I was at the water trough in the centre of town next to the Maison des Guides. I drank plenty of the amazing cool water and then dunked my head in to wash the thick layer of salt that had formed over the previous three hours of blissful, sun-filled Chamonix trail running at it's best. I had left home in Argentiere heading straight up for just over 1000 metres to Lac Blanc, from there I traversed westwards to La Flegere before continuing across to Plan Praz which is the finish point of the Mont Blanc vertical km race which would be held in a few days time. I then dropped down the fast but slightly technical trail just across from the vkm route. Which bought me to the glorious head dunking in the centre of town as hundreds of holiday makers sauntered around enjoying the warmth of the sun. 

It was here that I assessed how fatigued I was. The sun was battering me and I was quite tired but not too bad really. From here I planned to head up to the plan des auiguille which is another vertical km in climbing then head across to Montenvers, drop down to Le Bois then back home. This was my last big run before the upcoming Mont Blanc 80km. I had predicted around 5hrs for this circuit. My predictions are generally fairly good, but this time I would be around 2 hrs out! As I headed up the climb out of Chamonix, the storm clouds where gathering and dull and distant rumbles of thunder where threatening to head in my direction. I hadn't eaten yet and so decided to grab my emergency bar out of my waist pack. My energy levels were dipping. As I unzipped the pouch I remembered that I had eaten it a few days previously and not replaced it. My hand rummaged around slightly panicky hoping my memory had failed me, but no, for once it was right. Well as you can imagine, the next 4 hours turned into a death march and on returning home I was utterly spent. Not my finest race preparation! 

It was 0330. I was alone and pacing around the same square with the trough in that I had recently dunked my head into. As the time ticked on more and more runners were approaching from around every corner, some alone and others in groups. I had rested as much as life would allow since my last run and I felt ok. I was starting to feel like the last year of living in the mountains was having a strong effect. Mentally I felt very strong. I knew the majority of the course and it was a real beast. But there were to be no major suprises for me. My descending was not the finest out there but it was no longer destroying my quads. I was excited to get going. With over 6000 metres of ascent and plenty of technical terrain to deal with this was going to be a major challenge and it was shorter than what I consider my stronger distance. My usual priorities were in place : Enjoy, finish and cross the line feeling like I could give no more. The first was a given due to the location, and if the second happened then the third would be pretty much guaranteed as I knew there would be no easy way round this course. It was going to be the toughest 80km of my life yet!

Our numbers had our countries flag on which is always a nice touch as you can easily spot fellow countrymen. Shortly before the off a Brit squeezed through the ever thickening gaggle of nervous runners towards me. He introduced himself (Name forgotten I'm afraid) and we squashed a running resume conversation in the final 10 minutes before the off. I had placed myself around mid way in the pack. This is starting to become a habit with Alpine races. I like the fact that there will be many people ahead who I will probably pass, but the slower more controlled start that was forced on me prevents me from going too hard on the first section which I have learnt is often a large climb and where the last thing I want to do is blow a gasket before I've even peaked the first climb. 

As the infectiously excitable Euro start was in full swing, I shouted best of luck to my new friend, The countdown wound it's way down and then we were off. The first part of the climb is the short road section of the vertical km. If you have ran this or seen it, you will know that it is rather steep and I was soon telling myself to stop running and begin my power walk. I may as well start now as this was going to get well used today! Within 5 minutes I could see the snake of headlights ahead going left and fading into the trees as the climb to Bellachat began in earnest. Whenever the slope eased a little I would run and if it was wide enough I would pass runners, trying to keep the accelerations as smooth and minimal as possible so as not to turn the whole thing into a sprints session. Sure enough I was steadily passing lots of runners and as I did I wondered whether I would see them again during the race. I was feeling in control and enjoying the climb. The chills I had felt while waiting on the startline had been replaced by heavy sweating as I worked consistantly hard with the slight glow in the sky that was the beginnings of a beautiful day.

I felt good as I climbed the final section of zig zag path before the Bellachat refuge. We had climbed around 1200 metres so far and ahead there was a further 300 that would take us up to Brevent. This was a fun section which is a little rocky and technical in places but mostly runnable. My head torch was not needed now so I gratefully pulled it from my head and stuffed it deep in one of my bags side pockets hoping that I wouldn't be needing it later that day. As I bounded along the first harsh rays of the sun appeared up ahead from behind the Aiguille des Chardonnet. It was just perfect and really gave me a little extra bounce to my run, though I knew this would be shortlived. The weather forecast was for a warm sunny day, so with my generally poor history of heat during long runs, the sun could very well soon not be such a source of joy, but for the time being that was certainly not on my mind.

From the top of Brevent the descent is fairly long, quite rocky but fast terrain. I again focused on being as smooth as possible. I knew that, Plan Praz at the bottom of the descent I would be rewarded with my first cp with food and drink. I stopped here and made sure I took on plenty of fluid and lots of cheese and sauscisson. It tasted great now, but I was sure that in 10 hours time I probably wouldn't be as keen. With the first major climb behind me, and with the gaps between runners ever widening, I was starting to feel as though the race had properly started now and I was comfortable and eager to run to Flegere then Tete aux vents as this section was a good runnable, yet still challenging part which had fine views across the valley to the Mont Blanc massif. Not that I needed the motivation, but I was hardly going to push it away! 

Although I felt strong along this top section, partly because of my familiarity with it, I was as disciplined as possible and tried not to get carried away as I continued to chase people down and pass them. The temperature was rising rapidly now the sun was fully risen. The heat is often my biggest enemy in races, but we have had a lot of warm weather in Chamonix before the race and I was hoping that maybe I had actually acclimatised a little. 

I was passing some people that were already looking a little worse for wear. I fely for them as there was so far left. I could completely imagine that if you weren't used to the scale of Alpine climbs and descents you could very easily overcook things very quickly. I know as I've been there! Once I had hopped along the top section to Tete aux ventes I begun the descent which is also the final ascent on the UTMB. It is a tough final climb for a 100 miler and it is pretty steep with a few technical sections making it a fun descent which I could take advantage of as my legs and feet were still relatively fresh. I really enjoyed bounding down here and felt strong on the technical sections. I smiled half with the joy of the descent and half with humour as I imagined how I would be gingerly descending the final drop of the day back into Chamonix. 

There were a quite a few spectators at the road crossing at the bottom which is the Col des Montets. I took in the boost that the cheers and ringing cow bells provided as I crossed the road before the gentle descent down to le Bois. I was all alone here and was really excited as the next section would be the only section of the course I hadn't seen before. What a great way to discover you local trails! Once at the bottom, I crossed the same road again and was directed onto a path which I had run before when I went up to Mont Buet a month earlier. It is a runnable trail that follows the river upstream. After a while I crossed a footbridge and then I was on new territory. Soon the trail was breaking away from the river and began to slope upwards, gaining steepness as it progressed. I was soon above the treeline and was suddenly feeling the full effects of the hot sun as it's oppressive heat hammered away at me. The particular geography of the valley also meant that it was perfectly still here so no releif was provided from the cool breeze which I would feel later on. The climb was long and the footpath seemed like it was seldom trod being very narrow. There were rocky sections which demanded use of my hands and some ironwork. All in all this was a fantastic section. I turned a corner and saw that the climb continued for a fair distance as I squinted in the bright sun to see the runners ahead scrambling throug the snow we were now trudging through. With the height gained came cooler air which my sweat dripping body much needed. Considering how hard I was working and the temperature, I was happy with how things were working. I had acclimatised to some extent to the heat.

Once over the top the descent begun down the snow which was turning slushy under the heat of the sun. The running was fun as I slid all over the place as I fought to stay upright. The last section of snow was a gully that was steep and looking ahead I could see runners falling and sliding down on their backsides. Here goes! I tried to glissade with only slight glimmers of success. I fell a number of times before working out that instead of getting back up I should join the backside sliders and make my way down faster and with more control. Such style! 

Once I had 'negotiated' the last of the snow for the day, it was back onto beautiful rocky trail that was descending down to Lac d'Emosson. The sky was a deep blue and I was thoroughly enjoying this new section though I would soon be back on familiar trail. I was beginning to feel the signs of exhaustion setting in but I had been going quite hard for a number of hours so was not too surprised. The next climb was from Vallorcine straight up to Aiguillette des Possettes which was a vertical km! I wasn't expecting an easy ride!

I stopped a few times on the long downhill to Vallorcine at river crossings to drink the cold water instead of the hot water in my bottles. One time I dunked my head under to clean the salt from my face. Once on the valley floor I followed the markers and was pulled along by the cheering crowds of spectators which were sat out in the beautiful alpine meadows enjoying the sun. It was good to be in the shelter of the cp tent. I made sure my bottles were topped up with cold water and ate what I could before slowly jogging off to the start of the climb with one handful of cheese and the other full of sausage. I immediately began walking as my first foot hit the slope. The first section is possibly the steepest. Pointless even trying to run this during a race of this length. Let's see if I can find some sort of rhythm.

I soon finished off my sweaty handfulls of Savoyarde treats, washed it down with some still cold water and attempted to zone in to my not-too-fast-but-consistant rhythm. After 15 minutes or so, I realised that my earlier thoughts about this being a tough climb were true. Although I had fared better than normal in the sun, it had still be working it's black magic on me. The good news was that there was no nausea yet which would be crippling. Although the climb was tough, I was making good steady progress up through the never ending switchbacks. Once up on the Col des possettes and back out of the trees the incline levels off a bit giving you some respite before the final push to the top. I had run this many times in the last year and the familiarity was comforting. I passed a number of hikers here before topping out and geting stuck into the descent which starts out prety technical in places and later switches into fairly smooth trail. My tired legs were not allowing me to descend as I normally do on this trail, but I felt that my progress was good and overall I was in ok shape for this stage.

I passed through a quiet Le Tour. No cp here and the next one wouldn't be till Argentiere, so I stopped at the fountain and topped up again. The trail from Le Tour to Argentiere was undulating which made a nice chenge. I ran the whole lot but it was a sedate run. There was still a moster climb left so there was no need to be pushing it too hard. I had too save something. As I came off the trail onto the road that ran into Argentiere and more importantly the next cp, I was feeling sluggish. I stopped at the cp and stayed for a couple of minutes as I made myself eat something and regroup. I thanked the crew and walked off stiffly before slowly breaking into a heavy jog. It was nice to run so close to home knowing that the majority of the course had been run. 

The trail to le Bois was the Petite Balcon Nord and was again undulating. I was starting to suffer but no-one was catching me up. Everyone was now suffering! At the Le Bois cp I again stopped and forced myself to eat whatever I could and drank a bellyfull of water before hiking off to the bottom of the final climb. This climb takes you to Montenvers train station overlooking the Mer de Glace. It begins with switchbacks through the trees and ends with some steeper stuff through large rocks. This quickly turned into a zombie march. My breathing was short and fast and my heart rate was through the roof as I crawled along at a slugs pace. Amazingly I still managed to overtake a few people on this final climb. There was some serious suffering going on up here!

I was happy and relieved to finally reach the cp at the top here. Stopped and again made sure I was ready for the final push to the finish. First up was a long traverse to the Plan de l'Aiguille followed by the 1km drop down to Chamonix. I got myself into a slow but steady plod and picked up two others.  A Swiss chap and A Japanese lady. I didn't walk once along this final traverse and because my pace was so slow, I kept checking whether either of the two trailing close behind wanted to path but they said my pace was fine. The consistancy across the top here was paying off as we soon starting passing the odd runner who was suffering a little more. Just before the end of this top section, the Swiss chap dropped off the back and then it was just me and the Japanese lady who seemed to be half my size.

As the final drop into town begun I felt heavy and stiff but soon things eased off a little allowing me to speed up a little. My Japanese friend on the other hand seemed smooth and light on her feet. I stood aside after about 20 minutes and told her to pass. She didn't want to but I knew she was descending far quicker than I was. Once past I stayed with her for another 10 minutes before the elastic snapped. My stomach was beginning to complain and with each footfall, a hollow pain would echo through my torso. I walked numerous times on the remainder of the down. 

I burst out of the trees and started to walk again. There was around a 500 metre walk up to the main road. I'd just walk up to there then run the final few hundred metres to the finish I thought. Just as I was approaching the junction a group of supporters up ahead begun cheering and I got carried away with it and started running. I do love a Chamonix finish. So many people around and everyone cheers you on. It's such a fantastic atmosphere that for a brief moment a huge grin spreads across your face and the pain is forgotten. I crossed the line, immediately collected my medal and then I needed to sit but as I tried to walk to a free bit of curb, my muscles failed to operate. My feet were dragging across the floor. Jesus get me down on the floor before I drop!

What an incredible race! I absolutely loved it. It was everything I wanted. I had managed to come in at 56th place too. I was really happy with how everything had gone. If you love beautiful and really tough trail then I strongly recommend this one. I rarely repeat races but this just maybe one of them! 

Thanks for reading. Happy running.

 

Written by Paul Giblin - http://pyllon.com/

I’ll keep it brief, since it’s been a while since the race.

This time it felt different. Circumstances meant I couldn’t focus so much on the race due to work, certainly not at the same level as the year before. That said, when I could finally confirm I was doing it (last minute) I had trained well and was feeling strong.

Chat before the race was all about Robbie Britton – ‘2013 Ultra-runner of the Year’ in the @ukrunrambles initiative. He’d be fast. He’d run the first sections at record pace and I’d never be able to stick with him. In truth I was happy to hear those statements and to get the chance to see up-close what the hype was all about. Talent and potential don’t account for everything that’s needed in a 100 mile race and where I may be lacking in those I make up in other ways.

Robbie certainly wasn’t the only competition either. The confirmed talent on the start list ensured it was always going to be a fast race and any one of up to ten people were capable of taking the win.

First half of the race went pretty well. Perhaps quicker than I intended. There was no big panic when Robbie took the lead 15 miles in, other than when I caught my lead foot over the top of Conic Hill and went down heavily on my knee and elbow. For a split second you think the worst but after a few minutes and a hobble down to Balmaha there was nothing for it but to push on.

It was nice to ditch the head torch at Rowardennan as well as the long sleeves and I settled into the chase and my own rhythm.

At Beinglas I was 5 minutes down but feeling good and I was happy to see my support and a race official (unlike the previous year).

I saw the leader Robbie on the next long section as he marched up the climb near the cottages. I didn’t need any further encouragement and pushed hard into the hills around Crianlarich. Immediately after the road crossing at Ewich I saw him again, this time only 200m in front and I gave it everything I had to close the gap. I passed him before the next checkpoint (just 100m ahead). I didn’t stop (the scales hadn’t arrived) and I pushed straight out again with some supplies in hand from my incredibly professional support.

I passed the finish of the Highland Fling in under 7:20 and wondered why I’d never managed a decent time in that race. Next time!

To Bridge of Orchy I was very conscious that I needed to build a gap and continue to hit my target CP times. I kept my mind as clear as possible and focused on my pace and timings whilst remembering to track my drinking and food. The Osmo, HoneyStinger and homemade bars were all going to plan and I wasn’t experiencing the slumps I had in the past.

I was up on my time by Bridge of Orchy but knew the next section would be make or break. Rannoch Moor is tough going as most runners begin to feel tired by that point and the sight of trail miles in front creeping up towards Glencoe tests the mind as much as the cobbles do the feet and ankles. It’s easy to slow without realising it so I kept an eye on my pace at all times.

Still no sign from the support crew that the race was secured at Glencoe. 25 miles of trail and some strong competition still meant anything could happen. I was given some more food, a restock, some words and I was off again towards the foot of the Devils Staircase.

I knew that if I could get over the Staircase without a sign of someone close behind the win was mine (assuming no great disaster). Over the top the pain in my knee from the early trip started to cut through. I had hoped to be much quicker on the long descent but the inside ‘mechanics’ of my knee was more than a little tender – the cut at this point being just a distraction.

Another quick bite to eat at Kinlochleven and a stressed looking support made me feel a little panicked as I was sent off up the climb onto the long rocky Lairig Mor trail towards Fort William. I was still on course for breaking the record and achieving my target finish time.  I was told not to worry about who was behind me and how close they were but that I needed to move. 15 miles to go!

It’s always a lonely stretch. I was still focused on my time despite just wanting to take a break for the mental relief more than the physical.

At Lundavra my crew were there as usual and made sure I didn’t hang around despite the obvious temptation. By that point sometimes you just want to chat, just think of something other than times, miles and checkpoints. I heard some familiar voices and one shout in particular ran through my head for the final miles.

By this point my watch battery had gone as had the ability for me to mentally calculate expected finish time and miles remaining let alone average pace.

At the top of the final climb I stopped for a minute, turned around and looked back at the trail. I took a long deep breath and thought about the journey. Not just the race itself but everything else I’d put into it. I thought about the previous year and other than the knee I was feeling stronger than the last time. With that, I turned back around and set off for Fort William and the finish.

At Braveheart carpark my emotions started to bubble up. I had a couple of moments with Stevie and my Dad. Only they knew what had gone into this race and what it meant to me. I also saw Ian and Sandra again too which meant they must have been following the last few sections of the race. That made it feel much more worthwhile.

The final mile or so of road into Fort William felt good. Usually a bit of a drag but I got totally lost within myself  thinking about the experiences of the day and back to the training runs where I’d allowed myself to dream about what it would feel like to win it again.

As I neared the finish I could hear a piper and that was all I needed to finally accept that I had done it. I finished the 2014 race as the winner, breaking my own course record from the previous year by 47 minutes. Doesn’t sound a lot to most maybe, but for me personally, I’d improved by 2 hours and 40 minutes in 2 x races. It was also the first time anyone had run sub 15 hours. Robbie also went on to run sub-15.

I sat on the step outside the Sports Centre for a few minutes, glad to be finished and relieved that it had gone to plan as much as that’s possible over that time-frame. My support had been incredible and whilst it’s a solo event we really had delivered as a team.

The presentation next day was emotional. Some people had really given their all just to get to the start-line never-mind finish such a gruelling event (over 2 nights for some). The response from everyone when I picked up the winners plate was humbling to say the least. Not sure it was deserved but it was hugely appreciated and something I’ll remember for a long time.

Huge thanks to the support crew – even when I had my own reservations you had every confidence in me. Thanks also to my Sponsors; Nathan PerformanceOsmo nutritionHoneyStinger,feetures and all the Nine Point Nine family. Having the support of brands and products that I genuinely believe in has made this much more of a partnership and I think we’re moving in the right direction.

Thanks to Daniel Gerber (Glasgow Osteo) for the continued support and treatment.

To everyone who gave a nod or shout on the course whether part of the race or just ‘Walking the Way’. It’s all heard and it all makes a difference.

Finally to the whole WHW race team – it’s a special race and wouldn’t happen without your hard work. It means so much to an awful lot of people and it’s that spirit that pushes us to deliver performances that will all have their place in history from wins, to DNF’s and 35 hour completions.

So that was it for another year. I read somewhere recently that my win last year was an ‘outlier’ result – meaning that it was just a lucky day – a freak result – an unaccountable win. Well that’s a second one and it’s quicker again. Is that a double outlier?

Read more about the race:

Runnersworld

Guardian online

Official site

Written by Tim Lambert - http://fromsofatoultra.com/

 

Yep. Back again.

I honestly don’t know where to begin with this one. Several people have said they are looking forward to me writing this and I hope they aren’t disappointed as my memory of parts of this race is already blurred. I suppose running non-stop for 28 hours and 36 minutes, losing some parts of the race is inevitable.

The quick version- I finished. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t enjoyable but it was oh so worth it. I have dreamed of finishing a 100 mile race since 2011 and I was genuinely worried I just wasn’t capable, but I have completed one of the toughest ones in the UK with some of the most appalling weather so whilst I am broken as I write this, I know I will have extremely fond memories of what an achievement it was in the next few weeks and months.

I really set myself up for this one and laid out four reasons why I had to finish what I started last year. I put a huge amount of pressure on myself which certainly helped drive me through the low patches but also gave me no margin for error. I had to get this one right.

Overall, I cannot emphasise enough how much I did not run this race alone. I may have been the one who ran it, but you can’t run a 100 alone.

My folks came up on Friday morning and took care of the kids for the weekend, whilst Solange and I made our way to Farnham to register the night before and get an early night. Knowing the kids were at home and waiting for me to bring them the buckle on Sunday was a big deal for me and I knew they would have a great weekend with Mum and Dad.

Having Solange with me the night before and there at times on the day and waiting at the finish was also huge. I tend to do these races alone but she wanted to be there as a volunteer and it was so good to know she would be there at the end, whatever time I made it. I also knew she would run the kitchen at the half way aid station like a Field Marshall and I wasn’t disappointed…

After a pretty rubbish nights sleep, which I have grown begrudgingly accustomed to before a big race, I was up at 4am to get myself ready, have breakfast and mentally prepare myself for the day. We got to the start around 5:30am just in time for the race briefing as I didn’t fancy hanging around any earlier and having nervous chats. I just wanted to be alone and then start, which ended up being a theme for the day. It was not a social run for me and I was the least chatty I have ever been at a race to date.

Soon after we started I noticed a rubbing pain between my big toe and second toe and stopped to remove the tape I had used on the big toe. This was a mistake to have even taped them in the first place. Everyone knows it is stupid to do something new on race day, but I had seen the state of Jez’s feet post Western States and didn’t fancy losing any toenails myself, so opted to tape at least the big ones. But this meant the tape was rubbing on the second toe and I had a small blister between the toes on each foot. It was annoying now, but would become a real problem later. With hindsight, I should have just used bodyglide or Vaseline as normal and I wouldn’t have had any issues.

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Around Mile 13. Photo: Dave Stephenson.

I told Chris Mills, who was set to pace me from mile 50 or 60, that I should get to halfway in around 11 hours. Having run the first half four times now I know it very well and know my splits even going conservatively. Nothing of any significance happened in the first 50 and I got to halfway in exactly 11:05, bang on target. My whole focus to halfway was to keep it steady, not push whatsoever and if at any point it felt like I was exerting, to walk and start again at a slower pace. Essentially, I wanted to let my body carry me to halfway and be as fresh as possible. I spent minimal time in any of the aid stations, aside from Caterham where I was chatting to (the lovely) Gemma Bragg and (not so lovely) Bryan Webster. I think he called me some mean words and made me leave quickly which was a good thing, but only after I had the jelly and ice cream, which in previous runs I have felt too sick to even try. This was a good sign and tasted amazing. I tried to run the whole of the first half on ‘real food’ and would then rely on gels and shot bloks the second half when I couldn’t face proper food anymore. It was pretty warm, but no big deal and I found I was mostly favouring the savoury food like mini scotch eggs, peanuts and sausage rolls.

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Harnessing the angry man. Reigate Hill, Mile 31. Photo: Dave Stephenson.

As I came into halfway I got a big cheer from the people outside the village hall waiting for their runners and then headed inside to get ready for the unknown. This is where I have always finished and where I dropped last year. Having heard I was coming, Solange wouldn’t even let me in the front door in case I sat down and dropped, but I insisted I was absolutely fine and ready for a lot of food and a change of clothes. Having read lots of other blogs from last year, I knew it was sensible to take fifteen minutes here to have a bowl of pasta, soup and tea before changing my t-shirt and Buff so I was fresh and dry for the next part. I sat down and chatted to a few people, the first time I had really wanted to talk all day and before I knew it I was on the road again. I saw Pat Hall at this point who had sadly dropped, but he kindly offered to take my spare shoes to the 82 mile check point so I could change shoes in the early hours if needs be. I wasn’t ready to yet but might be later so this was a real saving grace- thanks, Pat.

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Halfway there. Distance wise, not time…

As I left the village hall I said to Solange and Nikki Mills (new best mates) that 100 yards down the road, this would be the furthest I have ever run. And I was ready for it.

And…into the unknown. I knew it was 10 miles to the next checkpoint but that the terrain would gradually get more difficult with tired legs and brain as well as genuinely being seriously tough going between miles 65 and 85. I told Chris I didn’t need pacing yet but would see him at mile 60 and someone kindly offered him a lift there. I estimated this would take me two hours at best but more like three, realistically so he was prepared for that and I wasn’t rushing. I was well up on the cut off’s at this point and wanted to keep a steady jogging pace until I could jog no more. I genuinely thought the time I had “banked” on the first half would pay huge dividends, but it didn’t quite work out like that.

This 10 mile section felt like it went on forever. Much of it was through built up areas and the pavement really started to hurt on my feet and legs compared with the trail. That said, at least it wasn’t cambered and it was pleasant to jog without having to watch my every step for a rut or rock or tree root. I jogged well here I feel and went past a few people looking like they were suffering. One of these was David Ickringill, who I am delighted to say also finished and gutted out the second half. For much of the first half, David was running with Paul Haynes but Paul had now headed forwards at his own pace but David was upbeat and plodding along.

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Logging a few miles before the lovely Kat Ganly dropped me and was 2nd female! Photo: Dave Stephenson.

Later, rather than sooner, I got to Wrotham and was greeted by the lovely Mimi Anderson and Chris, all set to pace me. It was now 42.6 miles to go and my head started to really want to focus on this distance as a whole and not the aid stations along the way as I wanted it to. The distance left was an ultra in itself and I was already tired and sore. I was so thankful to now have Chris to get me to the finish but also felt for him that he had a pretty shitty night ahead of him with Bobby Cheerful, here. I warned him of this beforehand and he pretty much said what I needed him to; “Get the fuck up, we are getting this done”.

It was only five miles to the next checkpoint, but I have no idea what happened in this section. I literally cannot remember a thing. I know we got lost at one point and I know it got dark and put our headtorches on, but aside from that I cannot remember zip. All I know is I was mixing up jogging with walking and at some point we ended up at mile 65 which is Holly Hill. I can’t tell you what the terrain was like or anything, although I guess we must have climbed a hill or two! Not a clue.

I was looking like shit at this aid station and the team there, led by Richard Goulder, got me sat down and some tea into me. I was downing tea all night and it really hit the spot. I didn’t fancy any food but knew I must eat to keep going so gagged down a cheese sandwich and some fruit, followed by a gel or two. Chris said I could have three minutes in the chair and then we were to be off. That was reasonable. It was pitch black here and the aid station was set up with Christmas lights and the team in various outfits from santa himself to elves. It really didn’t help my delirious state of mind.

On we plodded- 11 miles now to mile 76.2 and again I have little memory of this, aside from needing Vaseline for the unmentionables and getting some from a lovely crew waiting for their runner. We knew that the tail end of Hurricane Bertha was set to hit around 1am so Chris was trying to push me to get as many “quick” miles (15 min miles…) under my belt as possible before the inevitable deluge. And I think we ran this section quite well. I know we stopped a few times and I was a tad sore, but nothing outrageous yet and we just kept grinding out the miles.

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The selfless, yet relentless, Mills’sssss.

I’ve checked with Chris since, as I have no idea if my brain recalls correctly, but I’m glad he told me I didn’t really whinge (if his blog says I did, ignore that- you remember the cow and bull incident). I had no right to whinge as this was my choice to run, but in order to keep him informed I was honest whenever he asked me how I felt. Overall, it was only three things- chafing on the unmentionables, the lower part of my shins and between my toes where the bloody tape had done its worst. All of these could be managed and Chris did my thinking for me. He got me Vaseline when I needed it (but refused to apply it, the wimp), freeze spray for my shins and had the first aiders bandage my feet later in the run so I could finish. Up to this point he had plastered my feet himself, about three times I think, and let me know they truly stank. At least that helped keep him awake as well.

Just before Bluebell Hill, at 76.2 miles, the rain started to really come down. We got our jackets on and hoods up and prepared for a long trudge to the finish, but were still well inside of the cut offs. Here I was really starting to feel the pain but I also knew if I got through the next five miles to the Detling Aid Station that come hell or high water (both, incidentally) I would finish. But I was probably bugging Chris as I kept asking if we were ok for time. I kept trying to do calculations and he repeatedly told me to shut up and run and he would do the thinking.

We marched the flats, walked the ups and jogged the downs and were still churning out 15 minute miles. 4 miles an hour at this stage on this terrain was pretty good going and Chris set the tempo for me to fall in line behind. By now I was so reliant on Chris that I really needed him near me. I was completely lost and there was no way I could have followed the trail markings without him. This was my first night time section of a race and it was strange to just be following the little beam of my torch and have no bearings for what was coming next. I was also becoming increasingly less chatty, so when Chris shouted out things like “Step!” or “Branch!” as he moved ahead of me I could no longer even muster a “thanks, mate” but just a “yep”.

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I can’t tell you what this photo did for my spirits at halfway. Monty and Luena with my Mum.

At night, runners often bunch together as well. Probably mainly for security of navigation but also maybe some inner sense that being alone in the woods in a howling gale isn’t a good thing. Having become increasingly grumpy, I really struggled with other runners joining us and getting inbetween me and Chris. With hindsight this was pathetic, but at the time he was literally what felt like my lifeline and I had to see him to know I was OK. I think he understood this and whilst we didn’t try and shake off other runners, he did push them to the front or the rear so I could follow him. It was just a very raw experience, I don’t know how else to express it.

We came down off a very steep hill eventually to be greeted by a headtorch who’s owner told us we had 1.5 miles to Detling aid station. Chris was unbelievable with navigation and distance monitoring so this threw him and me as he had just told me it was less than a few hundred yards. Tiny in the real world, but this distance discrepancy was really messing with my head and I almost started crying. By this point I was like a toddler in the car, every mile asking “are we nearly there yet?”. How Chris kept his cool and didn’t deck me, I have no idea. Fortunately, Chris was right and the torch was wrong, we were at Detling. It was 3:30am and I knew I would now finish, with 8.5 hours to run just over 22 miles. Even in my state, I could do that.

This was the last indoor aid station and I was told in no uncertain terms to eat two bowls of pasta before we left. This I did, as another amazing volunteer removed my socks and tended to my feet with Vaseline. I threw the socks away at this point, got a fresh pair on but opted for the same shoes as before- my North Face Ultra Guides. I was going to change to the Hoka’s that Pat had kindly dropped off, but I knew they were crap in the mud and rain, so kept with the Guides, as they are just an excellent shoe.

From here we entered hell. This section I had a read about and thought I trained on a few weeks ago. However, it turns out I had trained on the section before this in the other direction which we had just ran (which was bad enough), so I was completely unprepared. James Elson, the RD, was at the Detling aid station and he told us just to hike this and not panic, after these five miles it was relatively easy terrain so to save my legs for the end. We budgeted two hours for these five miles and only just did it in that time. I am not going to talk about this section because if you have run it you will know and if you haven’t, you will never enter the NDW100. It was sickening.

But as the torture ended and the rain wiped away my tears, the sun started to rise at 5:30am. I had 17 ish miles to run and had six and a half hours. Here we go, this is going to happen. But I was really cold now and soaked through. My waterproof is a good one, but no waterproof can hold of the storm we had that night. I was also wet inside from sweating which was fine when jogging but when we walked I was shivering. Chris got me his waterproof trousers (I will never do a 100 miler again and not carry some of these) and gloves and I felt like a new man. He kept up the pace, we removed our torches and I trudged behind. Sometimes we would run up to a mile before I needed to stop for a walk break, but other times it must have been 200 yards. It must have been so hard for Chris, but like me running with Sam at the end of the GUCR, I knew it was indirectly rewarding at the end.

Around this time, Chris told me one of the female leaders had dropped at the 98 mile aid station. This really got to me and I became very worried about being pulled from the race myself as I was so confused by now. But he said that wouldn’t happen and just to keep moving and warm- the sunshine would do the rest.

Eventually we got to Lenham and I sat down to be greeted by the lovely Jacqui Byrne who got me tea and food and gave me some much needed words of encouragement. Never once did dropping enter my mind, but I was honest and said I felt like shit but was going to finish. As we got up to leave, my blister became agony again and so I quickly hopped in the first aiders ambulance to get my feet looked at. I wanted to finish strong and I could do it with the pain I had but much quicker if dealt with. The ambulance was so warm and cozy…I could so easily have dropped, but Chris kept looking at me and was ready to punch me in the face (as requested) if needs be. The first aider was amazing. He got both my shoes and socks off and bandaged my feet fully so I couldn’t feel a thing through my shoes. It was like running on fresh feet and so as I hobbled back into the cold, Chris and I made good time on to the final check point at mile 98.

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The aftermath. ‘More Parmesan, Sir?”

I was telling Chris I felt drunk and he said that was probably normal. I sent him ahead as we got close to the final aid station at mile 98 as I said I didn’t want to go into it. I wanted him to bring me a tea with six sugars and several cookies. This I remember clearly. As I arrived, he gave me these and we were off with a quick thanks to the volunteers.

Just four and a half miles to go and plenty of time. I got my phone out and switched it on to call Solange and let her know I would be in within an hour and a half or so. As she answered I just lost it and couldn’t stop crying, we both knew what this finish meant to me and I was about to do it. I turned the phone off and Chris asked if the wind just affected my voice. Agh, his eyes looked a little red too. He knew what we had achieved that night.

Trudge, trudge, slip, slip, “can I sit down for a minute?”, “no you fucking cant”, trudge, trudge, slip, slip and we were in Wye. As we made our way the final few hundred yards to the finish, of all the things to happen but the railway barriers came down! I had the choice of a steep looking footbridge or wait for the barriers. My look told Chris I was waiting for the barriers but I think he took the stairs and headed off to let me finish alone. Here I met Jonathan Ho and he was as broken as me. We hugged and supported each other as made our way to finish and then out ran Simon Edwards, who is just one of the nicest blokes in the world. He told me what I had done and what it meant to other people as well as me and just set me off into tears. The three of us walked up and there was the finish and there was Solange. I lost it and just bawled. I hugged everyone there, especially Chris and Sol and got my photo and the buckle.

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There she is.

Chris was the most selfless pacer and gave up 15 hours of sleep to run with me through awful weather and my mood swings, ailments and conditions. Sol and I planned before the race to give him one of my NDW50 medals as a small gesture as he ran an ultra for nothing, for me. It was so good to give this to him at the end and thank you, mate. You made my finish happen and I am forever grateful.

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100 mile buckle. 50 mile medal. We both earned them.

As for my buckle, I don’t want to let it out of my sight, it means so much to me, but it will soon be winging its way to Louisiana for a much better purpose than me keeping it. This race wasn’t for me alone, it was everything that has happened in this last year and all the people that made it possible.

I cannot thank all of the volunteers enough, the first aiders, the supporters, the other crews. These aren’t races, they aren’t even runs. Aside from the leaders, I would call these missions. And everyone helps everyone else achieve their mission, for whatever reason carried them there in the first place.

I am really quite proud to now truly call myself a centurion and an ultrarunner. If I can do this, anyone can.

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About 38 seconds after I finished.

Written by Davide Grazielli - http://returningthescrew.blogspot.it/

This time few words in English are due, I apologise in advance to the poor souls who will have to go through my itanglish pidgin.
 
I'll start from the end: yes, I finished it, and in a quite remarkable way, placing fourth in 23:38. But it was a long day out in the Lakes.
 
I expected the race to be hard, I had quite an idea of what Lakes trails had in, but no, I didn't imagine the course and terrain could serve me such a beating. But 100 miles (plus) is a long way to go.
Relaxing pre start. Note the roomy tent AKA "the recess".

 

Ready to go
At the start line I was relaxed, ready and meeting Matt and having time for a quick chat even improved my already happy mood. Yeah, it was sunny and hot, but hey, I'm from Genoa goddam, I'm accustomed to it!
I'm in the background talking with Matt Wilson, Simon in the center 
Photo by sportsunday.co.uk  
Off we go, and a pack immediately takes off really fast. Phew. I'm not bolting out, but at the same time I try to find a decent pace in order to get things going.
With Marco Consani on left. Last time I've seen the lad. Well done Marco!


And I feel good, there's even Drew cheering me and my yellow Helios (it's the Italian flair mate :-)), Ian Corless is shooting (check out his wonderful photos here)  and since I'm following two guys, I don't have to navigate anything (which was my biggest fear pre race). On the downhill they charge, on the flats I comeback, but out of CP1, I'm on my own. Right, no panic,  roadbook out. It takes me few turn to get accustomed to it, but I get it done.

1 mile race: the next TK. Cool as fuck.
1 mile race. Younger competitor: Marc's daughter


Feels like I'm struggling a little bit too much for being that early, it's almost like I'm not 100% in the race, but I try to hang on to two guys on the boggy part. One of the two bolts ahead in the downhill, the other, Chris saves me from my first big mistake. We go further, and we form a group of three until the second CP when I let them go because on the runnable uphill I simply cannot keep their pace. Not good. Downhill, one guy, Simon, pass me and another one too close to the lake, but in the end we all come out of Wasdale together.

The sun is coming down and I finally start to feel better, there's some climb and I can regroup, but most of all I start chatting with Simon and I stop commiserating myself. The climb to Black Sail Pass is hard, but at this point it suits me fine: headlamps on and off we go towards the YHA and on the climb again. It's really hot and we have to stop at a beck to drink water and referesh, but Simon pace is perfect and he knows how to navigate. Most of all, his company is great and we get along.
Early on, beautiful shot. Photo by sportsunday.co.uk  
Along the lake I finally start to get my running back: quick stop at the CP and back on track. This section should be the worst to navigate, but Simon is on it and we get it right without much trouble. The climb is long in the hot night but at Sail Pass I feel good and let myself loose on the descent trying to follow two lights ahead of me. Simon should be right behind me, but at a fork the two guys ahead veer towards right when I'm pretty sure we shall be going left. Mmmmh, what shall I do. I look behind and I don't see Simon. Not good. I finally catch a light at the bottom of the valley, climbing up... Shall be him, better wait. And there he comes, he also missed a previous fork, but in the end we both just lost 10 mins and are finally on our way to Braithwaite.
Photo by sportsunday.co.uk  
I feel good, at the CP there's loads of fruit (yummy, best ultrafood you can find in races, take note organizers) but most of all, when we come out I see my friend Massi who just arrived from Italy with Barbara and my girlfriend MC. I'm totally amped now, the duo with Simon is working, stomach is ok and we enter a part that I'm at least familiar with. We climb well and run even better to Blencathra, where we can see we have few followers, but it's still very early in the race to really start racing. Down to the Old Railway and then back up on BG terrain. Climbing towards Clough Head we see two headlamps on top: it has to be James Elson and crew going for the Round! Somehow I get a kick out of it and when we get to the track, it's 6k of pure running in the first lights to Dockray. Fatigue is setting in, but my running is still ok.
Right after Dockray Chris Perry, who had a detour earlier on catches up and I try to hang on a bit. I make a small mistake before Dacre but the long stretch of flat goes by. I can't wait for CP: I need to regroup, change socks, get some recovery drink and see my friends for some much needed support because I'm really tired and we're just halfway.
Dalemain

 

Dalemain
Maria Carla is there, she sense I'm in a low patch and tries to cheer me up. I take some time to organise the pack, take few gels, drink some water, and in the meantime Simon comes in and immediately after a young guy who looks good. I ask Simon if he's ready but he tells me to go and I slowly walk out of the CP before starting to shuffle on the good trail along the river. The climb after Pooley Bridge is runnable, but I need to walk a little bit and on the track right after the top the young guy pass me at a smoking pace. Shit, it's gonna be a long day.
 

Lacing up with Michael and Simon
But somehow I start running better, and I increase the pace. At the CP in Howtown I arrive while Chris and the young guy are still there. Coming out of the CP (and reading all the quotes) I start to think that I need to reach Mardale in a decent state, after that it's just coming back home (oh, how wrong). I team with Chris on the climb, but he's sleepy and needs a break. Ian Corless is shooting and I hike to the top trying to not slow too much. The scene is beautiful and I can see the long track going down with someone walking half a mile ahead. I slowly get some rythm and right before the Lake I pass a guy who is walking. Good for morale, but the incredibly long, rocky, hot trail to Mardale is getting the best of me. Once I finally reach the CP with the super cool Spartans, I sit down, drink, regroup and head out for the hard climb to Gatesgarth.
Leaving Dalemain, quads gone
Pooley Bridge, trying to loosen the legs
 
I see someone ahead, but the long descent it's heavy to my quads and the loose rocky bottom is killing my feet. I reach the bottom and start the footpath to Kentmere. Now I'm really tired, and it's hot: I try to stay wet at every beck or mudpool, but it's hard. I finally reach Kentmere where, to my surprise, I see the young guy still in eating some pasta. He looks very hot and I reach him in the following climb, gaining some ground on the descent where it seems he has some quad problems. Mmmh I should be in 4th place, not bad at all, but I'm so tired I'm not really dwelling on it. I start thinking that when I will get to Ambleside MC and the other friends will be there, that the following part I know quite well, that I will get a boost from getting close to the finish... But the sun is scorching and right behind me I still have Michael, the young guy, catching up. On the tarmac descent I pound as much as I can before finally seeing MC.
Leaving Amblside, with MC
Water, loads of water and off again. I feel like shit, but press on to Skelwith Bridge and in the long stretch to Chapel Stile I run as fast as I can without pausing for a second. MC at Elterwater tells me to run harder because Michael is also running but I'm spent. Nonetheless I keep going.
 
CP at Chapelstile, the coke is hot, the water too, but I need to sit for 10 secs and here comes Michael who has been running hard too. Oh no, I don't want to race that late in a hundo with dead legs and fried brain. The patch from Chapelstile to Side Pike Pass is the worst: I'm done and the trail is terrible, I can't find a rythm and a certain point I just think “Fuck off, if he's catching me up I don't have anything left anymore and that's it, let's just finish this beast”. But once I get to the check before Fell Foot Farm, and I see him right behind, something comes up and I try to run hard the descent and the following climb. I'm finally approaching Tilberthwaite, last CP, it's almost done, but I cannot enjoy the fruits from the table because Michael is coming. Ok, let's get it done. Hard climb and then the trail opens up: I run my best and I see ahead third place runner ready to start the final descent. I'd love to realx and get to the finish slowly, but the guy appears again behind me, and he's still running. Fast.
Nice photo by Thomas Loehndorf
It's time to gather the last drop of energy available: I start the final descent with reckless abandon, forgetting about screaming quads, and once I get to tarmac I'm so amped that I don't stop running hard. The pub, the bridge, BP gas station and finally I'm back, John Ruskin School is now in sight! Maria Carla joins me and finally the finish line: 23:38:00 one hundred miles in one day.
One of my favourite photo ever: exhaustion and happiness at the end of a hundo. By MC
I'm done. Really done, like I've never been before. But this is a finish I'm really proud of, I've been running on the edge for almost 20 hours and this time I was really aware that DNF could have been right behind the corner. I sit down and then finally lay on the grass: I cannot stop smiling and laughing. It's the best feeling in the world and I'm savouring each second. Michael arrives (the guy's 25 and it was his first 100... look for him in the next few years). Then comes Chris, who came back from the low patch. I shower, eat and wait for Simon to finish, then straight to bed because I need some sleep.
Yeah, sleepy.
Sunday morning I crawl out of the tent and finally my stomach opens up: it's time for a breakfast butty, some tea and a lot of cheering for the finishers coming in. I'm really happy to see my tent neighbour (Andrew?) cross the line with ten minutes to spare and the worst blisters I've ever seen, and off to the presentation with Drew, Claire and the Centurion crew. Great stuff and several funny stories... And yes, I'm pissed off I came one position short of getting a brand new Petzl Nao, but such is life and congrats to Marco, Charlie and Lee, they were in a different class.
 
It's time to leave, but not before savouring the first legit pint of real ale at the Ship Inn, not far from the school (actually really far in the wobbling state I was). Was it Coniston Bluebird Bitter? Or a Jennings? Anyhow, great stuff: out in the sun, with my crew/training partner/nurse/lover Maria Carla, a new 100 mile finish under the belt, and plenty of memories to carry over. Summer is magic and next pint is behind the corner...
Recovering in the Highlands
I've met so many nice guys/gals in the four days spent in Coniston that I feel sorry for all the people I will forget to put here, but nonetheless: first of all, the biggest thank you goes out to all the marshalls and volunteers. They have been terrific, in making this possible and in supporting us poor souls. You make this event special. To Riccardo, and Montane, for the support. To my sponsors: Ale e Luca from La Sportiva, Andrea from Powerbar and most of all to Luigi and Zero Running Company! To Ian Corless (and Niandi) for the chat and photos (yes, there are Italian listeners to Talkultra). To the Centurion guys (James, Paul, Drew and Claire), it was great to catch up with you, and for James: the third is a charm. To all the neighbours in the campsite for chat and laughs. The turkish guys from Iznik: well done friends! To Michael Jones and Chris Perry: young lads with a bright future ahead. Most of all to Simon Bourne, it was an absolute pleasure to share many miles and few stories: one of the most humble lads I've had the pleasure to run with, but what a runner... I'll be back for BG one day!
To Massi and Barbara, you can't imagine what does it means to see friendly faces accross the course: I'm happy you fell in love with Lake District too.
Last, but not least the girl who not only puts up with me and my running addiction, but encourages me to run harder and makes me give 110% each time. You rock, and that's it.
With my crew at the finish line. Photo by Thomas Loehndorf
Material:
 
After many doubts I decided to go for my La Sportiva Helios, and they were great. There's been few times in the second part when I would have loved some more protection under the sole, maybe a rockplate, but the comfort of the top is just perfect. And in a long race, it means a lot. The Bushido would have been perfect for the sole, but probably a little bit tight in the heel.
 
I had my Zero Running short sleeves top 'til Dalemain, where I changed it for the vest: they were both great in the hot and humid weather, definitely a great test for the new collection that will come out next spring. No chafing, quick drying and stylish: need more?
My battered La Sportiva, thanks for keeping my feet (almost) healthy
I used Injinji socks in the first half, and they were good, but when I slipped the Drymax on, jeez they were the dope and saved my battered feet until the finish line. I still think a healthy dose of Mustela paste it helps, specially when you expect to have wet feet for hours.
 
I used a The North Face vest I was given to test which I've only worn once in a 20 miles run (yes, really clever): it ended up being almost perfect, right size and comfortable enough. I used the soft flask for carrying a liter of water with me that wasn't enough in itself, but thanks to many becks I never really struggled with hydration.
 
I had the incredible Montane Minimus Smock and Trousers as waterproof: both outstanding items. I had time to appreciate them in Scotland the week after the race, good good stuff.
 
Food: usual diet of Powerbar gels, apart from two hours before Daleman when I switched to Powerblast shots. I had a Powerbar Recovery drink at Dalemain which helped to give some peep back to my legs. From CP I drank few gallons of water, some Coke (but deflated... no way, I like my coke with plenty of gas!) and fruit whenever was available: strawberries, apricots, mandarines, watermelon. It's the good stuff for me.
After the race I should have been drinking my recovery... but the canteen at the John Ruskin School was too good and I stuffed myself of jacket potatoes and sheperd pie. You are the best guys, power to the Fairy Lillies.
The pinnacle of my recovery strategy was sunday dinner with MC, Massi and Barbara at the Britannia Pub in Elterwater, steak and ale with several pints of bitter: we even scored well in the quiz night, if it wasn't for all the TV starlettes we Italians never heard of we might have ended on podium.
It's one of the best pubs in the Lake District, don't miss it if you're in the area.
 

 

What? You've never been to the Lakes? You're probably living in the other hemisphere or in a different continent then: if you're into mountains, running and the culture related to both, it's a no brainer, you have to experience the place. See you soon...

Written by Chris Mills - http://www.24fifty.com/

 

Getting ready for the off
I set myself a goal of finishing a 50 mile ultra marathon in the middle of 2012......last weekend I'm pleased to report that I've managed to tick this one off my list.  
 
My race of choice was the North Downs Way 50 by Centurion Running.  I can't really remember why I picked it, other than it was on the doorstep of where we used to live but my entry was confirmed in September last year and the training started in earnest at the start of Winter.
 
The race begins in Farnham at the western end of the North Downs, traveling past Puttenham and Guildford following the North Downs Way National Trail. The course then continues on to Ranmore Common before the steepest climb of the race up to the top of Box Hill. The trail then drops down the other side and back up to Reigate Hill, on through Merstham to Oxted and a further 8 miles to Knockholt Pound and the finish line.

Arriving at a nearby hotel, the night before, on Friday 17th May, I had a wonderful surprise in the form of Mr Ian Austin.  A very good friend of mine, whom I've not seen very much lately and I was blown away that he'd come down to see me set off across the North Downs Way.  My plan for the Friday evening changed somewhat and we ended up sitting in the local boozer (sparkling water only) and catching up on life.  

After a restless nights sleep, we left the hotel for the start line around 7am.  The registration process was simple enough and after a mandatory kit check and a short briefing from James (the RD), we soon headed down to the start line. 

Leading up to this point my head had been filled with negative thoughts questioning my capabilities; can I really make it 50 miles? what happens if I fail? what if I get injured? what will people think of me if I fail? etc.  I knew that my head was going to be constantly telling me this during the race, I hadn't quite expected it beforehand.

With a short sharp toot of the hooter the race was off to a start. I soon found myself running too quickly, caught up in the moment and running with people who were far fitter than I was.  I kept telling myself to slow down and I walked the uphill sections from the start, as did almost everybody around me.  The social aspect of running took over and I began chatting to those people around me.  I can't tell you who or what we discussed really but the time flew by and we were soon though the first aid station at mile 6.  

 

Leaving St Marthas @ mile 12.5

The next aid station was 6 miles further along the trail and that was soon upon me. I was feeling good, the weather was holding out and there was no sign of the hills that I'd heard about before the race.  Awaiting for me at the top of the hill by the aid station was Mr Austin, we exchanged pleasantries but I didn't really stop to chat (sorry).  He did take a quite a nice photo of me running off down the hill, although I didn't discover this until much later of course.

Things were about to change as my next stint would take me to mile 24 and the base of Box Hill.  Ian had told me Nikki would be at this aid station, although I didn't think this could be the case and I was convinced Ian had confused Box Hill and Botley Hill (the aid station Nikki was working at).  Anyway, this stint was more of a mental challenge; my head kept telling me I should quit and looking back now mile 15 to mile 20 were the hardest part of the entire 50 miles!

Approaching the Box Hill aid station I was pleasantly surprised to bump in to a lad (Ed Trump - nice to see ya fella) I went to school with.  It always amazes me how small this world is, although when you've been to as many schools as I have, I really shouldn't be.  We had a very brief chat before I continued under the dual carriage way and in to the aid station where Nikki was after all waiting for me.  I had just made it in time to see her before she had to leave for Botley Hill.  I filled my water bladder and grabbed a couple peanut butter sandwiches (which I later regretted) and set off over the stepping stones and up the hill.

 

Arriving @ Reigate Hill (Mile 31)

I had no idea how difficult the next 6 miles were going to be. If I had, I probably would have reconsidered quitting.  The steps up Box Hill were tough but nothing in comparison to Reigate Hill, a relentless climb at the end of this stretch.  Ian will tell you I looked pretty awful arriving at mile 31, the Reigate Hill aid station, to the extent he didn't know what to say or do.  He must have been telling the truth (which is unusual for him) as he told me he put away his camera after snapping just one picture of me arriving, I looked that bad!

I spent no more than 4 or 5 minutes with Ian, catching my breath, filling up my bladder and stretching out my legs.  My hamstrings were paying the price of pushing my fat ass up those hills.  This was to continue for the rest of the day and I had to keep stopping and stretching to stop them from tightening up.

Somebody mentioned to me during the first few miles that if you made it to Reigate Hill, you had the worst of it behind you.  Along with this information and the knowledge that there was only one more aid station before I would see Nikki @ Botley Hill, I had my motivation sorted in my head.  I jogged out of Reigate Hill determined more than ever that I would make it to the finish.

I defy anybody to run 31 miles and then try to answer a simple maths question, such as what pace do I need to maintain to run the final 19 miles within the cut off time (13.5 hours).   For the life of me I couldn't work this out and I came up with all sorts of answers.  This was frustrating me a little but it also helped pass some of the time as I worked out if I would or wouldn't make it in time.  In the end I decided to ask at the next aid station about the cut offs where I discovered 12*9 isn't 4789 and I had plenty of time in hand.  I pushed the cut offs out of my head for the rest of the day.

 

Yes, I'm walking dammit!

The aid station @ mile 38 was reportedly a water only station but it turns out it had the best food a runner could want at this stage of the day, ice cream!  A big thanks to the crew here, especially for this magnificent surprise. The sun was shining and I was enjoying an ice cream with a fantastic view of southern England, for a moment I forgot all about my tight hamstrings and the next 12 miles, I was in sugar heaven.   But all good things must come to an end and I left Caterham and set my sights on seeing Nikki.  

This next section was a shorter 5 mile section and I ran as much of it as I could, in the knowledge that the last mile or so included a few ups and downs, concluding in the final big hill of the day (Botley).  At the back of my mind I also knew that some other great friends of ours (Andy & Sarah) would be somewhere on the course between here and the finish line, so I was on the lookout for them as I weaved my weary body through the woodlands just on the inside of the M25, north of Oxted.

I pushed my walking pace up Botley Hill, forgetting for a few minutes that my legs were on fire.  As I rounded the final corner I could make out Andy at the top of the hill, shouting "come on The Mills".  Then Sarah, George, Nikki and Ian, all shouting and clapping.  You have no idea how great this made me feel, it's the greatest feeling in the world having a support crew cheering you on like this.  I was surprised to see George (who came up from Brighton) as well as Ian, who had told me earlier that he would be heading home mid-afternoon but it turns out he lied and had always planned on seeing this through to the end with me.

For the last 12-15 miles all I could think about was having a pint of lemonade and a pint of lager top.  I told the guys about this thought and we all agreed to head to the pub near the finish, it was motivational knowing that I could have something as simple as lemonade in 7 miles.  I refilled my bladder and took on some more electrolytes and prepared myself for the final section.

This was it, the final 7 miles, something which would easily be achievable inside an hour any other day of the week.  But as the final stretch of this race it took me almost 2 hours to cover this ground, my hamstrings were really sore/tight now and all I could think about was that I should have included more strength work in my training.  Nothing was going to stop me getting to the finish line now and I told myself I'd run the final mile.  As I cut around the final few fields I glanced at my watch which told me I had 0.3 of a mile to go.  My motivation was then dashed as I rounded a bend to see a Centurion sign informing me I had 2 km to go...aghhhh!

NDW50 Finishers medal


I walked for a bit at this point, annoyed with myself for trusting my watch would be completely accurate.  As it turns out, this sign wasn't accurate either and was not put up by Centurion, it was somebody having a bit of a joke with us, although I didn't see the funny side of it at the time.

The final 1/2 a mile took us off the North Downs Way and down the road in to Knockholt Pound village, past the pub and then up a slight incline behind the village hall to the finish line.  My support crew were there (bar Nikki who was busy working at Botley Hill) cheering me over the line with three additions (Chris, Lisa and Sophia).  

50 miles......DONE!

I can't thank all my friends enough, especially Ian, Andy, Sarah, George, Chris, Lisa & Sophia who came along to see me complete this challenge.  It was so great to have you pop up around the course and it spurred me on more than you'll ever know.  Perhaps next time one of you will join me?

The support Nikki has provided has been more than a husband deserves. Helping motivate me during 6 long months of winter training as well as wait on me hand and foot after some of those long runs when I've been sofa bound (ish).  As well as popping up on the course and looking after me during and after the NDW50, thank you so much, I love you and don't deserve you!

NDW50 Finish 11 hours 27 minutes 27 seconds
 

Written by Chris Mills - http://www.24fifty.com/

 

At the race briefing
2am Saturday 7th September and my alarm is beeping, time to get up and complete my routine in preparation for what I'm expecting to be to my biggest challenge yet.  This race is billed as "one very tough day in the mountains" and having recce'd the route a number of times I wasn't going to underestimate it.
 
Living at the foot of the mountains, this race was in my back yard so to speak and I was confident I could get around without having to navigate.  This bonus meant that I could concentrate on transporting myself over the 55 mile course and up & down 10 or so peaks.
 
The course takes in 12 mandatory peaks, with 5 check points on route, each of which must be completed in order.  Electronic tags were used to record times and locations of each competitor, as well as manual records at each checkpoint/feed station.  The event is effectively a self sufficient individual race with food and drink top ups available should you need it. 
 
The race kicked off at 4am from the YHA at Talybont Reservoir, with about 120 starters on the long course.  This was my first foray into night running, although I've been out with my head torch at night, I'd never started a race in the dark before.  As we headed off on a 2km single track route, I found myself crossing the start line at the front of the pack.  I really had to fight to stop myself from tearing off too quickly and not even making peak #1. 
 
Carn Pica
Running at night has its advantages, you can't see how much further you've got to go to the top of the hill.  I was soon at Carn Pica to my surprise and dabbing into the first mandatory checkpoint, 57 mins after setting off.  I was on schedule, having previously decided this section I should allow an hour for.
 
It was around this point when the heavens opened and the wind picked up and I was soon experiencing the weather that you come to expect on the Beacons.  Not long after this I found myself descending and had to stop and double check my location.  I was a little concerned as I didn't think I should be heading downhill yet.  Turns out I was a mile further ahead of where I expected to be, which in hindsight is slightly concerning.  It makes you understand how easily people can get lost/disorientated when navigating at night.
 
The suggested route drops down to the Lower Neuadd Reservoir and then heads directly up the other side of the valley to Trig Point 642m.  The second climb of the morning and I was pleased to not be able to see the top as I slogged up the steep path.  Some of the other competitors cut out right on a path that cut diagonally across the hillside.  This route wasn't any faster as I bumped into the guy who was right in front of me as we dabbed into the second mandatory peak (1hr 55min).

Dawn was just breaking as I ran along the ridge line towards Corn Du.  It was at this point I decided to trip myself up and practice my commando roll across the floor.  Luckily I didn't cut my hands although my hip did take a bashing and caused me a little bit of pain later in the day.  3 days later it's a wonderful dark purple and black bruise but thankfully it doesn't hurt any more.  When will I learn to watch where I step?
 
Checkpoint #1 was at the car park south of Storey Arms on the A470.  I arrived here after a fairly quick descent of the mountain, with just enough time to briefly say hi to Nikki and Mum, switch out my water bottle, take on some food and get going again. CP1 was about 10-11miles into the course and I was on schedule (just) at 2 hours 39 mins since the start.  Next stop the first of the 10 peaks.....hard to believe I was a fifth of the way into the course and hadn't hit a single peak of the ten yet.
 
Although it was now light, Fan Fawr was covered in mist which nicely shrouded the peak as I climbed the hillside.  A few of the guys I'd run the ridge line from trig 642 with earlier caught me on this ascent, this is always a little annoying but I reminded myself it's me against the clock and not other people.
 
Ruins near Pant Mawr
Reaching the summit of Fan Fawr in an elapsed time of 3 hours 10 minutes, I'd made it to the first of ten peaks!  The next peak was on the other side of the valley and the most direct route would be a straight line, down one side and up the other. Having recce'd this route before I knew it was quicker to follow the recommend route around the valley, staying higher but travelling slightly further.  Given the mist and to ensure I took the right line, I took a bearing from here and jogged on down the hillside.

 
A short time later I was bagging peak number two in an elapsed time of 3 hours 48 mins.  Next stop the second checkpoint (4hr 6min) which was on the edge of the Sarn Helen road and a short jog down the hillside.  I refilled my water bottle, a few quick hellos and then continued on the rocky Roman Road. 
 
This section of the course is undulating but doesn't offer any major climbs which makes it quite runnable although I was feeling a little fatigued and the lady that arrived at CP2 behind me, soon overtook me and disappeared into the distance.  This would be my first "chicking" of the day with another to come later.  I should point out this is a term taken from other Ultra runners and is not in any way supposed to be a derogatory term.
 
Reaching checkpoint 3 (5hr 18min) I was now ahead of my schedule and I had been feeling good, knowing that I was entering into the section which contained the turn around point, marking half the journey completed!  CP3 was also the point where dropbags were collected, although I'd not bothered with one as Nikki was meeting me at most of the CPs.
 
I refilled my bladder and my water bottle, grabbed a few shot blocks energy gels and took my leave.  My not stopping for a dropbag or hot food I had also caught up with a number of people who were now just ahead of me as we headed down towards the A4067, which we would cross before heading up towards Fan Brycheiniog and peak number 3.
 
Just before I got to the road, my bladder burst and the 1.5litres of water gushed down the back of my legs.  I was now soaking wet, although that was less of a worry, more concerning was the lack of water to get me round the next section of the course.  I had one 750ml bottle which was two thirds full and not much chance of getting any water before I got off the next hillside.  I continued jogging along, telling myself it would be fine but the more I thought about it, the more thirsty I got.  By the time I was halfway up Fan Brycheiniog I had to set myself goals to ration out the water I had remaining.  I was in no danger and this lack of water concern was purely in my head....it was a real low point and I think if there had been a proper Checkpoint at this peak, I'd have possibly jacked it all in.
 
I reached peak 3 in 6 hours 56 mins, continuing past it, knowing that I had to back track along this section of the route after bagging peak 4.  This wouldn't be too bad except to get to peak 4 you have to go down and up again, before turning around and retracing your steps back to peak 3.  Another low point in the day for me but at least knew that heading down from here I passed some fast flowing streams and I'd be able to get some fresh drinking water. 
 
The ridge line @ Fan Brycheiniog
Peak 4 was bagged in 7 hours 12 minutes, I was on my return journey, which was slightly shorter distance wise but with 6 peaks left there was plenty of climbing to be had.

 
As I made my way passed Lyn y Fan Fawr, I decided against filling my water bottle as the water didn't look as clear as I'd have liked.  I ran down the hillside and found some fast flowing water, topped up my bottle and threw in a chlorine tablet just to ensure it was clean.  The water tasted nasty but it was the best tasting nasty water I've ever experienced.
 
Reaching CP4 (8 hours 37 mins) I took a few minutes to dump my old bladder and luckily grabbed a spare water bottle from my bag, which I replaced with nice tasting water.  This CP was at the base of the steepest climb on the whole route, roughly 37 miles in, just what the doctor ordered, right?
 
Heading up the hill was both physically and mentally challenging but I had in my hand an apple, which was my reward for getting to the summit.  It's strange how little things like that can make all the difference to getting you from A to B, yet it's only an apple.
 
Munching on the apple, I checked into the top of Fan Gyhirych at 9 hours 25 minutes since the start and an amazing 48 minutes since leaving the checkpoint at the bottom.  This was significantly slower than I'd anticipated or experienced in any of the recces, although I'd never run so far or climbed so much any of those times.  
 
Heading off Fan Gyhirych the next stop was Fan Nedd but I almost had a spring in my step knowing that this was basically the home straight now with 16-17 miles left.  When I ran the North Downs Way earlier this year I had a similar feeling at around mile 31 knowing that I was counting down the miles and that the worst was behind me.  It's funny how the mind works; how little thoughts like this can swing you from such a dark place to almost breaking into a rendition of the 'The Hills are Alive'.  Lucky for my fellow competitors and for all the glazing in a 20 miles radius, I didn't follow through with my Julie Andrews impression.
 
I notched up Fan Nedd in 10 hours 8 mins before crossing back over the road (with a quick hello to my support crew) before re-joining the other end of Sarn Helen.  This put me back on the same route as the short course participants and those who'd decided to switch from long to short at CP2 earlier in the day.
 
The bruise on my leg from my fall
The Roman Road (Sarn Helen) is a rocky beast and not that great to run down but I did my best and continued the jog/walk routine as best I could, carefully weighing up speed against a twisted ankle.  I was neck and neck with a couple of other competitors around here who showed me (thankfully) a path which cut a corner off the suggested route and saved me plodding along the road much further.  We cut up the hill, before their legs out powered mine and they accelerated away. I reached the summit of peak 7 (Fan Frynych) in 11 hours 36 minutes, with the next stop being the final checkpoint at Storey Arms.
 
The route back to Storey Arms hugs the contours whilst bringing you back down the hillside, cutting in and out on the sheep tracks, you never appear to be getting closer and then all of a sudden you are at the stile.  Checkpoint 5 was the last point I'd see a friendly face or get any further official support in terms of food/water.  I arrived at 16:20 (12 hours 20 minutes elapsed) and a new race had started, this time could I make it the final 10-11 miles back to the finish before sunset (19:50).
 
There are two options to head up Corn Du & Pen y Fan from CP5, you can take the shorter but steeper route up past the famous red phone box or you can walk down the road and head up the longer but more gradual climb.  I took the first option, God only knows why, it just seemed like the right thing to do.  The next decision is do you cut across the front of Corn Du and then round the back of the summit and head directly to Pen y Fan, or do you head up to the summit and then down and up to the summit of Pen y Fan.  At this stage I was in a particularly stubborn mindset and I was thinking if I've come this far, I may as well tag another summit (even though Corn Du wasn't a mandatory peak for me).  
 
I clocked in at Corn Du 13 hours 21 minutes and then Pen y Fan at 13 hours 30 minutes.  After this fairly hard climb I started to feel a lot better than I had for a few hours, knowing that I was close to the finish and I set myself lots of little goals.  Can I get to the summit of Cribyn (Peak 9) before 18:30?  Can I get back to the finish before 20:30?  
 
The long and short course map
 
These helped me a lot, even if they were slightly easy goals to achieve, it brought about a win which mentally was what I needed at this stage of the day.  I reached Cribyn at 14 hours and then Fan y Big 36 minutes later, where I met some guys taking photos for Mid-Wales tourism.  They took a load of pictures of me standing on the overhanging ledge at the summit, which was quite weird and disconcerting, considering I was a little unsteady on my feet.  The guys promised to email me a copy of the photos, which haven't arrived yet, so I'm only 90% certain that this actually happened but I'll let you know if the photos do eventually turn up.
 
The run back across to Talybont is another one of those routes that gets me every time, it's much further than I remember.  Reaching Carn Pica at 1930, I had it in my head that it's just a straight downhill run to the finish line.  Unfortunately it's over two miles and it is mainly downhill but also involves some traversing which is a little undulating.  These last couple of miles were hard but I got off the hill and on to the road across the Talybont Reservoir dam before I lost all the light.  I even managed to put in a 9 minute mile to get me to the finish line in 16 hours 20 minutes 45 seconds for 19th place.
 
Exhaustion.  Happiness.  Hunger.  Thirst.  Sleepiness.  Pain. Achievement. 
 
All of these feelings and more come across when you get across the line.  It's so nice to be able to just stop!  So much time had gone into getting prepared for this event, with hours of running out on the hills, looking at maps, working out the best routes etc.  All of this paid off and I'd completed my second Ultra Marathon, this time with a few extra hills thrown into make it more difficult.  
 
The bling!
It was great to have a welcoming committee at the finish line, including my parents who'd been tracking me around the check points all day.  Josh also came down to see me get across the line, which I wouldn't have been able to do without his help in the gym getting my quads, hamstrings, and glutes ready.  
 
Finally a big thanks to my wonderful wife, who not only worked two of the aid stations she also went to the other aid stations to support me, as well as giving up a nights sleep.  I couldn't have prepared myself without her support and I certainly wouldn't have made it around the course without your encouragement, thank you!
 
Full race results are available here.

Written by Chris Mills - http://www.24fifty.com/

 

Running in an almost completely new location and a different distance to my other races in 2013, made the Frostbite 30 sound like fun.  Besides the fact Nikki and I got to return to Jelley Legs again, where we are welcomed like old friends and enjoy David and Damaris' home cooked meals and wonderful company.  That was why I entered the race and also because December looked particularly empty with my last event being back in September, I had to find a filler.
 
Heading up to Ripon on Friday, I was less concerned about the race itself and more concerned with the sore throat I'd had for a few days, since running a few night time miles during the Winter 100 the week before. I was also carrying some fatigue going into the race and I'd pretty much decided to take it easy and enjoy the jaunt around the Yorkshire Dales.
 
Upon our arrival, I headed out for a short run around the park to shake out the long journey and then I set about preparing my kit for the next morning. The weather had been up and down and it had threatened snow at one point and so I'd packed every piece of kit imaginable.  In fact my bag for the weekend was bigger than my bag for the two week business trip I was heading out for the following Monday.  Anyway, I sorted out what kit I wanted to wear, what I was going to carry and what I'd leave behind, which was most of it luckily.
 
Friday night was one of those nights when you wake up every 15 minutes thinking you have overslept and you grab your watch and almost jump out of bed, only to find you have hours until your alarm.  This was only made worse by having the two dogs in the room with us. They normally sleep downstairs so spent the entire night nudging my arm or sniffing at my face, like I needed waking up even more!
 
0630 came around eventually, my throat was sore and I was tired.  Coffee was to be my saviour and after a couple of cups of strong coffee I was feeling more human as we all piled in the car and headed for the Scout hut in Pateley Bridge, where race HQ was.  
 
Registration was painless, with the very reasonable £15 entry fee exchanged for a Berghaus technical t-shirt, 9 bar, my number (40) and a map of the route, I made my final kit preparations.  With another cup of coffee inside me and the water bottles topped up, we were soon counting down to the start, with the hooter sounding at 0900 exactly.
 
Knowing I always start too fast I tried hard to force a slower pace from the off, aiming for 10 minute miles but actually ending up slower than that due to the gates and styles we had to open/cross in the first 2 miles.  The route follows the Nidderdale Way mostly with a quick detour off to the East to tack on a few miles and a bit of additional climbing.  With 5 aid stations dotted around the course, we were never alone for very long and by the time the first aid station came about everybody had found their race pace.
 
It was around this first aid station where I met two gents who I ran most of the race with. It always amazes me how everybody chats and makes friends in these types of races, it certainly isn't something I've experienced in shorter distances very much, if at all.  As we chatted away we enjoyed the beautiful countryside that surrounded us and we even saw the sun, albeit briefly and it certainly didn't offer us any warmth.  
 
Arriving at the next aid station, Nikki was there to cheer me on, along with Martin (a friend of David Jelley who we'd also met the year before) who had decided to call it a day.  He says his head wasn't in it but others tell me he had a new road bike and secretly wanted to go home for a ride!
 
The wind picked up and I soon had to put on a wind proof jacket to keep the chill off.  The irony here is that it was in almost the same location a year previously where Nikki had complained of the bitter cold and I'd told her to "run faster". It brought a smile to my face as I plodded along the ridge line heading for Scar House reservoir and the almost midway point.  We clocked in well ahead of the cut off and disappeared quickly on to what was the hardest part of the course.
 
Up until now the pathways had all been very runnable and whilst a bit rocky and water logged in places, it was easy underfoot.  This changed as we made our way around the waters edge, cutting in and out a few times and crossing the odd bridge, the pathways were marshy with tufts of grass surrounded by deep mud and water.  Luckily my shoes wick water quickly but that doesn't make it any less energy sapping on the legs or taxing on positive brain power.
 
After reaching the gravel and tarmac pathway, my spirit was lifted although I think the toll had been taken on my hamstrings and glutes.  Following the other side of the reservoir my stomach started playing silly beggars and I started to deviate from my food plan (250 cals per hour) in the hope of it settling.  This obviously then had an impact on my energy levels later in the race and ultimately slowed my pace further but I had no choice.
 
Turning upwards from the reservoir with one last long climb, we soon reached the downward pathway to the last two aid stations before crossing back over the valley and rejoining the first 4 miles of track we'd covered earlier that day.  The pathway down to Middlesmoor was quite enjoyable and easily runnable but due to fatigue I had to walk run this section more than I'd have liked.  After leaving Middlesmoor the route became somewhat boring with less views and what felt like endless fields with the odd animal in it.  This appeared to go on forever and I remember looking at my watch only to find it was only 0.1 of a mile since I'd last looked,
 
On the home straight the final 4 miles were quite enjoyable and we ran most of them, we even overtook a few people in this section, which is always a nice feeling.  Nearing the final few hundred metres I felt very tired and I was quite pleased it was the end of only a 30 mile race.  I'm not sure I would have finished it if there had been another 20-25 miles to go, it brought home to me how strong mentally the people are who race the Piece of String race.
 
For such a short race in comparison to the 50 mile distance, this blog post has gone on quite long enough already.  So I'll finish up with another big thank you to Nikki, who once again was at every aid station cheering me on and supporting me in my quest to stay [somewhat] healthy.
 

 

Oh and if you ever fancy a weekend away running, biking, walking or just relaxing in beautiful countryside, I highly recommend you checkout the Jelley Legs website.  You won't regret it, I promise!

Written by Chris Mills - http://www.24fifty.com/

 

The first major goal of my 2014 season, a fifty mile race through the wonderful southern counties of Wessex and Sussex along part of the South Downs national trail. In its second year, with the inaugural 2013 event suffering from seriously bad weather, this years forecast looked to be slightly more forgiving to the 320 odd starters (from 400 entrants).
After a short race briefing by James Elson (RD @ Centurion Running) and the mandatory kit checks (expertly overseen by Nici Griffin), we were released into the wilds of the downs at bang on 9am.
My "A" goal was to complete the race sub 9 hours with a "B" goal of sub 10 hours. Both of these times would see a large chunk of time knocked off my 50 PB of 11 hours 27 minutes set at the NDW50 in 2013. So with a race plan in my head and written out on paper in my pocket I set off to hit my goal. Having put in some hard training over the winter months, with the help of James Elson, I felt better prepared than I was for any of my events last year.
The first section of the course loops up and around on to the national trail and includes some single track that I wanted to avoid getting held up on, so I set off a little quicker than my pacing schedule to ensure I was up front for this part. With this section behind me, I settled in to an easy pace of around 9.30 min/miles and enjoyed the rolling trail whilst chatting to some of my fellow runners, including Tim Lambert who I knew from the Social Ultra scene.
The first aid station was around 11 miles in and quite busy when I arrived. I decided to continue on to the next stop at mile 16 before stopping for water and so I cracked on and left Tim to top up his bottle. With a larger field than other races I'd entered, it took longer than expected for the field to thin out and there were still quite a few people around at the second aid station.
I was bang on schedule for my "A" goal and the refuelling was going well. I'd settled on chocolate hobnob biscuits, shot bloks and cashew nuts with the odd s/cap to help with the electrolytes and of course good old water to keep me hydrated. After each aid station was a decent climb, so I took this opportunity to eat as I hiked up the climbs. There was about 10 more miles to the next stop and I knew from past experience these miles are often the darkest moments of the race. Not quite the wall but certainly my body goes through a change around mile 20 that I have to fight my way through.
It was around mile 22 where I got my fuelling wrong and took an extra s/cap which bit me fairly hard and was compounded with some stomach issues probably from too much sugar too early. This prevented me from taking on any more fuel and I started to slow a little, only just hitting the 26 mile aid station on schedule.
The impending second half was not the nicest of feelings and for the next few miles I thought of nothing other than quitting at Southease (33 mile aid station) where Nikki was volunteering. I kept telling myself a DNF was perfectly acceptable, with my excuse slip already filled out with stomach issues, hamstring pain and swollen hands (again). As I slowly approached the aid station, I heard a shout from behind and turned to see Tim approaching with a smile and something like: "I didn't think I'd see you again until the finish"....
That helped turn me around, just seeing somebody who (kind of) knows me, with a smile and some helpful encouragement, spurred me on and I decided there and then quitting wasn't an option. I would get in to Southease, fill up with water, kiss Nikki and get on my way again. And that was exactly what I did, heading up the hill and into the low cloud that was blowing in and threatening perhaps a little rain (which it didn't).
Tim and I climbed this next section together and I'm sure if we'd recorded the conversation we would have sounded like two old women complaining about their latest illness. Him moaning about his feet (he'd cleverly worn zero drop shoes) and me with my stomach/hamstring issues would have provided enough material for at least 2 if not 3 Womens Institute coffee mornings. We discussed the pros and cons of cows with horns, how cool it would be to see a bull with both horns and udders and generally shot the shit about both farmyard animals as well as what a Zebra would do on an ultra (thank you James Adams - apparently he has a book out, who knew!).
As we both had set off with similar goals, we both discussed how the sub 9 hours was slipping away from us and that moving to a sub 10 goal wasn't terrible and still a good finishing time for us given our previous finish times. Getting in to the 41 mile aid station we were both on our 4th or 5th wind (the 2nd wind was used up long ago) and realised we could probably still make the sub 9 hours with about 8 mile left to go and almost 2 hours to do it. I took on some coke and two pieces of mars bar and we set off, but eating was to be my downfall and my stomach issues returned swiftly.
Being the true gentleman that I am, I informed Tim that I didn't want to hold him back and I'd understand completely if he wanted to go on and get his sub 9 in but I didn't think I'd make it. He didn't break stride or say a word to me, he just took off like a Zebra being chased by a cow with horns (not a bull) and that was it, without a by your leave mate, he was gone! Being the bigger man (in all respects) I shed a few tears and then put my head down and powered up the hill and down to the final aid station.
Topping up with a little water and making the final ascent I bumped into a mountain biker coming the other way, swearing under his breath about some ginger runner pushing him off the trail. I paid him no attention and continued to the top where I saw the friendly face of Drew Sheffield who informed me to get my arse in gear and start running. He also informed me Paul had won in 6 hr 11 minutes and that I could make it to the finish in 21 minutes, if I ran as quick as Paul had.
I checked my watch and realised I could still make it, so with a good downhill in front of me, I pushed hard, overtaking a few people on the slippery rocks as I flew (relatively) down into Eastbourne. I saw some familiar faces along the roadside cheering us along as I made my way past the hospital, looping back around the other side and in to the running track. What felt like a 1600 metre track in front of me and with about 2 minutes to go by my watch to get around the final 400 metres, I pushed hard. This is where some of the speed sessions had helped, not so much for the speed but so I knew what the pain would feel like pushing hard over the line (oh and overtaking somebody in the final 100 metres too, sorry!).
It was done! Nothing more I could do about it, now I just needed the official time. Would you believe it?
My time was 09:00:00! Missed the sub 9 by a second but I'd still knocked 2 hours 27 minutes off my PR and I'd had what I'd call a bad day at the office.

What a race....really good fun, made even more special because of the people. The volunteers are amazing, they know how to look after people on and off the course and we couldn't do it without them. Then of course you have the Centurion crew themselves who are the epitome of race organisers, from Nici, Drew, Claire, Alex, Charlie and the rest of the team (apologies for not knowing everyones names) and especially to James Elson. Great job guys and see you at the next one!
If you want to read the other side to this race report, check out the Ginger man's blog over here....

Written by Chris Mills - http://www.24fifty.com/

 

I don't blog; this may be evident in the way my post jumps around quite a bit. However I still wanted to record my thoughts so they don't get muddled or dwindle with time, as I often find. That way Chris can't correct me and tell me that was a different race/year etc. So, this was to be my first ultra. Race to the Stones 100k over two days on 19th & 20th July from Chinnor to Avebury along the Ridgeway. The organisers provided a very handy training guide, by Rory Coleman, which I followed pretty much to the letter but not obstinately when I had a niggle here or a heavy work week there, I was happy enough to be flexible with my program and not get stressed. Rather than the full 20 weeks I used the last 12 weeks, which fitted in perfectly off the back of my marathon training program with a week off after Boston to rest.
 
Leading up to the race I can't say I was excited. I don't tend to do excited. Perhaps if I was a fast front pack runner I might. Some of that adrenaline would be handy. I get very excited for Chris and our friends who run but that's because they're all so capable and its shows in their great results. My task was to finish. No great expectations.
 
The day of the race came and I was tired after a few days of storms and no decent nights sleep since Wednesday. Chris kindly took mine and Niandi's bags to the car and I was all too grateful and willing for the support (I'm not a morning person). Niandi had travelled down to Gloucester on the Friday afternoon and stayed with us for the evening with a lovely dinner and dessert all provided by Chris' fair hand and mostly from our allotment or orchard. Niandi indulged in a couple of glasses of red, which I just can't manage anymore, I'm such a lightweight! Then I set about getting my race and overnight bags packed. Ah, yes. Chris taking our bags to the car. What this basically means is that I forgot my phone and Leadville hat next to it as we left at 5.30am on Saturday. This wasn't the great start to the day I had envisaged and did not put me in a good mood, especially as I remembered within the first five minutes and Chris wouldn't go back to get it, being such a stickler for time and worried we'd be late for registration and start. Me being me didn't care and just wanted to catch up on Facebook, Words with Friends, but mainly check the weather forecast and have a camera to take photos with along the way ready to upload on the day (plan B became to use my music phone and upload them later). Chris being Chris and despite the "It's not my fault you're not organised!" pithy response went back home after the start of the race and picked it up for me to have later that day. He also made me a gluten free cashew butter sarnie to take and supplies to do this again on Sunday a.m. too. Niandi didn't seem too fussed by our bickering in the front of the car and in next to no time we were at the start, I was rushing to the loo and relieved, pardon the pun, to do so prior to registration as the queue grew tenfold. Registration was smooth and speedy, we dropped off Niandi's overnight camping bag (Chris and I were staying at the Crown & Horns in Compton) and caught up with Andrew Jordan, bumped into Louise Ayling and I met one of Chris' CCC recce buddies, John Volanthen.
 
The start time came and went and we set off at 08.10 and quickly ground to a halt crossing the railway line as the trail narrowed. I'm sure it had an impact on my time but I far preferred this to going out too fast and psychologically damaging my confidence by repeating to myself "I started too fast, I knew I shouldn't have started too fast." as I knew I would have had the excuse to do so otherwise.
 
I was delighted the aid stations had portaloo's as well as made to order gluten free sarnies and snacks. Certainly not as wide a selection as the Centurion events I've been used to volunteering at but I brought all the food and supplies I'd trained with and was expecting to rely upon. I'm amazed that anyone would want to experiment with new stuff on the day and put their race at risk with something that disagreed with them. But then, eating and picking the right foods to keep down and digest has not been without its challenges for me, even on shorter distances, so perhaps this is a very personal thing and for others it's not a big deal.
 
The volunteers and spectators were nothing short of awesome (thank you boys at mile 19 for the fizzy cola bottles, you rock). The miles came and went. Sometimes I ran with Niandi, sometimes by myself and I had the pleasure of running a long stint at the end with Andrew till we parted ways at the "halfway split", actually around 27.5/28 miles as he carried on with the nonstop 100k and I headed to base camp. 
 
Boy, I have so much respect for all the people who ran the 100k nonstop. Wow! Now I think I finally know what it takes, and I don't have it in me...yet. I heard about the hail later that evening, Chris mentioned someone said it was 'refreshing'!?! I think that may have been John Volanthen, so now I know he's not all there either. I saw the markers with palely illuminated glowsticks attached the following morning as I ran in the cool breeze and I just thought what must it have been like running that "very runable Ridgeway trail", on easy terrain with a head torch? Tough. After all those miles to just keep churning them out. You are all hardcore heroes to me. And yet, that is how runners making their first strides into long distance must surely think of when they see me in that crowd. It couldn't be further from the truth. I feel like a faker. OK, not a faker but it was just a fluke. I did it but once and it really wasn't easy. I'm sure with time I'll have an epiphany moment as I finally did when running and training for my three marathon attempts when I will say to myself "This is getting easier, I'm actually comfortable with this run and I am an ultra runner". I'm certainly nowhere near that yet though.
 
Day 1, Saturday was hot and humid. We had an hour or two of intermittent rain and it was a welcome respite from the heat and blazing sun. It was a tad muddy and slippery underfoot with claggy mud and I was grateful for making the 'grip but less cushioned' choice of trail shoes over trainers. Saying I'm clumsy is an understatement. I can fall over just fine without roots, holes or volcanic rocks (as Niandi witnessed with me in Lanzarote a few years ago). There were plenty of runners in trainers though, that managed just fine. I only ever run in Salomon Speedcross 3 (S3's) or the McDonalds of trainers on road, Asics. It's the devil I know. However, after a pain across the top of my foot/ankle during my second long run in injinji's and new S3's, which got progressively worse and messed up my 26.2 distance (becoming a hobble to complete 24 miles) I started to worry I might not even make it to the start, or that it'd come back to curse my race. As such an older, reliable pair of S3's and balega socks were the order of the day for footwear. Only a few blisters to show for it having ditched the injinji's that seem tighter on my ankles. Result.
 
I took a 30min pitstop about mile 20 on Sunday (so around mile 50 overall) to sort out those blisters with Compeed and also took two paracetamol, which I've never done before (aside from the rare occasions I've had a headache).  Well worth it, and glad I'd waited until then, but boy were the legs sore after sitting most of that time at the pitstop. Not something I'll make the mistake of doing again. It felt like I had new feet afterwards, though. Woohoo, I was flying at times. It's just a shame they were attached to my screaming legs. The downhills were killing my quads, again thanks to my own stupidity due to charging down the hill at 7:30 pace at the end of Saturday, when The Stone Roses Resurrection came on and I thought "what an awesome song to finish on, I wonder if I can make it to the end with this song playing?" And I did, shame my watch died at 7hrs 05 and I finished at 7hrs 20. I would have loved to see that upward spike on my movescount. 'Twas not meant to be.
 
 
I can't deny that Sunday wasn't hard. I asked Chris as we left the company of Niandi and the camp on Saturday afternoon "Tell me why I entered the two day 100k rather than the one day 50k" only half in jest. It was much of the same: great support and friendly faces all round. The major difference was the much cooler start to the day and the 6.45 kick off (people were just turning up and starting at their leisure as we were all chipped). That was a bit daft, the chips. Only the start and finish had timing mats. Great for a one day shorter event but not for multi-days when, in my humble opinion you might be more inclined to change you footwear if you got them all muddy on day 1 (Chris disagrees with me on this point). In my view, you really needed a longer tag that could go round the ankle, and I said as much when we went to camp at 6.15 to get my new chip (plus an extra one in case I wanted to change my trainers back to trail shoes partway through on Sunday); oh the faff. I didn't.
 
I bumped into Niandi around mile 12 on Sunday and we ran most of the way to the finish together having a good old chat, with me telling my favourite blonde joke of all time - I think it went down well. I still am in awe of the fact Niandi has run over 150 ultras (approximately; she's never counted). Plus all the marathons. At peak running Niandi ran around 30 ultras a year. And then there's me - not even having done one. Regret is something we discussed - luckily I have none and I'm grateful that I didn't find running when I was younger, it would have been wasted on me and I wouldn't have appreciated it nearly as much as I do. Plus, I'm sure I would have done myself a mischief many times over to have made running now not an option - I can't run fast enough to do myself too much harm now! The support and encouragement from Niandi and great banter made the miles easier. The route from The Burj at Foxhill to just past Barbury Castle were familiar miles to me, I had the pleasure of running this part of the Ridgeway on a SocialUltra that Andrew Jordan organised back in March. Only miles 22-24 massively flew by as I found myself running alone in a daydream through the sheltered tracks (thanks to Jelly Tots and fudge with table salt) and the announced beep on my watch surprised me into a conscious stream of thought that they'd come round far sooner than expected - another first for me. 
 
The last few Ks were tough and it was psychologically gruelling for me running past the finish point down to the stones and then back up again. The hand slaps from runners coming back up though was a boost and made me smile, as did the pics with Niandi at the stones.  I'd still much prefer a detour a bit earlier to make up the distance... the watch clocked 32.73 miles at the finish, but at least the battery held out on Sunday. Despite the soreness Sunday was made all the easier without the heat plus all the wonderful runners, volunteers and spectators cheering us on, it really lifted my spirits. It was also a massive boost bumping into Chris four times offering us snacks, water as well as words of encouragement plus acting as our official photographer. Shouting "Run faster, Fatty" from the bushes doesn't count though.
 
I finished in 7.20 Saturday and 7.17 Sunday (does that count as a negative split, especially considering it was a 48k/52k distance split?). My time was 14.37 overall and I came 63rd, out of a field of 376 plus 13th of 213 ladies. I'll settle for that as my first foray into ultra running and my first back to back one at that. Niandi did brilliantly, as I knew she would, 39th overall and 7th lady. Despite me running away with myself to get to the finish line Niandi had at least an hour on me form Saturday, so well done to her and all of the competitors who entered Race to the Stones. Thoroughly enjoyable from start to finish.
 
If I can manage an ultra then I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that anyone who has a little bit of time to put in the miles is more than capable of doing so - the deciding factor is only whether you want to that will make the difference.
 

 

It may have been my first but it's certainly not my last.  Also, and yes I know it wasn't nonstop so this probably doesn't count, Chris pointed out to me yesterday on the drive home that I have run further than he has in any race. It will be incredibly short lived as a record within the Mills household when he runs CCC next month, followed by the Winter 100 in October. Nonetheless, it's a mantle I'm happy to hold high for the briefest of times and gloat smugly about as I know a) it's true, and b) it was worth it.