Maxine picked me up at 5am Saturday morning in the pouring rain and we set off to Hemel Hempstead and race HQ. I had been practicing some relaxation techniques in the few weeks leading up to the race and although I was nervous, I wasn't as stressed and panicky as I am normally, managed to eat well in the lead up and was excited about getting started. Fortunately the weather improved and it turned into a lovely day for running.

 

There were only six crazy fools taking on the inaugural Chiltern Way Ultra  (214km version) the 100k event would start on Sunday morning. We were fitted with trackers, given 58 pages of maps to follow and at 9am we were on our way.

 

    David, Steve, Graham, Mark, myself and Glyn ready to run! 

 

The first leg was about 15 miles and all went well, navigation was going ok, I was really pleased to actually be able to interpret the maps and if nothing else this weekend my map reading skills have improved massively, it wasn't very long ago that I was convinced I couldn't map read so throughout my run I used the maps with my GPS for checking if I wasn't sure. The Chiltern way is a well walked path and pretty well waymarked. I was grateful for my GPS and it saved me from making any major navigational errors.

 

I was happy in my running, maintaining 12 minute miles which is what I wanted in the early stages. My nutrition was under control and it was the start to the race I wanted. I was smiley and happy that I was able to spend my weekend taking part in this adventure.

I reached check point 1 only 5minutes later than my predicted time and was happy with that as well inside the cutoff. Was good to see Lindley and Cali, a quick photo, food, drink and I was on my way again.

     Cali and myself at Cp1

 

Leg two was 16 miles. 

Again it went well, legs felt good, my annoying left heal was niggling a bit but I ignored it and refused to let it spoil my run. I was running well, coming out of High Wycombe Golf course I saw Mandy and her daughter waiting for me for a hug and some support, was a great boost and i looked forward to seeing them again at CP2. This section was getting hillier but I was still on track, walking the hills briskly and running the downhills and flats. I arrived at CP2 at 5:15pm and Maxine taped a couple of hotspots on my feet, while I ate and had a quick chat with Mandy and Lucy. Apparently I was getting lots of support via FB, I had made the decision to only take a very basic phone with me so had no idea what was going on. Abbi was updating my progress and I was left to focus solely on my running. 

 

Leg three.

Another 15 mile section and I knew it would start to get dark during this one so I tried to maintain a good pace while it was still light. It was all going well, legs were still feeling ok, feet were good and mentally I still felt strong. As darkness fell I stopped sort my headtorch, and make sure I was visible. My pace slowed (too much) but I was still moving at a decent pace that would get me to the next CP within the cutoff. I hadn't factored the cows into this though, I was in a field and I could here 'mooing' and then everywhere I looked all I could see were eyes, in front of me on the path. They weren't happy and began moving towards me, so I did what any sane person in the dark surrounded by agitated cows would do, I spied a barb wire fence that looked as though people had been though before and I leapt though it. The cows continued to stare and stamp but at least they now the other side of the fence. My only problem now I was in a small wooded area full of brambles and stinging nettles! I decided scratched legs were preferable to 'death by cow' so I battled though the undergrowth and managed to get out the other side of the gate away from the scary cattle. I was quite pleased when speaking to some of the other runners later that they had had the same issues, Glyn had also taken the dive through the barbed wire way out! I phoned my children after this, just needed to hear a friendly voice, it helped lots, I pulled myself together and carried on. 

I think with the dark and dramas I hadn't eaten properly during this leg and ran out of drink a couple of miles before the CP. By the time I arrived just before 11pm (and the cutoff) I was feeling a bit light headed and sick. Brian, Cali and Frank were at this checkpoint and also one of the other runners, Graham who was having stomach issues. I had a very welcome coffee, some soup and Brian made me up a bag of food to eat as I went. I was struggling to force food down but knew I had to and also knew I needed to seriously speed up to make the next cutoff.

 

Leg four

Brian walked us out of the CP and as we walked up the road another runner came from the opposite direction, it was Glyn who was having a navigational nightmare and had spent 2.5 hours running in a big circle. So Graham, Glyn and myself set off, I spoke to Lindley, who gave some good advice and I was determined to make the next cut off. For an hour or so I managed to keep up a good pace, Graham dropped behind and Glyn and I with maps and the GPS managed to more or less keep on track. Then the light headedness came back, and I really struggled. There wee some steep hills and I could only manage a few steps at a time before becoming very breathless and dizzy. I had to push hard to just keep going at this stage, several times all I wanted to do was sit down. I felt like I would never reach CP4. Glyn was great at encouraging me to keep going and I was really pleased I wasn't alone. This was the point where I decided I would pull out at the CP, I was feeling awful and tripping over everything. We eventually made the check point and that was the end of my race. Glyn continued on and I leant him my GPS. 

 

It was a tough decision but I had had several moments when I thought I might pass out, real or imagined I don't know, was I just looking for an excuse to stop...

At the time of pulling out I was certain it was absolutely the right thing for me to do, now there is that voice inside wandering if I gave up too soon, I don't know, just as I don't know if my feeling unwell was real or imagined, but that is the decision I made and I need to live with it, learn from it and move forwards. 

I am disappointed not to have finished but know for as long as I could I gave this race 100% effort, I pushed hard at the start and I am proud to have made 65 miles. My legs are telling me today that I worked hard! 

 

So out of the six of us who started, only David Pryce finished, I was privelaged to be there to see him cross the finish line, awesome running.

 

I had a good chat with Lindley afterwards, sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself, I am lucky to have a coach who understands me as a person, can see my strengths and weaknesses and is committed to helping me improve. Still the best decision I made for my running this year. I have learnt so much not just about running or running stupid distances, but about me as a person. 

 

I have to say a massive thank you to Lindley, Maxine and all the checkpoint volunteers, you were all amazing and couldn't have done more to help and support throughout the race. 

Thank you also to the other runners, it was great to meet you all and hope you are all recovering well. I also had awesome support from friends and family, the text messages were brilliant and I was overwhelmed by the support I'd had on FB whilst I ran, thank you everyone.

 

 

The route

My race began with a LOT of planning. Numbers and spreadsheets are my thing so I had catalogued every piece of kit I have into categories, with weight and bulk. The idea was that I could then work out the best kit combination and the size of pack I would need. There was also a lot of information and chat on kit, etc on the t184 facebook forum, which I read and added to my notes, including the best bit of advice from the RD Shane Benzie.. It's not kit weight but kit selection that will make the difference whether you DNF or not.

 

The final decision was to go with a lightweight approach but with one eye on the weather. That meant I had to carry kit for a cold Saturday (the forecast was for 6c overnight) and a wet Sunday.  I’d done a couple of long runs with my Innov-8 RaceElite 24 and knew it was comfy with no rubbing and for easy access I’d bought a RaceElite 3 waist pack for phone, map & snacks.

 

Key kit would be for comfortable sleeping as I’ve done a lot of hiking over the years and found that I’m useless without decent rest. Pace drops, I start to make navigation errors, etc as soon as I get really tired so a decent warm set-up was essential. Due to predictions for the cold weather I went for a 4-season Sea to Summit bag at +4/-2c, a Rab Ultralight bivi and Sil Poncho / tarp to keep the rain off (and as an extra layer if it got really wet) with a simple cut-down foam roll-mat for a bit of comfort.

 

On the food front I decided to leave the cooking kit and freeze-dried food at home due to the higher calorie value of nuts, pepperami and chocolate. Plus I saved over 1kg and a load of space in the pack by going with a cold-food option. And it was instantly available. No stopping to faff with boiling water and waiting for food to hydrate.

Race plan. Out of the window by CP2

My race plan was a run/walk strategy for 20/5 minutes at 6/3mph. Day two would be the same but at 5/2.5mph and day three at 4/2mph. I had also planned two 8 hour sleep stops overnight to recuperate fully from the day. I wanted to treat this more as 3 days of 100k, and use the sleep break as a reward for completing that day’s task.

 

Kenneth Branagh giving us his Richard III speech

On Friday morning 70-odd runners gathered at the Thames Barrier café. We collected a tracking device, make final kit checks, some of us peed, drooled and gave blood for a Kent Uni immunology study and at 10:30am set off. The initial pace felt comfortable and we quickly passed the dome, crossed under Blackwall Tunnel and jogged past Parliament. The crowds of tourists were a problem in places but a few minutes walking were going to make absolutely no difference in a race that has an 80 hour cutoff.

 

At CP1 I came in at just over 5 hours, a little ahead of schedule but feeling good. Seeing the sights on a running tour of London had been a great lift, and I was ready to get going on the next 26 mile section. During the day several people had met me through London and run or walked for a while, which helped to pass the time and boost morale.  

 

For the second section I’d been running with a group and had become unofficial group leader after telling them I knew the area well (I used to camp at Laleham while working in Chertsey a few years back). I soon proved my worth by leading us down the wrong route that resulted in a 3 mile detour, but made up for this with a water stop at the campsite with an 80’s disco and an interesting encounter with a group of slightly drunk ladies offering us wine and food. We all declined. Moses did want to go boogie, but we had other things to do.

 

We reached CP2 at Old Windsor around midnight. Everything was going fine but a lot slower than planned due to a lot of walking. 53 miles in and I was way behind schedule, but I was enjoying myself so much I decided to implement the Whenever Plan. As long as I was ahead of the cut-offs, I’d just run, walk or sleep whenever I felt like it. My decision was therefore to bivi down on the football pitches on the approach to Windsor for a good night’s sleep.

 

Saturday morning saw me back on the road at dawn after a lovely 5 hours sleep. I jogged for a couple of hours as I knew I’d been 4 hours ahead of the cut-off at CP2 so I was now behind. But with the average required pace 2.3mph I knew that with a morning of running, I could get that buffer back. I met Jamie Woods at CP3 in Henley who had droped due to blisters. Luckily so far my feet were in great condition. I was removing shoes and socks at every chance and airing them out which combined with the recovery they got while I was asleep seemed to be keeping them in tip-top condition.

 

Together with the Whatever Plan, I had now decided that I would use my food as a reward system, so I tucked in to the 2 pepperami that I would get at every CP, filled up with water and moved on up the river.

 

Throughout the day I was catching up to runners and jogging with them for a while, as many had just grabbed the odd hour of sleep so my 5 hours had put me well behind. On the approach to the 100 mile point at Streatley I was becoming increasingly glad of my decision to take these proper sleep breaks as I noticed that many were looking extremely tired and having difficulty keeping a conversation going. Approaching CP4 at Streatley I also met a Kate Hayden and heard that a good mate Chris Edmonds had dropped earlier due to shin splints, a recurring problem and one that he needs to get properly sorted! (hint)

 

Streatley became a graveyard. Runner after runner collapsed in a chair and handed in their number. Maybe having reached 100 miles they felt happy they’d done enough, maybe it was the realisation there were still 84 miles and two more days ahead, but the field slimmed considerably. Another to exit from the race here was Tom Foreman, with whom I’d run the PoS last year. He’d decided that running the race was too easy and started swimming upstream a mile or so back.

Selfie while runners fight over a pie

Off again on the path and I was now on sections I was unfamiliar with. Well, the path at least. I’d rowed the Thames in a “three men in a boat” skiff a few years ago with my wife, so was familiar with the towns, bridges and pubs. Unfortunately the latter were well out-of-bounds so I had to march past with my eyes averted to the beer and food being served. To be honest it didn’t bother me. That was a different world now, I had a race to complete.

 

It was also around this time that I began to realise people smelled of soap and laundry detergent. Everyone I passed on the path had a distinct “just washed” smell. I’m sure the same applied in reverse as I’d been two days and nights as a soap dodger and the baseball cap was beginning to crawl away when I put it down.

 

I carried on about 6 miles past Streatley and found a lovely road bridge to sleep under. I the night fisherman further up the bank probably thought I was homeless but thankfully he didn’t offer me any food, and by the time I woke and set off he’d gone.

130 miles rolled around at Oxford and I was still feeling good. No blisters, the nutrition was working well and thanks to a load of sleep I was running well, taking photos and generally enjoying the experience. By now I had settled into a routine of run/walk for the morning marathon, then walking the afternoon. The pattern worked fine and I was so relaxed I was almost in a trance at points. I can see what these Sri Chinmoy guys are on to.

 

Over the flat farmland coming in to CP6 I could hear rock music. As I got closer it appeared to be a bad cover band. I couldn’t remember hearing of a festival in the local area and was wondering what it was. Chris came out to guide me in and said the pub opposite had a live band. Great. I was planning to sleep at this CP and they have Disaster Area playing.

Luckily to boost my spirits Chris and Nikki Mills turned up to give me some abuse and drink coffee in front of me. Anna Buckingham also dropped in, so we had a shouted conversation for an hour or so. The band actually stopped 30 mins after I got there but Chris talks so much find yourself shouting just to get a word in edgeways.

 

To give the CP staff a rest I ambled down the road half a mile for another snooze under my tarp/poncho at midnight as I knew rain was due. I heard a couple of guys hike past at 1am and shouted a greeting from under my shelter. Unphased they just shouted back “Is that Cranswick?” - I might have been getting a reputation for sleeping.

 

Shillingford Bridge early on Sunday

As this was the last day I was up at 4am in full waterproofs for a trudge through the dark till dawn. Although the next checkpoint and finish were only 13 and 16 miles apart respectively, these felt like the longest stages of the race. The rain didn’t help as for the first time in the race I could do nothing to prevent wet feet. The one thing I would change is having a set of sealskins in the pack for a bit more comfort in the rain as for once my feet started to deteriorate. Not a problem on the last day but had it been wet throughout I’d have been suffering.

 

I’d been leapfrogging Nina Smith for a couple of days and we’d run together for quite a while. She’s a great person to run with as she’s amazingly positive and has run pretty much everything several times. Plus she’s a tough as nails and will drag you through the low points. We hiked in to CP7 at 168 miles and once again Chris Edmonds was there to walk us in. There was a packet of open biscuits on the table which unthinkingly I reached towards before remembering that this was unsupported and reverted to the usual 2 Pepperami and a handful of nuts. The CP volunteers were cruelly offering around a box of crisps amongst themselves so in retaliation I left them a present of my old wet socks as I changed into a dry pair for the last 16 miles.

 

Andrew Jordan came round to say hi and lend some welcome moral support, and I did the usual silly pose for the camera as he took a “leaving for the last stage” picture. As we got going we were informed that the back-marker James Penson was powering so we decided to try to up the pace, not because we were worried about position but more that we wanted a comfortable buffer on the cut-offs and realised we were slowing considerably.

 

Erm...

Through the endless lakes towards Kemble I was trying to keep up the pace, but we kept slipping back to 2-3 mph. We weren’t looking for a power finish, just to speed up a bit so we could get the suffering over sooner. As James powered past I asked Nina if we should tag on the back of his zippy pace, she saw I was eager to get a move on and kindly said she’d catch up. Which she did. Due to my excellent navigation we found ourselves going wrong and after his friend in Australia called to say we’d gone off-route and had to backtrack about half a mile, where we met Nina again who was about to make the same error we’d just made.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Strap yourself in, this could be a long one!

The Viking Way is a 147.8 mile route running from the Humber Bridge in North Lincolnshire to Oakham in Rutland. Quite what the Vikings thought was so important in Oakham to require such a long march from their landing point I have no idea, but I guess getting away from Hull is excuse enough. Although they might want to fire their navigator as it's not exactly a direct route. Regardless, the route is one of the longest marked trails in the country, and was the perfect location for a new race. Last year Mark Cockbain, an extremely accomplished ultra runner who has done pretty much everything you would care to mention, announced his plans to hold the race, with the caveat that all runners would have to meet a minimum requirement to be allowed in. Somehow my entry was accepted even though all I had done by that point was the South Downs Way and a few smaller races But unfortunately it was not to be, as falling off my bike in the ice and attempting to run the Thames Path 100 miler on what would later turn out to be a pretty dodgy ankle put me out of the running for a good few months last year. The race was a great success, and was won jointly by Neil Bryant and Pat Robbins in 29:22. Only seven people (out of about 30 starters) finished inside the 40 hour cutoff.

 

Just how drunk were those Vikings on mead?!

Not being one to let things slip, I signed up again for this year determined to make the start line, if not the finish. Unfinished business annoys me. Unstarted business is even worse! This was my first race since the Piece of String Fun Run in November, and I was really excited to get back to it! I had three aims for this race (in order of importance/likelihood):

 

 

So on Easter weekend, I travelled on the Highway to Hull (well, railway really) with suitably apt and completely unintentional musical accompaniment from AC/DC with Dave Merret, Jenner Bradley and Tom Foreman, and met up with Dave Fawkner, Riccardo Guissani and Jo Kilkenny in Hull. From there we had a rather interesting taxi drive to the wrong hotel on the other side of the city in a car that broke down several times on the motorway. We just about managed to get back to the station where we found a much better taxi driver. Well, he got us to the hotel in one piece anyway. I was sharing a room with my running wife Jo (my wife is very understanding - last time Mimi Anderson joined us as well), and after registering, saying hi to lots of people, and eating, we had an early night. 

 

Mark is not one to molly-coddle people, and this race would be fairly minimal in terms of support with checkpoints around 18 miles apart. No pacers allowed, no GPS, no poles (walking poles of course, he's not xenophobic [Urwin, 2009]), frankly we should think ourselves lucky to be allowed to use a map! But the lack of GPS was quite nice as it meant that I could just run on feel and not worry about pace. When there's nearly 150 miles to go, pushing for a pace that isn't comfortable could be disastrous. 

 

We arrived at the viewing point underneath the Humber Bridge that would be the official start of the race. The weather forecast for the weekend was going to be interesting - generally sunny, cloudy, with low but pleasant temperatures of around 4C, but with the threat of snow and very low temperatures overnight. I got a worrying shock when Wouter Hamelinck turned up in trousers. Crikey, things must be looking bad! Although to be fair he had run the Thames Path 100 the previous week, so wasn't expecting to be super speedy.

Thataway! I think. I wouldn't trust my directions...

I was in my usual shorts and long-sleeved shirt combo, with a Buff bandana to keep my ears warm. I had originally planned to wear my new Salomon Sense Mantras, but had washed them recently and they felt a bit stiff, so I decided to stick with the Speedcross instead which have been well and truly tried and tested. I have been wearing Drymax light trail socks since the Piece of String last year where they worked brilliantly, and for me they are the perfect sock; no messing around with lubricating feet (it affects the hydrophobic inner layer), just pull them on and head out the door. For this race I was also trying out some Dirty Girl gaiters which I have never used before to avoid having to mess around emptying stones and things out of my shoes. This paragraph sounds a bit like an advert. Other brands are also available of course!

 

The horn went and we were off! I jokingly headed out at a bit of a sprint, but then settled down into a comfortable pace (still able to hold a conversation sort of pace). The morning was absolutely beautiful with bright blue skies and hardly a cloud in sight. It was fantastically uplifting and I very quickly settled  into a good place in my mind. Considering my propensity for stats, I actually very rarely record my runs and almost never wear my Garmin anymore. This year I have turned my weekday runs into more functional speed sessions so have started to use it again for this purpose, but generally I like to get out there with as little stuff as possible (as anyone who saw my half-naked running of the Portsmouth Coastal Marathon in December will testify). The finish line was so far away that there was no point in worrying about it - just run! That's the way to approach this race, very similar to the Piece of String. Just run, until somebody tells you to stop. Simple.

 

I had recced the first 50 or so miles before last year's race with Jo and Mimi, so a lot of it was semi-familiar. My biggest worry with this race was navigation. I can navigate just fine, but what I'm not so great at is doing it on the move while running fast. It's definitely a knack, and I am getting a lot better at it, but it still makes me very nervous. The route is waymarked, but sometimes very sporadically (or in some places marked as a completely different trail which is useful). If at some point you think you've gone wrong, do you retrace your steps to the last point where you knew where you were (potentially losing a lot of time), or do you push on until you can be sure that you are wrong/right? A lot of times, it is not obvious that you are going the right way until you hit the next major feature, so taking the former approach can be quite costly.

 

A beautiful start to the day!

The first potential navigational snaffoo occurs pretty soon into the race. After a mile or so of running alongside the Humber, we headed off along a trail which was still very snowy after the recent arctic spring the UK had been subjected to. Having to plough through regular thigh-high snow drifts for a mile or so was actually quite fun. I would soon regret those thoughts. The Viking Way takes a sudden left hand turn from this main path which is very easy to miss (not being sign-posted and all), but luckily I remembered about it from my recce. However, when I got to what I believed to be the turning, a marshall was sat in his car and told me to go straight on. Maybe I was wrong and we hadn't reached the turning yet? Oh well, he must know what he's talking about. So I went straight on - and promptly fell arse over tit on some black ice, landing heavily on my knee and opening up a pretty sizeable gash. Oh well, only 145 miles to go. I was still a little unsure, so checked my map again. I was almost positive that this was the correct turning, so went back to check. The marshall was less sure now, and said that maybe I was right. I might have asked, "What sort of marshall doesn't know the route", to which he may have replied, "Who said I was a marshall?". I would later wish that I had learnt the lesson not to follow the advice of other people...

 

I rolled into the first checkpoint at Bigby (15.8 miles), where Mark began telling me off for being too fast. A little worrying to hear when you still have 130 miles to go... Other than my knee, I was feeling really good though, and the cold weather was helping to numb any pain I may have otherwise felt. Shorts were definitely the right choice! 

 

About 30 miles into the race, the weather changed and it started to snow. It was here that I made another mistake, as I missed a very well hidden turning off of the main track. I only noticed when the track started to turn off and became less well-defined which unfortunately was a while later. I retraced my steps, and started to search for where I could have missed the turning. I had built up about a half hour lead on the other runners in the first section, but had now wasted it. The second place runner, Cliff King, came running up and pointed me in the right direction, annoyingly obvious when you know it's there!

Cliff ran with me for a while until the Tealby aid station (30.5 miles) where I stopped for a quick chat with Mark and Drew while I restocked. I didn't want to hold Cliff up so told him not to wait for me. I actually prefer to run on my own anyway, so that I can do my own thing and run my own race.

Not entirely sure what I'm in the process of eating here but it doesn't look good!

I could see Cliff up ahead, and could see his footprints in the big snow drifts that were becoming a little too regular for my liking... About 10 miles from the 50 mile checkpoint, I came across Cliff standing at the side of the road waving. His brand new bladder had developed a split and had leaked water all over his back. We rescued what was left and split it between my two bottles, then took one each to take us to the next checkpoint where our drop bags would be for the first time. The bottles contained GU Brew, or witches' brew as Cliff called it. Bitches' brew if you're a Miles Davis fan. Cliff was expecting his second child in the next week or two, so conversation inevitably turned to children. We stopped in a little shop and I was treated to an ice-cream. What a very civilised race this was!

We reached the 50 mile point at Fulletby in just over 9 hours, not bad at all given we were only a third of the way there. Unfortunately Cliff had to pull from the race due to personal reasons and was able to get a lift to the train station with Peter Foxall. I grabbed my overnight gear (reflective gear, head torch, spare clothes just in case) and headed off for the next section.

This section was relatively straightforward, and it was a lovely evening for running. I still felt great and was able to keep walking down to a minimum. I was listening to Salem's Lot on audio book which some people might find a little creepy, but I figured I could probably still outrun a vampire if it came to it. I got into the checkpoint at Stixwould (63.7 miles) with a very annoying cough that had been getting worse throughout the day. It wasn't bad, but my regular coughing was starting to bug me. I suspected the damp air during the night section would only make things worse, but if that was the worst thing to worry about at this stage then that was just fine and dandy!

Photo taken by a random photographer outside Barnetby le Wold

The sun was going down and the temperature was dropping rapidly, so I decided to put my waterproof trousers and windproof on. I know, I know. What a wimp! But given that it was cold enough to freeze the water in my bottle (as well as Javed's head torch!), I figured that it was a good idea. I didn't want to be put out of the running with hypothermia. Apparently several other runners suffered quite badly and were helped out by kind members of the public, which is really nice to hear (nice to hear about the good Samaritanism, not about people pulling out).

The cold and the dark were making things very difficult, and this was not helped by some very annoying navigational issues. Most of the time the problem wasn't knowing where I was, but that the layout of the land didn't match the map. In the most annoying instance, the path led into a horse paddock that was completely surrounded by electric fencing. I went back to the entry point to confirm that I was in the right place, and there was the Viking Way marker. So where the heck did it go next? I walked around the entire perimeter, which was surprisingly large (must have been a very important horse), several times but to no avail. I looked at the map to see if there was another way through, but this would involve a lot of backtracking and going a long way around. In the end I went back to where I originally expected the exit to be, and found that a small section was covered in a non-electrified coating (I think - well it wasn't buzzing and sparking at me anyway). This meant that with a bit of work (easier when not wearing a backpack, with freezing cold hands having just run 70 miles) you could climb through without killing yourself. I still wasn't entirely convinced this was right, but I took the shot, and lo and behold up ahead I found the exit from the field. In the daytime this would probably have been obvious. Oh well!

Also there were several times where the map indicated that there should be a path through a field, but the path hadn't been ploughed by the farmer so it was not obvious exactly which way to go (particularly if  the destination was a long way off in the distance). Another time, I knew that there should be a path behind some houses, but I just couldn't figure out for the life of me how to get to it. No matter which way I tried to approach it, there seemed to be no way to get through. In the end I found the entrance hidden behind what appeared to be a loading area of a hospital. Obviously. This section just did not go well navigationally. Once I found the route, the running was great and I was still keeping up a good pace. But I was conscious of how much time was being wasted on route confirmation.

Approaching the checkpoint just outside of Lincoln also took far longer than it should have done. The map looked quite simple - follow the route, then turn south along the road until you hit the river, then follow the river until the bridge. I followed the route, turned south (following a route marker I might add) and suddenly ended up at the end of a field at a fence with a very angry sounding dog barking at me. Hmm. That's not right. So I went back to the road, and tried to orientate myself to the right course. Eventually I was able to make my way down to the river, and turned West (following a route marker I might add again) - only to be blocked in my route by a massive metal fence. There had already been several cases of the real route being hidden behind obstacles, so after a bit of fruitless searching I decided to just push through it. Eventually, after almost being chased by the biggest bull I have ever seen, I found the turn off up towards the checkpoint (81.2 miles) where Drew and Claire were waiting.

Timings were looking good until Lincoln!

I had built up quite a lead up to the previous checkpoint, but suspected that taking 5 hours to cover 17 miles probably hadn't helped matters. Next up was the section that terrified me the most - running through Lincoln high street on a Saturday night. Finding my way there wasn't too bad, except for the fact that the park was closed and I had to take a detour. The cathedral in Lincoln sits at the top of a steep hill (cleverly called Steep Hill) which would take in all of the clubs and pubs that Lincoln has to offer. I prepared myself as best as possible, then got ready to leg it as fast as I could. I was in the lucky position of being the first one through, so I think that by the time people realised what the hell I was doing it was too late - I was gone. There were plenty of shouts after the fact, but nothing too hurtful to my delicate temperament. I hope that no other runners got any abuse in this section. Hopefully everybody just thought they were seeing things.

All things considered, the night time section was a bit of a disaster with regards to navigation. I rocked up at the Wellingore checkpoint (96.8 miles) just as the sun was rising at 5am (ignoring the daylight saving time change). This means that the last 33.1 miles had taken nearly 10 hours. Not my greatest effort! On the plus side (in the nicest possible way), it looks like everybody else took a similar time so it wasn't just me! I'd be interested to do this section in the daylight to see if it was just the fact that it was night time that caused the problems; I suspect so. Despite this I was still enjoying myself - it was just enjoyment of running punctuated by moments of frustration. I really like night-time running; the silence and the solitude, where the only universe that exists is that which you can see in the small circle of light in front of you. If I were a philosophical kind of guy I would probably say something insightful and meaningful right now...

I decided to take a little extra time at the checkpoint to make sure that I was all set for the final 50 miles. I ate some food (about 2 bites of a pasty, a mouthful of pork pie, the usual), changed my socks, stripped back down to my shorts, and reapplied lubrication to my, ahem, nether regions. Just think of how many people have done that then reached into a bowl of jelly beans at an aid station on your next race. Don't worry, I had gloves on for the rest of the race! Just as I was leaving, Wouter came into the checkpoint having made up some time with his amazing navigation. I think it's the beard...

A little bit of snow. It got much worse!

The next section looked like it was going to be pretty simple. 17 miles pretty much straight South. Easy! Time to make up some of the time that I had lost overnight. After a little bit of stiffness setting off, I got into a nice rhythm and started to pick up the pace. It was a great feeling to be moving at what felt like a fantastic pace (I suspect it was really an incredibly slow waddle), particularly with the newly risen sun  on my face. After the freezing temperatures of the previous night, the beautiful blue skies and gorgeously warm golden rays were an absolute delight.

I came into the Marston checkpoint (113.5 miles) feeling incredibly happy. Things were going brilliantly (despite the slow-going of the night section) and I was having an absolute blast. The chaffing that I had developed earlier seemed to have subsided (or had become so bad it had gone numb), and my feet still felt great. The night section had been the part that I was most worried about due to the cold, and from this point onwards I would be in uncharted territory distance-wise, but now that we were into what looked to be a beautiful spring day there was no doubt in my mind that I could finish this. As I got into the checkpoint, I had a brief dizzy spell as the lack of sleep started to catch up with me. I sat down while my bottles were refilled, but got myself sorted and headed off onto what would be the last long section of the race (18 miles). However, as I was about to turn off the road back into the fields, I realised I had made a rather silly mistake. My bottles were both sat back at the aid station. Doh! I turned tail and ran back up the hill to the checkpoint, but luckily Patrick noticed and drove down to meet me. Phew! That could have been interesting!

The next section was not a whole lot of fun. I had been forewarned about how bad this section had been last year, with lots of mud churned up by all-terrain vehicle riders. Oh how I wish all we had to deal with was mud. Instead, the snow drifts were back and were worse than ever. Unrelenting is the word I believe! I like snow as much as the next person, but this was a running race - I wanted to run dagnabbit! Wading through thigh-high snow drifts for miles at a time, particularly after having run over 100 miles already, was getting annoying. It was a pretty straight path so there were no navigational problems, but it was impossible to get any momentum going.

There is some lovely countryside out there in the Wolds

My head was feeling a bit woolly by this stage, and I was really starting to feel the lack of sleep. Ordinarily this wouldn't be a problem as the act of running would usually wake me up, but slogging through the snow just wasn't helping matters. Combined with that, my iPod had run out of battery, and annoyingly my spare seemed to have lost its charge in my bag. Instead, I was stuck with the last song I had heard (Beelzeboss by Tenacious D) going round and round like the first song you hear when your alarm goes off in the morning. No matter what I tried singing, I just couldn't get that song out of my head. I stopped briefly to phone Jen to let her know I was still going strong, but that the conditions meant that I would be a lot later than I had hoped.

I came into the Sewstern checkpoint (131.2 miles) to find Mark, Alex and others cheering me in. Mark had taken to calling me Chuck Norris since I told him about my black belt in Tae Kwon Do earlier in the race. I don't think Chuck Norris could run the Viking Way though... Despite the massive slow down, I was apparently still quite far out in front, so I assumed that everybody was finding it tough out there. There weren't too many people left in the race now, as many people had unfortunately been beaten by the previous night's cold weather. It's a real shame as I'm sure that once the Sunday morning rolled around many people would have found a new lease of life and been able to push to the end.

Waiting for me at the end. What better prize could there possibly be?!

There was now only 17 miles left until the finish; 10 miles to a mini checkpoint at the edge of Rutland Water, then 6 miles into Oakham itself. When Mark told me that the nearest competitor was still quite far behind, I stupidly thought about winning. Up until this point, I was just trying to run, without worrying too much about what other people were doing or allowing it to dictate things too much. I was here to complete the race first and foremost. But now there was a real chance that I could win one of the toughest ultra races in the UK. I phoned Jen again to let her know that I was into the last stretch, and found out from my brother-in-law that they were coming to cheer me in. The thought of my beautiful baby girl and my gorgeous wife waiting for me at the end was an amazing thought, and I headed off to Rutland water with purpose. I could do this. Baring something stupid, this was in the bag.

Oh what a stupid thing to say...

I arrived into the Rutland Water checkpoint and saw Javed waving to me. "How many people are ahead?!" I shouted. "Wouter has just come in, Lee left about 20 minutes ago", came the reply. "Shit!", I shouted. "Shit, shit, shit!!!".

I didn't stop. I ran straight through, with Javed kindly pointing the way to the path that would take me around Rutland Water and across the bridge to Oakham. 20 minutes ahead, with about 7 miles to go. Could I catch him in that time? I didn't stop to drink, I didn't stop to eat, I didn't stop to pee, I just ran as fast as my legs could possibly take me (so probably not that fast), hoping to catch sight of him in the distance. If I could see him ahead, I would be able to catch him. "Come on", I thought, "you're nearly there. Think of Jen. Think of Charlotte. Think of the people that are probably wondering what the bloody hell has happened to you!". And so I ran into the night, aiming across the water to the lights of Oakham beyond. No matter how hard I pushed, they never seemed to be getting any closer, and there was just no sign of Lee up ahead. I came into Oakham high street with Drew and Claire cheering me on, and turned the corner to see the finish line at Oakham library. People cheered, and I stopped briefly to give Charlotte a kiss. I finally crossed the line in 36:35, and was handed what is possibly the most sought-after medal in the UK ultra-running scene. This thing is hhuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggeeeeeee! If it had been raining I could have sheltered under it!

Totally worth it!

I sat down before the lack of sleep and the fact that I hadn't eaten anything in the last two hours caught up with me. It was really nice to see people at the end. Mark and Alex who had organised the whole thing brilliantly, Simon Robinson who had come down to cheer my through the line (sorry for keeping you waiting around for so long!), Pam Storey who gave me a big hug at the end (despite how sweaty and smelly I was), Claire and Drew who had worked so hard throughout the whole race (even after doing the same the previous week at the Thames Path 100), Jen and Trevor who had been hanging around for hours to see me, Lee who was in the process of putting on some warmer clothes after his fantastic finish (lovely and warm when running, but shorts and a vest quickly become poor choice when you stop!), and all of the other supporters and crew.

So there it was, I had finished and come second in what is certainly amongst the toughest ultras in the UK. And yet I was disappointed in my performance. It's pathetic I know, but unfortunately I'm far too much of a perfectionist and tend to focus far too much on what I can do to improve than on what went well. It's both a blessing and a curse, but regardless it's very much a defining feature of me and certainly isn't going to change any time soon. Most important is that I measure my expectations and my performance on my own abilities and not on that of other people. I never went into this event to race it, but to know that I lost out on the win not through performance but through stupidity is very frustrating. That's not to say that Lee wouldn't have caught me anyway of course, as he was absolutely flying towards the end!

Full sized fried egg used for scale...

So how did that happen? Well, long story short, it was navigation again. I got lost trying to get to a little village called Exton after following directions from a random passer by (I hadn't learnt from the start of the race), and because I was so paranoid about losing time, I didn't want to retrace my steps. I thought I was on the right path, but it took me to a different woods than I was expecting so that when I got out of the other side I was in completely the wrong place. By the time I stopped, breathed, composed myself, and sat down with the map to work things out, it was clear that this was going to cost me. If it had happened earlier I may have been able to pull it back. But this late in the game, it was over.

But looking back on things, I'm over it - no bitching or moaning or feeling sorry for myself. Sure it would have been nice to have kept the lead and finally taken a win, but hey that's part of the journey. I'll just have to try again next year! And boy, what a journey it was! Despite the snow, despite the cold, despite the navigation, and despite the final fluff, I had an absolute blast out there! There weren't many times that I didn't have a smile on my face, happy to be out doing what I love. I haven't been doing this for very long, and to have room to improve is a really nice situation to be in. Certainly the good things far outweigh the bad:

Bad things

1. The snow was an absolute arse to deal with
2. My night time navigation needs some work (although to be fair most of the time I was in fact correct in where I thought I was and should be going, it just took time to confirm it)
3. I cocked up the end pretty badly

This weekend I was lucky enough to head over to the beautiful island of La Palma in the Canary Islands, to take part in one of the top races in the world ultra calendar; Transvulcania. Last year, this was very possibly the biggest Ultramarathon in terms of media coverage, with the combined forces of iRunFar, Ultra168 and Talk Ultra to allow us to follow along from home. But this year, I would actually get to be there. 

After a fantastic week away in the Peak District (just as a sort of acclimatisation to hills between Cambridgeshire and La Palma) with my wife and daughter, I left to meet up with Chris Baynham-Hughes, Martin Wilcock and Richard Webster to begin the rather convoluted journey to the "Isla Bonita". A very early 4am start, a taxi to the airport, a flight from Manchester to Tenerife, a hire car to the airport on the other side of the island, another flight to La Palma, and another hire car for use on the island itself, and we were there!

We drove directly over to the registration point at the finish line in Los Llanos, collected our numbers and timing chips, and tried to decipher what we needed to do the following day. There was a whole lot of Spanglish going on on our parts, with Chris as our designated translator. He knew the Spanish for right, but not for left, which was good enough. Although he didn't know the word for "veruca sock" unfortunately.

After soaking in a little atmosphere, working out logistics for meeting up afterwards, and a bit of difficulty in finding the place we were staying (we ended up popping into a hotel to find out where we were going only to find that was the place - it was just helpfully called something different) we finally made it to our apartments. After a quick dinner of paella and a beer, we finally got to bed close to 11pm, with a 3am wake up planned to get sorted and out to the start at Fuencaliente lighthouse. An awesome way to prepare for a race like this!

In the morning I was pleased to see that I had no ill effects from the previous night's paella (those prawns looked a bit fishy to me), and got myself ready. I was trying a few different things for this race, using an UltrAspire Isomeric handheld combined with my UltrAspire Impulse waist pack (with only one empty bottle in it just in case I needed more fluids) instead of my Salomon pack, my Salomon Sense Mantras instead of my Speedcross, and some X-Bionic gear that had been sent to me to test (review to follow). Not really the best plan to try new things on race day (particularly not, y'know, everything!), but I think it was the right call. 

We drove to the lighthouse that would be the start for the race, leaving our car in a random patch of brush along the winding mountain road that led to the bottom. We had noticed on the way that the petrol situation was looking pretty dire - never mind whether we would make it to the hotel; we weren't sure we would make it back up the hill! Oh well, we would worry about it later. I'm sure we would be fine to push it back after the race...

The start was a mass of people all gathered for the off. There were apparently 1,650 people registered, although I'm not sure how many actually ran. Two notable DNS's were Anna Frost (the previous year's winner) who decided to avoid running to allow herself to recuperate, and Anton Krupicka who unfortunately came down with the flu just days earlier. We were not too far from the start line, although there were still a huge number of people ahead.

There was a real party atmosphere, with commentators saying many inspiring things (I think - I have no idea really) and an odd UFO in the sky taking film footage. If it really was an alien, I'd hate to think what kind of skewed opinion of humanity they might take away from it. I suspect that they would probably assume that we were all sponsored by Salomon... Or owned by them. Ah, the wisdom of Salomon. 

At 6am, still under the cover of darkness, we were off! Well, sort of. The road quickly narrowed past the lighthouse, and narrowed further to a single track path back up the hill, causing an insane amount of bottle necking. It's always very frustrating when this happens and it must be so nice for the guys in the lead to not have to deal with it! The four of us battled our way up the hill, finding ways whenever we could to get in front of the people ahead of us. It was steep, but it was far too early to be walking darn it! I couldn't help thinking to myself, "I'm only racing myself here, but you're in my way!". After dodging poles to the eyes and groin, other people attempting to get through the throng (one of whom sent me sprawling quite impressively), and a giant boulder rolling down and hitting me in the ankles (probably kicked down by Kilian when he heard I was closing the gap), I finally reached a point where I could get running. 

The race profile looks pretty scary, with the first 20Km taking you up above 2,000m, meaning a 10% incline. But there were actually some pretty runnable sections, and I was able to maintain a pretty good pace as we went. Of course there were also some bloody tough climbs as well, including one where I went sprawling right as one of the (many) cameramen on the course caught me. Look out for that great picture soon.

Richard and Martin had started out roughly together, and I bumped into Chris as we came into the first aid station at Los Canarios. All 3 are amazing runners and we had no idea which us would make it to the finish first, making the decision of who should keep hold of the car key difficult! After running into the aid station with Chris to the rapturous applause, cheers of "Vaya! Vaya!", and cowbell ringing of the locals (you don't get that sort of thing at the Grand Union Canal), I headed off on my own. 

I was running on feel rather than pushing for anything in particular, and was keeping up a tough but manageable pace. I wasn't sure if I was going too hard only to blow up before the end, or if I was being overly-conservative on the hills. I'm not overly great at hills, but cope okay considering I live in the flattest part of a pretty flat part of the world. The terrain for the most part was volcanic ash up the first major climb (excitingly putting me in danger of developing one of my favourite diseases; pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcaniconeosis), opening out into a forest path as the sun came up. The route follows two long distance 'Grand Routes; the GR130 ands GR131, which are well sign posted with markings along the way painted on the rocks. There was never really an opportunity to go wrong (and believe me, I tried...) and anywhere that there could be an error somebody was posted to direct us.

As the sun rose and the cloud burnt off, the heat began to rise. For the first few hours it wasn't too bad, but as the day went on it rose towards the 30 degree mark. Being a very white, overly hairy guy from England, I wasn't overly prepared for this weather - particularly given the winter we have just had. A combination of regularly dipping my head in water buckets at the checkpoints, my new X-Bionic Fennec shirt to keep my core cool, and using a waist pack rather than a back pack seemed to do the trick, and I was never more than just uncomfortable. Others weren't quite so lucky, and lots of the first aid points along the way were filled by people suffering from various effects of the heat. I dread to think what the attrition rate was for the race, but it looked quite significant. I believe fewer than 1,000 finished but don't know how many started. 

My nutrition and hydration were going well. I was using a gel every 1.5 hours (a combination of TORQ and GU), slightly more regularly than my usual 2 hour approach. I was careful not to over-drink which meant that electrolytes weren't too much of an issue even in the heat. Most of the time I had almost half a bottle remaining at the next aid station when refilling. The next checkpoint at Las Deseadas was at the summit of the first long climb. We had figured that a 10 hour finish would mean getting in here in about 2.5 hours. I came in in 2:27:10 which was a good sign.

After this, the route dropped again towards the Refugio El Pilar, allowing some time to be made up in the descent. This was the first "full" aid station, with food as well as just water like the previous two, so I took the opportunity to shotgun a whole bunch of fruit before carrying on again. 

The next third of the course didn't look so bad. Well, on the course profile at least. On the course profile it was a long ridge run giving fantastic views of the island, generally uphill, with one very steep significant climb in the middle up to the highest point of the course at the observatory of Los Roque de Los Muchachos. In reality it was fooking tough all round! The terrain was very runnable in places, but there were a lot more steep climbs than I had anticipated. Not quite the speedy ridge run that I had envisaged, but hot damn if the views weren't stunning. The route followed a horseshoe shape from the south of the island, travelling over the highest point in the centre then West down to the coastal town of Tazacorte. We could see all of this ahead of us and it was stunning.

In the ever-stifling heat of the day, the glittering sapphire-blue ocean off in the distance that marked the end of our adventure was already a welcome beacon to our tired minds. But there was a long way to go yet!

By this point things were looking and feeling really good. My choice of gear selection was working brilliantly with no issues, hydration and nutrition were going well, my legs felt strong, and I was comfortably sat in the top 100.

Being so open, the aid stations could be seen (and heard) from quite a distance away. In some ways this was bad as it could give you a false sense of perspective for how far you had to go. Sometimes it was weird as you could hear the cheering and shouting but couldn't see signs of the aid station anywhere in the distance. But in other ways it really brought the race alive for me, particularly as for a lot of it I was running alone. This was the first long distance race that I have ever done without my iPod, and it was nice to have the varied shouts of the race to fill the void usually filled by rock music and Stephen King books.

The aid station near the observatory by Roque de Los Muchachos that marks the highest point of La Palma was visible/audible for a long while in advance, and the final climb up the hill was pretty steep and rocky, occasionally requiring hands for balance. Not quite scrambling like something like Cavalls del Vent, but not far off in places. This was to be (for the most part at least) the end of the 'up'. From here on out it was pretty much downhill all the way.

For some reason, I seem to cope quite well with downhills and am usually able to make up time with an aggressive approach. Up until now I had been losing a few places here and there on the ups, but gaining a lot of places on the downs. This was therefore the section that I had been looking forward to as I was planning on really starting to cook here. I decided to have a quick refuel as I was not planning on eating much more on the way to the finish about 25 Km away. With over 2.5 hours to go to finish in 10 hours I should have been laughing, although it was insane to think that the winners had already finished by that point. The elites really are in a completely different class. I had about a mouthful of pasta, then changed my mind and stuck with the watermelon!

I set off onto the descent, which was a combination of incredibly rocky technical terrain, terrifying sheer drops, and sloping volcanic ash flows, but opened later into a series of large wooded land masses leading down to sea level. I was doing well and making great time, when I suddenly felt my left calf muscle twitch and cramp up. This has happened to me before, and I believe is a recurrent problem since the Piece of String last year that I obviously haven't quite fixed yet, which was exacerbated by the climbing. I stopped to stretch it but ended up just having to run a bit slower than I really wanted.

A few Kms from the aid station at El Time, my calf suddenly spasmed at a rather inopportune moment and I went flying forwards on the rocks and cracked my knees. Nothing too serious, just a bit of a scrape and some bruising, but as I started to run again I couldn't get my feet to land where I wanted them to on the rocks which wasn't ideal. I carried on even slower down towards the aid station through the woods. Running in general was fine, but running on anything in any way uneven was proving unnerving as I kept nearly going over. Before I got to the checkpoint I had already stacked it 2 or 3 more times. One time a very nice man behind me just jumped over my corpse, cursing me for getting in his way. Charming!

I got into the aid station, refilled my bottle (which had emptied when I landed on it face first), then went into the First Aid tent to get somebody to quickly check me over. Inside, I found Forest Bethel who had been crushing it in the top 50, only to suddenly come down with unstoppable leg spasms (great band name) and be pulled from the race with a bag of "happy juice" stuck in his arm. He was pretty disappointed as you can imagine, but after a trip to the hospital was okay and should hopefully be back to full fighting force in no time.

I headed out on the final descent down towards the coastal town at Tazacorte. Unfortunately I was still unable to run the uneven sections so was stuck walking anything where there was a chance I might go over again. Which, y'know, was all of it. Despite the gorgeous weather, the most glorious coastal vista imaginable, and the fact that I was approaching the end of this amazing race, that was the most depressing 6 mile walk of my life! It never seemed to end, and when the route got closer to the sea, winding down an almost crazy-paving style path, only to switch back to head in the opposite direction I almost lost my shit! At one point, we hit the road (about 2 minutes after my final fall) and I thought I was saved, only to be waved back onto a rutted and dilapidated trail. I swear I would have hit the marshal that waved me off the road if it hadn't have been for the man out with his family offering ice cold refreshments to the runners just beforehand. Never has a gigantic bearded Spanish coke-dealer been more attractive to me. I could have kissed him! When I sheepishly told him I was English and didn't understand him, he bellowed something to his family and they all laughed and chanted at me. I think they were being friendly, but quite frankly he could have said whatever he wanted and I would have just smiled and said, "Grassy arse"!

I stopped briefly on the seemingly never-ending switch back down to the town and called Jen to let her know why it was taking about an hour longer than it should have done so she didn't worry too much, and it was really nice to just sit there in the sun chatting to her.

I set off again, resigned to a slower time than I expected and having lost about 50 places on the descent, but newly determined to finish things out as strong as I could. As soon as I hit the bottom of the pavement with fresh Tarmac under my feet, the game was back on. I hopped in and out of the final checkpoint at Tazacorte quite quickly, stopping to gnaw on some more fruit and to get some ice cold water over my head from some very eager kids (soaking the Englishman obviously seemed like a fun game!). In my haste I created a new cocktail of water, Powerade, and Coke. Interesting taste, but it got the job done!

Right. Home stretch now, but this was the section that took Kilian out last year. There as about 1.5 Kms running along pretty flat Tarmac which was great for getting my legs working again after 2 hours of walking, but then we turned off the road to head up an incredibly steep 350 m climb up a cobbled street to the town of Los Llamos above us. This was a straight up hike, and I was actually able to pull in a few people here. When we reached the top, we could hear the cheering at the finish line. There were about 5 people in my sights along the long straight road ahead of me before the turning onto the main road, but I was only able to pass a couple of them. I turned the corner onto the finishers strip that we had seen the day before, and ran through giving high fives to all of the kids who seemed to really enjoy being a part of the race. This feeling is so awesome (in the true sense of the word) and it's so exciting to be a part of something so inspiring and to be inspired by those around you. Whilst I love the smaller nature of some of the races I enter (I got clapped into a fifth place finish of my first race by only one person), there really is nothing that beats that kind of atmosphere. 

My final time was 11:03:35, an hour outside of what I had hoped for but still a respectable time (and I think second Brit behind Richard's brother in law, Rich Heath). I have a habit of never being happy with how I do, but really it's just that I know I could do better. It's my competitive nature, but I'm competitive with myself more than anything else. If I set a goal and don't achieve it, but know that I could have done, I feel like I have failed. Not in a depressing way - I just move onto the next thing and try and improve things that need improving. It works well for me, and it never affects my enjoyment of the races themselves; one of my favourite experiences ever was my slow 10 Km John Wayne death march into Chamonix at last year's UTMB after suffering pretty serious chaffing. It's always something eh! I'm not sure what I'll do if I ever have a perfect race and have nothing to moan about...

I passed through the finish and into the finishers' area which was kind of odd. Paddling pools and showers were set up for people to use (prior to the masseurs having to touch them I guess), but they were right next to the sides were people were staring in and... just kind of watching us. Oh well, when in Rome! Not being one to miss an excuse to get naked, I whipped off my top and shoes and hopped in. Luverly! Due to the change in my running gait, my feet had become pretty shredded so I got them checked over by the doctor and had my legs seen to as well. It was just a couple of minor bumps and scrapes, and hardly seems worth all the fuss now!

I grabbed a quick massage to crack into my calf and also into the new twinges which had come about due to the change in running, but nothing a bit of prodding didn't fix. As I finished, Chris came through the line (3rd Brit I think?) looking very strong. He'd had no interesting incidents along the way and had run a corker, but had to get in on the first aid action by severely cramping up during his massage and needing to be put on a drip. Always got to go one better...

Martin was next in, and boy did he look like he had some stories to tell! Sporting a giant gash on his left knee, a smashed phone, and a haunted look on his face, he regaled me with his story of falling off a cliff and just about managing to avoid breaking anything (other than his phone of course), losing his hat in the process. Luckily he was able to obtain a new one from a camera man who wanted an interview:

Cameraman: "Describe Transvulcania in a couple of sentences."
Martin: "It's like running up a volcano, and it's fucking hot"

Somehow I missed Richard coming through the line, and found him relaxing with a beer after a great run considering a slightly dodgy ankle. He bucked the trend for Team Onada by coming away entirely unscathed! His brother in law Rich Heath also had a great run with very few negative signs, coming in first Brit (we think?) third Brit and nicely set up for taking on the Grand Union in a few weeks along with Martin. Not too many cliffs to fall off there!

We polished off some free paella and Cokes (awesome service from the helpers) and began the real ordeal of getting back to our car in the middle of nowhere and making it back to the room on nothing but fumes. Luckily we made it, and were out for a celebratory pizza and beer by 11pm. What a day!

The race itself was won by Kilian Jornet in a new course record of 6:54:09, playfully crossing the line with a pocket full of flowers in a nod to last year's 'flower gate' incident when he was beaten in the last few miles by Dakota Jones, who jokingly placed a flower on him as he crossed the line and collapsed.  The idea that people can run that course that fast is insane! Closely behind in 6:58:31 was Luis Hernando, with Sage Canaday coming in third in 7:09:57. First in for the ladies was Emelie Forsburg in 8:13:22, with Nuria Picas following closely behind in 8:19:30 and Uxue Azpeitia in 8:44:48. Both the women's and men's races were very closely fought battles right until the very last minutes. It's a shame I missed it!

That was to be the end of our whistle stop trip to La Palma, and we began our journey home early in the morning on Sunday. I didn't get home until 5pm Monday to give you some idea of how fun the travel plans were! Don't get me wrong, they were awesomely organised by Martin who spent a lot of time working out the best options for a short trip over, but if I was to go over again I would take the family, make a holiday of it, and find a direct flight from closer to home. 

But on the plus side, we did get a few hours free in Tenerife before our flight home to spend in Siam Park, an awesome water park with some absolutely amazing rides! Shame they all involved long walks and climbs to get to, but hey nothing beats a bit of rehab!

So what a weekend! Now I'm just glad to be home with my girls. Next up is the South Downs Way 100 miler in 5 weeks, so I just need to get my feet sorted again (I hear greyhound foot cream is good for it...) and get ready for race day.

No Kōfuku!