So I lined up at the start of SDW100 uncertain if I could still run that far, but certain that I was as ready as I would ever be at this stage, and knowing that if anything was going to stop me from finishing it would be pure biomechanics due to my right leg weakness and right knee pain.
I started comfortably. I was soon overtaken by Mari Mauland, the favourite for the ladies race. I made a conscious decision to try to keep her pace to see how hard she was going to push. In retrospect, this was stupid. I was so uncertain how my body would hold out in the later stages, I was worried about falling too far behind. The old Sarah used to run to keep pace with the leading runner, and then pull away in the second half when my endurance came into play and I could still run strong in the second 50 miles. I had no idea if I would still be able to do this. So I pushed too hard up to the 22 mile checkpoint. And that was the point that I first threw up.
I've never suffered badly from vomiting during races before, I'm quite lucky. But today was going to be different, and parts of the race became a battle of mind over stomach. From 22 miles I struggled to keep nutrition down. Each time I threw up I felt a little better, which set a dangerous precedent as it encouraged me to keep on vomiting for comfort and prevented me taking on enough calories.
I was terrified that the fast start had scuppered my chances of finishing. Between 30-54 miles I felt dreadful. At 35 miles I saw Jason who was crewing for me. I told him how I was feeling, and his reply was that I was silly to have gone so fast, and had only myself to blame if I'd ruined my run. Tough love. I consciously decided to slow down and do some damage limitation work, ease into a really steady pace, walk a few hills, take regular small sips of coke to keep my sugar levels up. I already felt like I wanted to just lie down and sleep. But, every time I thought how nice that would be, I remembered how much time I had to spend lying down last year, with a big question mark hanging over my ability to run. There was no way anything I could suffer over the course of 100 miles was going to be worse than that. No pain or darkness could be worse than those first few months post-fracture
Each time I passed a checkpoint, someone would say 'Mari is only 5-10 minutes ahead'. But I couldn't and wouldn't chase her. Not if I wanted to stand a chance of finishing. The day was getting hotter and hotter, and the wind was at an angle that was just enough to be a damn nuisance. I was dry, hot and tired, but I carefully plodded my way on to 54 miles, concentrating on making my right leg work (it tends to get really lazy at slower paces, and puts all the effort onto my left which then ends up aching like hell).
At 54 miles I hit the checkpoint, and there was Mari, sitting down. I didn't have much I wanted in my drop bag, I simply couldn't face any more gels. So I had a cup of tea and a marmite sandwich, which miraculously went down nicely! I went straight back out of the checkpoint, and saw Mari get up and head out after me. Sod it, I couldn't race. Not after 54 miles. I could only plod. But my plod suddenly became a lot stronger, my legs picked up a rhythm and I eased into a comfortable cruise. My endurance was kicking in!! It was like greeting a long lost friend who I was afraid had died. I had no idea what my body would make of this distance, having not run over 62 miles in over 18 months. But it was happily easing back into the old habits. I started singing. I talked to my knee. I even managed to crack a joke with Jase at one of the checkpoints. I was RUNNING! Oh, everything was starting to hurt, and I was still intermittently vomiting, my right leg was struggling and cramping in my right calf and quad as the new muscles were introduced to the concept of running beyond 50 miles. But my endurance was still there, a part of me I was so terrified had been lost was waiting patiently underneath, waiting to be given the chance to do its thing. I can't honestly express how happy I felt.
The final 25 miles are a blur. I was really struggling to keep the calories going in. I wanted something, but I had no idea what it was. I practiced a bit of controlled hyperventilation to try to offload some acid which made me feel a little better. The long hills in the last 20 miles let me stride out and use some power in my legs that I had left. The descents were becoming trickier as my right leg was really starting to weaken. At around 90 miles Mati ran past me looking like he was just out for an evening stroll, so comfortable and graceful! I didn't chase him, but I did use his example to put aside the pain I was experiencing into a mental box marked 'problems to deal with tomorrow'.
I sang my way up the final hill, and was directed down the final decent by the heroes at the trigpoint. I wasn't suffering so much that I couldn't marvel at the moon hanging low over the English channel. What a sight!
I couldn't run down that final hill, only slowly sort of skip. It was overgrown, uneven and my right leg was now feeling really weak leaving me at serious risk of falling on the uneven ground. My proprioception still isn't up to running off road in the dark without massive amounts of concentration, and I was so tired I just wasn't up to focusing much. I hit the tarmac at the bottom to find James waiting there for me. Until that point I had no idea what time I was on for, as I had studiously avoided looking at any kind of clock along the way, trying to just run to my own internal pace. He told me I was now at 17hrs 13 mins. I could make it to the end in a faster time than my 2014 effort. And I did. I ran that final mile, ran around the track, and finished in 17hrs 30mins. 6 minutes faster than 2014.
I was an ultra runner once more. And I was performing to a satisfactory level! I was a shade disappointed to not have managed to get closer to or even under the course record, but discovering that my endurance was still there to be tapped into was such a happy revelation. My knee, although struggling a little in the second half, was happily quiet after I finished. Now, a week later, it is still suffering from some ongoing stiffness and the right leg muscles seem to have gone on strike. It's still a learning process as to what it needs to keep it happy and functioning.
Happily, running 100 miles seems to be something that it finds agreeable!
No comments:
Post a Comment