report

Written by Mike Raffan - http://ultramiker.blogspot.fr

Last weekend race was a little different than what I am used to. Why you say, it was only the 53 miles Highland Fling, as race you have done 4 times and once in reverse, once as a training run and 3 times during the West Highland Way race? Well... this time it was different this time i would be doing it as part of a relay team. A 12 mile section from Milngavie to Drymen. The shortest race I have done probably since 2011. The relay is supposed in encourage people that have never done this full race to think about doing it next time. Well 3 of my team had never done it so this was my attempt of encouraging them.

We had a Cosmic Hillbashers team all lined up are ready to go. I had organised it knowing that with ballot paces up for grabs anyone else from the club was free to enter a team but nobody seemed interested. Hopefully next time others will see what a great time we had so they will think about it too. So who would do what leg? Having done the course many times i would let the others choose. Being a hill running club legs 2 and 3 were snapped up by Colin Russel and Luke Taylor. I would let Chris Tomlin take leg 4 and that left the flat mostly road (compared to the other sections) leg for me. this dont always go to plan and in the week before the race Chris was called offshore for work.

MAN DOWN! Call went out to the other club members that we could think might be free and a call out on facebook. Craig MacKay would save they day. He warned us he wasnt fit and not used to short distance (yes people 12 miles is short). Our unanimous reply was if you dont run we dont get to take part so just do your best.

Standing in Milngavie train station I watched the full race head off and waited for the relay to get setup. What I was disappointed with was how much the start line was dismantled. Sponsors took there flags away the timing mats were lifted. It was almost as if the relay was a 2nd class race (I know to a lot of people it is). Maybe something for John to think about if he wants to encourage new people, then again since the ballot is over subscribed maybe he doesnt need to.

7am and the race was off. Straight in the lead, first up the steps, a winning tack tick. By the time I left Mugdock park about 2 miles in I couldnt see anyone when I turned round. So now i just need to keep it up. The disadvantage or being out on your own in the first section in the amount of gates you have to open. I went through one of them and obviously trying to get through too fast i banged against one of the locks that keep the gate shut. Ignore the pain, it will sill be there to deal with at the end. Just before Beach tree Ross and Eilidh were taking photos and told me I had a massive lead as they hadnt seen anyone through the previous gate yet. This sort of feedback is great, normally in ultras the checkpoints are in such remote locations that are not able to tell you what is happening in the rest of the field.

Photo by Ross Lawrie

The road crossing at Beach Tree I caught the first full fling runner. From that point on it was I was catching more and more runners. To me it was good catching people but I would imagine it would be quite frustrating for the back runners knowing they had another 49 relay teams about to overtake them. Once i got to the road crossing at Drymen I felt like I was ready to finish and unlike normal races I could. This photo By Ali Robertson sums up how I felt.

I often get to the end of races and fell, well i could have done this and could have done that and it might have been quicker but for my leg that was all I had on they day. 1 hour 25 min 38 sec. but wait thats only 1 min faster than I did in the full race in 2014 so why did i feel so crap. Had I lost that much fitness? I know i am not as fit as I was but still. After laying down for 10min and puking twice someone pointed out that I had raced 150miles less than a month ago. yup that could have something to do with it. Fine for distance but distance at speed not so much.

Anyway I had given the team a 9min lead after the first leg. Luke took over for leg 2 and the Troon team much have had someone really strong for conic. Luke was our best hill runner and they took the lead down to 2min. Luke isn't used to racing 15miles so by the end he was starting to feel it. I can only speculate that that was why they were able to take time back. Leg 3 was Colin he wanted the technical section but I am not sure he expected it to be like it was. we arranged for Craig to get the train down from Tyndrum just in case we couldn't make it to Bein Glass by the time Colin did and getting out of the carpark at Rowerdennan it didn't seem like we were going to. We were about 1 car away from it being total gridlock with the amount of cars coming in a single track road and nowhere to go. Colin manged to get our lead back to 11 min but what we didn know at the time was it was Dunoon that had over taken Stonehaven and Troon and were now behind us. Poor Craig was feeling the pressure, he had done many big races but never before was he gifted a 11min head start. He had been sick sever time in the past few hours, nervous was an understatement.

All we could do was stand at the finish line waiting for Craig to come through, we could hear the piper and 20 seconds later a runner would come through, time and time again. Would Craig be next? Sadly for us Dunoon's last runner ran a blinder in the last leg and managed to take our 11min lead and some. Not only did Craig feel nervous all morning he now felt crap that he let us down. We all tried to tell him at the same time as taking the piss that we can 2nd in a hard fought race, we wouldn't have got to run if he hadn't stepped in. Looking at the splits after we were lucky to come 2nd any of the top 4 could have won.

The team wernt impressed that we kept being told we wernt real runners at various times of thoughout the day, including when we went for food at the end.

So what happened at the Viking way I hear you say? Well sit tight I took a wrong turn past that race.

Well The race was 147miles along the Viking way organised by Mark Cockbain or Cockbain events fame. Which just to make it a bit harder you are not allowed to use GPS for navigation. Mark says it it because GPS is unreliable, I dont agree, I think he should just say he doesnt want to to use them because the help you then nobody would grumble. I had done the Hill at the end of 2014 and the C2C 2015 winning both. The 3 events make up the gland slam of Cockbain events affectionately know as The Cockslam if you complete them with the 12months. The Viking way wasn't run in 2015 because Mark and his wife bad a baby and the timing meant he took a well deserved break. At the end of the C2C Mark said because they postponing the race for a year if I did it in 2016 it would count for the slam. Now I did know if i wanted to do the race, yes i wanted the kudos of getting the slam but I dont like running and having my face stuck in a map the hole time. but this was the only chance i was going to have of completing it. I dont want to do the C2C again and the hill is probably not going to happen again. So this was my only chance.

Race signed up for at the last minute, maps were sent out. I have to say well done to anyone who managed to complete the race with the quality of the maps that were sent. I think mark must have taken them from a high quality source but they were compressed in email. I used walk highland website to redo all the maps which meant i was able to mark on them at the same time. I marked distances and things to look out for. I used google street view were I could to do a "recce" since i had never been to that part of the country before. As with the previous two races I emailed Jon Steele the only person to have done the Slam before to ask advice on shoes. The options were road shoes, speedcross, or fellrazors. I knew the answer already anything but speedcross would be stupid. But it was tradition so I had to ask.

I long 9 hour drive later we arrived in Hull. Annette would drive to the finish as you were not allowed a support crew. You were allowed people to meet you on route but no support. Roz Glover had signed up to the race but had pulled out after booking a non-refundable room at the premier Inn near the start so I was delighted to snap it up from her. Thanks Roz.

Woke up in the morning to find I had taken from the shoe rack the shoes that look almost idetical to my speedcross, i had taken the fellrazors. Massive lugs and really tight designed to do maybe 10mile hill race. Oh well no point worrying about it put up with what you have got. Right to the start line. where have I put my maps? arggghhhh I can run without them. I had spare for the 2nd 50 and the 3rd 50 in my drop bag but why would i need them for the 1st 50. slight panic later I found them. ok check bag and pop the zip burst. Annette spent 20min trying desperately to put it back together while i went to the start line. I had a better idea, we couldn't find any duct take but the next best thing was safety pins and every race had them. Zip pinned up just in time and we were off.

it was a nice easy flat start which i took at a normal pace but everyone else, and i do mean the whole field seemed to be going slower than 10min miles so it made it look like i was shooting off and great speed. I had no intentions of winning the race I just wanted to complete it to get it out of the way say I had done it. within the first 2 miles i missed a turn, this was not going well, added 1/2mile already, I not going to enjoy this. the whole race managed to pass me, on the upside i didnt need to read the map now i could just follow the crowed. Until I managed to catch everyone again. I ran with Javed for a while at the front. He was doing well since he complete a double Spine not that long ago. i pushed on looking at the map counting how many field I had to pass then turn. I was not enjoying having to keep checking the map. at 15miles I there was along straight I I could see that were was no anyone close to me I had at least a 3 or 4 min gap. but 30seconds later I stopped for 10seconds and there they were. for the next 10 or so miles i ran with Richard and Jamie. Richard hard done the race before and knew the way so. It made for a much nicer race having him there. also there were some turning I was able to get before him from my google recce. I was running ahead opening the gates and waiting for them, that was a lot easier then having to do the nav myself. I am not sure what point it was probably around 25 or 30miles that they started to slow Richard had been complaining about sore calves. We got to a log stright part and i thought i would take me chances, I could always slow down again if needed, So i powered on. Something that on of the guy6s had mention was the way Gary Morrison was great at thumbing the map. I thought I know how to do that so why had I not been earlier? so here goes, and it works just keep my thumb on the point of the map where i am then i dont need to think about it every time i look. wait this is much easier.
Much of the next 20 or 30 miles were uneventful apart from I was finding it hard to eat while running. As i had to carry maps i thought it would be a good idea to have a map pouch on the front of my bag and it was great apart from my bag isnt designed to take one and it must have been bouncing against my stomach. when i stopped i could eat when i ran i could not. one thing for eat walk and eat then run.

It was starting to get dark when heading to Lincoln luckily I had marked on the map how far Lincoln was as i could see the cathedral lit up and it was never getting closer, it was ok i knew it was still 12 miles to get there. just before Lincoln there is a canal and on the map during my recce I had written do not cross but the sign said viking way cross. so i followed my map and did not cross, WHY? why had I written that? i was going up toward the road and I shouldn't be. turned back another 1/2 mile wasted! this time not from missing a turning but taking a stupid wrong turning that i had written on the map. If i had just followed the sign it would be ok. Into Lincoln and the checkpoint. My friend Nick was there and he had been ordered to pass on a hug from Sandra so that cheered me up. mark was there and asked if I had the detailed map that he had given us at the start. My reply " no I took a map that I could read" he took a look and said fair point my one was better you could see the street names. He told me to remember dont follow the map through the park as the gates will be shut at the other end. Roger that! it did stop me getting to the park and going in to find locked gates and having to turn back.

Reaching the cathedral and a lot of the guys that had retired fro the race were at the cathedral to help direct runners the correct way. well they tried Javed tried to direct me down an alleyway but I had recce'd it and knew where I was going. running down Steep hill (the high street) not hard to see where they got the name from. Lincoln center was like any other at 10pm on Saturday night. I was surprised by how little attention(abuse) I got. coming down the hill there was a girl obviously had a few to drink struggling to walk on her high healed platforms shoes and shouted " how the hell can you be running, I cant even walk" well it could have something to do with my shoes that are designed to run up mountains or something to do with you.... the next was just as I was leaving the pedestrianised area there was two police looking after some one that could hardly stand at one side and a group of lads at the other, just as I got up close one the the lads shouted "HE'S GOT A BOMB!!!"as they all stepped back, obviously seeing my running backpack with two bottle at the front. thankfully the police didnt even look round. I just kept running. would be interested to hear what the others got as the night went on.

this happened a lot

Somewhere between Linoln and the 100miles I lost where I was on the map. So i just kept going stright, I looked at my compass and I was heading in the right direction. every few miles i would see a viking way sign so i knew it was good. I met a old chap in a field at the earlier hours of the morning who said "I have done an ultra" I asked him to show me where I was but he didnt have his glasses so couldnt see that map. He said the name of the village that was coming up but it didnt relate to anything on the map, but he seemed to think i was on the right route. Hmmmm he must be looking for something that is in the race, why else would be be standing in a field in the middle of the night.

After taking yet another wrong turn in the village before the 100 mile check point I made it at last. I sat down 19hour 51min happy with the time despite all the wrong turns but I needed to eat, I wasn't feeling sick but knew I needed to eat. the next check pint wasn't for another 20miles. the problem with stopping is you get cold. and I was wearing a vest. time to put on all the cloths I had. mark made me some porridge and I asked him to put on another. I never stop at checkpoints but this time I needed food and left at 20hour 29min but at least I had eaten. while I was there 2nd place Jim Rogers had caught and passed me taking over the lead and going on to in the race.
eating at checkpoints got a habit 20min next one.
121miles in West borough, ran past landdrover, I cant remember what was unusual about it that made me notice it. I ran up and past the church and stopped to look at my map. then kept on running. wait thats the landdrover theta i just past, deja vu? compass out! no i was heading the wrong direction. when i looked at the map i'd just turned 180degree and started running the wrong way.

Some of the mud and an electric fence for support

the next 40miles were a bit of a blur, strava says i took 21min at the 2nd last check point. There was lots of mud but then there had been on and off the whole race. Mud meant my shoes were good but around the 100mile mark my feet where starting to swell and I could feel the blisters. At one point I remember looking at the landscape and knowing exactly where I had to go next, I new the lay of the land perfectly. How could that be I had never been there before. I remember having the same feeling at the told of the last climb in UTMB and I remember discussing it with Annette. My brain was on a go slow it was falling behind what my eyes could see, I had seen it all before! Two seconds ago by brain just couldnt keep up. at least this time i knew why.

More mud on my legs

the other amusing thing I remember was a song that I had heard on the radio, I had no idea what the song was and never said I liked it. In my somewhat exasperated state the lyrics that were going rounds in my head for about 10hours were
"Needle in the head, gonna get it out of my head, needle in the head gonna wind up dead" probably not the most uplifting of things to be thinking about at the time. Eventually the words evolved in to more appropriate lyrics
"Mud on my legs, gonna get you out of my head, mud on my legs gonna wind up dead." now can you imagine that on repeat for hours on end. you might want a needle in the head.
the last checkpoint and the end was in sight. mark had said it was 10k but on my map it was more like 4miles, but these are a long 4 miles when your feel are tired. After 33 hour and 44 min and 152 miles, I had done 5 extra from all the wrong turns, But I crossed the line

Photos were taken and facebook posts where made. someone declared me on facebook at the 2nd Cockslamer when Mark said no, its doesnt count. wait what? it ... doesnt count? I explained he told me it did, I wouldnt have done the race if he hadnt. Mark changed his mind again and I was.

Mark messaged me a few days later to say people had been in touch asking why it did count and he was giving in to peer pressure. He said he made a mistake telling me that in the first place. My reply was it was his race and his rules and I will stick by whatever decision he makes. He said i would get a trophy for being only the 2nd person to finish all 3 event so I have that to look forward too. I am safe in the knowledge that I have done what are some of the hardest races in the UK and managed a 9 hour course record to win one of them, an hour record to win the next and in a race that put me out of my comfort zone managed second place. Will I do his new race the Chained, I would love to but its 3 weeks before Lakeland 100 so maybe not, It a long way to travel and maybe not get to run.

The winner Jim was a local so knew the route well, I think anyone that is not comfortable staring at a map either move to Lincoln, tag on to someone that knows the route or get there and recce it. If you want to laugh at all the places i went wrong click here

Thanks Mark and crew for another great experience, I wont be doing that race again :)

We escaped that side of England and headed for Wales, 3 days later we hiked up Snowdon.

Written by Dave Douglas - https://1wallman.wordpress.com

02:45 my alarm goes off. I didn’t get much sleep but I bolt out of my bed and spring into action. All of my running gear is packed and my choice of clothes is neatly laid out and ready for action.

Dressed, cup of tea, salami sandwich, lube up, sun block 50 x twice (take no chances!), last minute faff and I’m ready, well almost. I have an overwhelming desire for another cup of tea, it’s 03:35 and I need to leave before 03:45, what’s the point? Without further ado I quickly make my brew, 03:40. I decide that I haven’t got time to enjoy it so I look around for something to put it in to take it with me. I take an empty scrunched up water bottle out of the bin, perfect! With my sandwich in one hand and my bottle of tea in the other I head out of the door, 3:46. It’s cutting it fine but I’m calm and composed as I head to the Place des Dolomites where the start is located.

As I walk I’m feeling proud of myself, everything has gone perfectly clockwork so far, that’s until I see all the other runners rolling into the start pen with their head torches, running sacks and poles. POLES, s**t, where’s my poles? In my smug bottle of tea moment, I’d put my poles down to pick up my tea, (insert expletives x 100 here)! I’m not mentally or physically strong enough to do this beast without poles! 03:52 and I’m running back to my apartment, how could I have swapped my poles for tea, idiot!!! I grab my poles and head back to the start line, the adrenaline’s pumping but I’ve got a few minutes to spare!

At the briefing yesterday when they said there would be a kit check before the race I though ‘Yer, right, as if that’s going to happen!’, I was wrong, the kit check was duly taking place and rightly so! I though the race was going to be the hard bit, not getting to the start line!!!

There’s about 200 people ready for the off (166 I later learn), every single one of them look like lean mean running machines. I feel slightly intimidated but know I can hold my own. The count down begins from 10, and 9 seconds later we’re off…..

It takes less than an hour before we reach patches of snow, some of it’s firm but mostly it’s slushy and hard going. We’re soon on a small col by a ski station and as we turn the corner a beautiful piece of single track trail snakes across the mountainside, perfect. I’ve got a couple of keen racing snakes on my heels but I’m going well and motoring around the mountain. That is until I go over on my ankle! Aargh, BUGGER BUGGER BUGGER, I limp to the side of the path and let them go. They ask if I’m okay as they pass by but they’re gone before I can reply. It’s only a rolled ankle and it’s happened many times before in races. I know the score, 2 minutes of pain, 10 minutes of awkwardness then it’ll be tender but ok to carry on. I limp off and continue my race but not at the speed I’d like to be doing. I try and recall how far it was back to the last marshal, just in case it’s worse than I think!

As we head higher the snow patches become ski slopes and a race marshal recommends that we put our snow spikes on. Looking at what lay ahead I wasn’t going to argue with him.

We passed the Funicular de la Grande Motte just as all the staff were spilling out for a day working the ski lifts and pistes (yes, Summer skiing/snowboarding) and could clearly see our first and highest objective at 3656 meters, La Grande Motte. There’s a refreshment station here so I take a moment to soak the surrounding in. As I look towards our peak I can see tiny specks heading up the snow. But these specks aren’t on the mountain itself, there on the ski slope heading towards it. This gives me some aspect/realisation as to how far and high it is away from me!

Higher up as we we’re leaving the main ski slope on a single track snow plod I could see the runners above on the arête where the snow and mist was blowing over and around them. I still had only my vest on and thought it wise to cover up for that bit!

As we headed upwards a rocky crag barred our way. Luckily a gully with a fixed rope was in place to help us onwards. Once on the top our number was zapped and we were instructed to put our poles safely away. I was intrigued as to what lay ahead that we couldn’t use our poles for! My curiosity was soon answered when I came to a cliff face below me with ropes hanging over! The friendly marshal at the top gave me reassuring instructions in a stern voice. It’s a shame I didn’t understand a word he said but I got the gist of it which including danger and death! There was about 20m of scrambling down aided by ropes, to me it was ok but I could see how a novice could easily be freaked out and become crag-fast (stuck)!

I haven’t really run any distance downhill fast in the snow but it’s not that hard. Most of it was over your ankles but now and again you could go knee deep! This was great for icing my dodgy ankle I thought.

When the snow finally petered out we were on a downhill winding stony road. In the winter this would be an excellent red cruise back to Tignes before après apéritifs but today it was a dull grind.

After Tignes we went back upwards on nice single track that brought us to open meadows. This was fantastic running, let this continue for many a kilometer I though, I could run this all day. Well, it was great while it lasted but then we were treated to a traditional downhill forest zigzag fest that spat us out at La Daille.

The temperature had really turned up a few notches and you could see it in everyone’s stride as they arrived into the feed station. I took one of the two chairs available right by the food. As usual I wasn’t hungry, but I forced down a couple of cups of noodle soup followed by a few orange segments all washed down with two cups of coke. Water bottles refilled and I was off feeling great again. That was until I got 200 meters away and realised that I’d left my poles behind (again!)!

Two weeks prior to this race I’d ran the Mont Blanc Marathon 80km and thought I’d tackled the toughest of steep hills, I was wrong. This path up to the Passage de Picheru was an absolute monster of a climb. I was thankful of the mini feast I’d had below because I wasn’t sure how long I could keep trucking up this hill. Every time you thought it’s just over the brow there, you were crushed with another incline that seemed to go on forever. My heart beat matched that of someone flicking through a deck of cards, my breathing was labored and heavy but I was smiling like a Cheshire Cat.

What goes up must go down and down I went. More snow and slush but it took the pounding off the feet for a while. I could see Lac de la Sassière down below where more refreshments were waiting.

I still had my gloves stuffed down the front of my running shorts from when I’d summited the Grand Motte. I’d only notice them once they’d slipped beyond my groin area, so I’d quickly grab them and pull them higher up and swear to put them in my rucksack the next time I stopped.

At this point runners were few and far between. Even though Steph had texted me updates, I hadn’t looked at my phone so I had no idea where in the field I was. At a very rough guess I would said I was in the top half judging by where I started and who I’d passed or been passed by!

After the lake we followed a rocky path upwards that wasn’t too steep, oh joy. The descent on the other side wasn’t drastically steep but this forced you to run at a good pace in the very hot sun. Had this been a shorter run this descent would have been fantastic but not today!

I landed in La Fornet knowing that I’d broken the back of the race. One more major climb to do then it was all-downhill…. or so I thought!

As the marshal zapped my number I headed for the shade of a bus shelter, the last few hours in the blistering sunshine had really taken it out of me. As I sat there cooling down I was joined by another sun struck runner. I asked him how many kilometers it was to the finish. He shuck his head and I thought he was trying to tell me that he didn’t know or he didn’t understand me, when I rephrased my question he looked at me and clearly said ‘it’s over, we’re timed out’ in a French hacked off tone! It took a few seconds to sink in, ‘timed out’, I’ve never been timed out of a race in my life. I didn’t even know what the cut off points were but I was sure as hell that I hadn’t been slow on the course!

I headed out of the bus shelter where there were about 10 other runners all very annoyed at the situation. I asked around and eventually found an English speaking person that confirmed we had all been timed out and a mini bus was waiting to take us back to base. I walked away in disbelief, all the other runners were up in arms and babbling on in French, none of which I could understand apart from the disappointment and anger in their voices. I slowly resigned myself that that was it, rules were rules and I didn’t make the cut. I went and sat by the minibus as there were more runners than seats by now.

I put my poles away, stopped my Strava and pulled out my mobile to give Steph the disappointing news. Just as I was about to call I noticed a change in attitude by the bus stop, something had happened. I put my phone away and headed over to see what had changed. There were a few less runners than before and I soon learned that because of the difficult conditions prior they were going to extend the cut off at this point by one hour, game on…

I slogged up to ski station at the Col de Iseran and made the cut off by 10 minutes. The marshal vaguely pointed his finger towards the hanging valley and gestured that the next section went around it. It didn’t look too bad as long as we didn’t have to go to the top of those mountains in the far distance and along that wild ridge. An hour later we were scrambling up rocks and scree in a fairly vertical manner. The guy in front of me missed a marker and was heading towards a point of no return. A quick call and his bacon was saved!

It soon became apparent that those mountains and that wild ridge were exactly where we were heading, so be it. This was real mountain territory, steep, loose, hard to follow path, despite being very tired I was in my element. All those Mountain Mondays were paying off good style. My lungs and heart were still rapidly functioning thus causing a standing break every ten or so minutes.

On the way to topping out at Aiguille Pers (3386m) on the French/Italian border I followed an awesome ridge with a massive drop into Italy on the left and steep snow/scree to the right. This wasn’t just running this was true Alpine mountaineering! After being zapped by another epic marshal I had a lot of downhill snow (again) to get back to the col. I knew that after the col I had a bit more uphill before I could have access to the other side via a tunnel where my village lay and the end of my epic race.

At the Col de I’seran I loaded up on Liptons Ice Tea and a cup of coke. I didn’t have the stomach to eat anything but I was raring to go. A female marshal smiled as she told me that I only had 10 kilometres to go and the cut off was in an hour. An hour to do 10 kilometres was impossible especially when you saw that ascent up through the snow and goodness knows what on the other side. She then said, maybe an hour and a half with another innocent smile. I didn’t see red or frustration, I saw a challenge!

Without a second thought I was on my feet and storming towards the snow line. I hadn’t really had a second wind today, it was just get on with it Douglas, moping around won’t help finish this race. I’d overtaken two guys on the last section and I knew there were two more ahead of me somewhere. Not only am I going to finish this race but I’m head hunting too.

Yet again the snow was mushy and hard going but I was in a rhythm and moving fast. The lethargy in my legs had been replaced with Liptons Ice Tea and I rocketed up the hill. Like all good things it came to an abrupt end. The snow ran out and I was faced with a chossy (bad/nasty/loose) near vertical face climb. The roped sections earlier on were easier and safer than this! It’s no exaggeration to say a slip from here would be to meet my maker! As I wasn’t ready to meet him just yet I carefully moved upwards and picked the best line possible to be met outside a tunnel by two officials and their dog (surely them came from the other side?). Only 8 kilometres to the finish they tell me. The tunnel is about 100m long, I emerge out of the other side ready for the final downhill blast.

There’s no path as such, just a very steep scree slope with the occasional blue rock to follow. I bound down the slope knowing that the finish line lies at the end of this valley somewhere.

Where the scree stops the snow starts. I could see footsteps heading directly down the steepest bit, oh well I thought, here goes. After I few steps I could see a bum shaped groove heading in a straight line. I’d heard about these epic bum slides but had never had the chance to try one. Before I could rationally talk myself out of it I was on my arse and bombing down this slope out of control. I dug my feet in only to give myself a full body spray. I quickly learned that my poles were my friends and by holding them like a paddle I could semi control myself. I recon I did a good half a kilometre in less than a minute, result!

As I composed myself and carried on on foot I spied my quarry about a kilometre ahead of my, they were walking on the flat, I knew with my renewed vigor that I’d be running that bit, not walking.

They dipped out of sight and I pushed on, I knew there was a small lake somewhere ahead and once I passed that, it was a direct route to the finish line. The markers weren’t as often as they had been and I had to pay close attention not to lose them. The pace was good and I reckoned that I’d easily covered more than half the descent. I noticed a marker flag on the side of the snow and two blue dots on the rocky soil above. Here we go again, off the snow and onto an unchartered upwards-grassy slope. Why did I ever believe that there’d be no more uphill after what we’d just been put though?

The hill turned into a grassy ridge and I could see the guys half a kilometre away. This just egged me on to push harder and every time they reappeared they were a little bit closer to me! Just before Lac de L’Ouillette I finally pasted them. To say they were a little surprised was an understatement. I tried to be friendly and make conversation about how close we were to the finish and let’s go together but I could see the tiredness in their eyes and knew there was only one pace that they were doing and that was it!

I left them with a wave and five minutes later at the final timer control point I turned to see them a good distance back but running. Running, but they were dead on their feet almost and now they’re running, oh bugger, this meant that I was going to have to run even faster to stop them catching me up. When running in a pair you can easily spark off each other and muster up enthusiasm to nail a cocky English man on their home turf. I swear there was smoke coming off my shoes as I hurled myself down the steep slope towards the finish. At the first corner I glanced back up the hill to see my competition at the top. For them to catch me now would be nigh on impossible but that didn’t stop me giving it hell for leather down the black (Rhone-Alpes) run to the finish.

As I entered the finishing straight the microphone was booming and a small handful of people cheered me over the finishing line. I shook hands with everyone while telling them that was the best course I’d ever ran ( Steve Mee style!). There were no tears of joy, no sick, no collapsing, no cramp, just an overwhelming feeling of euphoria and tiredness. I was handed my finishers t-shirt (no medal!) and sat for a while to contemplate what I’d just achieved.

The guys I was chasing then being chased by came in 5 minutes after me. I shook their hands and we exchanged stale sweat and pleasantries.

Out of 166 starters only 48 made it to the finish line. I was well chuffed with a hard fought for 43rd place in 16hrs 16mins! The majority DNF’d will only 9 getting timed out.

It was only after my bath I felt a pain in my ankle and my mind was reminded of the early mishap that nearly finished me!!!

If you want a beautiful race high in the Alps with very challenging terrain then this is the race for you!

Dave Douglas

#1wallman

#mountainmonday

The official Skyrunning write up about the event by Ian Corless is here- http://bit.ly/HTV2016

Written by Rob Pinnington - http://ardrobsrunning.blogspot.de/

Finally after what seems like an age (but is only fifteen months), five thousand kilometres of training and three failures (Spartathlon 2013, The Hill 2013 & Tortourderuhr 2014) I have finished a 200km race and got a medal, a t shirt and a bottle of Newkie Brown!

ROB 'Is that it? A medal and a shirt'
DAVE 'There's a bottle of Newcastle Brown Ale in the goody bag'
ROB 'BEER! Excellent! I'm happy now

It has been a long journey of rediscovery, rediscovering what the secret to the finishing of a plus 200km race.

1) Some said fitness. Could be, but I am fitter than ever before. I have a very low resting heart rate and over the past year a built a lot more speed. I have lost weight, as well, at least seven kilograms.

2) Some said mental toughness. Could be, but I have been through a lot of bad stuff which I won't list here because of its personal nature and I don't want to get into a competition. During all this I have managed to keep my life in a sensible order.

3) Some said physical toughness. Could be, but I run through a lot of pain. I am mystified by why people complain about blisters and currently have a hernia.

4) Some said the personal desire. Could be, but a Spartathlon finish is one of the things I desire most.

In my previous blog, I noted that food, or rather lack of it, during a race causes my desire to finish to vanish. I had been told this before. To quote 'if you are feeling lethargic, slow down, refuel and then start again.' Somehow I had missed this tip or just ignored it. Tim Noakes writes in the Lore of Running that the 'symptoms of hypoglycaemia include...an intense desire to stop running....the athlete senses the impossibility of completing the race.'

With this in mind I prepared lots of food for Mark Cockbain's Coast to Coast Ultra. Gels, energy bars, rice puddings, crisps, scratchings and cheese, lots and lots of cheese. I put this all onto a plan and added up the calorific content, it was nearly twenty thousand. A lot for a normal two days, but as I was going to be running for nearly thirty eight hours at a burn rate of five hundred calories an hour, it is about right. The Ugly Unt questioned if I could eat all this without throwing up but I rarely throw up...it is a waste of beer and food if you ask me.

I gave this plan to my crew with the instruction to ensure I ate this amount as a minimum. This is an appropriate point to mention my crew and thank them for their fantastic service. My son Ross, who crewed for me on the ill fated Tortourderuhr attempt, and Chrissy, my most excellent wife, for whom this was her first crewing duty. They were great throughout the race and kept me going, offering food and encouragement all the way. I really can't express my thanks enough for what they did. I better stop with the praise now, otherwise I will be far too soppy.

My loyal crew

We left Germany on the Tuesday before the race and traveled to Ijmuiden in the Netherlands to catch the sleeper ferry across to Newcastle. Arriving on Wednesday morning we drove to a pleasant Bed and Breakfast place in Embleton. The next few days were spent doing a bit of course reconnaissance and a lot of casual touring.

After I posted the link to the tracker for the race on Facebook I received some excellent encouragement that helped me focus. I also received a few personal messages that really rammed home that I had a lot of backing among my friends in the running community. Either that or I was being guilt tripped into finishing :-)

A couple hit home

‘I love the way you just list your performance on the DNF as it happened... your blog doesn't just inspire, it reassures’

I was also told

‘You Got This’

And

'You had better nail this race as Mark has put this on especially for Sparta training '

These really inspired me.

My complete kit list for the race was quite simple.

· A couple of hats.

· A Sparta buff.

· A Montane Minimus jacket.

· A Care Keep Warm top for coldest time of the night.

· An Asics long sleeve top with sleeve mittens that I bought in 1998.

· A couple of technical t shirts from various races.

· A pair of leggings by Alex.

· A couple of pairs of shorts by Adidas.

· A couple of pairs Sealskins socks for the rain.

· A couple of pairs Wright socks.

· A couple of pairs of Drymax socks.

· A pair of Asics GEL-Trail Lahar 5 G-TX shoes.

· A pair of Asics GT 2000 shoes.

· A Adidas sports watch with just the time displayed in very large numbers

· Two backpacks with large bladders. (one was a gift from a friend and another was a gift from a marathon)

When we woke up the weather was bad. It was bucketing down. Therefore I chose to start the race wearing the following items

· A hat from the 2012 Frankfurt marathon.

· The Asics long sleeve top.

· A lime green technical t shirt from Jungfrau marathon 2006.

· The Montane Minimus rain jacket.

· The Alex Leggings.

· The Sealskins socks.

· The Asics trail shoes.

I covered my feet in Lipidro cream and taped my nipples with Leukotape. My nether regions were liberally plastered with Vaseline.

We picked up a packed breakfast at six am consisting of a cheese sandwich and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, arriving at the start for registration shortly afterwards.

I introduced my crew to the others there and caught up with some old friends. Alex and Mark Cockbain where already there and Mark noted my sarnie was a typical northern start to the day. Lawrence Chownsmith was there to crew for Martin Illot. Lawrence mentioned that he had a few issues with the instructions. He could understand that RHS meant Royal Horticultural Society but what did LHS mean? Was there a Liberal Royal Horticultural Society? Drew Sheffield was soon taking the mickey out of Jon Steele’s Hokas, announcing the sale of the firm to Tommy Hilfiger and the cancellation of all the star runner contracts. He does this so convincingly that even an old cynic like me was fooled.

Chris Rainbow expressed concern that the tracker might interfere with his pacemaker. This turned out to be completely unfounded as he finished second.

Riccardo Giussani a veteran of the Hill and Viking way was there sharing crew with Dave Fawkner.

Jason Lewis and Tom Forman were both very ebullient making everyone laugh.

Marks briefing was short and simple and can be summed up as don't be an idiot and finish in time. Tom Forman was at the start line in the pouring rain in a cotton t shirt and shorts. I thought what an idiot. He is not going last long, just like on the Hill.

Jon Steele shook my hand at the start just to assure me that he wasn't going to beat me up like my hallucinations made me think he wanted to on the Hill.

As we started I missed Jon Steele going to the water’s edge and almost falling in. He had to be rescued by Dave Fawkner and others.

As I ran off I was soon regretting wearing so much, as although it was raining heavily, it was rather warm. Within a mile or so I had to strip to the waist to remove the long sleeve top and put that along with my rain jacket in my backpack. Perhaps Tom was not such an idiot after all.

During this exercise I was overtaken by everyone else, ending up in last a position, something I clung onto with a savage desperation for much of the race. Fortunately Steve Gordon was on unofficial sweeping duties and pickup my bum bag carrying my food for the first ten miles.

We started a slow climb and reached the first crew point at Lamplugh School. Confusingly for the crews Lamplugh School is not in Lamplugh. I changed backpacks and got a new bum bag of food.

Me and Chrissy at Lamplugh

At this point I had caught up with Ricky and Dave and we ran on together for a while. Dave was constantly checking the map which drove me a little crazy...I don't know why but it did. I would be very thankful later on for his skills on that map. The first or last person of our group was shouting the warning 'car!' as one approached. This soon degenerated into cries of 'broom broom' and other childish nouns. It seemed very funny at the time.

I met my crew at a place called Watered just past the creepy named Fangs Brow Farm. This has magnificent views of Loweswater. This stunning vista caused a lack of attention as I didn't change backpacks, which turned out to be a mistake.

As we climbed even higher to the Whinlatter pass I lost Dave and Riccardo as they were far too strong for me on the hills. It was about here that I chatted to the great charity raiser Tony the Fridge running sans fridge. I noted that his name is grammatically incorrect and should be Tony and the Fridge. He told me the fridge gets lots of weird messages via twitter.

The torrential rain started again and that combined with lack of rain jacket and no food or water was seriously dragging my mood down. I passed a road sign saying only two miles to the pass and was a little cheered although I had the shakes on by now.

I came to a turning to go on to an off road section that was manned by the bright and cheery Drew and Claire.

'Only two miles to the pass' shouted Drew.

'Ah fek' I thought, 'either he is over estimating or I am not going to make it by the cut off.'

Although Mark had said in his briefing that as this was the first running the internal cut offs didn't matter, I was still concerned and this was upsetting me even more.

I eventually came to the end of the trail to see Mark pointing the way on the turning. It was raining heavily and he was standing there soaked to the skin looking as if this was normal. The man is impervious to rain.

'Just down to the bottom, turn left up the hill and right at the top'

Typical! Another hill.

I reached the car park and saw Chrissy sheltering under the hatchback of our CRV. Normally seeing her would cheer me up but I was in no mood for positivity.

.'You are doing brilliantly, well done.'

I was last, soaked to the skin, freezing, hungry, thirsty and it had taken me four hours fifty to cover twenty four miles. How can that be brilliant?

I barely acknowledged my crew as I stripped off my top and frantically searched for a dry one and something to eat. I shrugged Chrissy away as she tried to dry me off with a towel. I was throwing things around in the back of the car like a spoilt child chucking his toys out of the pram.

As I turned to storm over to Alex to register my late arrival Chrissy said

'Everyone else has turned up happy and laughing with their crew. YOU!!! YOU TREAT US LIKE THAT!!!'

I felt suitably admonished...then Drew said something witty, I forget what, and as I laughed, I felt even more guilty about my behavior. I could be enjoying this and I shouldn't worry about little things. Just accept and move on with a plan...I resolved at the next crew point to be happy and smiling and to enjoy it.

I went over to Chrissy and Ross and apologized. I told them I would cheer up.

'You better' was the reply.

I ran off down the path to the bottom of the pass. I am better at down hills than up. I claim it is because as snowboarder I run down leaning forwards 1) to reduce the appearance of the slope and 2) to ensure that as my legs turn over my foot fall is not a breaking one. Others point out, that being such a Fat Unt, gravity pulls me down faster.

As I run down I am chatting to myself that I need to cheer up and see Ricky and Dave asking someone the way. The sign post had fallen over at the junction of two paths.

'Guys we are going downhill to Keswick it must be this way.'

They followed me down and laughed as I kept singing out loud 'smile, be happy, every little ting gonna be alright.'

The rain was getting worse but I had my rain jacket on so it wasn't too bad. In fact rain is just liquid sunshine.

We overtook Martin Illot who was suffering from the rain.

As we hit the bottom of the valley we had to cross the long flat bed of the former glacial valley. Loads of tarmac flat as pancake. l loved it as I am not really a trail runner and prefer the security of tarmac underfoot.

We saw Steve and Tom up ahead and soon caught up with them. As a 4*4 came around the corner Tom shouted the warning. But instead of car he exclaimed

'Vehicle!'

'Tom you try and come across as one of the lads but really you are a posh twat. I mean who really says vehicle? '

'But it was a vehicle and not a car' he protested feebly.

It didn’t help, as I continued to take the mickey out of Posh Tom for the rest of the way into Keswick. Just as we reached Keswick, I heard the dulcet tones of James Adams behind me. He and Gemma were holiday in the region and he was greeting all the runners he saw and running to the crew point with us. I was pleased he noted I was wearing a Spartathlon T shirt, as this was the reason I was doing this race.

As we reached the crew point I greeted Chrissy with a cheery smile and a big hug. I introduced her to James.

'So you are The James Adams, don't you have a book out?'

Chrissy meeting THE JAMES ADAMS

She is not even interested in running and she knows. Chrissy told me the Ugly Unt had called and said that of course I was last because I am a Fat Unt, but that also makes me a diesel engine that will just keep going. This raised my mood even more.

I quickly swapped bags this time and added a sweat shirt as we were to go off road onto the Old Coach Road which climbed steeply and was rather exposed to the wind. We soon started to the climb and I was warming up nicely...past a stone circle and then up and down through some fields. Finally I hit the Old Coach Road. This was a horrible rutted track. It was so bad it reminded me of The Hill.

Up and up we went. I could see six runners in front of me. Winder and wetter it got. Then they went off the Old Coach Road and I stupidly followed them. Initially the route was ok but then we had to make a sharp right to steeply clamber over bogs and barely marked foot paths.

I reached the next cut off point at 3:30pm about 15mins before the deadline. Loads of runners we sitting down and refueling at the point. I never sit down as I fear I won’t get up again. I stripped off my sweat shirt and at this point I should have changed my socks. I didn’t change them during the whole races and this was a big mistake.

Amanda Goodwin and her sister were making vast qualities of tomato soup and that was a welcome break from my other food.

Drew Sheffield joked as he was doing the timings he could make me first. He also complemented my crew and said I could appreciate them more.

DREW: They are a great crew love them more

I set off before most of the others, as being so slow I can’t afford to wait around at crew points. As I ran along to Greystoke, I overtook Jon Steele and Phil Turton and was caught by Steve Gordon. He commented on my Spartathlon t shirt and said this race was one on his bucket list. I said, rather rudely in hindsight, that I thought bucket lists were a dumb idea. I think a lot of the terminology in Ultra running is silly and I have no truck with it. This obsession with diets, shoes, drop heights, new bits of kit and technology annoys me intensely. I mean, seriously, we are here to run, not buy new toys out of boredom.

At the Greystoke, Chrissy swapped my bag and bum bags and then gave me a pint and packet of scratchings. This is what had motivated me to sped to Greystoke and reaches it before the people I had left at High Brow. I was at 46miles, a third of the way in, no longer last and feeling great.

I moved on to Great Blencow and saw Jon, Phil and their crew camped on a roadside picnic table. Phil was feeling sorry for himself, so I clipped him around the ear and told him he was running with Jon ‘Man of’ Steele and there was no way he wouldn’t finish. I asked Shirley Colquhon, Jon’s wife, about the Chia seeds they rave on about. She kindly gave me an energy bar containing them. How nice is that?

I left them and then found my energy leaving me . It was probably the pint I had at Greystoke. I was slowing a lot and Jon and Phil soon overtook me. As they did I used my best spooky voice to creep Phil out

‘Drop Phil, you know you want to’

Thankfully he ignored me.

It started raining again, proper northern rain from the Lake District. I didn’t have my Montana Minimus with me as I had left it with Chrissy to dry off in the car. Fortunately I had a red plastic poncho similar to the one I had used in DeutschLandLauf. Cheap and functional it would get me to Penrirth. I was slowing again and I knew the reason. I greedily eat Shirley’s chia bar and my homemade energy bars as well as two gels and felt better.

Chrissy met me halfway down the Fells Road which is another steep incline, just after Riccardo Tom and Dave overtook me. Chrissy and I chatted as we walked up the hill, this was great and added to my positive mood. Although I was back to last I was in no way dishearten. I felt great seeing her just and as we reached the car she gave me a chicken fillet from KFC which I ate quickly. Food make Robbie happy!

I reached Langwathby at sixty miles at dusk and changed into my Care Keep Warm Top and collected my head torch. This was going to be a tough section climbing the ten miles to the top of the Hartside hill during darkness. I was moving slowly but steadily. I was convinced I was lost, but a quick call to Alex and Mark who saw me on the tracker raised my confidence and I plodded on.

I called the Ugly Unt and we chatted complete tollox for a while .Although there had been storms up on Hartside as the leaders arrived some four hours before me, I had a clear night and saw several shooting stars. All I could think was 'wow how great was it to be alive and doing this race.'

I could see the headlights of the cars at the Hartside cafe above me and eventually just as I neared the summit Mark came down to greet me.

That is me coming up the hill

‘You are doing fine Rob. This is the last hill, just keep plugging on.’

I met Chrissy and Ross at Gargill at nearly 80 miles in and the night was perfect. As I crossed over the very highest point the stars were shining brightly and I turned my torch off to get an improved view. I could see the Milky Way and the several constellations. I noticed that the trees were covered in a light frosting and this just added to the beauty of it all. This took away the pain in my feet. I had been wearing waterproof socks for over twenty hours. The blisters that had formed had burst and starting to move after a stop was painful. I could have changed the socks but it was too late. I was frighten the skin would tear off as I changed them and expose the red raw and bleeding skin.

I used the usual mental tricks to turn blisters into friends keeping my feet warm and stopping as little as possible.

I dropped down into the Miners Arm Pub in Nenthead and saw Chrissy with Dave’s crew member Ginny. I had overtaken Riccardo, Tom and Dave. It transpired they had taken a wrong turn. For those that don’t know Tom Forman is notorious for his lack of map reading skills. My advice is not to let him near one. However Dave confessed it was his error. We refuelled and march up yet another hill..

Mark another hill.

Chrissy drove up to mark the easy to miss turning and I soon fell behind the others and regained last place. It was soon daylight and just before the County Durham border marked by a large stone pyramid I turned my torch off

Durham

I ran down to Rookhope passed some disused mine workings catching up with the others and shared my special night fuel. A bag of Worcester sauce favoured crisps with lumps of cheese in it. Tom remarked this was like rocket fuel.

There seemed to be hundreds of dead rabbits, birds and sheep on the road. No idea why though.

At Rookhope Amanda and Chole were cooking up bacon sarnies. Chrissy told me earlier she couldn’t understand why they argued so much. Then someone mentioned they were sisters, which kind of explained everything. I ate the bacon and had to get rid of the bread.

After Rookhope there was yet another steep climb, for which I had to turn backwards to save my quads.

Mark another hill.

Just outside Stanhope I needed to evacuate my bowels. Perched on a wall and I noted this meant that I was eating enough. I used a few leaves to wipe my bum and got a little itch. Then there was another march up to Parkhead.

Mark another hill.

The climb went on forever and as I reached the top Drew and Claire said they would order a bacon sarnie and tea for me. How kind! I mentioned my feet were trashed. Drew replied that your feet always get trashed on things like this. Which somehow seemed funny.

Bacon Sarnie at Parkhead

Mark passed me in his car and mentioned this was the last hill out of his window. Yeah! Like I hadn’t heard that one before.

I had reached the 100 mile by 9:20am or 26 hours 20 minutes I was really pleased. Ok so that is not a fast 100 mile time by any stretch of the imagination, but the rain and hills had slowed this Fat Unt down. Chrissy gave me a kiss as I walked in and handed me the bacon sarnie. Drew was on top form as we chatted to the evil cyclists.

Actually I ought to mention I normally have a big problem with cyclists. I live in Germany and run on trails and hills at weekends. The cyclists are so rude and dangerous. They barely say hallo or even thank you for getting out of their way and I have had arguments with them on more than one occasion. However the cyclists on this route were very polite friendly and safety conscious.

It was mentioned to the cyclists we were running the route which was greeted by exclamations of shock, surprise and disbelief. I love it when that happens.

As I left Chrissy put my rain jacket on. As I already had my Care Keep Warm top on I thought this unnecessary, but the Waskerley Way turned out to be part of the Pennines, ‘An area of outstanding natural beauty said the sign. Beauty, my arse! It is a barren windswept sheep filled wasteland.

If it is so beautiful how come no one lived there?

Although I left before the three musketeers, they soon overtook me. After a while I called Chrissy and she told me she was meeting me earlier than planned at the Rowley crew point some 107 miles as the other crews were there. I was pleased with this news and had more tomato soup from the Goodwin sisters.

As I left I asked Chrissy to get me three cheese burgers at the next stop in Consett. As I approached this point I was a confused as there was several possible route through the town and I wanted to get to the one that went past Tesco’s, the meeting point. I called Ross and he confirmed I was heading in the correct direction. A cyclist tried to stop me to put me back onto what the correct route was, but I wouldn’t stop for anyone.

As arrived in the car park I saw the other support crews with coffees in hand.

‘Chrissy is over there’

‘Hiya’

‘Hi can I have my burgers please’

‘I haven’t got them I went for a coffee with the girls.’

Part of me wanted to scream WTF! But another part said it doesn’t matter we must keep moving. Zebra thinking, there is no point in arguing about something you can do nothing about.

Both of those voices were wrong. I could have, should waited for the burgers there and then.

Instead Chrissy pointed me to the correct route. I was a little distracted by how good she looked on no sleep and her concern for me. She did her funny little skipping run which is so cute and I completely forgot to refuel.

I entered a park a bit dazed and confused and had to call Mark again to determine the correct route onto the Derwent Way. I needed food and water had none. I called Chrissy and arranged to meet at the Derwent Walk Inn just off the route. I ate one of the cheeseburgers and loaded up with gels. I could have taken the other burgers with me. Another mistake! These were the only things that would stay down as the energy bars were too heavy.

I knew time was moving on and I wasn’t going fast enough. I resolved to run as fast as I could ignoring the pain in my feet. I got to Rowlands Gill at 117 miles and changed out of the Care Keep Warm top and into the Spartathlon shirt which hummed something rotten, but I didn’t care. I refuelled with gels and cheese in crisps packets.

Chrissy poured water over my head to cool me down and showed me the way the others had taken. I was a bit confused but found the way back onto the Derwent walk. I couldn’t see properly and it took me a while to realise I had lost a contact lens.

I called Chrissy and asked to meeting me in Newcastle somewhere along the water front and to bring my distance glasses, ALL the gels and the other backpacked filled with water. About this time I received a text from Mark saying he wanted to see five mile per hour from me to reach the finish in time and that I must run.

WHAT THE FUCK did he think I was doing? No point in wasting energy on him though, run, run like the wind.

I ran on through the never ending park to try to reach the bridge over the Tyne in a reasonable time.

As I got there I overtook Laszlo Berdan from Hungary who had been walking with a broken ITB since Parkhead some twenty miles before hand. This managed to finish at just before midnight. That is dogged determination for you.

Riccardo caught up with me and we ran on for a while

Eventually I met Chrissy and Ross on the roadside. They had moved away from the car which was not good because I might have need something they didn’t have with them.

True enough they didn’t have the replacement backpack. I didn’t panic as they quickly said they had a bottle of water to refill the one on my backpack which Ross did. I took out the remaining contact lens and put on my glasses. My phone battery was dead so I handed the phone to Chrissy and asked for the gels. Chrissy only had three with her.

‘ I didn’t think you would need them all and I got you some energy bars as well’

Again I didn’t panic I just ran on, shouting behind me as I sped off.

‘I have no time to wait, I’ll see you at the end’

My feet were even more battered from the fast running on pavements, but I knew from a road sign I was less than fourteen miles from the finish with more than three hours to go.

I kept shouting to myself ‘YOU GOT THIS!’ to keep me going

I was getting excited and ran what seemed to be very fast, but probably wasn’t, along the Newcastle Quayside, which incidentally is well worth a visit. There is a marvellous view of four bridges that span the Tyne.

Four bridges

I passed Kate Hay-Heddle with Riccardo at 127 mile at 17:44pm

‘YOU GOT THIS!’

I continued my way along the route 72. The distance to the end at Tynemouth was going down and down every ten minutes or so I saw the miles on the signs dropping

9 miles,

8 miles,

7 miles,

6 miles,

5 miles,

5 miles

Hang on that’s not right.

‘It can’t be five miles again!’

I saw a cyclist and he said it was five miles to go. I asked a pedestrian

‘This is Tynemouth right?’

‘No lad, this is Willington Quay. Tynemouth is miles that way’

I had no choice but to carry on. I had no phone to call anyone with and no money either. I got back onto the route 72 and looked desperately for the change to the route1 as the instructions said.

I then saw Dave in the distance and ran to catch him up.

‘Fuck this, I have been going round in fucking circles for a fucking hour! The fucking little shits around here have been turning all the fucking cycle signs around!’

There was a lamppost nearby that had two cycle signs on. One pointing to Newcastle where we had come from and one pointing to Tynemouth where were heading to. Unfortunately both of them where pointing in the same direction.

‘Let’s call Mark, or failing that follow the road signs to Tynemouth.’

Dave called him and we set off again. We went around a marina and then came across another twisted cycle sign. Dave got his GPS out and directed us up the road to the centre of Tynemouth.

We ran on time was against us as we had less than hour left.

How far away were we really? Ahh the tension was killing me.

I left Dave and ran on as I could see the sea and the Tynemouth Priory which was the site of the ending. Unfortunately I couldn’t see Mark, Alex, Chrissy or any sign of the end

I frantically looked around and decided to head down to a car park that appear to be overlooking the coast. At this point Mark drove past and stuck his head out of the car window.

‘I am going to disqualify you for taking the wrong route.’

I must have turned bright red with anger and was about to exploded and kick his car door in when he quickly said,

‘I am only joking with yer man.’

I followed his instructions to go down the path and be confronted with a short climb to the finishing flags.

Mark another hill.

I got there and Mark shook my hand. I frantically looked around for Chrissy and Ross as I had been dreaming of crossing the line with them. This race was as much there’s as mine. I couldn’t have finished it without them and I want to share this taste of victory with them. I was distraught and almost cried. Big soppy idiot.

Alex called Chrissy but to no avail. Dave arrived shortly after me as did Riccardo. I wasn’t last, in fact I was fourth. A long way fourth as Jon Steel had finished two and half hours ahead of me.

Dave called Ginny and she had Ross and Chrissy with her. As it was blowing quite a bit Alex bundled the three runners into her car to stay warm and wait Chrissy and Ginny. I stated shivering quite badly.

I didn’t follow the example of other finishers and take a dip in the see as the Ugly Unt said it would cause a tsunami that would flood Denmark.

All the runners on this race had to put up with the rain and the hills. We all did a fantastic job irrespective of if we finished.

The crews were great. Each and every crew helped all the runners even thought this was a race. That is one of the things I love about Ultra running. Special mention goes to Amanda and Chole and their seemingly inexhaustible supplies of tomato soup and bacon sarnies. But my crew was the best, Chrissy and Ross had to put up with a grumpy Fat Unt and did so without a barely a word of compliant.

The organisation was superb and deserve thanking the marshals Drew, Claire, Kate, Tim aand of course the race directors Alex and Marl Cockbain.

I eventually found the route one I was looking for in Scarborough!

Lessons learned

Don’t wear Sealskins for 38 hours as they trash your feet and change socks every 40 miles

You can run a lot faster under pressure than you think you can

Crews need more respect than you give them

Don't believe road signs
Chill more, accept the set backs and move on with a plan

Don’t decide so quickly and ensure you always have enough fuel and water irrespective of what it is.
I have sky high confidence. I just need to work on speed and heat and I will be ready for the big one

SPARTATHLON!

Written by Mark Woolley - http://markstevenwoolley.blogspot.com.es

"One who conquers himself is greater than one who conquers a thousand times a thousand on the battlefield."
~ Gautama Buddha

“Dear Rajat;
You really have created the world's finest masterpiece of ultra-running, a canvas of 72 hours long by 333 kms wide in the Indian Himalayas. Upon this canvas are the runners, the artists who paint their art as they make their way over the most beautiful of majestic mountains. But I have a problem. I spilt the paint, I was clumsy and the art I left behind on your perfect canvas is flawed. The paint ran over the edges and that just won't do. Art is meant to be perfect and anything less just isn’t art. It is a mess. I will have to start this painting again.
Your good friend, Mark"

I wrote these words to Rajat, the Race Director shortly after La Ultra – The High. I had actually covered the 333 kms in Ladakh, the Indian Himalayas on foot but I had arrived late, 54 minutes to be precise on top of the 72 hour time limit. This was my second attempt at this distance in the Himalayas and my second failure. Last year I had even been in the lead at km 317 but I had collapsed, totally exhausted and spent. I had gone into shock. This year should have been my year; I was extremely well prepared and very, very fit. During the build up to the race I was quite able to run; and I mean run, uphill up to 5400M.

Whenever we feel that we underperform on a race it is a natural thought

process to look for the reasons behind why we failed to perform. This isn’t the same as finding excuses. Excuses are nothing else but false reasoning to make up for otherwise inadmissible weaknesses that the runner cannot actually come to terms with. In writing this little piece I am certainly not making excuses, on the contrary, I am seeking to understand what went wrong so that I can correct the weakness and come back stronger. Like I said; I should have blown the race out of the water. So why didn’t I?

The race truly fell apart for me on the second day where I lost a lot of time. When I finally managed to gain control again, and in spite of making good progress afterwards, I was unable to make up enough of the lost time to enter within the time limit. What I think happened is interesting, because it exposes a weakness that I never thought existed in my own repertoire. It all started in the first leg of the race on the way up to Kardung La at 5400M.

During this first leg I felt incredibly strong and even though I was consciously pulling myself in from going too fast by the time I had got to North Pullu I had already gained half an hour over what I had done the previous year. By the time I had got to the summit I was a full 2 hours ahead of last year’s schedule. In running at altitude, pace is everything and going too fast exposes you to serious health risks, mainly a pulmonary edema. When I summited, I was already questioning myself as to if I had gone too fast or not, whether I had exposed myself needlessly to the ravishes of altitude and would I pay the price later on. Last year a couple of talented runners had really flown up Kardung La and had subsequently ended up in hospital for precisely that reason.

So on the second day, when I was climbing Wari La at 5300M and I started to have difficulties breathing, the little seed of paranoia that was sown the previous night started to take root in my brain. My breathing became more and more laboured and bore nothing in resemblance to how I had performed at the same altitude during training. Interestingly I also started to have severe pains in my legs, particularly with the tendons on the outside of my left knee. But by far the most alarming symptom was the difficulty I was having breathing.

So the thought started to go round and round my head, all the false logic backing up the original false premise. The mind is absolutely wonderful at circular arguments and within a short space of time I managed to convince myself that I had a pulmonary edema. And the more I convinced myself of that then the more difficulty I actually had breathing. When I got to base camp I promptly checked in with the doctors and they gave me a thorough examination. But there was just one problem; they didn’t actually find anything wrong with me! Now that really threw me, and to be quite honest my original reaction was that they had gotten it wrong. But they checked and checked and checked again and I had absolutely nothing wrong with me. Accepting this was difficult; I was so convinced that I was sick that undoing the false logic and circular arguments took some time. Besides, I was still finding it difficult to breath.

Eventually Rajat, the Race Director gave me a tough order and simply told me to get on with it and that I was making excuses. My wife helped him out.

So, I got up, actually felt OK and started running again. I even felt good and started to run at a decent pace. Ultimately my recovery wasn’t enough to recuperate the time I had spent down, I finished but just outside the time limit allowed.

After the race Rajat wrote this message to me: “I want you to read this transcript of an interview with Prof Tim Noakes. https://www.bulletproofexec.com/podcast-transcript-3-hacking-fatigue-with-tim-noakes-plus-more-4-hour-body-fun/

A bit that you'll definitely enjoy is below:

I have this really interesting explanation for why an athlete comes second, and particularly if it’s a close race. In my view, the athlete who comes second justifies the performance by producing symptoms which are more severe than they really need to be. “Oh gee, this symptom, I really tried my hardest but I was exhausted.” In fact, that’s a justification.”

Could it be that the mere thought of something going wrong caused it to

actually go wrong? At least in the brain? The overriding physical evidence was that I was fine, in spite of how I felt. In short It certainly does look like I managed to invent it all, a little catastrophic fantasy all in my own little head that bore scat resemblance to reality. But what still impresses me is the power that it had over me. It went far beyond the intellectual.

As part of my own race plan I planted little prayer flags at the start and at the major peaks along the race. I did this out of respect for the mountains and for the Ladakhi culture and people. On each one I wrote a little message. One of them wrote “Fear is the mind killer” Oh the irony.

Huge thanks: To my crew Stanzin, Nono, Priyanka and the driver Tundup. Only they know what they had to put up with; but they got me to the end. I finished totally broken, the realisation that inspite of giving it everything I had on that final descent, that I wasn't going to make it in time was just heart breaking. I went to a very dark place before accepting reality and just aiming to finish the distance.

I now have to go back and take care of my inner self again. I have always been

mentally strong and taken it for granted. Alas, it has also been something that I have neglected in recent years which I must again nurture back to full strength.

Written by David Barker - https://davidinrtw.wordpress.com

The cows were scary and I took a wrong turn so ended up running 52k. Apart from that it was fantastic race, great route with stunning scenery, and the coffee and cake at the finish made my day.

A mug for every finisher, plus coffee or tea to fill it.

I arrived for registration at 7:15 and collected my number. Stuart Mills (RD) has a relaxed attitude and his ethos for this race is all about having fun and introducing runners to his local trails. As a result the atmosphere is friendly and calm, with no pre-race stress.

After chatting to a few friends who were running as well, we were all soon walking down to the start line and at 8:00 Stuart set us off. The first mile is on road and mostly downhill, but even so the pace was crazy. When we turned onto the trail I was running with the lead group and the pace was at least 6:40 min/mile, so I decided to back off as we crossed the first couple of fields.

Soon we were strung out and the lead group were out of sight, and I was relaxing into a steady pace when I heard shouting from just ahead. The guy in front had crossed a stile and been met by at least 80 cows advancing in formation towards him. I joined him, but I think we both decided that waiting for more support would be wise. Besides, I didn’t want to be the slowest runner in the field with a herd of ferocious fresians. Soon another half dozen people arrived and between us we managed to force a way through and ran round the edge of the field to the next gate. I hope the other runners behind survived… Those cows looked as grumpy as hungover parents on a Sunday morning. Our enthusiastic arrival had woken them and the next intruders into their space were going to get their full fury.

The next few miles were uneventful and CP1 and 2 passed easily. I was enjoying the scenery and glorious sunshine, and maintaining a steady 8 min/ mile pace. The 6 miles from CP2 to CP3 are the hardest as the route climbs up to Ashdown Forest. At the halfway point it turns back to the south on the Vanguard Way, running through King’s Standing Clump.

I’d been aiming for a 4:15 finish time, and was on track at 20 miles, but my legs were getting heavy and sluggish. After 24 miles I had to walk, and this time it had nothing to do with the gradient. I walked for a few minutes before running again but at a slower pace. Two or three runner came passed me, but whereas I normally fight to hold on to a place in the last third of a race, today I was too tired. At CP4 I was feeling a little better, and the soaking administered by the volunteer who emptied a bucket of water over me helped too. I knew there was only 5 miles to go. Shortly after I was passed by a couple of guys doing the marathon, and their words of encouragement were a real boost.

Straight through the final checkpoint and only 3 miles to go. I was following a few runners from the half marathon now, when suddenly they stopped and said we were going the wrong way. Getting lost at any point is frustrating but taking a wrong turn with only 2 miles to go really hurt, but we turned round and headed back to the last track we had crossed.

When we finally got back on track we pushed on down the final trails until we hit the road. I knew if I pushed hard from here I might break 4:30:00 and so raced up the road and into the school to the finish line ( 9th place 4:29:39 ).

Every finisher gets a hand made mug as well as there medal, and I was soon in the school hall filling mine with coffee and helping myself to a couple of pieces of the excellent cake.

Although the race hadn’t gone to plan, I was still 5 minutes faster than last year, and had managed to get over the line in under 4:30:00. I had a feeling that I was pushing my luck racing only three weeks after a 100 mile race, so I guess I’m lucky I survived with out picking up an injury. I now have two months to get stronger for the hills of the Lakeland 50, then TDS.

Written by Rob Pinnington - http://ardrobsrunning.blogspot.de

Having done my first twenty four hour race, my respect for the GB 24 hour has gone stratospheric. Being disciplined enough to maintain the pace they do is quite an achievement. It is so hard to do that.

I was disappointed in myself, very disappointed and I am normally that way after a race for at least a week after a race. That is normal. I recover quickly and to me that means I don't push myself hard enough in a race. So now that first couple weeks after the race is over and I now I have had time to properly assess my performance I can write sensible blog.

I know the potential is there to do a lot, lot better and I am nowhere the limits of my endurance. All that is missing is a few mental tweaks and then I will finish a race and be so completely fucked I won't be able to move or even think.

Then I will have something to be proud about.

That day is coming I know it. I learnt so much this weekend about how to adjust my performance so that the day is even closer.

My preparation went well, although I have had a niggle in my hamstring since the end of February that just won't go away. It only starts bothering me when I run fast doing interval or tempo work. As this race was all about pacing slowly and consistently it didn't bother me and it is not an excuse.

As I am a contractor, every day I take off costs me a lot of money and I have a lot debts to pay off so I can ill afford it. Therefore as the race started at 15:00 on Saturday I decided to take the train there and back. There was a train drivers strike in Germany and that meant some of the trains I planned to take were cancelled.

I managed to get to the village of Steenbergen via five trains, one bus and eight hours. As Neil Bryant said, I should have worn a tracker.

On arrival I was issued with my race number and started to get changed. As I was doing this Bridget Brady arrived. I first met Bridget at Spartathlon in 2012. That time she had been pulled and put on the crowded death bus. Then she had to endure a fat drunk sweaty Englishman next to her for the next six hours who didn't stop talking and had gone further than her. Poor woman.

I was quite please that almost the first thing she commented on was how much weight I had lost in the last three years. It is at least six kilos

We arranged our food supplies in boxes at rear of Bridget's car in the refreshment zone. I had loads of stuff. but I am still a chunky guy and need loads of food.

Self made energy bars

Self made gel

GU Gels

Rice crackers

Rice pudding

Yogurt

Cheese

Nuts

Chocolates

Bridget asked if I had any gels and when I pulled out the bin bag containing the 50 or gels she was a tad shocked I had so many. I love sugar and this stuff tastes no different to me.

We went off to the start where there was an MC who made announcements throughout the race. He made a bee line for Bridget and chatted away to her. After that every time we went by he had a few words for her. Dorty old man

The pace we started out was very slow. 6:30 per km. Maybe that was too slow.

The weather was OK. A bit blowy to start with and after a couple of hours we had a some rain for a while. Nothing to worry about though.

Running well at the beginning

I ran with my water bottle and sipped constantly. I hit my usual miserable stage around 45km where I question why on earth I am doing this and how rubbish I am at it. The new fat gel that I made for the race from Greek yogurt, butter and macadamia nuts worked a treat and pulled me through that first dip quite quickly. The first thing I have noted for the future is that I had laid out of my food wrong. I had it merely dumped in a box and it was not well organised. The next time I will prepare it better with a set order of food for different laps like I normally do for 50km & 100km races.

We were slow and quite a few people lapped us early on. I was not worried as I knew our slow constant pace would pay off in the long run. I said to Bridget that we would make up loads of distance on them during the night.

As the night drew in the organizers laid out jam jars with tea lights in. Quite a nice touch I thought. There was a lady called Anne Van Dalen walking bare foot in the opposite direction for most of the race encouraging us. That was also a positive thing. I noticed she picked up the rubbish the runners dropped which was very thoughtful of her.

We were definitely slowing down and around midnight Bridget took a time out in the car for a short nap of about 15 minutes. It didn't help my speed and motivation that number of runners had dropped from 50 to at most a quarter of that as most people snuck off for a break. I felt very sorry for myself plodding around on my own.

I need to learn to pace myself in the middle of the night and run a the same pace as earlier rather than slowing down.

At around three am I needed a dump and I laid the biggest single cable I have done in a long while. That thing was at least a meter long and proof I was eating well. There were two portaloos on the course and as I am used to festival toilets I was not expecting this to be a pleasant experience. However I noticed how clean the toilet was and very well stocked with toilet paper. I wonder if it was Anne cleaning the toilets. Whoever it was I thank them very much.

After I caught up with Bridget she said

"We are running really slow at the moment, but I have an idea Rob'

'What's that Bridget?"

'We run fast for two thirds of a lap, and then power walk for the other third.'

Muggings here thought that was brilliant. And volunteered to do the running pacing. I surprise myself at my own stupidity.

5:00am Running well

5:00am walking badly

Don't wanna do this

This really worked on my mood and speed. When I ran with Bridget and had a job to pace us round I was fine. I really felt like I was achieving something and the pace was really good.

Left on my own while in the walking break I drifted back to feeling sorry for myself.

After the third lap of doing this I learnt to just ignore him by distracting myself with minute examinations of my surroundings. When I was running I had a goal and got us there. When we were walking I didn't have a goal and drifted back. My chimp came out to play and bug me. Really moaning about how hard it was and that I should quit. When I distracted him by looking at the surrounding countryside and raising questions, my walking tempo increased. So run walk when tired is a good strategy during the night as long as I distract the chimp.

Be in the moment as those hippys say.

A little later Bridget complained that our walking sections were too slow. I was rather ungentlemanly and pointed out that she was setting the walking pace. Nevertheless I lengthened the running section per lap so that we ran nearly two kms of it and only walked in the refreshment zone.

The food was good. I didn't feel sick and had enough to eat. It was just that it was not well organised so it delayed me as I made a decision what to eat when on almost every lap. That wasted loads of time. Macadamia nut are top top food. Try them on your next ultra. Full of fat amd crunchy. Perfect.

As we got through the early morning my C goal of 160km or one hundred miles got closer and closer. Strangely this cut my motivation some what. About this time Bridget found out she was third lady and in with every chance of finishing second.Now I truely believe goals work. Having a goal to reach really motivates me at least.

But the b of 211 was far too far away to be realistic and of any use in the race. A bit like my weight goal of dropping 10kg for the last few years and never reaching it. Now I target half a kilo a week as it is better to target incremental losses per week.

Another lesson learnt is to set them closer together and closer to reality, realistic if you like.

I reached my C goal of 100 miles and took the decision of pulling out at 160km and 21 hours 30 minutes.and pulled out to make my way home. I set off around 1:00pm and got back to my flat at around 10:30pm. I will never travel by such a circuitous route again. If I do this race again I will rent acar and drive up the night before.

The next day I woke up and apart from a little stiffness I was basically fine. Which goes to prove that I didn't push myself anywhere near my limits. I think it is an interesting problem...how to motivate when alone. I am determined to crack it.

I graphed the pace per 2.3km lap. I am the orange line and Paddy Robbin's pace on the same course in 2013 is the lower blue line.

Several point to note for the future.

1) See how constant Paddy's pace was compared to mine.

2) Note how I was gradually slowing throughout the night.

3) Note at 4:00 am the pace picks up as we run walk

4) Note how the pace drops as I approach the goal. and motivation to run further goes.

The organisation was really good. Pre race I asked a couple of silly questions about getting there and got helpful detailed replies. The course was very well marked out.

Would I do the race again? Definitely. It was cheap as chips at €70. Next time!

Could I have gone further and stuck with Bridget to finish with 180km? Of course I could have.

In summary

1) Drive there

2) Organize my food better

3) Employ run walk at night with distractions.

Page 32 of 33

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