Written by Tom Wright - http://life.tomwright.me.uk

This event report first appeared in the 7th issue of Ultra Tales, the UK ultra running ezine. The magazine is available to download for free.

Ten hours to go. The tent floor cushioned only by a small roll out matt. Kit laid out precisely. RockTape applied to a pernicious right knee and quad. I felt like a kid at Christmas! The excitement escalating over the past months as time flew by and now on the eve of my first 50 mile ultra time stood still. Every second an hour. I closed my eyes, the silence of my surroundings only interrupted by occasional birdsong. Time to relax and reflect. Just under a year ago I had run my first marathon. Why did I now want to run 50 miles? Reason came in the brief solace of The Dragon’s Back race film on a turgid bank holiday train journey from Cornwall to the Midlands. An inspirational quote from Helen Whittaker: ‘You don’t enter something like this if you know you can finish it. That’s why it’s a challenge.’

Going beyond experience, entering the unknown, feeling alive!

Philosophical musings aside, following a humbling experience at the CTS South Devon Ultra I had undertaken a ten week training programme to up my mileage ahead of the Malvern Hills Ultra, but repeatedly got held back by niggling injuries. Several visits to the physiotherapist ensued to loosen aforementioned knee and quad. I tapered two weeks prior with several LSDs (the long slow distance variety) targeting a moving pace of 12 minutes. During the countdown I planned meticulously whether it was choosing race kit, memorising the course on Google Earth or just packing down my camping equipment to be manageable in the confined spaces of Great Western trains.

MHU is one of a number of events organised by Ultra Running Limited. A camping weekend at a historic Midlands castle; impeccable hospitality from Steve Worrallo and his crew; facilities garnished with a medieval touch, that banish the omnipresent portaloo to the dark ages; and a little jog across the scenic Malvern Hills. All add up to incredible value for money and an excellent entry point for 50 mile virgins like myself. Steve provided a memorable experience which epitomises the camaraderie that pervades ultra running.

Personalised race number for my first 50 mile ultra

On arrival at Holt Castle, I was joined by fellow competitor, and camper, Shawn who had travelled up from Brighton. An oak door, more befitting a murder mystery weekend, towered before us. Steve ushered us into his family home and the surrounds became more familiar. Water vats, food station supplies and running paraphernalia spread across the floors. In the vast dining room each table had a bowl brimming with Gu gels. Medieval excess! Registration complete in minutes with no queues, no standing around in trepidation eyeing up fellow athletes. Then we were guided to our accommodation. A tranquil lawn bordered by high shrubs with fresh grass under foot, the castle providing the backdrop, the lawn dropping away to the Severn floodplain below. Facilities included fresh water, electric hook-up, morning tea and toast and a post race shower. All included in the event entry fee of £45! I will say it again … value for money.

My home for the weekend in the shadows of Holt Castle

Race fuel. The penultimate meal of pasta, tamari and nutritional yeast cooked on my newly acquired Trangia

RACE DAY ARRIVES…

5:30am. My pre-race fastidiousness seemed inconsequential come race morning as I frantically packed my kit bag only moments before the race. Two hours restless sleep hadn’t helped nor had my failure to beat the traffic to the luxury wood panelled toilets that morning. Cosy indeed but busy once 100 other runners arrive to register. I boiled up a brew and forced down a large bowl of granola, muesli and seed mix. This was followed by a Beet It shot. My taste buds have genuinely grown to like the earthy sensation beetroot delivers. I only just caught the back-end of the briefing as I took the decision to wear just my mesh vest under my jacket. Showers were forecast and the air seemed warm. I packed a merino layer for the back-end of the course when I expected to be moving slow under the setting sun. A few of my favourite Mule and Cliff bars to mix up with the copious supplies on offer at the stations. Head torch, map, first aid kit as obligatory. Good to go.

I was still struggling with the S-lab buckles as Steve set us off. A mad rush as the top racers, led by a canicross team, set the pace. Time to turn on the navigation for the first part of the course which follows a maze of roads and wound its way through a couple of woods. ‘Recalibrate Compass’ my Ambit spat back at me. How was I meant to do that while running? Nothing for it but to stop. A decision I don’t regret since it saved me plenty of time in navigation later. However this indiscretion came at a cost as I ran beyond myself to catch up the back runners. Having spent the last two weeks of training honing myself to run at my optimal fat burning heart rate I was now hitting my anaerobic threshold in the first mile. For some inexplicable reason I couldn’t get my heart rate below 150 bpm even when running 11 minute miles on the flat. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep? Frustrated, I threw out my rule book and just ran at what felt right.

Over those first few miles, everyone was still grouped so a chance to meet some fellow runners. Denzil, was the one representative of the 9Bar sponsors, and seemed to be out for a leisurely time. A brief chat and we arrived at the first bottleneck at the entrance to Ockeridge Woods. A long queue for the first of four punch points. A chance to stand around and eat some belated breakfast perhaps but I was keen to get ahead of the pack for the next punch point at the far end of the woods and strode out on the downhills. Not before saying hello to Tommy, who was camping next to me and one of the few 85 mile runners (four in fact!). Of all things we talked heart rates. Possibly more of a concern for 85 miles but not a topic I was keen to rekindle. I beat the congestion to the punch point and faced a maze of roads to the first checkpoint at Martley. I passed a runner who had left his home that morning without his kit bag. Steve had allowed him to run on agreement he was meeting his wife at CP2 to get his kit. That was potentially four hours into the race! Hope he made full use of hydration at the stations. The showers were easing and the occasional glimpse of sun already felt warm at 8am.

I arrived at the checkpoint in 1:17 (7.5 miles). That was on schedule, but accounting for the several minutes spent sorting my watch I knew I had run a good 30 seconds ahead of my projected pace which could hurt me later. The station was staffed by the two very enthusiastic women. In their 70’s they were sprightly and full of joy for every runner as they handed out goodies galore. I filled my bottle and moved on quickly.

First good view of the Malvern Hills still some 10 miles distant. I was so absorbed with the view I went a little wayward here!

After several miles of road it was a relief to hit fields. We would now be following the Worcestershire Way to the hills. As the early signs of the baking sun broke the clouds I stripped off my jacket only to realise I now had no choice but to run in my mesh vest. Not the best fashion statement and all those hours spent internet shopping for the perfect trail tank redundant! This was the longest stretch of the course with a few big hill climbs ahead. The Malvern Hills were still a dark shadow on the distant horizon. Hugging the perimeter of a furrowed field I contemplated how overgrown the Worcestershire Way was. At the end of the field I climbed a gate and jumped straight into a pool of thick mud. Wading out I saw all the runners I had passed before the checkpoint taking the correct and direct line across the field. Navigation error number one! Irritated by this I kicked hard down the next incline and was soon on my own again. Ankerdine Hill was a power march. I tailed a runner who jogged the whole way. Wondered if he would still be adopting that tactic on the really big hills? Over the prow and I took several wrong turns into tightly knit paths overrun with wild garlic. Doubling back several times I finally resorted to the road which Steve had said was acceptable and seemed to keep my GPX happy. With two navigation issues in only two miles, I realised I would need to keep my concentration. One way I like to stay focused is posting photos to Instagram. I find typing a few words as I go along keeps my motor neurone skills in check. Doing this on the coast path in training has also done wonders for my spatial awareness! So I snapped away and let the photo queue build for the next available 3G.

The navigation was clearly becoming a challenge as runner’s appeared from all directions over the next few miles heading into Suckley Woods. Here my Ambit excelled and I rarely needed to refer to the map. The terrain was varied and stimulating. Farm tracks; wooded root strewn trails; and rugged dried mud fields. My tactic of speed walking on the ascents and running fast descents seemed effective as I passed a number of runners. Until I got holed up behind some horse riders on the long downhill to Longley Green with little room to overtake. The horses looked jumpy so I bided my time waiting for space on the track. Pace disrupted I kicked hard to the village. There was one more really long road and track climb to The Beck and then it was downhill all the way to The New Inn checkpoint.

Checkpoint 2 at The New Inn beckons as does the Worcestershire Beacon looming in the distance.

The checkpoint was quiet with just a few supporters hovering. The sky felt like rain so I donned my jacket, only to take it off again a few minutes later as the sun reappeared. I refilled my drained bladder and bottle. Grabbing a few more gels I was on my way. Over the road, through a gate and a smile for the photographers as I tackled the buckles on my pack. A few steps and I realised I had left my bottle behind. So back I went to the station. The staff looked confused but had a chortle at my foolhardy blunder. Best of all it meant I got to pass the photographers again so this time I got my hair in order and gave a big thumbs up!

Photo copyright Summit Fever Photography - www.summitfever.co.uk. 

Finally it was time for the Malvern Hills proper. North Hill loomed in front of me. It would be up hill all the way to the Beacon at 425 m. First came 100 steps which were far tougher than I expected and a long gradual march up the hill to find the next punch point. For the first time in an hour I saw a few runners ahead. The Beacon looked menacing with a grey cloud hanging over it. The wind was refreshing. The climb was slow, the legs muscles burning.

Dark clouds gathering over the Worcestershire Beacon at 425m - the highest point of our journey.

Approaching the last climb to the summit a figure appeared over the rise, leaping like a mountain goat as he speedily hurtled towards me. Two (soon to be three) times champ Daryl Carter was clearly on a mission to beat his own record. Impressive and inspiring seeing him fly past as I snapped a photo and gave support.

Daryl ‘Daz’ Carter makes it look easy on his way down from the Beacon

Now to find that last punch point. At first it wasn’t clearly visible. I doubled back to the summit and found it just tucked down the hill to the right.

On the summit - Worcestershire Beacon.

I had been making headway on two runners ahead and with a long descent off the Beacon I was ready to put my downhill training to good effect. My calfs however felt differently as early signs of cramp hit. I paused and stretched a little then moved on at a less enthusiastic pace. As I wound around the hills, avoiding tourists and the occasional wayward dog, many runners passed heading back up the course on the return leg. With the mix of relay runners and soloists I had no idea where I was in the field but reckoned 30 runners passed by. I was starting to resign myself to the fact the return journey was going to be very long, slow and lonely.

Down to CP3 at the Malvern Hills Hotel

It had been a hard first half and when I rolled into the checkpoint at Malvern Hills Hotel I was feeling tired. Not the fresh state I had intended. My stomach was giving me a bit of nausea so I tried some peanut butter sandwiches. Hard to chew but washed down with a cup of coke they sufficed. Support at the turnaround was enthusiastic and encouraging. Steve was there checking everyone was OK. My waning energy was bolstered by the discovery that the jelly beans were vegetarian. A welcome change to Gu gels. I loaded a couple of handfuls into my pocket, briefly donned my jacket till I warmed up again and was on my way. A few family members had shown up to cheer me on and we walked together up the first climb having a chat and catch-up. This allowed my heart rate to finally settle down a bit. After some family snaps I said my farewells for now, as they agreed to meet me again at the next checkpoint, and was off back up the hills.

Time for a quick family photo with my Dad and little bro, Ocean. A chance to catch my breath too!

The call of nature beckoned so I had to get off the path to avoid the large crowds of tourists. I went several hundred yards down a side trail looking for a private bush. A detour and a steep scramble back to the official track. Among the runners still heading south I passed Shawn and his buddies from Southend doing high five slaps as we went. It was consoling to finally see lots more runners and share encouragement and even guide a few who seemed to be going wayward. This time the climb to the Beacon felt good. I kept my stride short and just pushed my way up knowing that once over the top I could really stretch out again all the way down to the checkpoint.

Second climb to the summit of the Worcestershire Beacon

Hill walkers were gathered on the summit. I stood there for a minute soaking up the refreshing breeze and admiring the views. To the west the horizon stretched deep into the Welsh heartland. I hijacked a tourist for a photo and was on my way revived and raring to go.

Back on the summit with the views stretching west into the Welsh borders.

A few little punches of cramp but nothing I couldn’t run off. I had always felt uneasy about an out and back course but everything felt very different the other way. I also found I could use what I learnt on the way out to influence when I walked and when I ran on the return.

The lee side of North Hill was sheltered and baking, the trail rugged and loose. Not dissimilar to Cornish mining coast even if the bedrock was several millennia older. For the first time I felt my nausea was more than just an awkward tummy. I knew I had no dehydration issues but I hadn’t applied sun cream and had been exposed in my vest all morning. Perhaps this was the first onset of heat stroke? At the bottom of the steps I shook my head under the well. Cold fresh Malvern spring water. (Ed. with a little flavouring of rabbit droppings - as observed by Daz!) Onward to the checkpoint through the arid orchards. Hardly felt like the spring days we have become accustomed to these last few years. Family had just arrived at the New Inn ahead of me and fortunately they bore sun cream. The supply of food at the station was still impressive. Again I went for coke and moved on. I had been keeping a watchful eye on my average pace which was still sitting just below 12 minutes. If I could maintain that 10 hours might be possible. I knew there were a few long descents to come where I could claw back seconds and then ease off on the gradual ascents through the woods. However my left knee was starting to ache and causing some issue on the speedy downhills. I just kept telling myself I could run it out and gritted my teeth.

As I traversed the edge of Raven’s Wood I was amazed to see another runner in front of me. I had briefly seen Louise Staples, last year’s ladies champion, as I had left the New Inn checkpoint but otherwise I had been running alone for several hours. The runner was moving incredibly slowly and looked in considerable pain. He confirmed he was fine and just in need of a new “spine”! I wished him well and moved on. As I passed the Talbot I threw some gel wrappers in the bin only to see my family sat there supping cold shandies. I drooled. It was exciting seeing them getting in the spirit of the race and enjoying chasing ahead of me. The pubs on route probably made that very enticing! They confirmed another runner had gone through only minutes ahead and moving slowly. I was still feeling nauseous but my legs were good and any former cramp was long gone. The watch still sat just below 12 minutes.

Ankerdine Hill - a notorious climb. One last power walk! This time I found the designated path for the Worcestershire Way and marched up the steep climb. It was brutal! However, At the top I was rewarded with that other runner. He was moving much slower so again rather than striking up conversation I pushed on.

Just a few more fields to go to reach the last CP. Photo copyright Summit Fever Photography - www.summitfever.co.uk. 

Up and down a few fields and into Martley. The elderly ladies were still operating the station full of spirit and ready to help. What strength and resilience they showed to be there for over 12 hours always ready to offer a helping hand. Incredible!

I finally said my farewell to my family and quickly moved on. Their presence had really helped over the back half of the course and given me incentive to keep pushing on to the next checkpoint where I knew they would be waiting.

This was the business end of the course. At 25 miles I thought I had blown my race and would be staggering home at nightfall. Over the last 3 hours I discovered that was just a state of mind. It had passed. 7.5 miles in 90 minutes. Could I make it? I showed my intent running hard out of the pub car park and off up the hill. As I rounded the bend I looked at my watch. I was not on the GPX course. The surroundings were not familiar. Yet I was sure I had run down the same hill into Martley earlier in the day. I pulled out the map. Indeed there was a junction at the bottom of the hill which we had come in on. I raced back down to connect with the correct route realising that this last section could be a navigational challenge. I needed to maintain concentration. I ran hard but couldn’t sustain it. I settled on running 5 minutes then walking 1 minute. The pace had crept down to 11:55. A few convoluted sums and I estimated that gave me a window of just over 4 minutes. However, the misguided route out had been 25.5 miles and I had already gone wrong and while doing my sums I had again wandered down the wrong road! More backtracking. An extra mile would mean I had 8 minutes to make up which would require 10 minute pace. Could be done but I was really starting to hurt. That was a little demoralising. In my exhausted state I was overanalysing somewhat!

A few other runners helped considerably over the last few miles. Two chaps kindly opened a gate for me. I hope they appreciated I was on a mission as I said little else but thanks. Two runners, reduced to walking, waved me up the very last hill which urged me on further. I really pushed hard down the last farm track to the main road. Crossed the furrowed field. Climbed the gate. One more field to go and then the driveway. I looked at my watch. 9:59:57! My heart sunk a little as I knew 10 hours was gone. Then I realised I had actually gone under 10 hours for 50. I always start an event with two goals in mind but never make them public. The first is my realistic target, the second my dream target. Ten hours was my dream target for 50 miles and I had as good as done it!

Just a case of keeping some running form together on the last quarter mile down the drive to the Castle. Steve was there to greet me with the largest finishers medal I have ever seen. The weight of the medal alone forced me to collapse on the grassy bank in the shade and gather my thoughts and regain some strength.

Half the man I was when I started out that morning! Photo copyright Summit Fever Photography - www.summitfever.co.uk. 

Certainly the largest finishers medal I have ever earned! Malvern Hills Ultra done.

As if his family hadn’t done enough already, Steve’s wife then offered me use of the family bathroom to take a warm shower followed by a piping hot bespoke vegetarian chilli. This was washed down with a couple of local ales from the bar as I joined Steve at the finish to cheer in a few fellow runners.

Finishers vegetarian chilli. The best ever and much needed to replace the 7000 plus calories I had burnt during the day! My finishers mug in the background which now sits pride of place in our cupboard.

I finally collapsed in the tent with only one thought on my mind … 100 miles!

My official time was 10:05 and I came 14th out of 65 starters. View official results.