have made the journey around the mountain :-)

Kirsty and I on our way to the UTMB finish line!

I walked through and collected my finisher gilet, of which I am very proud of. The sun was out at this point, I was talking to my dad and everything went blurred and sounds muffled, and I suddenly said ‘I’m going to faint’, the next thing my dad had me down on the floor and legs in the air in the centre of the town- nothing like making a scene! I was escorted to the medical tent where I had to lie down for some time, my blood pressure had dropped right down- not surprising I guess running 40+ hours and then suddenly stopping, I think my body was in a bit of shock.

The final few 100 yards to the finish line, a very special moment…

Jez had the delight of taking my shoes and socks off, rather an unpleasant sight of blisters and lost toenails not to mention an awful smell! It has taken a good week for my feet to recover and I am now 5 toenails short, but apart from that it is amazing how quickly your body recovers.
The UTMB was my biggest challenge to- date and I feel so happy to have achieved the journey, it has definitely been one of my life’s greatest experiences. I would like to thank my Dad for being there as my support crew, knowing exactly what to do and when to do it and knowing exactly what to say. Thank you to everyone that has supported me along the way  I can now say that I have completed my first 100miler on a pretty brutal course and I have the amazing memories of it that will last forever 

my amazing dad who supported me all the way through the race, I think he was happy to see me finish :-)

making my way back to shower at the end, with the aid of my sticks!

Written by Paul Nesbitt - http://pabloruns.wordpress.com/

“I don’t have any Bodyglide & I swear it’s like a lump of molten rock in my boxers” -

Moi at Courmayeur (Mile 50)

Sometimes, no matter how much you prepare, no matter how many precautions you take & how much training you do. Manbits are gonna burn. A single strand of cotton fibre lining was at this moment ruining my race, crushing my dreams & making me run like John Wayne.

The Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc (also referred to as UTMB) is a single-stage mountainultramarathon. It takes place once a year in the Alps, across France, Italy andSwitzerland. The distance is approximately 168 km, with a total elevation gain of around 9,600 m. It is widely regarded as one of the most difficult foot races in Europe.

Och sure, it’s only a few wee hills.

This is what Wikipedia says about the race that has been my focus for at least the last 3 years, you have to acquire points to qualify for it by running other ultra races which in turn give you points on completion, the 3 races that I used were the Lakeland 100 (100 miles), Swiss Alpine Ultra (50 Miles) & the Mourne Ultra (52 Miles). I ‘ve been intrigued by this race ever since I read a Dean Karnazes book about 6 years ago and thought 104 miles covering the height of Everest!? Ridiculous. I didn’t actually think I’d one day be running it!!

So myself & Declan entered the ballot (after missing out last year) Declan was my lucky charm here as he got into & completed the Western States this year too. The same fella would get into Fort Knox if he chanced his arm! So we got in – Now what?

TRAINING

I’ll not bore ye too much with the details of my training but lets just say it was filled with variety! T’is the spice of life as they say :)

I just made sure to get as much vert into every run I set out on. The last couple of months involved about 4 long runs in the Mournes of about 20 miles (Usually late at night!) as well as getting up at about 4.30am to run the hills behind Belfast before work most mornings. Moving house and having a new wee nipper about also took their place amongst this hectic oul year, so looking at my training log below, you can see the miles I covered this year -

Injury at Donadea in February really knocked the stuffing out of me with little to no running for 6 weeks. I was only really getting back on track again in May. March was a grumpy month.

June was the house move which effectively wiped out 2 weeks of training but I was still happy enough as I think my training just peaked at the right time coming towards race day. I also managed to squeeze in the Mourne Ultra in June as well as the Seven Sevens in August.

Special mention to the boy Matty for holding my hand round Gosford on those late nights when I needed to squeeze a run in. Th’on boy will never turn down the chance to go out for a loch of mile!!

GEAR

I’m going to blatantly lie here as if I’m honest & truthful about the gear I had to buy for this race, It could end up in divorce. UTMB has quite an extensive kit list and for safety in the mountains, a lot of it is compulsory. So of course, as I mentioned before, being honest & truthful, I made all the kit myself. By hand.

Shoes – Went with Salomon Speedcross & they were brilliant. Had some wee Noene insoles in them too. Had North Face Ultras & Nike Wildhorse as backup but never felt the need to change.

Socks – Drymax Trail

Backpack – Salomon S-Lab 12

Poles – Yes Poles! Mountain King Trail Blaze – I thought I’d broke them about 100 times! Very light and strong wee boyos, I don’t know how anyone can do this race without them. About 95% of the field use poles.

Shorts – North face shorts + Salomon for 2nd half

Tees – UTMB top + Helly Hanson

I also brought a few buffs, Sealskinz gloves, waterproof troosers, merino baselayer, Montane hat, A Petzl trailrunner headtorch, An Alpkit gamma (Which the mountain Gods stole on the 2nd last climb!!) Bodyglide (It’s like a less messy vaseline) Salt tablets, a box of High5 Summer fruits gels, Nuun Tablets + 1 litre of water carried in my disturbingly flacid soft flasks.

Buddy, you gotta stop boring us with all these details. It’d be a whole lot cooler if you did…

ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT – SO WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED?

Have you ever really, really looked forward to something, pined for it and wanted it so much that you would actually lick the side of its face?

I wanted to lick the side of the UTMB’s face. Look, I know races don’t have faces & even if they did, you could probably get disqualified for such inappropriateness. But this is how my post-UTMB brain is expressing itself so please just stay with me.

This notion of face licking quickly dissipated in the last week before the race though.

In truth, I just became so insecure with the whole thing. Had I trained enough? Was the niggling achilles injury going to stop me in my tracks? Could I actually run what is renowned in the ultra community as the most gruelling ultra in the world? I wanted to hide, I wanted time to go backwards. I wanted someone to lick MY face and tell me everything is gonna be OK.

Right, enough facelickage – I feel a wee bit nauseous.

So I think it’s obvious that I had a wee case of pre-race nerves. Stace was like Mickey from Rocky all week…she says to me one morning…

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“Here, pass the milk”

“There ye go”

“Pabs, I was just thinking, UTMB is on Friday right?”

…Deep Breath….”Yup”

“Well pet, I just wanted to say the world aint all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place, and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it aint about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward … how much you can take and keep movin forward.”

“Ermmmm…I don’t know what to say to that. I’m pretty blown away actually.”

“Now get me a spoon too would ye?”

CHAMONIX

What an awesome place this is during UTMB week.

It’s a runners paradise just nestled in a valley overshadowed by the Mont Blanc massif. We were staying in a chalet bang in the middle of Chamonix with a crowd of other NI runners who were all taking on other events that week such as the TDS & CCC. They had all finished their races (Apart from Martin who was doing the CCC on Friday morning) by the time we arrived so they were just basking in their success at this stage.

View from the apartment – Sexy.

NI takes over Chamonix! A quere good looking bunch.

A great bunch of lads who couldn’t do enough for us including Brian who had laminated and cut out the UTMB route for us to take with us. Such an organiser, everyone needs a Brian Linton in their life. I have a personality that generally just goes with the flow (Or lazy may be a better word!?) so having these boyos about was reassuring.

Thanks for giving up your beds, pastries & coffee lads!

Finish Line – The day before – Too much sexy for one picture. Should be illegal.

Le Race

Let’s start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

We arrived at the start about 45 minutes before kickoff which in retrospect was a wee bit late as we were fairly far back in the crowd of runners. But nonetheless it was good as we actually ended up meeting up with all the other runners from NI. Dale & Denise Mathers (Dale had an unbelievable run finishing in 32hrs 54mins which would have been closer to 30 hours only for a torn calf muscle – Denise unfortunately had to pull out with sickness at 50km) & Craig Lloyd who gutted out the distance without any poles which I can’t quite comprehend now I look back! Also, Stephen Wallace who as usual ran really strongly to finish just under 42 hours.

The race warms up with some soul stirring classical battle style music by Vangelis which I thought would do nothing for me. Much rather have a bit of Punk or Metal myself but dear me, Once it got started, the lump in the throat and goosebumps took hold. As we ran under the start arch, I actually thought I was going to cry, I don’t even know why. I’m an emotional crater really y’know…It also started pouring down just before the start which continued for about 4 hours. Perfect.

The run out of Chamonix is amazing, with crowds up to 6 deep just roaring and cheering. Parful! The first 8km of the race looks flat on the profile map but it’s probably more like somewhere like Gosford forest to be honest, still it was relatively flat really! The first climb out of Les Houches was tough as we were still getting warmed up and it was all still pretty congested due to us being so close to the start. Dec struggled a bit here & mentioned that he had feck all energy – he’d been on anti-biotics for the week previous.

We marched up together but I got a couple of minutes ahead of him here and waited at the top. Then all I saw was a Dec shaped blur as he was flying down the other side. I followed at this point & it was pure gutters! Just like home. You could tell everyone was being very cautious here as no-one wanted to do themselves a mischief so early in the race. Caught up with Dec again at the Saint Gervais aid station and we both set off on the long climb up Bonhomme. I realised I was getting ahead of him too quickly here & just knew deep down something wasn’t right with him.

Unfortunately, I would find out that he had to drop at 50km, Stace broke the news to me around halfway (Well I dragged it out of her actually) and it rattled me a bit as I knew this race was just as important to him as it was to me. We’d built up to this race together but th’on boy is strong enough. He’ll be back and absolutely annihilate this bad boy.

There was a massive bonfire at the top of Col du Bonhomme which was so warm and lovely, I could have stayed there all day. But being 2500 metres high, I knew I needed to stop drying my backside and get down the otherside. So at les Chapieux, I grabbed some noodly soup and moved on. The climbing on this course was relentless and after hitting Col de la Seigne (2500m again) we left France and dropped down to Lac Combal in the Italian Alps where it was starting to get light for the first time and I could start to appreciate what I was running in!

The trail of headtorches behind me dropping down the Col. Pretty awesome.

The language barrier was difficult at times, not because we couldn’t understand one another, more because they all refused to speak at all as a result!

Of course it also made me paranoid when they spoke to one another as I could never be quite sure if they were remarking on the size of my arse or my terrible haircut. What were they saying? What was going on here?

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What if birds aren’t singing? What if they’re just screaming because they’re afraid of heights?

On more than one occasion I would see a couple of runners ahead on the trail and as I would overtake, something you could only do one at a time due to the narrow trails usually having a massive drop down one side. As a result, for that instant while you were running sandwiched between 2 runners that obviously knew each other, I can only describe the uncomfortableness as being akin to when that weird dude comes and stands beside you at the urinal when there were plenty of others to use…

The entire Italian side of the race was just beautiful, it was all done during the daylight hours & was just stunning. I’ll let the pics do the talking more than my words ever could.

One of the aid stations along the route

Yer man in the sign looks to be in a spot of bother.

FALLING

I did fall once during the race which for anyone who knows me is an incredible stat! I usually make a habit of being horizontally prone on a regular basis when out in the hills. I just like to feel one with the landscape. The one fall I had was actually pretty dramatic, it was on some slippy rock descending before Grand Col Ferret and I smacked my chin off a boulder from a great height, it made a loud noise, it hurt quite a lot but strangely it seemed to be ok!? I was convinced I should have had a broken jaw or something. Anyway, someone was looking after me there!

FARTING

Yes, I know. Sorry.

I could regale you with hours of fart stories but I’ll try not to. You see, the child in me just cannot stop laughing when I hear air escaping from someones posterior. This was a regular occurence on the climbs in the race. Although, It seems the other nations represented on the UTMB did not share my amusement or the love of a good oul fart. These guys were lethal, Squeaking the whole way up hills without so much as a smirk.

The reason I raise this at all is in relation to two incidents out there. On one particular climb I was fairly close to a guy as we climbed up a rather steep section of scree. He farted on my head. Yes. ON MY HEAD. Now, me not wanting to fall out with him just shouted “Sacre Bleu!” and laughed thinking good old trailer comaraderie would shine through and we’d have a good laugh. Eh, Nope – he stopped, looked at me in disgust and marched on. How did I get in trouble!?

Another guy played the opening notes to Dallas with his which had me laughing quite a lot, although I held back a bit after the previous incident and said nothing. Still, I was the recipient of a french flash of pure distain. Was I meant to compliment him on his unique & distinctive tones!?

I’ve went on a bit here. Apologies.

BACK TO LE RACE

At Courmayeur,which is roughly around halfway, there was amazing support from the locals. Here, you can get your hands on your dropbag. This is where you can change your clothes into a nicer drier t-shirt and shorts and basically carry out any maintenance that is required after the first half of the race has bate ye. I was most looking forward to the dropbag so I could get some lubrication. You may remember back at the beginning of this report, that I mentioned molten rock & my boxers. Ladies cover your ears and eyes…

I was in a bad way. Initially I was afraid to look in fear that I had rubbed myself into a eunuch. So now was the time to finally sort it out, it was going to be such a moment. I could hear the triumphant trumpets of lubricated victory playing and I was gonna pile that Bodyglide on…then No. No. I could have cried. I didn’t pack my Bodyglide for this station, it was waiting a minimum of 25 miles away at Champex-Lac (Damien – Me & Declans wingman had arranged to meet us there with some last minute provisions). This was the low of my race. I phoned Stace and moaned about how hot my willy was. This was not a proud moment, but it is a moment that could have wrecked the race. The only solution was to change what I was wearing on my bottom half & soldier on. This proved problematic in a packed Leisure centre but I managed. I got some Pasta into me & moved on. Again.

This was my favourite part of the race as it was the highest point up to Grand Col Ferret. Such stunning scenery here again.

Would put you in mind of out my back.

The descent down into Champex-lac was so awesomely awesome too. It was about 20km of trail at gradient that was lovely to run on, not too steep but just perfect. Then we were up a bit of a climb into Champex-Lac where Dec & Damien came to meet me & we exhanged some manhugs. This was a huge lift to me. I had contemplated 5 minutes sleep here as I’d been going for over 24 hours at this stage but seeing the lads gave me the lift that I felt would see me round the remainder of the course.

The lads pampered me & I finally got that most amazing of amazing things – Bodyglide. The image of me applying it must have been a right sight. At least it gave the lads a good laugh!

It was at this stage that I thought I had the back of the race broke. Not so. Not by a long shot, the final 50km of this race are brutal. It consists of 3 extremely tough climbs up treacherous mountain passes in the dark.

The first one after Champex-Lac starts with a beautiful skirt round the side of a big lake before you drop down then climb and climb. This was so disorienting after no sleep & I actually started seeing things in the rocks. On the decent down the other side into Trient I actually saw the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland lying dead on the trail. Shouldn’t have been messing about as much I though. Stupid Cat.

This was all very real to me. I was thinking that I was on individual missions now rather than continuous climbs to the finish in Chamonix. Very hard to explain where my head was at at this point to be honest. Let us just say focused…

The next climb from Trient and down to Vallorcine was like dejavu. It was dark, it was a mountain and I was now back to an aid station. I was really starting to suffer  with blisters on the last 2 descents, after the first one I thought I will just have to persevere but now I was convinced my foot would explode on every landing. I couldn’t go on like this so I headed to the medical tent where this place was like an episode of the walking dead. It took them 45 minutes but they lanced my feet. Ouch. But it worked & after getting both feet bandaged again, I headed for the last climb in great spirits.

Well, they were great until I realised I had left my backup headtorch on the peak of the last climb when I was replacing batteries. And now the ones I had were all duds!! Nightmare!! I knew if I waited an hour, I would have daylight coming through but I couldn’t afford this, I wanted to get to the finish ASAP! So I stopped a couple of supporters t Col des Montets and asked would they by any chance have some AAA batteries…

Complete gentlemen they were too & they actually took the batteries out of their own headtorch and sent me on my way. One of them just happened to be Jez Bragg who finished 20th this year and was out supporting his wife now. The elites are amazing.

I may have been near the finish but my adventure certainly wasn’t over. I had about 700 metres left to climb on rough terrain and my left hip flexor had now decided to completely stop functioning. Completely.

I couldn’t lift my left foot more than 15 cm off the ground & on this mountain, it was knees to chest stuff at times! Instead I had to resolve to climbing with my right leg only and using my left leg to steady myself. Not ideal but I finally made it to the top after some proper rock climbing in places! Oi’m well ‘ard Oi am.

Only the small matter of running about 10km downhill on smashed quads, blistered feet, chaffed chaffed bits & no left hip flexor. I was actually cross when I saw how small Chamonix was from up on top of that mountain. What monster created this race!? Anyway, after scrambling across a load of rock at the top of the mountain and sliding down even more on my arse, I made it to Flégére, the final checkpoint. Finally.

I got a wee bit emotional here & hugged a french guy I had met the previous day at the expo who was carrying out a sleep study at this station. I tried to explain the Cheshire Cat but I don’t know of I got anywhere.

So I began the descent & also began the reminiscing…oh dear, don’t do it!

I thought about Stace & my wee men back home & of course almost instantly cried!Hold it together man!!

I also got thinking about the journey to this point, I don’t want to be clichéd but this race really means more to me than just being a stupid jolly in the mountains. It means all the training was worth it, it means the hours away from Stace & the boys actually had a point – Thanks for putting up with that Mrs, it means setting my alarm for 4am wasn’t mental, It means I actually got to live out a dream. This was a dream for me.

I’ve always been in awe of the mountains ever since I was a wee buck, it was my Dad that gave me that love. He loved the Mournes & I like to think he wasn’t too far away as I was running down those switchbacks into Chamonix. He would have loved that.

I managed to compose myself & arrive back into Chamonix to a fantastic reception of people cheering as I passed. I suddenly was running quite fast then and doing stupid things with my arms.

Me and my silly arms…

All the lads were out to see me in which was such a great welcome after 2 very long hard nights of running. You’re all heros. Thanks Nicki & Martin for the stellar photography.

This actually happened. True Story.

So, I’m sitting typing this and only as I pasted that image in have I realised it.

I finished UTMB. Jakers.

Profile Stats & Time – 39:29:52

Written by James Adams - http://www.runningandstuff.com/

It has been a long time since I have been in the lake district, more than a year which is longer than I'd normally like to leave it after discovering it's magnificence a few years back. Usually I am not here for an event (unless you count the Anniversary Waltz which I managed to come last in last year). The excuse to nip up there this time was to run the 10 peaks challenge, climbing the 10 biggest peaks in the lake district. 24 hour cut off and I'd have to finish in 16 hours to make it back to Keswick for the famous Cow Pie dinner. 45miles and 5600 meters of elevation. How hard can it be?

We had our feet in the clouds. That give me an idea for a book..

We started at 4am at the base of Helvelyn, 951m, one of the bigger peaks. 200 odd runners plodded single file up a steep climb up some rock steps to the summit, it took nearly an hour and by the top by which time the sun had risen and the day looked glorious. one down, a nice down hill bit of running and we were well into this.

I was doing this as Ben Cope wanted to do something epic in his 30th year and what better than smashing your legs on some of Britains finest rock. It wasn't just rock though, there were bogs everywhere. It has pissed it down in England for a month and everywhere was soaked. Luckily the weather today was perfect, glorious sunshine and no rain. In the first running of this event no one finished due to the bad weather.

I was also with Mike Wilcox who was running like a dog who had never been out for a run before, jumping over and into things and generally being stupid. Two of his friends Tim and Oli were with us too, they knew the way along with Ben and so we were determined to stick with them.

We climbed another two significant peaks before being told that those don't count in the 10 peaks they are just smaller peaks that you have to climb to get up the the main peaks. So after 4 hours of climbing up and down and up and down we were still only on one peak. That Cow Pie might not happen now.

It was really hard even on the flat grassy bits as there was water everywhere and I made a very poor choice of shoe. Much as I love these shoes they were certainly not fell shoes and not good for kicking rocks which I was doing a lot. I lost my shoe once and spent much of the time on my arse, at some point sliding down a hill faster than I could ever hope to run down.

Finally we managed to get to the second peak Bowfell, 902m tall. It was frustrating that we had to climb up and down three others to get there.

The terrain here is brutal. It brought back wonderful memories of the Barkley race in April as to just how difficult it is to get any momentumn on here at all. There was some running down Helwelyn but from then on we were just hiking. Going down was hard, we were staggering around like Bambi. I don't think any of us were any good at it. I thought the Bob Graham Round might be doable by me but now I am certain it's not as I can't go down anything at any pace.

I thought about how this compares to Barkley. The climbs are as severe. The distance and total elevation is about a third of the Barkley so the time limit of 24 hours is quite tight. The only difference is that where there are rocks here in Tennesse there are dead trees. On the beautiful clear day you could see all around and it reminded me of Frozen Head Park. This is definitely good training.

We did the next few peaks in quick succession which was great. Great End, 910 m, Ill Crag, 935 m, Broad Crag, 934 m and Scafell Pike, 978 m all seemed to fall away quickly. I had never been up Englands highest mountain before and so getting up Scafell Pike was a novelty. There were a lot of tourists up there. We then headed straight off to climb Scarfel which was a bit lower but a harder climb and one with two options. One involved a rake and another a fox and a tarn. We took the foxes tarn and regretted it as it took a lot longer climbing up a waterfall and up a load of scree. It took ages to get up there. There was an option of not doing this climb and incuring a 1 hour penalty. We did this then had to go up scafell pike again to get back onto the course, taking about 2 and a half hours. At this point we lost Oli and Tim who had gone up the rake.

So, 7 peaks done in about 9 hours, seemed like we were doing well but we were hardly into it yet. The next peak was bloody miles away.

Great Gable, 899 m, was some climb. We could see it in the distance for ages before climbing it. It was here when the estimated finish time went from "guaranteed cow pie" to "no way are we going to get this done before midnight". That made me grumpy. I wanted a cow pie.

Going up Great Gable was hard enough, coming off it was stupid. There was a long line of us scrambling down the scree, trying to stay on our feet but slipping all over the place and kicking rocks down the hill. I though if enough people did this all the rocks would end up on the bottom which would make this a lot easier. I yelled at a rock and told it to fuck off, something I have not done since the Marathon Des Sables a few years back. I had a proper sense of humour failure coming down that hill, we were told at the top that the next checkpoint was only 1k away and it was downhill. Still took us half an hour and at the bottom we were told that after 8 peaks we were still only about half way through the race. Bugger.

The next stop was an epic journey to Pillar, I think the smallest of the peaks but by far the longest hike to get to. We could see it in the distance but it was still over a load of rocks. On the way here we saw Carla Denneny coming the other way who had already down Pillar. I thought she was just ahead but I was not quite prepared for just how far we had to go. We were warned about false peaks on this and we sure did get some of those.

After a load of walking on the flat but still tripping over rocks we headed for the peak in the distance. It drew near and up we went, I commented that at least we were half way up so didn't have to go up a whole peak. It did not seem to make it any easier though and later on their way down we saw Tim and Oli coming off the peak and they told us it's about another half an our to the top. I did not quite believe them as I was pretty sure we were near the top and sure enough about 5 minutes later we were at the top. Of a different peak.

Scafel Waterfall

Pillar was way ahead, which meant going down and then back up again. FFS. I was quite grumpy now and my feet were sore from kicking rocks. Itdid indeed take another half an hour to get to the top of the other peak and then back down, back up then back down into the swamp and rocks. They really should have tarmaced this place for some sort of ultra skateboarding event in the Olympics. I think at some point I was resigned to not having anything to eat whenever I crawled back into Keswick later so I texted Gemma to tell her to get me lots of milkshake for the finish. On coming back from Pillar we had a nice section heading to Honiston Pass where we'd get some hot food which we were all looking forward to. Mike had already deicded to drop and I was tempted but the promise of a "nice flat run to Keswick and then only Skidaw left" seemed to keep me in the race.

We got the checkpoint and had a jacket potato and chilli which went down very nice except that we too were getting eaten by the midges. Ben and I waited for about 20 minutes but did not see him come in. He got lost apparently in a dehydrated daze. Ben and I pushed on, and what better way to start the nice flat run into Keswick than with a bloody great big muddy hill.

I think it was a combination of slipping and kicking a rock, really hurting my foot and getting a bounceback from the text message about the milkshake that made me quit. I was done. I fell in love with the idea of getting back to the B&B before midnight and having a normal nights sleep. I felt sorry for Ben who wanted to keep going and I was going to bail on him but I just could not be arsed with this anymore and justified it to myself by saying that I might injure myself on those rocks in the dark and that would make Spartathlon training hard. I really quit because I have become a quitter of late.

So I urged Ben to catch up with a couple of guys in front while I took the road to Keswick. I got back around 11pm and had a cold cow pie waiting for me. I didn't really deserve it but I ate it anyway.

The shingle down Great Gable

Ben finished in 23.30, half an hour inside the cut-off having had a miserable time descending Skiddaw with blistered feet. Tim, Oli and Carla finished sometime before. It truely was an apic and difficult event and with perfect weather still a challenge completing inside the cut off. I need to cure my quitters disease before going back but I certainly recommend it.

Written by Richard Stillion - http://richyla.wordpress.com/

Photo: Courtesy Jon Lavis

In a nutshell, the NDW50 was hot and hard!

I first came across the “word” NDW50 way back in September/October 2012 whilst chatting on the Runner’s World forum and someone called loulabell mentioned it. New to ultra running I googled it and came across the Centurion Running website with one of the photos on the Homepage (it’s still there) of someone merrily crossing a river via stepping stones. Ooh that looks nice, I thought – shame the photographer hadn’t turned around at this point to reveal the bigger picture (more later)! I read on the website that you could do a required amount of hours volunteering to earn a complementary place for the race the year after. So that’s what I did. I’ve since crewed on a couple more Centurion aid stations and they give you an amazing buzz. You can also have a look at what people are wearing (from a practical view, not fashion, I hasten to add) and what they are eating in a nutritional sense (coke seemed to be the most popular choice).

So 20 months and a lot of training later, I found myself approaching race day. Sadly, not a great week, as the family went down with sore throats and viral poorliness. This lead to a few sleepless nights and I think I caught a bit of this bug.

I turned up on race day not feeling too chipper and, truth be told, a bit sick as well. Whether this was augmented by nerves as the reality of 50 miles hit me, I don’t know.

The weather was going to be hot, so, in addition to my S-Lab 12 running vest, I thought I’d take a 700ml water waist-belt. Inside the belt I put in 12 S-Caps (salt/electrolyte tablets).

I forgot the waist-belt – I left it in the hotel.

So, feeling not-very-good and now sans extra water and electrolytes I wasn’t in a good state. I did see a couple of people I was acquainted with at the registration, but didn’t say too much, I really didn’t want my negativity oozing out, so I apologise to those people if I appeared a bit subdued.

I had my kit checked, collected my number and gave my drop bag to Drew. All I wanted now was to start, I was hoping the ill-feeling would disappear – I won’t go on about it anymore, but suffice to say – it didn’t. I was more than happy I didn’t need the toilet though as there was quite a queue. Before long, James got up and gave his briefing – it was interesting to hear him saying about not giving him grief if the course wasn’t exactly as stated. I help run a local village fun run and we get grief about timings and distances every year. It’s just nice to know it happens at the top as well as the little league!

So, Race Plans:

Plan A

Go out way too fast in the excitement of it all, get to about mile 15 and start feeling like I’ve overdone it. Get to mile 24 and know I’ve overdone it, spend the next 26 miles cursing and hating myself, hating ultras and hating the world whilst taking in the marvellous open scenery of the North Downs. Crawl to the finish line. Sign up for another ultra and tell everyone who will or won’t listen how great ultra running is.

Plan B

Just do Plan A.

Anyway. Warm weather, firm underfoot and off we went. After about thirty seconds I nearly got thwacked with a branch of holly or some such – that would have been a record to have to pull out of a 50 miler due to a holly leaf in the eye DROP at 30s. I was surprised how quickly the field panned out as it wasn’t the widest of trails and we were also in contention with quite a few Cystic Fibrosis Charity walkers coming the other way. Despite my cunning Plan A I was absolutely determined not to go out too fast. Everyone seemed to be overtaking me and I was feeling like I was being left behind. The pace did steady and there were gaps I was thinking I could fit into, but I managed to avoid temptation. I was planning, if all went well, for something like 10-10.30 hours which gave me 12 min/mile to aim at for pace.   Tim Lambert’s blogs which he posted just prior to the race really helped saying which bits were the hardest. So, I thought maybe if I could run gently but well up to Boxhill, I would be able to buy some time as the Boxhill to Reigate hill 7 mile section would clearly be slower. It’s strange that it is only a few days ago and already I’m forgetting details. I remember running through quite flat areas, the weather was warm, but there was enough shelter in wooded areas, it was at this time I saw a jay – (that sort of thing cheers me up). I came out onto a field and at this point some people were having quite a chat and one of them mentioned that the field was underwater during the flooding. We then came out into another area and the views really opened up, stunning stuff.

The next part of note that really stuck in my mind was coming up to St Martha on the Hill Church and then looking at the view on the other side. Just beautiful.

I don’t know why but at the first two aid stations, I didn’t really eat that much. I remember the guys at the second aid station working frantically making up sandwiches though. They kindly topped my soft flasks up, which needless to say were empty every time I reached an aid station, but that’s all I took. I had asked if they had any S-caps, which they didn’t, but one of the runners said his wife had some in the car. I turned the offer down for some reason, but it was very kind of him.

“Shot to bits!” Photo: Courtesy Jon Lavis

Plodding on, I started to go downhill (in a geographical sense) and noticed some vineyards to my right (Denbies as I’ve since learned it is called) and in front of me could only be Boxhill. I could see our CP3 on the other side of a very busy dual carriageway and it was a bit of a trek to head down to the underpass. I got my number scanned here and noticed a little handwritten sign/cartoon saying steep climb ahead with a stick man going upstairs. My tummy was rumbling for food here (despite the very strong pungent odour of wild garlic) and I decided I’d go for it. I apologise to anyone who saw me here. They may as well have laid out a trough. I just mixed it all in – crisps for salt, cheese and ham for salt, protein, bread for carbohydrate, coke and anything else that was there. It was here that I asked if I could have one bottle filled with water and one with electrolyte drink – I just hadn’t been thinking before. I saw Ed Catmur amongst the crew and asked him if he was recovered from the TP100 and was he feeling ready for SDW100 – he said he was, but had to get Comrades out of the way first! I wished him luck and thanked the rest of the crew and continued on to…. the iconic Stepping Stones! Finally, after 20 months I’d got there. As it was hot, I was all for falling into the River Mole to cool off, but I went over slowly (there was a lady with a small child in front of me – I wasn’t in a rush). It was just after the stepping stones that I heard my mobile phone indicating a text message. I looked and it was from my wife – she was following the race on-line and she said I was bang on for 10hrs30 and I’d been running at 10.42m/mile.

Where’s the lift?

And so to the stairs! Long and steep, I was half expecting the Pearly Gates with St Peter at the top asking if I wanted Cake or Death – at this point I would have been undecided.   Weeell, it wasn’t that bad to be honest, and turning around, well, what a view. Absolutely stunning. I asked a lady if she’d take a photo of me, which she kindly did. She asked if I was running for charity? No, I replied, for sheer stupidity! I think it was just around the corner from the top that a runner had clearly been met by a group of friends/family – possibly between 10-20 people. They wished me good luck and I put my hands to my ears as if to say “I can’t hear you” and they all clapped and cheered. It’s moments like that which really lift you.

All worth it – at the top of Boxhill

So, that marked around the half-way point. There are ways to break the race down and I felt good in my mind here as the run to the CP3 was the longest of approx. 9/10 miles. The rest of the sections were not as long. The next block would take me into the 30 mile bracket. I can’t remember too much about this bit, there were some flat parts and then Reigate Hill appeared. It was just a case of sticking one foot in front of the other. By the time I’d reached the top, my hips had started to hurt and my glutes felt very tight. It must have been round here that I talked to a female runner and said I was shot to bits. I did feel shot to bits, but not in a “can’t finish shot to bits” way. She told me her boyfriend and daughter were on the route supporting her. I hadn’t really spoken to anyone until now, I just wanted to get miles under my belt.

I was certainly feeling it now and walking was creeping in. I was never really disheartened throughout any of the race, but this section did drag on, what with the walking slowing my run rate down. A bit later on, a guy with a brim that went round his hat went past me and I didn’t take much notice until only a little while after that someone behind me started to shout and I turned round and could see she was pointing left. He’d gone past the turning. A few of us all started yelling now, but to no avail – I’m assuming the guy had earphones in. All this shouting brought a couple of lads out of one of the houses – they must have thought someone was getting mugged or something. We apologised and then managed to flag a van down and asked if the driver wouldn’t mind telling the runner to turn around (I did see him finish btw).

Caterham was a welcome sight and I started to feel very positive about finishing now. It was also a breakthrough moment as this was mile 38 – one mile further than I’d run in a day before, so, everything from now was bonus time. The female runner (I apologise for not knowing your name) who I’d been talking to also pointed out that at this stage we could pretty much walk to the finish in time, so to some extent it would be harder for me to drop than it would to finish. They even had flapjacks here. I love them and things like that really give that boost – there’s enough effort by the crews, but this extra bit was brilliant (it turned out to be Bryan Webster’s kids who’d made them – well, you made part of my day a very happy one, thank you!). My phone text went again and it brought a smile to my face. I didn’t check it, but I knew that the on-line race page must have updated my progress and my wife would have sent a text that she’d seen it. It meant a great deal that someone was tracing where I was (I think my family in New Zealand were keeping an eye on it too).

Again, the pace was slow, but psychologically I felt very happy. This was a five mile section so I hoped I would be fine. I think we were on the south side of a hill and I started to feel really hot. It was like a suntrap with absolutely no breeze. (I also remember thinking what an absolute blight the M25 was.) I crewed at the Botley Hill aid station last year, so I knew there was a long climb up. I welcomed it. It was covered over by trees and was cool away from the suntrap and it wasn’t as steep as Reigate. I don’t know why, but I thought I was way over the 11 hour finish mark now. (Why times matter I just don’t know. I’m not going to win anything and it leaves me just feeling frustrated if I don’t achieve something that may have not been on the cards in the first place. Just read my Cotswold blog for how stupid I got about not making a time.) This actually made me relax and I thought I’d make the effort and call home. I thanked Botley Hill Aid station and crossed the road. There was no reply but I did notice the time on the phone (I don’t have a watch) which said 17.05. Times don’t matter? Well, they don’t, but it would be nice to finish with a 10 on the left hand side! The going was much easier here so I ran for the most part, well, after passing through the rape field (it wasn’t the first on the route), I find the smell pretty stifling and I don’t even suffer from hay fever. I still had an energy gel left, so I thought I might as well take it. And then on, to lots of flat fields with cow poo! And a few cows. I found I had three cows to my left, but I just slowed down and made a cick-cick sort of noise that people do with horses and talked calmly to them. One ran to the rest of the herd to my right and the other two followed. I saw a kestrel near here, presumably off for a bit of tea. I then wound left and right through more fields for a bit until I saw a couple of yellow Centurion Team t-shirts – Drew Sheffield and Paul Navesey and a lady I didn’t recognise. I don’t know what they were doing there, but they were a welcome sight as I knew the finish couldn’t be far. I think I tried being witty with them and then asked how far. Drew said 1.6 miles which was heartening.

Into the final field and on my left was the finish gantry, but I had to go straight out of the field instead of crossing it, down a lane and round a corner where there were lots of finishers wishing me well. I passed Liz Grec who high-fived me and the “female runner” with her boyfriend and daughter. I hugged the gantry when I got to the finish. My family weren’t there, so I spared everyone the embarrassment of me blubbing and collected my medal from Paul Navesey – clearly he’d rushed back in order to give me my medal personally heh heh! I saw Tim Lambert and congratulated him on his finish and he asked me if I was getting the bus back to Farnham. I clearly wasn’t thinking in my state of euphoria as I said I would stay and soak up the atmosphere/bask in my happiness. I had a chat with a few of the crew and then I thought I’d head down to the hall for something to eat and get changed. Before I got there I saw James Elson on the other side of the road. He asked me if I was getting the bus and I said I thought I’d wait for the next one. He strongly advised I should get this one (if I’d waited for the next one, it would have meant probably another 3 hours before I got back to Farnham), so I thank him for his voice of reason. The bus was about to leave, so Liz Grec very, very kindly ran up to the hall to get my bag and t-shirt for me. I was pleased to be able to thank James in person for the offer of a free place for volunteering – I know that it’s not exclusive to Centurion, but I’m exceptionally grateful for the offer. I asked James if I could have a hot dog. He looked at me sideways and suggested I may have to let that go this time!!

So onto the bus which was air conditioned and I do get cold quickly after a run. Thankfully I had plenty to put on in my dropbag. I drove back to the hotel to collect my waist belt then drove home. My family put up with a lot with my running but they were more than proud when I got home. I even got pampered the next morning having breakfast brought up, but about mid-day when I called down for coffee, my wife brought it up, but with a look on her face to say “the hero worship has finished now!”

As I said, I never felt 100% the whole way round, but I didn’t vomit which I did see someone else do. Mentally I felt fine and as much as my legs hurt, I really enjoyed the whole thing and the scenery was some of England’s finest. It was hot, but tell that to the guys who ran Transvulcania the other week. The hills were steep, but UTMB is on my bucket list. So, I guess I’ll have to learn, prepare and adapt as best you can – conditions can’t always be perfect.

Many thanks to all at Centurion, who made things as simple as possible, all that was required from me was to put one foot in front of another. Registration was as straightforward as it could be. Direction-wise, I hardly paused for a moment – tantamount to putting a 50 mile rope along the NDW I can’t see how the route marking could have been better. I understand that sweepers were needed at the last moment and within about 10 minutes volunteers had stepped forward. Crew stations worked hard and were really friendly and supportive. It was hot and hard, but simply an amazing experience. I am now part pilgrim!

At the finish line. Photo: Courtesy Jon Lavis

Written by Kevin O'Rourke - http://ultrakev.blogspot.fr/

I finally got to the start line of the TNF UTMB CCC Ultra Marathon on Friday 29th August 2014. I had entered the previous year but been unsuccessful in the ballot and opted for the TDS race like a lunatic. At the time I stupidly reasoned "How hard can it be". After all, I had done an series of ultra marathons up to 100 miles, Ironman Triathlons x 4 and numerous other crazy events involving endurance and fitness over the last 8 years. The TDS was a great big DNF and another story but here I was at the start line for this years race.

The start of the CCC is a pretty amazing affair. The runners crush in against each other in their respective number sections. I was in the 2nd section presumably due the the times checked in my qualifying races. I was quite happy with this as there is nothing worse than having a greater runner breathing heavily down your neck as he continually tries to pass you on the climbs. The music blares, the crows grow and the nerves really kick in.

Suddenly there is a count down and the first wave is off. Us lesser mortals in the 2nd wave wait patiently for what seems like hours but was only maybe 10 minutes. The frantic athletes pour through the town and receive great applause all the way until the first climb starts.

I made sure I had said the right things to my wife and daughter who were to be my main support crew. I also had 5 other friends who had made the journey to Chamonix and were covered in Union Jack wigs and flags. They also had an assortment of horns, bells and whistles and I knew they would be heard for many hours by an assortment of runners. They have all either competed in races or attended Ironman races and know the value of encouragement and the hell with the French, Swiss and Italian reserve.

The first climb to Tete de la Tronche is long and fairly boring. It's mostly single trail so there are very few opportunities to pass people even if you wanted to. The scenery is the redemption as there were many aspects that were lovely if you took the time to stop and appreciate. I found myself getting very aquainted with the unique contours and colours of the show heel in front of me. Once you reach the top these views are beautiful but I didn't want to stop and take pictures unless I was waiting around or really knackered!

The decent starts on relatively good ground, you can run quite fast and enjoy some scenery as well as the feeling that you are flying across the mountains. Into check point 1 at Refuge Bertone and a rapid stop just for some water and off to the next checkpoint at Refuge Bonatti. Now on the map its looks relatively flat and in general it was but there are always bits where you have to be careful of your feet and stride.

I sailed through that checkpoint and began to look forward to the first major checkpoint at Arnuva. I had seen my mate Max there in his CCC race the previous year and so knew how beautiful it was. All along this ridge we ran, I kept seeing lovely mountains on my left and thought we must be close now. But it kept on and on. the trail was still good to run on and there was an opportunity to chat to a couple of other Brits abut the race and what fun we were having! Little did I know this would be the majority of conversation I would have in this race.

It is a strange feature of the UTMB races that hardly anyone talks to each other! Maybe it's because you have no idea who is in front or behind you unless they speak or you notice the flag on their number when you look back. For many hours in the race I didn't speak to anyone and didn't hear anyone speak either. The French and Italians seem to run in groups of 2-3 and were chatting away in the early stages but even this went in the later part of the race.

Finally the decent into Arnuva started and I could hear the sound of the big bells and horns from my crew. I hope they all know what a lift this can give a runner and I was so glad that their noise wasn't reserved for me alone as they gave a huge lift to everyone who was running and got a mixture of dour looks and smiles from other spectators.

I grabbed some food, topped up my water and got ready to start the next climb. I knew this one would be a bastard as it is the 2nd biggest in the race so I was prepared or so I thought. My crew cheered like crazy as I left and a quick check in with my wife left me feeling great and I began to climb, and climb, and hike and curse. This little climb to the Grand col Ferret went on for what seemed like hours. Occasionally I would stop and look back. I could just about make out Arnuva in the distance and it was crazy to think that a short while ago I had been there and now I was up in the clouds again looking down.

Finally I reached the top and felt really good about myself. I was in good shape and ready to run downhill to the next checkpoint at La Foully. This is where things started to get a bit technical. The roots started to grow from the ground, the rocks started to get a bit bigger and in general it was getting harder. The decent is exposed in places so I made sure I had my windproof jacket ready and reminded myself to keep eating and drinking every 30 minutes.  I had been caught out by altitude last year when i didn't drink for hours and it wasn't going to happen this year.

La Foully checkpoint was where I had some noodle soup for the first time and I needed it. The soup is really just stock with some thin noodles added but it really tastes great and makes you feel much better. The next stop was where I could get some assistance from my wife at Champex Lac in Switzerland and I was really looking forward to seeing her and changing my socks and getting some more food and some vital running love.

It was on this decent when things started to go a little wrong. I began to tighten up, my quads in particular were really giving me grief. I began to sort of sideways shuffle down the mountain and kept mixing up my gait in an attempt to sort my failing legs out. My mind was starting to annoy me with the silly thoughts of DNF and not being strong enough for the mountains. I kept reminding myself that despite not having any mountain training I had done 80k last year in the TDS and that I was strong enough to finish this stupid race.

The mind plays nasty tricks on you in ultra marathons. One minute you are flying and loving racing and everything that goes with it. You feel like a pro and consider giving everything up and just running for the rest of your life. Then the demons of self doubt kick in, slowly at first, the creep up on you and begin to nag at you. I thought of the pain, the sacrifice, the months of training, the crew who had given up their time and money to support me in this race. But those fecking demons say it in a different way. You are not good enough, not experienced enough, not tough enough. Look at the other runners they are laughing at you and trying to fly past you. You try to chase the thoughts away and sometimes they go but at other times they come back even worse.

I decided I needed some music to sort my head out. Shit, bollocks, fuck my Ipod was dead, how did that happen! I cursed out loud and started to rant, swearing at rocks and mountains and my stupidity at running with a dead ipod.

The decent into Praz de Fort which is a small checkpoint before Champex Lac just got worse and so did my mood. I actually looked forward to the climb and the first major meeting point.

I crawled in looking like shit and in a dark place. My poor long suffering wife tried her best to make me feel better but nothing was working. I saw my friends who were also trying to send me encouragement and my daughter who was looking concerned. It was a busy checkpoint and we all knew the night lay ahead. Another lesson was learnt there, prepare your crew, even if they have done it loads of times before ensure they know what to say and when to say it. Not that my mrs go things wrong but some of the things she said were best kept for other times, I wasn't in the mood for a pep talk, some arse kicking maybe but not a rah rah speech but this was my mistake and she was doing her best.

Out came the head torches and on went the change of socks and top. A bit more soup and some coke and I was up and ready to continue. I wasn't finished with this race just yet.

As I left Champex Lac the rain started and the darkness was upon us. On went the head torch and waterproof jacket. It's just a little shower I told myself, a little shower that lasted over 4 hours. The rain made everything a different ball game. Mud started to form and puddles of water everywhere. The trail got slippery and really quite crazy at times. I was climbing now and made good use of my poles and know without them I would not have finished.

The night was a mixture of rain, swearing, slipping, some running, lots of hiking and major mood changes. I climbed the 3rd major mountain into La Glete and the decent into Triente where the next major checkpoint and assistance was. To be fair I was in a better place at Triente and changed my shoes from the Brooks Pure Grit to Salomon Speedcross in the mistaken belief that they would cope better in the wet. A longer than normal hug with my daughter set us both off into tears. I have only known my daughter to cry once before and this really cut me up and I was more concerned about her than myself. I knew it was because she didn't like to see me suffer, she was new to all this and that she must be dog tired too but it didn't make it any easier. My wife was also in tears now and a look of toughness and empathy from a French volunteer made me realise I had to be strong for them as well as myself.

Back into the night, back to slipping and sliding in mud.and climbing again to Catogne the penultimate mountain. Now things were getting really technical and the rain wasn't helping but it was starting to stop but this didn't really matter as the damage to the trail was already done. I had trained in the rain but nothing like this. The rocks were now getting bigger and the roots were everywhere. People were slipping all over the place and for the first time I began to think that I might actually fall and fall badly. That would ruin my race, I had to make sure I didn't get injured. I started to exercise even more caution as I couldn't risk not finishing. My thoughts had long gone about finishing times and glory now it was pure survival.

I can't believe the UTMB runners had to run through this after we in the CCC had already wrecked the surface. They must have been cursing us and the weather too and I give maximum kudos to anyone who managed to finish that race.

Into the final assisted checkpoint at Vallorcine and what a relief it was to see my team again. The lift they gave me in spirit was immense and especially when they said "see you in Chamonix" as I left. I now had to finish, I had done all the hard work and there was just a stupid little mountain left between me and glory!

Little did I know the cheeky gits had kept the toughest climb till last. Now I experienced a little lunacy in terms of technicality last year in the TDS but this went to a new level now. I was running half asleep, drifting in and out and trying to keep myself awake. I ran through the Col des Montets where a wonderful French girl screamed at me in French to "eat you fucking crazy bastard" to which I replied in my now awful French "I am wrecked" she then proceeded to say the same thing in perfect English and told me to get my ass in gear. She was right, I needed to eat.

I had to eat to stay awake and struggled to open a Clif shot block pack. Why are those bloody packs so difficult to open after 22 hours of racing and at 5am! I chowed down on 3 blocks and had a little mars bar and felt a bit more alive and began the climb.

This climb went on forever. Over bigger and bigger rocks and on constant switchbacks. The daylight was beginning to break and this made things easier to see and so easier to navigate. It would have been a real nightmare in the dark as it was horrible at first light! Imagine stepping up massive rocks, slipping on them and then repeat accordingly for hours on end. I stopped at what I thought must be near the top and took this picture.

It was breathtaking and impossible to describe. I sat there and felt really small and insignificant. Who cared about my race. The sun still rises and sets and shit still happens as well as good things. I took some video and started to climb again, now that I was out of the clouds it was much better visually.

I met a runner who was British who had completed the race 5 times and this was his first time to climb this park in the daytime! He said there was loads of times when you think you are there to find that it's yet another switchback and there is more to climb. He wasn't wrong and it was relentless. This was without doubt the toughest part of any race I have ever done and a major milestone in my mental toughness for the future.

Finally I reached to summit to what i was told would be a very runnable part of the course. All downhill to the last aid station at La Flagere and then onto Chamonix and the finish.

Runnable my arse.

Slippery rocks, mud slides, cascading water, more fecking rocks, crazy French runners flying past at a slightly faster rate but it seemed like they were flying. Then you are free of that technical stuff and through the last aid station. Only about 7k to go and it should be lovely and easy to run. But it wasn't, it was more of the same stuff again except the rocks were much smaller but the roots were back. I had said to myself that I wouldn't let anyone pass me unless they were really flying downhill but the people who did pass me were so much better at decending than me and I really was scared that I would fall and it would all be worthless. I had a number of quite major slips on the big rocks and the really scared me and jarred my back so caution was the best way.

Suddenly I was there running on road, lovely road with no more fecking rocks, roots, mud or water. I came into the town and there was Paul who had also entered the same race. I thought he had kicked my arse but he had withdrawn earlier. I really felt for him as this was his 2nd year of DNF in these crazy races.

He jogged with me to where my friends and family were in the town center and my wife and daughter grabbed me and we began to run to the finish.

The applause from the spectators was wonderful. Finishing with the two most important women in my life was a dream come true and best of all my friends managed to capture it all on film.



I ran down the finishing chute and stopped at the end to bow. In respect to those fecking mountains. You might have beaten me last year but I beat you this year!

My amazing crew were Paul, Burti, Shannon, Alistair, Angie, thanks to Paul Haynes for running the last K with me mate, you will never know how great that was.

My beautiful wife Julie who is always there for me through the training, the racing and all the post race BS that gets talked about, thank you for putting up with me and my lunacy.

My amazing daughter Tamara who I hoped I have inspired a little and given her some precious memories. I'll never forget our hug in the aid station and also that fecking terrifying paragliding we did 2 days afterwards!

So what's next.....UTMB.....I'm not sure even i'm that crazy, but then again......

Final shot is the coveted finishers Gilet, and yes I have taken it off since.....for the odd day.

Written by Richard Lendon - http://richrunnings.blogspot.fr/

I was briefly in the company of another runner, who I now know to be Splatcher from the FRA forum. If you are reading this Splatcher, you look nothing like your profile picture!

Never having climbed Skiddaw before, I had heard that it was a long, steady drudge; and so it proved. I simply put my head down and maintained a really good pace all the way up. I dibbed at the summit of Skiddaw, Peak 10 of 10, my one new peak of the day, in 13:42 and quickly picked up the descent to the SE carpark.

Skiddaw summit (honest)

1. This is a tough race. A very tough race. Out of the150 who started, 67 finished in under 24 hours, 6 over 24 hours, 31 retired, and nearly 50 competitors switched to the short course. A week on, and my knees and ankles still feel a little battered.
2. If the Spine is Britain’s most brutal race, then this has to be Britain’s most brutal single day event.
3. Superbly organised. The pre-race information was spot on. Everything seemed to run really well. The CPs were well stocked and manned by the friendliest people. Top marks. 
4. This is absolutely my kind of race. Hilly, ever changing terrain, tremendous views and scenery, and a big, big challenge. Love it. 
5. I am very tempted by the Brecon Beacons 10 Peaks! 
6. This race definitely warrants a recce. Having done many of the Peaks as well as parts of the route such as the corridor route, enabled me to navigate quickly. I also knew what was coming up! 
7. I seem to have discovered the secret to mental strength in ‘long’ races. Not sure how or what’s the secret but in my last 2 events, I have found that once I am into a race, I have a absolute unerring confidence that I will finish, even when the going gets physically tough. I am moving checkpoint to checkpoint and not allowing myself to consider the actual finish. More importantly, I think, is that I am trying to live in the moment. If I make a mistake, well, I can’t undo it, and the future is yet to come. I will probably go through some bad stages but there’s no point worrying about that until I’m there. Whatever, it seems to be working for me.