report

Written by Paul Smith - http://www.10peaks.com

My preparation had been short but reasonably successful. March 3rd was the day I was going to find out whether I could run 100 miles with only 7 weeks preparation. Those 7 weeks included time to taper so it was always going to be a big ask!

Having taken part in many Ironman races before I know that it is easy to set off on a mental back foot when you see super fit athletes walking around town the evening before an event. Why they have to wear their tri-gear for dinner I will never know! But on entering the registration room in Richmond town hall things were slightly different and that wasn’t purely down to the temperature. Runners sat around the edge of the hall, some in an almost meditative state, saving their energy for what was to come.

I was shaking with cold before the start at 10am but I was looking forward to what was to come. I had a plan. I didn’t know if it was a good one, but it was a plan none-the-less. I would run slowly for 40 minutes and then walk for 5, eating in my walking periods. Then repeat knowing that over time the 5 minutes breaks would extend and the 40 minutes of running would decrease. I chatted to a few people on the way round finding out what their plan was. Some were doing 55 minutes/ 5 minutes others running 100 metres and then taking a few walking strides. I would never get a chance to chat to the winners, perhaps they don’t bother with the rest periods.

The first 28 miles of the course brought back many memories having lived along the route for most of my life. Richmond – sledging down the hill with my Dad and brother. Kingston – my marathon PB of 2.58.28 involved running three laps from Hampton Court to Kingston Bridge. I knew it well and had run that section of tow path hundreds of times. Walton – the turn around point for my long runs; Chertsey to Windsor – marathon preparation for London 2005.

At around 22 miles I started talking to a runner by the name of Jay. It was his first 100 but unlike me he had done a couple of 50+ races in preparation including the London to Brighton and the Thames Trot. We were both running at the same speed so ran together for the next 8 or 9 hours. We reached Henley (51 miles) in good time and enjoyed hot soup and a hot dog. I also treated myself to my first cup of tea in 15 months, now was the time for hot caffeine. We’d left Henley by 8pm and I was concerned that I had started too quickly. I was over an hour ahead of schedule and we were well on track to run a sub-24 hour 100. That would have been the icing on the cake, but my main goal was just to finish. I was already thinking by that point that I could probably walk the rest and still finish within the 30 hour cut-off.

The night section was hard, very hard, both physically and mentally. Each aid station seemed further than it appeared on the map. Once past Reading I asked Jay to go ahead. It had been great to run with him but I was slowing him down needing longer and longer walking periods and suffering with stomach cramp and blisters on both heals. The shoes I was wearing were the same shoes I used in the 2008 London Marathon which goes to show my mileage is on the low side especially for ultra. I knew they would give me blisters but I had done all my preparation in them so thought it best to go with them on the day rather than trying something new.

Soon after Reading on entering a boat yard I came across a strange sight. Batman and Robin eating take-away pizza off the bonnet of a friend’s car. Batman and Robin were taking part in the 100 and not only that, they had also run a 5km race in Richmond Park before hand! They kindly invited me to joined them for a slice of pizza and then I pushed on.

I slowed down worried that I had over done it earlier in the day but I was still walking at a good pace. To my surprise coming on to the bridge at Whitchurch (67 miles) I was told by a marshal that I was 30 minutes off the pace for 24 hours. This was a mental blow as I had 24 hours in my mind as a goal within a goal. I disagreed, but the seed of doubt had been sewn. I remember at the Whitchurch aid station the marshal saying that it was only 33 miles to go. Only one marathon and a 10k still to go. I was trying not to think of the big picture and just taking each aid station at a time. It was only 4 miles to the next one. It seemed like 6.

I had decided to take longer at the next check point to give myself a chance to warm up and recover a bit. Perhaps that was a mistake as I never got up to speed after that. There was frost on the ground and I wasn’t able to get moving fast enough to keep warm. The mental battle had started now and part of me was asking “what am I doing here? – maybe they’ll be a B&B soon and I could have a little sleep?” and the other half of me was saying “just keep moving forward, you can walk to the finish and still make the cutoff”. It was 9 miles between aid stations but it seemed to go on forever.

My water proof certainly wasn’t the most breathable on the market which is why I hadn’t put it on but I was getting colder so when on Benson Bridge at 77 miles I decided to sit on the stone bench and put it on in an effort to keep warm. I soon realised that was as far as I was going to get. For a reason still unknown to me my right hip flexor had just stopped working, it was as if it wasn’t there any more. I literally couldn’t lift my foot off the ground. Hitting it and shouting at it didn’t work, so I tried to get it moving again by using both hands to lift my right leg forward but progress was painfully slow and when I reached the other side of the bridge I decided to call it a night. I waited 30 minutes until 4am when I waved down a cab who took me to the Benson aid station.

I spilt half of my soup as I was shaking so much but at least I got some warmth inside me. There was an ambulance at that aid station who was heading off so I got a lift to the finish in Oxford with another runner who had hypothermia. The paramedic helped me in to the finish tent where I sat waiting for my lift back. I was sitting in among the elite of the ultra running community included Mimi Anderson who had won the women’s race and was 8th overall. I didn’t deserve to be in the finish tent and especially not at 5am but I couldn’t move so there I stayed until my lift arrived.

Strangely for me I wasn’t too disappointed to have given up at 77 miles as I didn’t really have any choice. I had still managed nearly 3 marathons which was a whole marathon further than my previous longest run. I had enjoyed the experience and knew that I would return having done more than 7 weeks preparation. The organisation of the event was fantastic, all the crew were so helpful, and the River Thames, beautiful as ever, provided a constant mental diversion.

Written by Caolan MacMahon - http://www.chronicrunner.com

The thing about a 50k is that it really isn't a big deal. I mean, if you've run a few marathons (I've run more than a few) then it's no biggie, right? - 5 extra miles. Baaaaaaa. How can you even call that an "ultra"?

And then it's a week away and the freak sets in. This was a little bit like giving birth (or the anticipation of it) for me. I never took a childbirth class - When I asked my doc if I should, she said, "Well, it depends on how comfortable you are with the whole thing". I spoke to all my momma friends and asked: "Did you get anything out of taking a childbirth class?" The singular reply I got was: "I learned how to breathe in and out", with accompanying demonstrations of the crucial breathing technique. Well, I thought, I already know how to do that. And I thought to myself, well, women have been giving birth since the beginning of humankind, so what's the big deal. Then at about 39 weeks I started to freak. It hit me: "OH MY GOD, this thing has to come out of me!!!". And a 50k felt the same way. It was no big deal, until it was right there and I had to do something I had never done before...

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We land at the Manchester-Boston International Airport at midnight. Exiting the building from baggage claim to collect the rental car, we walk smack into an invisible wall of humidity. I let out a sigh and a quiet, resigned, 'uggggg', and we load up and head for the Econo Lodge.

The next day we head to Maine. The weather is heavy and thick. I know that lower altitude is supposed to feel good. I'm supposed to feel all light and oxygen enriched, but in reality I usually feel the weight of all that extra oxygen. Add to this the fact that my sinuses are in total revolt, and I feel like I'm moving through a world of mud with a fish bowl on my head - And I can honestly say that I am not feeling very psyched.

Two days before my first 50k, and I barely (NO exaggeration) stumble through 4.4 miles of jogging.

So for the next two days I fortify myself with Sudafed and nighttime Ibuprofen. I gotta clear this noggin, and I gotta sleep. NOW. I can not actually imagine running this thing right now.

I chill. We sail out to Little Whaleboat Island. I sleep. Things improve, a little.

You can barely tell that my head is about to explode and make a big fat mess all over the deck, can ya??

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And then we make our way north, a drive my husband and I used to make so often, from Brunswick to Bar Harbor to climb on Mount Desert. It has been a very long time. So much is the same - exactly the same as it was 19 years ago. That is both comforting and disconcerting. I'm not the same. And yet, I am the same.

We make our way through Southwest Harbor, in a steady rain, to the Seawall Motel situated right at a natural seawall. It's thick-as-pea-soup foggy out now - and the cool, salty moisture feels good. Except for the gently lapping surf, all is quiet darkness out across the bay where I know Great Cranberry Island sits in wait. I stand on the second floor walkway, and look out where I know the island sleeps. I still can't quite get my head around this...

I wake at 7:30. At this time the air has a cool nip to it. If only we could be running now! The race starts at 11:30 (to allow people to get out to the island and for those who are camping to have time to set up their tents), but the boats only leave every two hours, so I need to catch the 9 a.m. boat. After a frantic search for the ferry dock (small Maine towns like to keep things interesting for those "from away") I jump out of the car in a bit of a fluster bid farewell to my husband and daughter, and trot down to the dock barely catching the boat.

I'm on the boat with Jill (no longer 'just' a facebook friend) and her boyfriend Brian. Lot's of Marathon Maniacs on board - lots of chatter, introductions, stories shared - and we all know, or perhaps we don't know, what's coming. And I can't help but feel that we are somehow sailing off to battle...And I am reminded of what often plays through my head at these times:

From Shakespeare's Henry V, 1598:

KING HENRY V:
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remember'd;
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England now a-bed
Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

I know. A little over the top. A little melodramatic, but there's something to it!

And all is peaceful...The calm before it all begins...

We arrive at the island and there are pickup trucks and decrepit island cars and golf carts a plenty to haul our stuff the 1/2 mile up the hill to the start. As we walk up this hill, it dawns on me that soon I will be running up it, quite a few times.

Then there's time to kill - it's only 9:30. I get my bib, introduce myself to Gary Allen (RD and head of Crow Athletic, a northern Maine running club of which I'm actually a member), park my self and my stuff in a shady spot on the porch of a church and stroll over to a little cafe for some much need coffee.

Clouds obscure the sun, but each time the sun comes out of hiding it feels like a stab of heat. Please, more clouds.

Finally 11:30 approaches. Speeches are made, the national Anthem is sung, and we're off...

Thus begins the journey of 7.5 laps of the island...

And everyone seems to take off like a shot. Here's what I'm thinking: "Ummm, folks, we have 31 miles to go. Where's everyone off to so fast??" You'd think that most of us have been around the proverbial block a few times and know better than to try to pull a jack rabbit start - but no. Everyone's happily chatting along as if this was just a fun little island jaunt. What's wrong with me?? Lots of people are running with friends. I have no friends - well Jill is here somewhere, but I don't know where. I trot along, alone, and the arch of my right foot is screaming at me. Now, I do have a right foot injury (from twisting my foot in a hardened horse hoof print on the trail months ago) nagging me (peroneal tendonitis at the 5th metatarsal attachment) but it's never been that arch! Okay. Work it out. (WTF!!)

We round the first turnaround and I'm heading back, seeing the people coming the other way. I spot Jill and Brian. We high five. A guy with a mohawk yells out "Go Chronic". I chuckle and wave, not sure I heard it right and too surprised to say anything. And the first miles tick along...

During this race we pass over the start/finish line, ummmm, I don't know, 14, 15 times - Oh, I can't possibly do the math. Our names are announced, and as always, people struggle with mine. But as I cross and head down the hill toward the next turnaround I hear my name. Then I hear, "Hey, I'm Facebook friends with you" over the loudspeakers. I wave and trot off.

Any remaining clouds burn off within the first hour and the sun beats down from the blue bird blue skies. The only saving grace is slight breeze that feels like a gift from the gods, though the gods could be a bit more generous!

Again I pass the guy with the mohawk - I hear, "Good job Chronic". Okay. I did hear that. "I can't believe you know that!", I call back. "Thanks". He responds, "It's easier than your real name". Then I hear a runner, 'Jim' is on his bib, call out, "Good job Caolan".

And so it goes, lap after lap after lap after lap. You see the same people, over and over and over. You cheer everyone on. They cheer you on. You get to 'know' them is a strange sense. The Islanders come out. They see how you're doing on lap 2...on lap 6... two women have cheered for me each time I pass their house: Lap 6 "Caolan, you're so consistent, so strong. great job" Ummm, I don't feel that way!

As the 80+ish heat and 75+% humidity begin to wear on me I stop at the table where we stash our stuff and pull out my bottle of HEED, pouring it into a smaller handheld. This is valuable time, time I don't ever allow in a marathon - but hey - THIS is an ULTRA, right? I do this 4 times over the course of the run, but I'm glad I did, even though I now wonder just how much time I "wasted" doing that.

As I cross the mark entering my last lap, I see my husband and daughter. My husband asks how much I have to go. Another lap, I tell him - which of course means nothing to him - but to me it means this is the hard one - the last 4 miles. And this lap is hard - really really hard. At the final turn, I can no longer calculate how far I have to go. I look at my Garmin, but still I'm second guessing it. Is it 1 or 2 miles left. Oh, I give up. Just run.

My adductors are cramping on the uphill, cambered roads - and I'm trying to delay the inevitable. With half a mile to go I suddenly realize that it's not the mile and a half I thought I had left. I see the flags that line the road leading to the finish, and my legs come alive. I push with all I have up the final hill to the finish. 5:04:44.

As usual, all is a blur after I cross the mat. All I can think is: "I gotta get these shoes off NOW". A volunteer runs up to me and loops a medal/belt buckle over my head. Another runs over with my finishers 'rock'. My daughter runs to me, excitedly animated as always asking things I can't quite make sense of. I hobble over to my bags - and stand there trying to figure out what to do first. I can't really move.

I wait for Jill. I talk with the people I've spent this long day with: Jim, Bob, Nancy, Maddy, John, Shawn, Zach and Juli... etc...all people I know now - who I didn't know this morning.

We make our way the half mile back down to the boat dock. Doug (Welch), the guy with the mohawk, is still running, now with a beer in hand.

"How do I know you?" I call out to him. He walks over to me, "Facebook and your blog". "I really appreciate your support today. Thanks", I say. We chat for a bit. We hug, and he trots off up the hill.

And as we wait for our ferry back to Southwest Harbor, I stand in the icy waters looking across Frenchman’s Bay to Mount Desert and the rolling blue hills. And I am tired and hungry and salty and achy to the bone...and happy.

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And that's the story of my first 'ultra'. Does that make me an "ultramarathoner"? I don't know. But it has changed me. And now the story continues...

“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face...You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” Eleanor Roosevelt

Written by Gin Lawson - https://alwayskeepgoodhumour.wordpress.com

So, two years ago a guy from my running club took part in a local event called the SVP 100. A 100km race from Newmarket to Brantham, Suffolk. At the time I was totally in awe how someone could cover 62 plus miles on foot within a 15.5 hr time limit – but a little seed was sown.

Last year I volunteered at the said event and saw close up how fantastic it was. Everybody looked to be enjoying it and I began to believe that I could do it. As a result of volunteering, you get offered a free entry into the following years event which just gave me that little added push. I entered.

So 2015 was my year to have a go at the SVP100km. Those of you that read my blog will know that I have twice completed the Stour Valley Marathon which takes in a small part of the same route, so I was pretty certain I was going to enjoy it.

As this was going to be my first 100km event I wanted to be sure I was as prepared as I could be so that I was best placed to enjoy it. So, with some other Sudbury Joggers – of which 13 had entered – we started to recce some of the route.

After I ran my Barrow marathons in July I was sure that I had the stamina so making sure I didn’t get lost was the other main priority.

So, with a lot of excitement building in the SVP community on Facebook, the day finally arrived.

With the race starting at 7, it would be an early start. But Sarah, the captain of Sudbury Joggers, had organised a mini bus to get everyone there so all I had to do was eat pasta that Sarah prepared for me, sleep in Sarah’s spare bed and wait for my morning coffee! A nice easy start to what was going to be a long day.

The original plan had been for 4 of us girls to possibly run together, myself, Becs, Lizzie and Dee. Unfortunately, Dee went and broke her wrist the week before so was unable to take part – a real blow and I really felt for her. So, then there were only 3.

With a very slick briefing, we were on our way dead on 7. There is also a start at 9 for the quicker runners and those that feel they are in with a chance of a a prize. How long would it be before the faster runners pass us?

The first 3 odd miles is a straight road out of Newmarket and then along Devils Dyke which is pretty much single file. So, everyone tried to get into some sort of order so as not to be stuck behind slower runners. I think we judged it pretty well and didn’t really seem to get held up at all.

After a grassy section you start to go under trees where there are a lot of protruding roots. Becs was good at shouting when there was something particularly hazardous, – however due to me being a little too close behind her – just as she yelled lookout, down I went! Face first into the dirt…not what I wanted at less than 3 miles in. Thankfully, I didn’t seen to injure anything more than my pride and with a long stream of runners behind I quickly got up and carried on, albeit a little shaken up.

There were no more real incidents to report and we made it safely to the first checkpoint at Great Thurlow 12 miles in. As well as the excellent event volunteers we also had our band of Jogger supporters which makes everything a little more enjoyable. A cheese sarnie, coke and some crisps and we were ready to crack on.

Sudbury Joggers are the best!!

The next checkpoint was at Clare Country park at approx 23 miles. Becs was certainly the quicker of us and I had to keep asking, well ‘telling’ her to slow the pace a bit as there was still a long way to go. It was also on this section that Lizzie appear to be falling back a little and as we reached the checkpoint she was no longer with us. It was great to see more familiar faces and buckets with sponges as the day was really beginning to heat up. We spent a bit of time feeding our faces and waiting for Lizzie to arrive which she did about 10 minutes later. We had a quick word and she was ok with us cracking on so we headed off to the next checkpoint at Long Melford.

As we had recce’d the route pretty well, I was confident we wouldn’t make any navigational errors however we did still manage a small detour! I had a feeling it was wrong but ignored it, Becs’ watch said we were going the wrong way but she ignored it and only when the runners in front – who had also gone wrong – turned round did we get back on track.

As we were approaching Melford, we caught up with Kev, another Jogger, which really surprised me. However, it seemed he was having a few issues with his hips but had found a couple of other runners for company. The 3 of them then went on to finish together.

Coming into checkpoint 3 at Melford we were just over half way at about 33 miles. Again, there was a load of support there, clapping and cheering and familiar faces. The checkpoint, as were they all, was very well stocked and as the weather had heated up I made sure I filled my bladder and bottles. I felt good, positive and strong.

Onto the next checkpoint at Lamarsh but first we had to pass by the Mill Hotel in Sudbury. I knew there would be more support there – it did sell alcohol – but I must say that I was pretty overwhelmed. Becs had pulled slightly ahead and I heard a massive cheer go up, and then another when I arrived. I felt like we had won!! A glass of lovely cold cider was placed in my hand which I felt obliged to drink, of course!!

Oh, if you insist!!

As much as we would have loved to stay longer we didn’t want our legs to seize up so we headed off knowing there were only 4/5 miles before we could refuel again.

It was on this stretch that we came across another runner who had a problem with her knee. We did the best we could to help with some KT tape and painkillers, which seemed to give her a bit of a boost. Also, around this time my feet began to really hurt and I started to slow a bit, then I think a blister popped on my toe (ouch) so I made the decision to tape my feet and change my socks at Lamarsh.

The last bit into the checkpoint is down a steep hill and I found it really painful to run down, but Becs just bounded down it like Tigger. As we approached the checkpoint I was beginning to realise that I was nowhere near as strong as she was.

Still smiling…..

Lamarsh checkpoint, I must say, was (as Becs said actually) the Rolls Royce of checkpoints. The selection was superb and the jewel in the crown was the little bags to take sweets away with you.

Tigger with her ‘piglet’

I decided that I didn’t really want to look at my feet, probably not a lot could be done and they were bearable, so I left the spare socks in my pack.

Now, I knew that we had well and truly broke the back of it. We only had a little over 20 miles to go with about about 7 hours until the cut off of 10.30pm. Unless the wheels well and truly fell off the bus, it was looking like a finish.

From Lamarsh you pass through Bures and it was here that I told Becs to go ahead. She looked so fresh and strong and although I still felt good, I was nowhere near her pace. We had made a pact at the start that if one of us was much stronger than the other then we had to split. We had a hug and she bounded into the distance…

So now I was on my own. I really like running by myself so it wasn’t a problem and I was comfortable with the route. Even so, I think you are less likely to run when you’re feeling tired, if on your own, so there were a good few walking breaks. But, with beautiful scenery and a fair few hills, that wasn’t really a problem.

I reached the checkpoint at Nayland to be greeted by more joggers, there was not a point where there wasn’t some support. Also, I was surprised to see Tom, another jogger who had started at 9. I had expected him to pass well before this point. I will mention that the first 9 am runner passed by at 28 miles!!!

So, only one more checkpoint to go and then a little 5 miles to the finish. Coming out of Nayland I was a little apprehensive as I had encountered a field with Bull, cows and calves on my recce but I was relieved to see that the farmer had moved them. In fact, there were no problems with cows on the whole route. There were actually some good runnable bits on the final leg which I made the most of, and also encountered the famous ‘maize ‘ field.

Luckily these guys had been moved..

The final checkpoint at Stratford St Mary did not disappoint. There was hot coffee which was a godsend and this set me up for the final 5 miles.

I had been looking forward to this final bit all day. Not only because it was the final bit, but also it is so pretty. Along by the river to Dedham, then past Flatford Mill. It just started to get dusk by then so I put on my head torch for the final couple of miles. I could see Brantham in the distance and knew that I was almost there. I was amazed how good I felt, and excited at the prospect of getting to the finish, seeing all the supporters, and collecting that green t shirt.

Coming into Brantham, I did get a little lost and where I was supposed to turn into the playing field to the finish I continued up the path. Hearing shouts behind me, I was told I was going the wrong way so promptly turned around and ran back to where I should have gone. As i approached the finish I heard shouts ‘is that Gin?’….it’s Gin I replied….

And so to the end, reunited with tigger who bounced her way in in a little over 13 hrs…and all the others that had already finished. My time 14 hrs 14 mins 27 secs, 68th place out of 110 finishers. As I had ideally wanted to finish between 14 and 14.5 hrs I couldn’t have timed it better.

One very happy girl…

Only 2 more and we had 10 out of 11 finish. Lisa managed an impressive 50 miles before succumbing to a knee injury.

So, I can honestly stay that I feel I enjoyed every minute of it, there was not a single point where I felt unable to go on and no doubt, ever, that I would get to the finish. The course, I felt, was excellent to run on – yes, there were a couple of ‘claggy’ fields and a bit of lumpy bumpy grass but the beautiful countryside and pretty villages more than made up for it.

The organisation of the event was superb, the volunteers beyond fantastic and the course well marked.

In short, I loved it!!

So, that is the qualifier for my 100 miler. But that’s not until next year, so there will be lots more to pack in before then!!

Written by Iain Aberdeen

1029 started, 904 finished, I came 775th

244 km - 152 miles - 59hrs 16mins

Arrival in the Sahara.

After a very long wait at Errachidia airport and then a bus journey that saw the most amazing sunset we arrived into the ‘bivouac’ in the dark. After throwing down our bags and grabbing ourselves a sleeping space in Tent 137 we were fed a bland meal by our hosts and then made our way back to our tent for our first night in the open sided tent that would become home for the next seven nights. The tent consisted of some wooden poles suspending a thick black cloth over a large rug, hardly quality accommodation but it would soon become a welcome sight.Kit check and preparation day.

Waking up the first morning in the desert with a view towards the Chebi Erg, very large dunes, was an strangely inspiring moment. The dunes that rose up from the large plain we camped out on looked fantastic in the distance 3km away, this was the start of stage 1 for the first day of the race. After a breakfast provided by our hosts we spent the day queuing to hand in our spare kit and have our equipment and medical checks as well as receive our mandatory water card, ankle transponder, flare and salt tablets. This was quite a relaxing day spent queuing and wandering around the camp meeting other competitors and getting to know my tent mates. After dinner we became self sufficient and had to rely only on the things we could carry with us in our packs from this point on, Stage 1 - 34km - cut off time 11hrs - completed in 8hr 55 minutes

The day started with a routine that would happen every morning for the next seven days, wake up, make breakfast, tape feet, drink water (lots of it), pack rucksack then wander to the start line. The start line was a busy bustling experience with more of a carnival atmosphere than the start line of the ‘Toughest footrace on Earth’ with the race organisers trying to get us to dance to the song ‘Happy’ before we set off into the desert, that song certainly holds very few happy memories for me now. After a long time baking in the morning sun we crossed the start line to the tones of ‘Highway to Hell’ blasting all around us with helicopters whizzing around filming the start of the long parade of runners crossing the desert. After the first 3km we hit our first experiences of what lied ahead, sand dunes bigger than I could have imagined towered over us, we knew this would last around 12km so I started the long slog up the the soft sand where sometimes two steps forward were followed by one step back. Although the scenery was spectacular it did not take long to realise that most of my journey through the desert would be looking at the ground rather than the beautiful vista surrounding me.

After reaching checkpoint one and collecting my 3 litres of water, which I was pretty desperate for after running out on the first leg, I set off along an Oued, or dried up river bed for 6km, the sand in these river beds was remarkably different in colour and texture to the dunes but just as soft. After leaving the Oued there was a long slow 4km climb towards an old abandoned mine and checkpoint 2. Arriving in CP2 I suffered my first set back, I was tired, not muscularly fatigued but rather the feeling of wanting to sleep, four of my tent mates at this check point got me medical support as they thought I was struggling with the heat. After a short nap and rest in the shade the medics were remarkably unconcerned so I pushed on across a stony valley and over my first jebel, these can only be described to vary in size from small hills to mountains, luckily this was not a mountain. After descending the Jebel we entered another 3km of sand dunes to finish the stage. At this point I started to have my first doubts about finishing the course and was surprised to start to venture into some very dark places in my mind, it was only the sight of the finish line ahead of me that made me push through this and I jogged over the line with another competitor that I had crossed the dunes with. The finish line was a turmoil of activity with a cup of Sultan tea thrust into your hand followed by three 1 1/2 litre water bottles, followed by a stagger to tent 137 to be meant with applause from my tent mates. The nights routine started with food, then a slow wander to the email tent and then sleep.

Stage 2 - 41km - cut off time 11hrs - completed in 9hr 41 minutes

Surprisingly rested with no aches and pains I awoke to watch a spectacular sunrise across the desert, it was a surreal moment waking up next to my tent mates where we all started the routine of cook breakfast, eat, tape feet, pack rucksack and get ready to follow the days course of dunes, oueds and jebels. This morning we discovered if we were not quite ready the berbers, lovely guys who took down the tents, would just take them down around you leaving you looking up at the blue sky led on your rug.

Once again we were encouraged to dance to ‘Happy’, you could see the excitement in peoples faces when the song came on and Course Director Patrick Bauer danced on top of his truck. Following his strange dance moves and his long speech about the days course we once again started our long procession across the desert to the

familiar ‘Highway to Hell’, these little quirks of the event never got old. The days course took us across a variety of terrain including dunes and oueds but here we were introduced to our first stony plateau, stony plateau should have been described in a bit more detail possibly along the lines of large sharp rocks that will test your concentration on every step. This was great when you were fatigued and one misplaced step would end with a stumbling break in concentration that took, what felt like forever, to get back into a rhythm. Check point one this day saw my first encounter with the remarkable Doc Trotters, the course medical team for treatment. The first leg of the day had been, in my opinion okay, I went at my own pace and kept focussed along the route, but I did feel a strange ache at the back of my right ankle at one point. When I removed my sand gaiter at the checkpoint to adjust my sock my hand came way wet and sticky, five minutes later the medic had trimmed the skin away from a large blister, covered it in Iodine, and taped it up. This happened in quite an efficient blur, more like a formula one pitstop than a medical tent, but it did the job and off I trekked into the dessert once again.

This next leg saw me wander past a local village where young children would run out of their homes clapping and cheering our progress along the tracks before entering a sandy plateau for around 14km of varied terrain. On this stage I walked along with competitor 666 who had appropriately dressed in red running gear with horns and a pitchfork, though this became slightly unnerving as we found some bleached dried animal bones which he pretend to gnaw on for photographs. Climbing through another village some runners chose to cool themselves off in the village well, I pushed on as the cleanliness of the water was certainly suspect and the last thing I wanted was to cause myself a stomach upset. The course slowly meandered up through stony hills towards the next checkpoint where I suddenly became quite emotional, I still dont know why I became so tearful at this point but I staggered across the checkpoint control line and slumped down into a tent absolutely spent of energy. I led there in this tent for some time failing to muster the energy to get up time and time again, I thought this was the end of the race for me as I could not get up and could not create any motivation to carry on. I led there until someone suddenly shouted my name and poured cold water over my head and in my ear, this seemed to be enough to rouse me from the dark place I had ventured into and I managed to get to my feet to thank the man that helped me. This was slightly embarrassing as I had apparently been talking to him earlier in the day but I could not remember any of this at all. I knew now the heat, dehydration and fatigue was starting to play games with my mind and that you could not fight what was happening in the desert. It was such a joy to look onwards across the stage 500m 15% slope of sand that wound its way out of the checkpoint towards the finish line 7km away. After climbing the Jebel with my new friend we wandered along a dried up river bed slowly trudging along the sand exchanging stories about our lives and why we here. The finish line came into view but the route planners seemed to have an amazing way of making them never get any closer no matter how long you walked. I crossed the finish line blowing a kiss to the webcam and wondering if I would make i through the next day. The evening was spent at the medical tent where my feet received some severe treatment from Doc Trotters across five toes that were blistered with one toenail looking dubious. on arrival you wash your feet clean in iodine water on top off what can be described as bread crates, you then sit waiting for your turn to see the medics amongst a group of suffering people who looked like pitiful hobbling in dirty running gear. Luckily I had an english speaking medic who could explain how much it was going to hurt as he poured the iodine over my open wounds before taping them up. I staggered back to the tent to spend a restless night asleep in the desert.

Stage 3 - 37.5 km - cut off time 10.30 hrs - completed in 8hr 52 minutes

The daily routine started again but I was not in good spirits, I was nervous about taking the start line after the horrendous day I had previously encountered, I was scared that I would fail to complete the Marathon des Sables. Knowing I had prepared for almost two years and was in pretty good shape was no conciliation as over 45 entrants had already dropped out due to medical issues or through failing to meet the cut off times. I certainly did not look like most of the other athletes taking to the start line which for the first time really bothered me. I was not ‘Happy’ during the repeated preamble that preceded the days festivities and set off truly into a personal hell whilst being constantly reminded by those famous AC/DC lyrics booming over the speakers.! !

The first 10km were a mental battle where I was constantly trying to push myself forward despite the pain in my feet and doubt in my head. I surprisingly made good time towards the first checkpoint and found myself travelling along with competitors I was not used to seeing around me. This invigorated me with a new found confidence that I could achieve my dream of finishing this desert challenge and I pushed on across the sand. The first proper Jebel climb followed checkpoint one with a long stony rocky climb up through the sand. This was a bit rough as there was no air in the ravine we clambered up, so the heat felt even more intense. After reaching the summit I sat for a few moments taking in the view before trying to manoeuvre over the sandy rocky terrain to climb back on to the plateau.

The next part of the course was quite stony again and forced me to watch where I placed my feet before being challenged with another set of large dunes for 3km. I slowed drastically in the dunes as the temperature rose but I felt like I was able to control my heart rate better by adjusting my pace, this allowed me to push on through the dunes to the next checkpoint. I did not rest in checkpoint 2 and just pushed on through after grabbing my water, the next stage was a long slog through a salt plain where the temperatures allegedly hit 55 degrees, it certainly felt like they did. This stage saw me come to the aid of a fellow runner who had completely run out of water, I was faced with a difficult decision do I give my spare water to someone who needs it or do I leave them without any in case I need it myself. I could not leave someone in that heat with no water so I gave them half of mine in the hope that I would cover the last 1 1/2 km before running out of water. My goodwill was rewarded when the other runner caught me up and gave me half of a packet of fruit pastilles, the taste was explosive in my mouth and reinvigorated me to push onto the next checkpoint. A small distance later I paused briefly in checkpoint 3 to top up my bottles and head off to cover the last 5km which took me past some old ruins that towered above the path and on into some more small dunes.

It was unusual for me to finish a stage so early in the day which allowed me to have a relaxing meal and then venture to the email tent to send a message home.This in itself proved an emotional experience trying to fit all my thoughts to my family into 550 characters was so difficult, the keyboard did not help at this point with the response of the keys causing much frustration in fatigued runners. A lazy evening ensued catching up with the other runners in the tent. Finding out one had missed the cut off at checkpoint 3 and that one had stood on an Acacia thorn which pierced his trainer sole and foot like a nail put a damper on things. The mood was certainly overpowered by the sadness of losing a tent mate and having one in the medical facility for hours, luckily the tent mate in the hospital retuned late that night to battle on another day. It was great to see the tent rally around him preparing his bed and his meals for him to help ease his suffering although his feet were not good.

Stage 4 - 81.5km - cut off time 34 hrs - completed in 22hr 43 minutes

The long stage, two marathons back to back in the Sahara with lots of climbs and dunes, was not really something to look forward to, although the atmosphere was certainly of a belief that if you could do stage 4 then stage 5 would certainly be achievable. I decided to attack this day and push on as far as possible during the day and then move onward during the night whilst cooler to finish around sunrise the next morning. This seemed almost impossible but I knew I needed a strategy to attack the desert with. After the cheery start I pushed on to reach checkpoint one in a strong time, not stopping in the checkpoint I pushed on to see the biggest climb ahead of me. The jebel in front of me seemed to go up and up and up, it was in fact 2km of climb up the biggest dune and mountain combination I had seen, this was just what I needed to start the longest day.

The jebel climb was tough, it was a slog up the sand at around 12% incline before stretching up a rock face of loose boulders where everyone was queuing to get past. Frustration started to set in as we all baked on the side of this mountain and people strayed from the path to find purchase to climb up the rock faces. This caused unnecessary tragedy as boulders the size of footballs

were knocked loose and came down on the runners lower down. The runner next to me had his hand hit by a falling rock which caused him excruciating pain which lost him his balance and focus, I still am suprised he did not fall back off the ledge down the sandy climb. This climb took an eternity and I slowly used up all my water trying to stay hydrated on the rocky ledges. The rocky climb became a true scramble up loose rock which put all those behind at some risk, when finishing the scramble there was a precocious sandy ledge to manuvoeur along with a rope to hold to stop you plummeting down the side of it, Having a sword attached to my rucksack here proved difficult, it caught on the rope leaving me stuck with the sand moving under my feet, this was scary to say the least but I managed with the help of other competitors to get free and start my slow inching along the ledge; this suddenly gave way to a steep climb which sapped my energy with me pulling myself up a near vertical sand climb. After a brief rest at the top I pushed on down the side of this mountain following a natural ravine, I was hot, thirsty, tired and every step hurt my feet as I could feel my skin separating from my feet enlarging some small blisters. I staggered down the side of this jebel for what seemed to be an eternity wobbling across the ravine from left to right, I was not going to get down this mountain.

This was about to become the lowest point for me in the whole race where I was going to be mentally destroyed, another racer asked me if I had children to which I replied that I had. They then said “how disappointed do you think they will feel when there daddy fails the Marathon des Sables, will they be proud of you then?“ well this broke me. Tears ran down my face behind my sunglasses and I felt ashamed that I could not go on, I could not push any harder than I had, I stumbled onwards to find help from the support team. I eventually made it out of the ravine and into some dunes, just what I needed a long sand slog, just as I thought this the elite runners who started later than the slow runners started to pass by. I feel like I was given a new energy when British runner Danny Kendall ran past effortlessly across the dunes shouting words of support and encouragement to me. This picked me up and I pushed on through the dunes towards the next checkpoint, a few minutes later I reached a medical jeep with a medic asking if I was okay, stupidly I said yes, she asked again and I still said yes, she asked again and I said no as I collapsed into the sand face down. I was rolled under the back of the jeep which provided some shade and given a thorough medical check up, I was given extra water with a salt solution in it, along with a thirty minute time penalty, and allowed to go on my way. I was glad to leave the shade of the 4x4 as other runners were coming in in a much worse state than me.

On I pushed across a plain that seemed to have the most amazing collection of ‘dust devils’ or sand tornados appearing randomly around me, it was quite surreal to see them appear from nowhere and then vanish after swirling around for a few minutes. It was easy to see how people from the past could confuse these with apparitions or omens of doom, it was here I came across another runner with no water, again I relinquished some of my supply as this was the same runner who poured his over me on Stage 2 reviving me from my dark places. We pushed on together across a pretty endless plain trying to reach checkpoint 2. On arrival at checkpoint 2 there were the two camels sitting there, I thought I had been out for a while but not that long, it transpired that they were resting there as they could not go over the jebel and would set off in one hours time. This meant I needed to get going after a short rest to stay ahead of them.

Stage 4 continued

The push to the next checkpoint saw a push across a flat stony plain towards a village, after a brief stop in the shade of an adobe house I kept going into a village around an oasis, here once again competitors were dousing themselves in the villager specious water supply something I did not agree with. This also proved testing as one of the buildings in the village was a hotel with a can of coke and a can of fanta dripping condensation across a table. I dont know if anyone else was tempted to break the self sufficiency rules at this point but the cans of drink did look good. The route across a dried lake proved pretty dusty and flat but it was amazing to see a family of camels wander across the route in a long line. I pushed on as quickly a possible to reach the next checkpoint before the sunset as there was a pretty big dune climb on the other side. On arrival at checkpoint 3 we were issued glow sticks to put on our rucksacks and told we would need to start using our head torches soon, I wanted to push on quickly but had to queue at the medical tent for some salt tablets as I did not have enough to keep me going through the night.

The climb out of the checkpoint was pretty tough but as the sun set the course got even harder, The line of glow sticks ahead, yellow on competitors and green to mark the routes, stretched on into the distance. The next 10km had climbs of 30% which in the dark were pretty brutal, climbing up sand dunes and over rocks by head torch was both mentally and physically draining. I pushed to hard for a while trying to stay with another competitor which proved too much which meant I needed to back off. Luckily I had started to understand the signs I was feeling by this stage and backed off for a while I lowered my heart rate and temperature. I then pushed again to checkpoint 4 where I decided I needed to refuel and put down my sleep mat on the desert floor, I got out my stove, warmed some water and had a proper meal. This only took around 15 minutes but filled me with enough energy to push on through the night to check point 5. Checkpoint 5 was lit with a green laser light glowing in the night sky the 13km of distance to cover felt like it was unending as the eery glow seemed to get no closer no matter how much timed past. The long slog ended up at checkpoint with people asleep everywhere trying to restock their energy stores and push on after some sleep. I stopped for five minutes on my sleep mat but had no intention of sleeping, I felt pretty fresh so pushed on towards checkpoint 6. This proved to be a complete contrast of legs as moving through the night by a low light head torch I moved through the desert alone in the dark. The darkness seemed to wrap around the light patch cast by my light in a eerie fashion which was strangely comforting, moving forward in a world that only seemed to contain me and desert vista was an amazing experience. here I saw my first camel spider scurry off the track, I am so glad it was going away from me as it was the size of a saucer! I pushed on through the night towards the next checkpoint only pausing for a moment to stare at a herd of donkeys staring at me through some bushes. No one else saw donkeys that night apparently but I was sure they were real, although I was surprised they were hiding behind bushes peeking out at me and then ducking behind the bushes again, I dont know if they were actually there but it certainly made me laugh.

From checkpoint 6 there was only 12 km to cover until the end of the stage and the finish line, after leaving the checkpoint we suddenly dropped into a dried up river bed as the sun rose. Looking behind me as the sun rose it was like a scene from a horror film, bodies lurching and stumbling through the soft sand moving onwards at a slow, staggering pace. As the sun rose I just wanted to reach the finish line when I came across runner ‘666’ again who seemed to be struggling as much as me. We pushed on together suffering with our feet and with our energy levels sapped from the 22 hours of effort across the desert. We pushed on towards the finish line which once again seemed to evade our forward movement and never get any closer.

eventually we made the line which we crossed hand in hand, this seems appropriate in a strange way to cross the line hand in hand with the devil after such a challenging stage. I was relieved to cross that line yet was broken in so many ways.

I collapsed into the tent to discover the guy with the thorn had been withdrawn, we started with eight in the tent but we were now six. I ate a meal of custard with apples and then tried to dose for a while, I felt remarkably good this day sleeping a little then eating and generally lying around, I felt like I had earned the rest.!

Stage 5 - 42.2km - cut off time 12hrs - completed in 9hr 03 minutes

The final stage, all that was between me and the finish line of the Marathon des Sables was a marathon, how hard could that be, I had already ran 120 miles or 4 3/4 marathons across the Sahara, surely I could do one more. The atmosphere was exhilarating at the start line, everyone believed they could finish the toughest footrace on earth. Over one hundred and fifteen people had abandoned since the race started over the previous four stages, I did not want to add to this number today. After our musical introduction, enforced dancing and rock anthems I set off hobbling across stony terrain due to major pain at the back of my ankles where deep sores had formed. I had tried to avoid painkillers throughout the race but this morning I resorted to some paracetemol to take the edge away. Each step was like someone sticking a hot knife into my ankle, it was nothing other than brutal! I hobbled and staggered across the sand and stone trying to find some motivation deep inside, there wasn't any, I was a hollow burnt out shell. As I moved forward more and more people passed me I felt I was not going to get through this.

As I continued I suddenly found that the pain was starting to numb, I learnt that the human body eventually masks some pain as you push yourself to your limits, I grabbed my walking poles from my pack and started to dig in. By the time I reached checkpoint 1, 12km, which was in a leafy valley I felt strong, grabbing some water, I poured it over myself, topped off my bottles and pushed on into a small valley with vivid green patches of crops around houses. The colours were so vibrant after such a stark landscape and the green was unusually bright contrasting against the grey and yellow sand. By checkpoint 2 I had overtaken more runners and was set in a strong stride, nothing could stop me finishing this. The route out of checkpoint 2 drove up onto a stony plateau where every step seemed to shift the skin on my blisters around under the masses of tape covering them. After descending into a small village with lots of crops and local villagers I saw checkpoint 3 surrounded by trees, I went into the checkpoint again doused myself with any spare water I could find and jogged out into a dried up river bed full off soft sand. I ran along the owed for around 5km where the climb out started through small houses. The hill never seemed to end, the finish line could not have been more than 5km away.

Cresting the hill there was a medical truck with medics treating an overheated runner, the finish line was not in sight just another huge climb, I dug in and pushed on to the summit to see the white inflatable structure in the distance across a set of dunes, the route planners certainly had a sense of humour the last 3km of the race was soft dunes and stony climbs. I started to feel emotional but had no energy to waste on tears. As I neared the finish line I struggled to unfasten the sword from my rucksack, I had a carried the 500 grams of epee and flags across the desert this far and I wanted to wave it as I crossed the line. I started to jog towards the line where I saw tent mate Ollie waving at me, as i jogged forward through the soft sand cheers erupted from the dunes as I realised runners were sat all around the finish encouraging people on. Suddenly someone shouted sprint for the dunes as a lady runner was trying to pass me, this made me dig in and sprint to the line trying to stay just ahead of this lady. I pushed harder and harder gaining pace when I saw Su and Claire waiting at the finish inflatable shouting wave your sword. I thrust the sword into the air and waved it as I crossed the line to complete the race, I was directed towards Patrick Bauer who placed my medal around my neck and then kissed me on the cheek, strangely not the best thing to happen to me on that run. I met up with Su and Claire and had a cup of Sultan tea, whilst staggering around with my medal and water. The race was over, we could now collapse and recover until the charity fun run the next morning.

Written by Neil Bryant - www.ultrarunninglife.com

Ok, they’re not so bad now and it’s only the Tuesday after the UTLD, but, my god did this race wreck them like I’ve never seen or felt before!
I’ve been really excited about doing this race since I entered which was the first day you could. I knew that 11 weeks between the end of JOGLE and this should be enough for recovery and a little training. I underestimated JOGLE’s aftereffects on my feet which as I think I’ve already mentioned in a previous post left me with no training at three weeks to go and my feet were still sore! It was do or die. I was determined to have a go at this race this year so I planned a medium mileage week followed by a fairly heavy week, a week off then the race. Two weeks of training for a tough off-road 100 miler seemed a little silly but made it all seem a little more uncertain, more of a challenge. There was a pretty high chance that I wouldn’t finish this one which seemed to make it all the more exciting. The course is actually 104 miles in length and includes a pretty hefty 6971 metres of ascent. I’ve recceed most of the course earlier in the year so knew what a beast this was going to be. I also knew what a stunning course this is. To see so much of the Lakes in such a short time by foot is an incredible feeling.
I made my way to the train station after work on the Thursday and caught the train to Birmingham, where I was met by Drew, Nick and Steve who was driving. I squashed my bags in then we set off for the 3 hour drive to the hills. I was pretty relaxed and could already start to feel the adrenalin begining to pump. All four of us were signed up for the 100. we wondered What the journey back would be like – who would finish (if any) and who would not. We finally arrived at the Youth Hostel that Drew had sorted for us. We signed in and made our way up to our 4 man room. Bunk beds! Brilliant! I think we were all far too awake to get the nice early night we should have had, but eventually relaxed nicely and slept. In the morning I awoke and looked out the window. The Hostel was around 20 metres from the shore of lake Windermere. It was perfectly still and the sky was clear. A goose dragged its feet across the glass like surface of the lake as it lazily took off. This was going to be a special weekend I thought. We decided to get breakfast at the Hostel, so made our way down stairs and stuffed our bellies for the day ahead (even though the start wasn’t till 1730), while looking out across the lake. I felt pretty relaxed. I felt good. I felt I knew what was coming. JOGLE taught me that I can take a fair amount of pain and keep going so I had a little bit of confidence I’d complete.
After breakfast, we packed up and left for Coniston school which was the race HQ for the weekend. We arrived just after 0930 and went straight in for registration. I think we were the first through! They checked I had everthing in my pack, issued me my map and road book, T-shirt and finally my dibber which I attached around my wrist. The dibber is an electronic id device that records you at each check point. This information would instantaneously update the website so that friends and family can keep a tab on your progress. A nice touch that should prevent lots of worry (especially Mum!). After this we parked up in the almost empty school field and erected our tents ready for us to crash out in once we’ve (hopefully) finished. It was thankfully a beautiful day as we had around 6 hours till the briefing! We wandered into Coniston and grabbed a coffee and walked up the first mile or so of the course. We then went back to race HQ and got some food from the temporary cafe that had been set up for the duration of the event.>
Finally after much lazing around we had the brief, which was all very straight forward, then we had a special guest in the form of Joss Naylor the legendary hard man Fell runner. He gave us some good humoured advice then we were done till the start in one hour.
I got changed into my race kit and made some final adjustments to my bag, then walked over to the start line and waited for the off.
Finally Joss started the race and we began. Stuart Mills shot of like he was in a 10k and would probably never be seen again, while the rest of us made our way through Coniston and began the first of many hills and much walking! I tried to stay at a sensible pace, but was soon finding myself leaving behind Drew and Steve which got me a little concerned that I was overdoing it. My pace felt sensible so I carried on. I made my way up with Colin which is always a pleasure. After just over an hour we crested the hill and began the first major downhill. Pretty steep in places and quite difficult footing meant that this was a fairly slow affair for a poor descender like myself. My feet were killing already, but I just blanked them out and took one step at a time. I made the bottom of the hill and ran down a tarmacked road to the first cp at Seathwaite. I grabbed some food, dibbed in (checked in with my electronic dibber), then ran on trying not to waste any time. We made our way along a valley floor before turning up a decent little climb. The gradient eased as we passed a farm and headed into a plantation on very boggy ground. My feet were soaked through almost straight away.The path was slow, wet and rocky but eventually I came out onto open fell and headed down hill at a sensible pace. A sharp downhill into Eskdale before heading into Boot for the next cp. All was going ok, but as I kept reminding myself – these were early days!
I waited at Boot for a few minutes for Steve and Drew to catch up. They were a little further back than anticipated. We left together and I took off straight away. A small group of us stuck together up the hill and across the moorland past the tarn (mountain lake) and dropped down into Wasdale for the next cp. There was soup and bread in here but I just had some jelly babies, some cake and pushed on, knowing there was a long walk ahead up and over Black Sail Pass where I could eat. The sun was dropping fast now. I thought it’d be nice if I could get down the other side in light as it’s a pretty dangerous descent and I didn’t fancy it in the dark! As I made my way up, I starting chatting to a couple of guys, Allan and Simon. We stuck together on the climb and as we reached the top, we realised that it was time to mount the headtorches. We nearly made it! Allan lived relatively local and spent a fair bit of time in the Lakes and it showed with his descending as he dropped down the hill like a stone in comparison to Simon and my relatively slow and cautious descent. As we made our way along the flat at the bottom past the coolest youth hostel we turned right to start the next ascent. We started passing a few people and eventually caught Allan again. We dropped down towards a lake and took the amazingly good path that skirts aro> und it for a couple km, then headed to Buttermere, the next cp. We decided that the 3 of us were going to stick together for the hours of darkness as this was good for moral, we could keep our eye on the pace better and not let it slacken off and there was less chance of getting lost. We seemed to be fairly well matched on the pacing side of things too which obviously helps. Next stop was Braithwaite which I hadn’t been to yet as this was the point where Drew and I got lost on the recce in the dark. I was a little nervous about missing the trail again but there were a few people ahead and Alan seemed pretty confident with the course. Cool. We climbed for quite a way crossing over 3 tributuaries before taking the ‘obvious’ path heading very steeply up. I was happy now. This was the path we missed. It was very steep and I was dripping with sweat. I kept drinking as often as I co> uld, which wasn’t quite enough in these early stages!
Eventually we went over the top of this monster and began the slightly hairy descent down into Braithwaite. There was a very steep drop on the left, the path was pretty narrow and slighly off camber! I was pretty cautious coming down here! Soon we arrived at the cp. We stopped here for a 15-20 minute feed. I ate loads of pasta and rice pudding followed by loads of bicuits. Yummy Jummy Dodgers seemed to be going down well!
We pushed off from here knowing that there was a fair bit of flat road coming up. This was a relief for the feet and the concentration levels too. It’s always suprising how much I have to concentrate on my footing in the dark when running in the dark. It can be very consuming, especially when tired!
We eventually got back to the hills and started climbing till we got around half way up then started contouring all the way around a side valley which enabled us too look across and see how many were ahead. We only saw about 3 lights so the very front guys must have been miles ahead! We turned round the head of the valley the headed back on the other side for a relatively speedy approach to the next cp at Blencarthre. We were here very briefly before shooting off down hill. My feet were really starting to feel hot around the balls, a sure sign of blisters! I never suffer from blisters! Oh dear, this adds a new challenge to the whole thing! Still a long way to go and they’re only going to get worse! Oh well, I’ll just have to do my best at ignoring it and try not to dwell on it.
We were starting to see day light now. Always good for moral. Soon we’d be able to remove the headtorches which would be such a relief! We ran along a rail track for a few k before heading up a short climb to access the coach track, a decent undulating track that bought you all the way to the next cp at Dockray. We topped up our water and rushed off. My feet were deteriorating fast and giving me hell on the down hills. One step at a time. That was the only way to proceed in my head. We were not quite half way yet!
The next section to Dalemain was one of the longest at 15.9 miles. The weather was stunning and I had simply sweated since I’d left the start! I must keep drinking I thought. I must be losing so much fluid! We had stunning views and this seemed to really help fight the pain that was really hurting me now. When we arrived at Dalemain, Alan said he’d be stopping to do something to his feet as he was suffering from blisters too. I chose to just leave mine. I stuffed my face with pasta again, and sit down and rest them till Allan was done. I felt pretty good other than my feet. This really suprised me considering the small amount of training that I’d managed over the last 3 months. I felt pretty positive.
When Allan was done we moved off. We soon passed Pooley Bridge and then I was on the part of the course that I had n> ever seen. Thanks god for Allan and his excellent knowledge and confidence with the route! after a steady climb we had fairly decent trail down to the next cp at Howtown. Whilst we were dropping down we could see some dark cloud cover up on the higher ground. There had been a little rain forecast from around 12 onwards. Would the jackets have to come out? Another pretty fast stop at the cp and we were off for the next big climb! The climb up High Kop was long and very steep in places. Simon and I were unsure of Allan at this point and kept checking and rechecking the map and road book. We ended up following him up and eventually discovered he’d been correct all along! Don’t know why we ever doubted him! This was the highest part of the course. We went from High Kop to Low Kop before dropping down all the way to Haweswater where we joined a pretty good path that followed around the edge of the lake before coming to the next cp at Mardale Head. The clouds were gathering above us. My feet were in a right state at this point and nothing felt ok. Uphills, downhills, flat and even the few stretches of road were agonising. I was still feeling > great in every other way. You get straight into the next climb as you depart the cp. Gatesgarth pass had a howling wind coming down it into our faces as we began to climb. We decided that now would be a good time to don our jackets as when we got to the top the wind and rain would be terrible. The higher we climbed, the more we realised that we were correct and had made the right decision. As we came over the top it was blowing a gale and the rain was heavy. I found this quite envigorating though was aware that we really needed to keep moving and get off the top as we would chill very fast! I found it especially nice to have the rain wash away all the salt that was covering my head leaving me feel really refreshed!
The downhill was long and very, very painful. My poor feet were destroyed. I could feel blisters all over now. Quite a bit of the down hill had slate put across it with one edge in the ground whilst the other edge was projected upwards presumadely to add traction for 4×4′s on the way up. For my poor feet though this was pretty hellish. Each footstrike felt like it was ripping open the blisters! We finally passed this section and arrived at Kentmere, the next cp. They had smoothies here which went down very well indeed. I also had yet more pasta before We hobbled off on our way towards Ambleside. Soon we were back on the course that I’d recce’d previously. This felt good as I knew what was left. Just before we got to Ambleside, Allan went ahead to see if he could get his feet looked at. Allan was very determined to try and break 28hrs and his feet didn’t seem to be affecting him as bad as mine, so I was expecting him to go it alone now. We were down to 2 now. I felt good in all other ways, but my feet were really slowing me now. When we got to Ableside, Allan was laid up getting his feet done. As soon as he was done, we wished him luck, he got up and shot off. A quick round of soup and bread and we were off ourselves. Just 17 miles left now. I was sure that I could grit and bear it, but it was going to pretty awful! One step at a time.
Knowing the course really was helping me along my way here. I felt positive and knew I’d complete. The pain was nearly unbearable. I kept telling myself that it was just damage to my skin. It’d be fine in a week or two. The next cp was at Chapel Stile in the entrance way to a school. We sat down to rest for a minute. By this stage a few of the 50 milers had passed us looking remarkebly fresh. As we sat and relaxed, a 50 miler ran up and threw some orders at the crew before running off in a flash. Simon and I found it all very amusing just how much of a difference there was between the rather relaxed 100 milers and the rather twitchy 50′s. We pushed on knowing there was only one last cp. I used my knowledge to take us fairly confidently to the final cp at Tilberthwaite, which was the back of a van run by some squaddies. A mere 3.5 miles left. Easy, except that the final 1.5 miles was a pretty bad downhill into the finish. Normally this would be fine, but my feet were going to make this a pretty torturous descent!
We were near the top when a thick blanket of cloud surrounded us. We needed to find a small tree! We could see about 5 feet in front and it was now dark again! I was sure we were on the right track, but Simon wasn’t convinced. We stood trying to work out what to do, when miraculously the wind just blew the cloud cover away, exposing the tree we were after. Just the descent left now!
This was more painful than I thought it’d be. I had to stop and sit down twice as I’d trod on a stone awkwardly which in turn had burst some blisters which had sent waves of pain through me. After 30 seconds of sitting down the waves would have eased off enough to put my body weight on my battered feet again. Finally we made it down to the tarmac. We went as fast as we could as we had 6 minutes left to drop below 30 hrs. It’d be close! We both dibbed in in 30hrs 00mins 35secs! Oh well, never mind. I finished in 12th position! I couldn’t believe it. Way higher than what I expected, and had my feet held up a bit better, it would have been lot’s better, but it’s rare that nothing goes wrong at these distances! I tried to eat my meal at the end but my appetite completely deserted me. I wanted a shower but the thought of standing on my feet any more was too much. So I crawled to my tent and passed out.
When I awoke I had a shower and hobbled into the hall. Some people were still coming in so I cheered them in. My feet were really messed up, and walking was painful and slow. I discovered that of the 4 of us that travelled up, only Steve and I had finished. It’s a tough race! The journey home was long, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t manage the walk home from the station so got a cab. Home at 8. I got ready for work, then staright to bed. Somehow I managed to get up at 5:10 and ride my bike into work and do the whole day! Not quite sure how I stayed awake!
So a total success. I write this a week later, and my feet are nearly fully recovered. I’ll take a further week off before getting stuck into 4 weeks of training before flying out to Spartathlon in Greece. Then that’s it for the year for me.
I’ll sign off now as this has been a bit of a monster posting, and I doubt if too many people have made it this far.
Will probably write soon to let you know how Spartathlon training is going.
Happy running,
Neil.

Written by Chris Lamb - http://www.muddyrace.co.uk/community

By Chris Lamb

Endure 24 is an annual 24 hour trail race ran over an undulating 5 mile lap at Wasing park, Aldermaston, near Reading. Competitors can chose to run in a relay format in teams of 6-8, 3-5, pairs or do it solo. It starts at 12 noon on Saturday and continue throughout the day and night until 12 noon the following day. During the hours of darkness, other than a few glow sticks here and there, you only have your personal head torch to guide you. In 2014 the event won endurance event of the year at The Running Awards.

This was my third consecutive year. In 2013, in what was my first ever experience of ultra running, I was in an all male team of 7. I ran 7 laps/ 35 miles and we won the 6-8 category setting a course record. From that moment on I was fascinated by ultra running and couldn’t believe there were people actually doing the event on their own. It was a challenge I couldn’t resist so in 2014 I was back as a soloist.

I was very inexperienced having only ran my first ever marathon 2 months previous but managed a very respectable 16 laps/ 80 miles in torrential rain that turned the course into something that more resembled an obstacle course race than a trail run. For the following 12 months the target of 100 miles was almost a constant fixation in my head. This past weekend I was back to give that magical milestone my best shot.

The build up

I spent most of the remainder of 2014 doing obstacle course racing then as 2015 arrived my focus changed back to running. At the turn of the year I’d still only ran 2 marathons, both way back in April before my last solo effort at Endure 24 but that soon changed as I first attempted (and failed) to break the world record for the fastest marathon dressed as a postman (my day job) at the off road Cambridge boundary marathon in March and followed that up with a win in a 12 lap trail marathon in my home town of Northampton on Easter Sunday.

3 weeks later I was at the London marathon where I ran a PB of 2.46.12 and a fortnight on I paced my sister to a sub 5 hour PB in the Richmond park marathon which was a great bit of event preparation as it was ran at a similar pace to that I planned to run at Endure 24.

I still managed to fit in some obstacle course races as they are the events I enjoy doing the most but I used almost all of them as preparation by doubling or event tripling up. After Tough Guy I did the 5k and 10k at Mud Sweat and Beer and the Suffering and 2 x 12k at Iron Run all on the same day then I ran 3 12 mile laps of Tough Mudder over a weekend 2 weeks before the big day.

As well as plenty of longish training runs, the furthest being 20 miles and a couple of weeks of several back to back days of 10 mile runs I also did some night runs with my running club. We met up on a Wednesday evening every week from a month before the race weekend at 9.30pm and ran either laps of a lake or out and back along a canal with no lighting other than our head torches.

Event weekend

The time had come. 24 hours of running was upon me. It was time to put all the training and race preparation into motion. On arrival into the event camp I didn’t think my luck was in as once again the rain was coming down. Surely the weather wasn’t going to make what was already the toughest challenge I’d ever embarked on even harder?

Thankfully moments before the klaxon sounded for the race to start the rain stopped. A thick cloud covered the skies blocking any chance of sunshine but for the remainder of the event it stayed dry.

My planned pace for the early part was around 10 minute miles. I was slightly faster but felt very good and as early as lap 2 I was walking the 3 most significant hills on each lap to conserve energy and still clocking 9.30 miles. The first 5 laps absolutely flew by. I’d completed close to a marathon in just over 4 hours and barely broke a sweat in what was now muggy conditions in the predominantly woodland surroundings.

I then took my first proper break off course. I grabbed some food and drink from my car and headed over to the team camping area to join up with my club mates from Parklands Jog and Run. It didn’t seem like more than 10 minutes since I was last there before the race had started. I couldn’t have hoped for a better start to the day but I knew there was still a long, long way to go.

An hour later at 5pm I headed back out. The plan now was to get another 5 laps in to reach half way towards my target before darkness fully set in then take another longer break for a hot meal before taking on the night shift.

This all went according to plan and almost dead on 10pm I have completed my 10th lap still feeling relatively good. It was at this point the year before that my race went to pieces. The rain had just hit yet another heavy patch and I couldn’t face going back out until I’d had a sleep. This year however I was actually quite looking forwards to cracking on with the hours of darkness.

After digesting a jacket potato from the catering tent I switched my head torch on and headed off up the long hill stretch that started every lap. I chalked up another 2 laps both around the 1 hour mark meaning the distinct lack of vision had slowed me slightly but it was nothing to worry about and I still had plenty of time to spare.

Slightly more worrying however was the fact that towards the end of lap 12 my stomach had started bubbling up. I was releasing more gas than a hot air balloon and feeling sorry for any runners directly trailing me. I just made it to the portable toilets in the event village and was forced to spend the next 15 minutes sitting in an enclosed space uncomfortable and losing energy fast.

The lap that followed was by far the worse so far. That toilet stop had really stiffened my thigh muscles to the extent that lifting the legs had become a huge task and they were buckling every few strides. In the space of one lap my target that was always an ambitious one but one that had seemed realistic for so long was beginning so slip away.

Once I’d finally made it round I couldn’t help but take another break. To add to my problems blisters on both my big toes that I’d been doing my best to ignore since the early evening were now throbbing. I took my shoes and socks off for the first time and tried to stretch my legs out. Stupidly I hadn’t brought any protection or medication for blisters so I had no choice but to kit back up and get back out there.

I knew this would be the last bit of darkness I’d have to face and the sun would rise during this lap. These should have been invigorating moments but I was experiencing the opposite. My upper legs were horribly heavy and my entire body felt like it was shutting down. I walked almost the entirety of lap 14, it felt like it was never going to end. When I finally reached the finish line I stepped of course again and for the first time entered my tent.

It was at this point that I was seriously contemplating calling it a day. I felt like I had nothing left to give. I’d completed 70 miles but another 30 felt like an impossible task. I just about got my brain to work enough to make some calculations and realised the 100 mile dream was all but over. I decided to have a little sleep and see what the rest of Sunday would bring.

An hour and a half later, just as my alarm went off at 7.15am, my mum who was there running in a team of 8 from my club called me to check if I was ok. Her words echoed those of my wife who had just texted me from home. The gist of it was if I’m not going to achieve my target is it really worth going back out and killing myself for a few extra miles. This isn’t the was my mind works though and as exhausted as I was, deep down I knew I’d be going back out at some point before the race was over. I couldn’t leave there without knowing I’d given it absolutely everything I had.

I always set my targets high because that way even if I don’t reach them I can still achieve things along the way. The 100 miles was out of reach but matching or maybe even beating the haul of 80 miles I’d ran last year was still there for the taking.

Just before 8am I got myself back out on the course and the sleep had done me the world of good. I was energised and my muscles had loosened somewhat. I managed to run almost the entirety of not one but two more laps knocking them both out in just under one hour.

From that moment on I was happy again. I began to feel a real sense of achievement as I knew that every step of lap 17 was the furthest I’d ever ran before. Added to that the amazing spirit in which this event is ran meant that almost ever runner that passed me gave a compliment of respect that is held for all the soloist.

As I got closer to the finish line for the final time an immense amount of pride and emotion set in. I’d been running for the large majority of a 24 hour period, throughout daylight and an entire night time. I’d been to hell and back and had to dig deeper than I’d ever dug before but untimely I’d make it. I’d set a new personal best distance of 85 miles and still had a little time to spare to watch and support as my team mates came in along with a whole host of hugely inspirational characters all with their own targets. Some of them included the winning male and female who covered an incredible 130 miles and 115 miles respectively and an 85 year old man who achieved 50 miles. Then there is one of the most touching scenes this event continues to offer as the final leg runners are joined by their entire team who all run in crossing the finish line together.

I collected my medal, it was certainly one that was worthy of such an effort, it was huge and matched the class that almost every aspect of this race produces. I can not begin to imagine the amount of organisation that must go into putting on an event like this yet every single detail of it is done with such precision. It’s very hard to find any fault with it which is why it continues to grow in stature and reputation and thoroughly deserves that title of best endurance event. There is so much that could go wrong yet so little that actually does.

The aftermath

I learnt a hell of a lot this year, a lot of things that I should have learned the year before but the naively of it being my first attempt resulted in me thinking I could find those extra 20 miles purely by the weather conditions being better. This year I realised that as bad as that weather was there were so many more factors I could and should have improved on. The main one being my time spent on and off course.

Running faster early on allowing for more extended breaks isn’t the way seasoned ultra runners do it. They keep going and going with very little breaks at all. That’s the key and something I feel I’m now equipped to have the confidence to do. I also need a support team or at least one person helping me to get what I need when I need it which would save valuable time and unnecessary effort.

There’s no doubt about it, I’ll be back at Endure 24 next year but ideally I’d like to go back into a team. A strong 3-5’s team takes my fancy. When running as a solo you do miss out on some of the many things that make this event so special. Mainly the team camaraderie and enjoying the superb event village, then camping experience and the off course atmosphere. On a personal note I also miss the competitive edge. As a soloist I’m not able to get near the top honours over these sorts of distances. My 17 laps/ 85 miles put me in 29th position from 100 males.

I certainly have unfinished business with the 24 hour race though and am currently planning my next moves towards one day achieving that elusive 100 miles.

Page 16 of 33

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