Might Contain Nuts ultramarathon - round 4, the winter edition.
It seemed like a really long time since the Winter 100 when I entered this race! I remember trying to sign up to it last year, but there were no places. This year I was lucky to get in a few weeks in advance.
Since the winter 100 I'd only raced once, the Cornish Marathon which I ran with Rebecca Mingo (we both went into that run whinging about how our hearts weren't in it, and how we just wanted a nice gentle run. We then blasted off the run at a sub 7 min mile pace...something I'm VERY uncomfortable with! These short stubby legs were not designed to reach those speeds!! By 5 miles I was absolutely trashed! But we managed joint third, and got an awesome hamper as a prize!)
So, off to the Brecons! I lived in Wales for 3 years during my undergrad degree, but I'd never seen the Brecons. I drove up after work on the friday night and at 11pm arrived at the hostel. The moon was full, the sky was clear and there was minimal light pollution, which made the landscape look otherworldly. The good weather held until the next morning, and throughout the whole of the run.
This was a race of highs and lows. Literally and metaphorically. I've tagged each paragraph as appropriate.
High! - Set of a little faster than I have been starting ultras this year, knowing that it was 'only' 45 miles. I felt pretty good, and when I hit the first climb I realised the Duncan Oakes was just up ahead of me. That suggested to me that I was going too fast! But I got caught up chatting with Duncan, and kept pace with him for a while. I yoyo'd with some of the front guys for a bit, as I ran up hills (slowly) while they ran past me on the flats and downhills.
Low. - Pretty soon I started to get pain in my hips (a running injury that I've developed over the year and haven't sorted out.) As usual I hadn't looked at the route map, and so had no idea of distances. It seemed like a very long way between checkpoint on this race. I knew it wasn't, but I was feeling quite lethargic quite early on, and despite the wonderful scenery I really wanted to get the distance covered as quickly as possible.
High! - We hit a flat(ish)setion across completely open moorland, complete with bogs, and one of the movements from Rachmaninov vespers came onto my iPod. I relaxed my stride, let my upper-body go floppy and my hips swing, and strode out feeling wonderful!
Low. - Soon after the moorland stretch, the route changed to forest paths. My legs started to feel quite heavy, and the gravely paths jarred my whole body. I realised I was running low on calories and had under-estimated my needs.
High! - I resigned myself to feeling shit, and cheered up. Something about accepting the feeling makes it more bearable. And although I had a guy trailing me quite close, and was already struggling to run up gentle slopes after only 25-odd miles, I felt much more relaxed and settled down to enjoy my run.
Low. - I met a runner who had been ahead of me. I said 'so it's only about 10 miles left, yeah?' he said 'No, more like 18, and there's a lot of climb'. Bugger.
High! - I hit the climb. And then remembered that was my strong point. I lost the guy behind me as I powered on upwards, passing some really miserable looking soldiers going in the other direction! I was thirst, so grabbed a handful of snow to eat. Oh, this felt great! Hit the top of thie climb and my legs had loosened off beautifuly. I strode off down the other side!
Low - I came across the checkpoint at the bottom of the decent. I was completely unsure of how far I had covered now, and so asked the question that I knew I really didn't want to know the answer to...how far left? I was told I was at 32 miles. And I'd covered that in 5hrs 45 mins. That was much slower than I wanted. But then they told me The the lead runner was only 10 mins ahead, so maybe I wasn't doing so badly.
Still low: I was really struggling with lack of energy, and had no gels left. I was overtaken by one of the guys who'd been close behind me from the start.
Really low - I puffed and panted my way to the top of a hill, only to realise that there were no more route signs. They had been so consistent so far, that I knew I was lost. I knew I had to turn round and find the last sign. I used a lot of energy as I increased my pace to get back to the previous signpost.
High(ish) - after what seemed like a lifetime of running, wondering how much further I had to go, I saw a road sign that said 'Talybont-On-Usk - 1 mile'. Oh thank god for that!
Low - I started to feel cold, shivery, weak...hypoglycaemic. I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. I still couldn't see the village where the finish was. I felt like I was moving through treacle.
High - Suddenly, there it was. The finish. Around a bend and hidden behind a load of trees. I crossed the finish in 3rd place overall, and was met by some wonderful wonderful people. All negative feelings evaporated, I was DONE!
At the race HQ I had the best bacon sandwich I have ever experienced. I chatted to some wonderful people, whose names I'm sorry to say I completely forgot (post-race brain death). The MCN crew were absolutely wonderful.
Thanks so much to everyone involved in organising/marshalling this race. It was a hell of a way to finish off 2014, and I will definately be back to experience more of what Wales (and MCN) has to offer!
Wednesday, 17 December 2014
Tuesday, 16 December 2014
Just for giggles
A lot of the scientific journals publish spoof articles at this time of year. For some of the entertaining medical ones, check out http://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/the-best-of-the-british-medical-journals-goofy-christmas-papers-180948177/?no-ist
So here is my silly xmas blog entry.
I see a lot of links, particularly on facebook, to lists. Silly lists. List like '12 things every girl with a big Butt will know is true', '15 things flat-chested girls will understand' 'Stuff you will understand if you are a curvy girl'. They're not just limited to body shape. I've also seen lists of 'Things you will understand if you are from [insert place name here].' 'Things you will get if you are married to a [insert occupation of spouse here].
Here is my own inane list of stuff...
Things you may just have experienced if you are a female endurance runner!
This list is by no means complete! Please feel free to send me suggestions, and I will add them to the list (properly cited, of course!)
Merry xmas all.
So here is my silly xmas blog entry.
I see a lot of links, particularly on facebook, to lists. Silly lists. List like '12 things every girl with a big Butt will know is true', '15 things flat-chested girls will understand' 'Stuff you will understand if you are a curvy girl'. They're not just limited to body shape. I've also seen lists of 'Things you will understand if you are from [insert place name here].' 'Things you will get if you are married to a [insert occupation of spouse here].
Here is my own inane list of stuff...
Things you may just have experienced if you are a female endurance runner!
- Trouser waistlines that are stupidly baggy whilst the legs only just fit over your massive thighs.
- Not being able to find any summer clothing that suitable hides the chafe marks from your last long run.
- Farting/blowing your nose on your sleeve/describing your bowel movements, then suddenly realising you're not in the company of runners, whilst your collegues/friends look on at you in disgust.
- The embarrasment (and little bit of pride) you feel when changing in a public place, whilst knowing that your body looks like it's recently gone through a heavy S&M session.
- The look of annoyance on someones face when they ask 'how far did you run today' and you reply 'Oh, only 15 or so miles'. And you just know they're thinking what a smug git you are!
- The idea of a pedicure. Even if you had any toenails left, all the nail polish in the world isn't going to make your leathery feet look any better.
- Oh, and those fish-pedicure things? Yeah, like those little buggers could handle the rock-solid skin on the soles of your feet!
- Someone saying 'you're so lucky, you can eat what you want and stay thin', without realising that you would probably be morbidly obese if you ate that amount without training the amount you do.
- (For medical runners only...explaining to a patient that they're overweight and need to diet/exercise and them replying 'oh it's alright for you, I bet you eat whatever you want and stay that thin')
- The question 'so how many times do you stop and sleep whan you're doing a hundred mile run?'
- Owning one item of party-wear. And the rest of your wardrobe is taken up with running-gear.
- The isolated feeling of being the only girl queuing for the squat rack in the gym.
- The liberating realisation, (after 80-odd miles, when your legs are so trashed that you can't squat down) that it's not only guys who can pee standing up.
This list is by no means complete! Please feel free to send me suggestions, and I will add them to the list (properly cited, of course!)
Merry xmas all.
Thursday, 27 November 2014
BROKEn on the BACK of a MOUNTAIN
The UTMB
Apologies in advance, but this blog will be lengthy. I’ve subdivided it so if you’re interested in a particular part of my experience, skip to the relevant subheading. Happy reading!
Pre-amble. Entering the race.
Last February, 2013, I ran my first ultra with my good friend and running inspiration Rebecca Mingo. 32 miles later and I had been well and truly bitten by the Ultra vampire (that mysterious, seductive creature that bites you and transforms you into a creature of the trails with a lust for sweat and mud). For my 30th birthday I ran the JCC, 3 marathons in 3 days. The entry was a birthday present from my husband, and one of the marshals joked that I should sign him up for the UTMB as revenge. ‘UTMB, what’s that?’ I replied. When I got home I googled it and discovered that not only did you need to accumulate points to enter, but these had to be gained over 3 races. Seemed impossible. But somehow, during the year my endurance continued to improve and by September my completion of the Cotswold 100 gave me the points I needed. In December I went skiing in France and spent the week gazing longingly at the summit of Mont Blanc, whilst knowing my application was in the ballot….
4 weeks later, a year since my first ultra, and my place was confirmed.
Training in 2014.
People often ask how I train. I have no training plan. I basically run for enjoyment, and fit in what I can around work. In 2014 I was in my F2 year of medicine, and would change jobs every 4 months. My rota can be pretty hectic, and the 4 months leading up to the UTMB was a particularly busy job, with lots of 8am-10pm days and 14 hour night shifts. I worked as best I could around these, but didn’t follow any particular schedule. I work on a ‘must do’ and ‘additional’ principle. I have sessions which I feel I must do in order to train, and then additional sessions which I do for enjoyment. I estimate that I cover between 30-60 ‘must do’ miles a week depending on my shifts. These miles are made up of long slow runs (15-30 miles), middle distance runs (8-15 miles) where I try to maintain at least 8mph pace (estimated, as I don’t run with GPS) and I also tried to chuck in one speedwork/Fartlek-type session a week. In amongst this I run into work with a fully-loaded rucksack. When I’m particularly busy and don’t have time for long runs, I will run 10-15 miles a day every day for 3 days straight. I also swim regularly (mainly just for enjoyment), and I do at least 1 free-weights session a week (another ‘must do’ session), meaning that most days I will train morning and evening. When I’m on night shifts I will often go for a long run on the morning after my final shift, which I feel prepares me for the end of a long ultra, when you’ve been awake for 20+ hours and are still running.
I’d entered quite a number of events earlier in 2014, but in the 2 months leading up to the UTMB, I cut back on my racing. I switched my long training runs from Dartmoor where I live, to the north Cornish coastpath in order to give me more time on steep terrain. 2 weeks before the race, I competed in the Mudcrew Roseland August Trail 100k race which I intended to be a final gentle long run prior to 2 weeks taper. However, I got a bit carried away racing in the first 30 miles, and probably pushed myself harder than I should. I take for granted the fact that I recover quickly, but I do wonder now if I would have performed better in the UTMB if I hadn’t raced that weekend.
The build up.
I’d never been abroad for a race before, so my husband Jason and I decided to make a holiday of it. We spent 10 days camping our way through France down to Chamonix. This meant that, although I was nice and relaxed when we arrived, my diet in the 2 weeks before the race had been pretty poor. I (along with most of the population in developed countries) get a degree of IBS, and the symptoms mainly develop when my diet changes. When we got to Chamonix 4 days before the race I tried to eat as normal a diet as possible, but was still suffering from some stomach cramps, bloating, the usual irritating gastric symptoms when I was waiting on the start line.
The race.
The race started at 17:30. I’d tried to get some sleep during the day, but was too nervous. I was really starting to wonder if I was capable of completing what lay ahead.
Jason dropped me in Chamonix at 4pm, and left to find the first checkpoint. I hung around, gradually easing my way through the crowds towards the centre of town, and the start. The start line was insane. 2400 ultra runners, rammed into a smallish town square. It started to rain, and everyone around me got their waterproofs out of their packs as I stood there in my T-shirt thankful for the cooling rain! I chatted to a couple of British guys standing nearby, joking that the rain and cold gave us the edge over competitors from hot and dry countries.
17:30, there was a 10 second countdown, and we were off. The first 8km was an undulating warm up through the forest path from Chamonix to the base of the first climb. I spent most of this 8km cursing everyone with walking poles, as I had one jabbed in my knee, another into my foot, and nearly caught a smack in the face as well. It was crowded, people were shoving, I was already feeling pissed off. I think one of the nice things about ultras is once you get going you have lots of space around you, which is one reason I hate shorter road races. The start of the UTMB as more like the start of the VLM. The crowd didn’t really begin to thin until 30ish miles. This turned out to be a real problem, as at around 10 miles I started feeling the need to, erm, 'use the facilities' (runners trots!) but was too embarrased to subject my fellow runners to the inevitable noise. In the end I ducked off down a path for a 5 minute detour for some peace and quiet!
When we reached the first major climb, people around me slowed to a walk. Here I made my first mistake of the race…I carried on running. I’m used to running uphill, even fairly steep hills, and have done so on other ultras with no problems. In fact, I think it’s what gave me an advantage on the SDW100. What I had neglected to take into account was how long the climbs in the UTMB go on for. I overtook a lot of people, but when we started our first decent people came streaming past and I began to realise that my lack of skill in running downhill would be a problem. I was also suffering from an ankle injury which made running downhill quite painful and I couldn’t stride out properly. To compensate for this, I continued to power up the hills, overtaking people who would then coast past me again on the way back down. This worked fine, until I got to Cormayeur, approximately half way, and my hill legs completely gave out. No pain, just complete weakness and exhaustion at every ascent. The next climb I got to I struggled up swaying and staggering, my heart feeling like it was going to burst out of my chest.
The weakness I was experiencing was a result of 2 things; my initial tactic of powering uphill, coupled with poor nutrition planning and nausea which stared after the first 20 miles. Regarding nutrition, I usually use SIS gels which I find fairly inoffensive and easy to swallow even when nausea sets in. I had brought a batch of 8 with me, 6 in my kit and 2 in my drop bag at Champex. I'd banked on getting more in Chamonix before the race, but couldn't find anywhere that sold them, and so I decided to ration the ones that I had. The nausea I experienced set in much sooner then I'm used to, and was coupled with vomiting. I’ve never experienced this before, and now I have I have no idea how runners like my MudCrew team-mate Di Roy (who suffers badly from sickness during every race) manage to continue. Between 30-50 miles I existed on water and sugar lumps until I made the decision at one station to sit down, drink a bowl of soup and let my heart rate settle to something approaching normal before continuing. I think things improved a little after this, and I was more able to maintain a steady intake of calories, mainly in the form of sweets. I never seemed to regain my hill legs though, and every climb from 50 miles onwards was a massive struggle.
Morning broke at around 6:30am, and it was spectacular. I was suffering, but not so much that I couldn’t appreciate the absolutely incredible sight of the Alps in the sunrise, with the sound of cow bells in the background, and this perked me up a little. I also received a text from Jason saying he’d made it to the checkpoint at Champex Lac (approximately 70 miles) and was waiting for me. I didn’t realise it was another 15 miles to get there, but it definitely felt good to know he was somewhere ahead. I scrambled over the Col Du Ferret (a highlight for me, as from an early age my Dad has had the nickname ‘Ferret’ for me). As I hit the descent down into Champex a new issue developed…I got a nosebleed. I am prone to nosebleeds. This one was slow, not pouring, but could I get it to stop?? For the best part of the next 12 hours I steadily lost blood from my nose.
Just before Champex I met a British runner sitting in the woods. He was suffering, and told me he’d got to Cormayeur in 10 hours, but had to walk since then. I stopped to chat a bit. He’d done the Lakeland 100 in July but told me that the climbs involved there were nothing compared to this. It sounds a little nasty of me, but I was glad to hear him say this as it made me realise that it wasn’t just me being weak, this was an incredibly tough course.
I struggled the final mile or so to Champex where Jason was waiting for me. Never before have I had such a desire to just sit down and cry during a race. I just remember saying 'I can't go on, I can't go on' over and over again to him, while he slowly filled me up with orange juice (nectar of the gods!) and then gently pushed me out towards the course again. I've never had that desire to stop due to sheer exhaustion so close to the surface of my conciousness. However, as I staggered back out onto the trail I knew in my heart that it would take serious injury to stop me now. I have always had the thought when I race 'is this the one worth breaking myself for?' Is this the race that I will continue even if it means months off due to injury? As I left Champex, I realised that this time, the answer was yes. I also heard the voice of a friend in my head saying 'some people run because they have really dark demons to conquer. Channel your demons'. Oh yes, my demons. I would punish those demons with the coming miles!
With approximately 30 miles left to go, I plugged myself into my iPod and was soon singing along with some of my favourites. I have blurred memories of the latter half of the race, but I do remember running down hill into one checkpoint screaming 'MOSKVA!!' at the top of my voice (Check out 'Moskau' by Rammstein). I also remember trying to divert my attention away from my misery by engaging some other runners in conversation about the bells on the cows in the Alps. As they were French and I don't speak any French, it made for a confusing half-hour, but helped to pass the time!
Jason managed to make it to a couple of the later checkpoints. I think it was Vallorcine that he told me there was a girl hot on my tail, and that I really needed to keep pushing. I know he was trying to be encouraging, but all I could do was tell him I was pushing as hard as I bloody could and he wasn't helping! Poor Jase. A word about him. He has had the utmost patience with my newfound ultra-running hobby. He's not a massively keen runner, so we don't run at all together, but he is always there for me. Before races to give me a pre-race leg massage, during my races as my crew, and always at the end to drive me back home. Whenever I run, I'm running back towards him.
It was also at Vallorcine that someone said to me 'just one more climb left!'. As I left the checkpoint I noticed that it was already dusk. By this point I had completely lost track of time and distance. I had been trying to calculate how fast I had been going and how far I had left, but by this point my brain was so scrambled that I couldn't even work out how long I'd been running for. One of the things I hadn't anticipated was how difficult and unsettling it was having the distance measured in kilometers and not miles. I often subdivide my runs as I go, but was unable to do this as a result of the difference in units. It bothered me for the entire run.
'Just one more climb.....' I approached the wall of mountain ahead of me, (stopping to take a photo to send to mum!). Determined, I set off onto the trail on hands and feet. Yes, I was now crawling. But this climb was perfect for it. I was bouldering my way upwards (stopping a couple of times to throw up into a bush)! And upwards, and upwards...where the hell was the top? By now night had fallen completely, and I was feeling like I was drunk. I kept staggering and tripping, then made the decision to stop and stand still for 10 minutes. At this point I was passed by the girl Jase had told me about. It was one of the Inov-8 runners from Australia. I've started to get a bit more competitive this year, and so my first thought was 'yay, it's not a British girl!'. My second thought was 'if it was a British girl, I couldn't give a flying monkeys. I just want this to end!'
As I stood there, swaying in the Alpine breeze, I saw a light heading back towards me, and heard someone shout 'You are tired? I will push!!' in a German accent. German? I was sure I was back in France now. Before I could reply, the owner of the voice circled round behind me, grabbed my arse with both hands and gave me a hefty shove forwards. The figure then darted off into the darkness. All I could think to say was 'thanks!' and as I started forwards again, I heard the cry 'I am Claus!' drifting back up the trail. Well, thanks Claus!
There was now one more checkpoint between me and the finish. I noticed an older guy had been trailing me since Vallorcine, and when we got into the checkpoint, I said hi. He introduced himself as Jacky. He didn't speak any English, but one of the marshals translated for us, and told me that 'Jacky would like to run off into the mountains with you.' Ok, translated badly! I laughed, and said I wasn't sure what my husband would say, but ok then, and we set off on the final straight together. The language barrier made for a quiet, slightly awkward run, particularly when I could no longer resist the urge for a pee. I have no idea how I managed to communicate this to Jacky, but I ducked behind a tree, no brain cells left to register embarrassment at situation...a male French stranger was waiting for me to wee in the woods. That ultra running!
As we reached the outskirts of Chamonix, Jacky said something which I interpreted as 'do you want to cross the finish alone? For the pictures' I shrugged my indifference, and repeated the phrase back to him. He also shrugged. And so by mutual indifference we ran onwards together, nearing the finish. As we turned the corner towards the line, I could see a British flag waving. I also heard cries of 'Jacky, Jacky!'. I had no idea the chap who I was running with was first in his agegroup (Males over 60!!) and something of a local legend!
What can I say about the finish? Well, just that. I had finished. Despite my doubts, my poor planning, my desire to just quit half way. I had finished. Although in no particular style or good time, I was 11th female and first British female. I had learned a lot.
Oh hell, I've learned a lot. That means I have to put it into practice.
And so, 2015 ballot allowing, I will be back.
Lessons:
Racing, no matter how ‘gently’ 2 weeks prior to a big event will not leave you on top form.
Pre-race diet can have a big impact on your performance.
Race nutrition is something that should be meticulously planned, not left to chance (even for someone with a cast-iron stomach like myself)
For my own sanity, I will always convert the distances of races from kilometers to miles ahead of the event. Working in unfamiliar units is unsettling.
Running downhill can be as difficult as running uphill.
'Powering' anywhere in the first half of a race will only lead to failure later on.
Apologies in advance, but this blog will be lengthy. I’ve subdivided it so if you’re interested in a particular part of my experience, skip to the relevant subheading. Happy reading!
Pre-amble. Entering the race.
Last February, 2013, I ran my first ultra with my good friend and running inspiration Rebecca Mingo. 32 miles later and I had been well and truly bitten by the Ultra vampire (that mysterious, seductive creature that bites you and transforms you into a creature of the trails with a lust for sweat and mud). For my 30th birthday I ran the JCC, 3 marathons in 3 days. The entry was a birthday present from my husband, and one of the marshals joked that I should sign him up for the UTMB as revenge. ‘UTMB, what’s that?’ I replied. When I got home I googled it and discovered that not only did you need to accumulate points to enter, but these had to be gained over 3 races. Seemed impossible. But somehow, during the year my endurance continued to improve and by September my completion of the Cotswold 100 gave me the points I needed. In December I went skiing in France and spent the week gazing longingly at the summit of Mont Blanc, whilst knowing my application was in the ballot….
4 weeks later, a year since my first ultra, and my place was confirmed.
Training in 2014.
People often ask how I train. I have no training plan. I basically run for enjoyment, and fit in what I can around work. In 2014 I was in my F2 year of medicine, and would change jobs every 4 months. My rota can be pretty hectic, and the 4 months leading up to the UTMB was a particularly busy job, with lots of 8am-10pm days and 14 hour night shifts. I worked as best I could around these, but didn’t follow any particular schedule. I work on a ‘must do’ and ‘additional’ principle. I have sessions which I feel I must do in order to train, and then additional sessions which I do for enjoyment. I estimate that I cover between 30-60 ‘must do’ miles a week depending on my shifts. These miles are made up of long slow runs (15-30 miles), middle distance runs (8-15 miles) where I try to maintain at least 8mph pace (estimated, as I don’t run with GPS) and I also tried to chuck in one speedwork/Fartlek-type session a week. In amongst this I run into work with a fully-loaded rucksack. When I’m particularly busy and don’t have time for long runs, I will run 10-15 miles a day every day for 3 days straight. I also swim regularly (mainly just for enjoyment), and I do at least 1 free-weights session a week (another ‘must do’ session), meaning that most days I will train morning and evening. When I’m on night shifts I will often go for a long run on the morning after my final shift, which I feel prepares me for the end of a long ultra, when you’ve been awake for 20+ hours and are still running.
I’d entered quite a number of events earlier in 2014, but in the 2 months leading up to the UTMB, I cut back on my racing. I switched my long training runs from Dartmoor where I live, to the north Cornish coastpath in order to give me more time on steep terrain. 2 weeks before the race, I competed in the Mudcrew Roseland August Trail 100k race which I intended to be a final gentle long run prior to 2 weeks taper. However, I got a bit carried away racing in the first 30 miles, and probably pushed myself harder than I should. I take for granted the fact that I recover quickly, but I do wonder now if I would have performed better in the UTMB if I hadn’t raced that weekend.
The build up.
I’d never been abroad for a race before, so my husband Jason and I decided to make a holiday of it. We spent 10 days camping our way through France down to Chamonix. This meant that, although I was nice and relaxed when we arrived, my diet in the 2 weeks before the race had been pretty poor. I (along with most of the population in developed countries) get a degree of IBS, and the symptoms mainly develop when my diet changes. When we got to Chamonix 4 days before the race I tried to eat as normal a diet as possible, but was still suffering from some stomach cramps, bloating, the usual irritating gastric symptoms when I was waiting on the start line.
The race.
The race started at 17:30. I’d tried to get some sleep during the day, but was too nervous. I was really starting to wonder if I was capable of completing what lay ahead.
Jason dropped me in Chamonix at 4pm, and left to find the first checkpoint. I hung around, gradually easing my way through the crowds towards the centre of town, and the start. The start line was insane. 2400 ultra runners, rammed into a smallish town square. It started to rain, and everyone around me got their waterproofs out of their packs as I stood there in my T-shirt thankful for the cooling rain! I chatted to a couple of British guys standing nearby, joking that the rain and cold gave us the edge over competitors from hot and dry countries.
17:30, there was a 10 second countdown, and we were off. The first 8km was an undulating warm up through the forest path from Chamonix to the base of the first climb. I spent most of this 8km cursing everyone with walking poles, as I had one jabbed in my knee, another into my foot, and nearly caught a smack in the face as well. It was crowded, people were shoving, I was already feeling pissed off. I think one of the nice things about ultras is once you get going you have lots of space around you, which is one reason I hate shorter road races. The start of the UTMB as more like the start of the VLM. The crowd didn’t really begin to thin until 30ish miles. This turned out to be a real problem, as at around 10 miles I started feeling the need to, erm, 'use the facilities' (runners trots!) but was too embarrased to subject my fellow runners to the inevitable noise. In the end I ducked off down a path for a 5 minute detour for some peace and quiet!
When we reached the first major climb, people around me slowed to a walk. Here I made my first mistake of the race…I carried on running. I’m used to running uphill, even fairly steep hills, and have done so on other ultras with no problems. In fact, I think it’s what gave me an advantage on the SDW100. What I had neglected to take into account was how long the climbs in the UTMB go on for. I overtook a lot of people, but when we started our first decent people came streaming past and I began to realise that my lack of skill in running downhill would be a problem. I was also suffering from an ankle injury which made running downhill quite painful and I couldn’t stride out properly. To compensate for this, I continued to power up the hills, overtaking people who would then coast past me again on the way back down. This worked fine, until I got to Cormayeur, approximately half way, and my hill legs completely gave out. No pain, just complete weakness and exhaustion at every ascent. The next climb I got to I struggled up swaying and staggering, my heart feeling like it was going to burst out of my chest.
The weakness I was experiencing was a result of 2 things; my initial tactic of powering uphill, coupled with poor nutrition planning and nausea which stared after the first 20 miles. Regarding nutrition, I usually use SIS gels which I find fairly inoffensive and easy to swallow even when nausea sets in. I had brought a batch of 8 with me, 6 in my kit and 2 in my drop bag at Champex. I'd banked on getting more in Chamonix before the race, but couldn't find anywhere that sold them, and so I decided to ration the ones that I had. The nausea I experienced set in much sooner then I'm used to, and was coupled with vomiting. I’ve never experienced this before, and now I have I have no idea how runners like my MudCrew team-mate Di Roy (who suffers badly from sickness during every race) manage to continue. Between 30-50 miles I existed on water and sugar lumps until I made the decision at one station to sit down, drink a bowl of soup and let my heart rate settle to something approaching normal before continuing. I think things improved a little after this, and I was more able to maintain a steady intake of calories, mainly in the form of sweets. I never seemed to regain my hill legs though, and every climb from 50 miles onwards was a massive struggle.
Morning broke at around 6:30am, and it was spectacular. I was suffering, but not so much that I couldn’t appreciate the absolutely incredible sight of the Alps in the sunrise, with the sound of cow bells in the background, and this perked me up a little. I also received a text from Jason saying he’d made it to the checkpoint at Champex Lac (approximately 70 miles) and was waiting for me. I didn’t realise it was another 15 miles to get there, but it definitely felt good to know he was somewhere ahead. I scrambled over the Col Du Ferret (a highlight for me, as from an early age my Dad has had the nickname ‘Ferret’ for me). As I hit the descent down into Champex a new issue developed…I got a nosebleed. I am prone to nosebleeds. This one was slow, not pouring, but could I get it to stop?? For the best part of the next 12 hours I steadily lost blood from my nose.
Just before Champex I met a British runner sitting in the woods. He was suffering, and told me he’d got to Cormayeur in 10 hours, but had to walk since then. I stopped to chat a bit. He’d done the Lakeland 100 in July but told me that the climbs involved there were nothing compared to this. It sounds a little nasty of me, but I was glad to hear him say this as it made me realise that it wasn’t just me being weak, this was an incredibly tough course.
I struggled the final mile or so to Champex where Jason was waiting for me. Never before have I had such a desire to just sit down and cry during a race. I just remember saying 'I can't go on, I can't go on' over and over again to him, while he slowly filled me up with orange juice (nectar of the gods!) and then gently pushed me out towards the course again. I've never had that desire to stop due to sheer exhaustion so close to the surface of my conciousness. However, as I staggered back out onto the trail I knew in my heart that it would take serious injury to stop me now. I have always had the thought when I race 'is this the one worth breaking myself for?' Is this the race that I will continue even if it means months off due to injury? As I left Champex, I realised that this time, the answer was yes. I also heard the voice of a friend in my head saying 'some people run because they have really dark demons to conquer. Channel your demons'. Oh yes, my demons. I would punish those demons with the coming miles!
With approximately 30 miles left to go, I plugged myself into my iPod and was soon singing along with some of my favourites. I have blurred memories of the latter half of the race, but I do remember running down hill into one checkpoint screaming 'MOSKVA!!' at the top of my voice (Check out 'Moskau' by Rammstein). I also remember trying to divert my attention away from my misery by engaging some other runners in conversation about the bells on the cows in the Alps. As they were French and I don't speak any French, it made for a confusing half-hour, but helped to pass the time!
Jason managed to make it to a couple of the later checkpoints. I think it was Vallorcine that he told me there was a girl hot on my tail, and that I really needed to keep pushing. I know he was trying to be encouraging, but all I could do was tell him I was pushing as hard as I bloody could and he wasn't helping! Poor Jase. A word about him. He has had the utmost patience with my newfound ultra-running hobby. He's not a massively keen runner, so we don't run at all together, but he is always there for me. Before races to give me a pre-race leg massage, during my races as my crew, and always at the end to drive me back home. Whenever I run, I'm running back towards him.
It was also at Vallorcine that someone said to me 'just one more climb left!'. As I left the checkpoint I noticed that it was already dusk. By this point I had completely lost track of time and distance. I had been trying to calculate how fast I had been going and how far I had left, but by this point my brain was so scrambled that I couldn't even work out how long I'd been running for. One of the things I hadn't anticipated was how difficult and unsettling it was having the distance measured in kilometers and not miles. I often subdivide my runs as I go, but was unable to do this as a result of the difference in units. It bothered me for the entire run.
'Just one more climb.....' I approached the wall of mountain ahead of me, (stopping to take a photo to send to mum!). Determined, I set off onto the trail on hands and feet. Yes, I was now crawling. But this climb was perfect for it. I was bouldering my way upwards (stopping a couple of times to throw up into a bush)! And upwards, and upwards...where the hell was the top? By now night had fallen completely, and I was feeling like I was drunk. I kept staggering and tripping, then made the decision to stop and stand still for 10 minutes. At this point I was passed by the girl Jase had told me about. It was one of the Inov-8 runners from Australia. I've started to get a bit more competitive this year, and so my first thought was 'yay, it's not a British girl!'. My second thought was 'if it was a British girl, I couldn't give a flying monkeys. I just want this to end!'
As I stood there, swaying in the Alpine breeze, I saw a light heading back towards me, and heard someone shout 'You are tired? I will push!!' in a German accent. German? I was sure I was back in France now. Before I could reply, the owner of the voice circled round behind me, grabbed my arse with both hands and gave me a hefty shove forwards. The figure then darted off into the darkness. All I could think to say was 'thanks!' and as I started forwards again, I heard the cry 'I am Claus!' drifting back up the trail. Well, thanks Claus!
There was now one more checkpoint between me and the finish. I noticed an older guy had been trailing me since Vallorcine, and when we got into the checkpoint, I said hi. He introduced himself as Jacky. He didn't speak any English, but one of the marshals translated for us, and told me that 'Jacky would like to run off into the mountains with you.' Ok, translated badly! I laughed, and said I wasn't sure what my husband would say, but ok then, and we set off on the final straight together. The language barrier made for a quiet, slightly awkward run, particularly when I could no longer resist the urge for a pee. I have no idea how I managed to communicate this to Jacky, but I ducked behind a tree, no brain cells left to register embarrassment at situation...a male French stranger was waiting for me to wee in the woods. That ultra running!
As we reached the outskirts of Chamonix, Jacky said something which I interpreted as 'do you want to cross the finish alone? For the pictures' I shrugged my indifference, and repeated the phrase back to him. He also shrugged. And so by mutual indifference we ran onwards together, nearing the finish. As we turned the corner towards the line, I could see a British flag waving. I also heard cries of 'Jacky, Jacky!'. I had no idea the chap who I was running with was first in his agegroup (Males over 60!!) and something of a local legend!
What can I say about the finish? Well, just that. I had finished. Despite my doubts, my poor planning, my desire to just quit half way. I had finished. Although in no particular style or good time, I was 11th female and first British female. I had learned a lot.
Oh hell, I've learned a lot. That means I have to put it into practice.
And so, 2015 ballot allowing, I will be back.
Lessons:
Racing, no matter how ‘gently’ 2 weeks prior to a big event will not leave you on top form.
Pre-race diet can have a big impact on your performance.
Race nutrition is something that should be meticulously planned, not left to chance (even for someone with a cast-iron stomach like myself)
For my own sanity, I will always convert the distances of races from kilometers to miles ahead of the event. Working in unfamiliar units is unsettling.
Running downhill can be as difficult as running uphill.
'Powering' anywhere in the first half of a race will only lead to failure later on.
Wednesday, 29 October 2014
Oh go on then....
My current work rota combined with house hunting means that, 2 months since the race, my UTMB blog is still in its embryonic stages. Since then I've run the winter 100. Now a lot of people have written some in-depth excellent accounts of this race. So here's my 5 minute, bullet-point version for the easily distracted.
Leg one: Urgh, flat and mud. Oh god, I remember this bit from the TP100. Sodding flat fields. I'm tired. I can't be arsed with this. My legs hurt. Might just DNF when I get back to Goring. Whinge whinge whinge.
Leg 2: Oof, finally a hill! Ooo, my legs are starting to warm up a bit. Yay, lovely trail to run! I like this bit. Hey, check me out, I'm an aeroplane! YA SVABODEI!!!
Leg 3: Ok, I'm sure the guy at Goring said it was just up here. But this points to the Ridgeway. I thought it was TP, Ridgeway, TP, Ridgeway. Damn it, why don't I read the race instructions more carefully?! Hang on, mobile signal...centurion website...phew, this is the right section! Ok, time to get running again. Ooooo, look, a giant chicken!
Leg 4: Nice leafy path...bit more mud...I'm tired now, plod plod plod. Follow the Centurion signs.....hang on...I've been running a good 5 minutes and no red/white tape. What does that sign say? Alpaca extravaganza? Oh shite, I've gone the wrong way! Damn it Sarah, focus! Run out of water now. Where the hell is that turning point?? Oh, thank god!! Right, homeward bound!
Finish; Time for a Groucho Marx impression. Oh, and this puddle in the middle of the road will do nicely to wash the mud off. Love you guys! xx
Leg one: Urgh, flat and mud. Oh god, I remember this bit from the TP100. Sodding flat fields. I'm tired. I can't be arsed with this. My legs hurt. Might just DNF when I get back to Goring. Whinge whinge whinge.
Leg 2: Oof, finally a hill! Ooo, my legs are starting to warm up a bit. Yay, lovely trail to run! I like this bit. Hey, check me out, I'm an aeroplane! YA SVABODEI!!!
Leg 3: Ok, I'm sure the guy at Goring said it was just up here. But this points to the Ridgeway. I thought it was TP, Ridgeway, TP, Ridgeway. Damn it, why don't I read the race instructions more carefully?! Hang on, mobile signal...centurion website...phew, this is the right section! Ok, time to get running again. Ooooo, look, a giant chicken!
Leg 4: Nice leafy path...bit more mud...I'm tired now, plod plod plod. Follow the Centurion signs.....hang on...I've been running a good 5 minutes and no red/white tape. What does that sign say? Alpaca extravaganza? Oh shite, I've gone the wrong way! Damn it Sarah, focus! Run out of water now. Where the hell is that turning point?? Oh, thank god!! Right, homeward bound!
Finish; Time for a Groucho Marx impression. Oh, and this puddle in the middle of the road will do nicely to wash the mud off. Love you guys! xx
Friday, 27 June 2014
A Tale of 2 Hundreds
About a month ago I ran my second hundred, and just over a week ago I ran my
third. I'm going to try to describe the vast differences in these two
experiences.
100 number one. The Thames Path 100.
Before:
I entered this race after a place came up when I was on the waiting list. My only other hundred at that point had been the Cotswold Way 100. I didn't have any races other than the UTMB planned for 2014, mostly because my job doesn't allow much forward planning, so I was really excited when a place came up. I was also really nervous as my training since the Green Man ultra was mainly focused on the VLM which was 3 weeks before the TP100. I had aimed for a sub 3hr time, and failed by 2 minutes. Still,3hr02mins, a PB. The week and weekend following the VLM I stepped up my distance, finishing with a back to back 20/15. The next week I put in a couple of 10s and the weekend before the TP100 I did 12/13 (incorporating the Plymouth half marathon in a less-than impressive time!). I hate short fast runs. Finally, the weekend of the TP100 arrived! I was working the day before and had to catch the train up to London after work. I didn't get to my accomodation until past 11pm, but managed to get a 6 hour solid sleep in and arrive at the start in time to get a coffee and chill out for a bit.
During:
I had no concept of the pace I should start at for this terrain and as a result I set off way too fast. During the first 11 miles I managed to get lost with a group of guys, which made me panic and run even faster to try to get back to the path. I'm not sure of my splits, but I know I reached 22 feeling less than top form. One of the things I remember about the Cotswold was how comfortable I felt even into 60-odd miles. This was not the case on the TP100! By the fourth checkpoint my quads were already hurting. By the 50 mile point they were screaming, and I was already having to stop to walk for short periods. Not good. My sister-in-law and her husband were waiting for me at the 63 mile checkpoint, and I tried to be as cheery as possible, but I was dreading the remaining distance.
The first half of this race was a bit uncomfortable. The second half was pure agony and has become a blur of pain and sickness in my head. I also got cold overnight as the temperature dropped to around 2 degrees, which made the pain even worse. It was a nightmare. I only have 3 or 4 distinct memories: After Streatley I hooked up with a guy who was also suffering. He had a pacer with him and they were doing 1min running 30 secs walking. I joined them for a bit, which was a lovely ray of light in a long dark night. At Wallingford it was pub-chucking-out time, and I got trailed by a group of tipsy excitable girls for about half a mile. They were chattering on about how amazing I was, how they couldn't believe what I was doing, they were really really encouraging, but all I could think was 'leave me ALONE!!' I was so miserable I couldn't deal with their lovely cheeriness. (After the race I considered going back to Wallingford and sticking up some posters saying thanks to those girls!). At the 85 mile checkpoint I was convinced I was going to burst into tears on the shoulder of one of the marshals. For some reason I didn't. I was probably too tired!
I finished the TP100 in just under 20 hours (19.57). I was first lady, and had broken the 20 hour mark, but I was less than impressed with myself and my body. So much pain for a not-too-amazing time! I spent the day following the race hobbling very slowly around oxford. It was 3 days before I could walk properly again, and I sustained a knee injury which seriously restricted my running for the following few weeks.
100 number two. The South Down Way 100:
Before.
When I got back home from the TP100 I was so annoyed with myself that I wanted to enter another 100 immediately. I didn’t want the memory of that second 50 miles to be with me too long, and knew I’d need a better experience to replace it. I saw that the waiting list for the SDW100 was open, so I added my name and about a week later I got an email offering me a place. At this point I was struggling to run at all due to my knee injury and the race was only about 3 weeks away, but I was feeling optimistic so I signed up. The week prior to the SDW100 I had the Dartmoor discovery – 32 miles of hilly road around Dartmoor. I thought this would be the perfect tester run to check out the knee situation. I did steady run, falling around 15 minutes short of the time I would have intended had I been racing, but my knee held out! So, all set for the 100! On the day before the race I finished work a bit early, and my husband drove me up to Winchester. On our way we drove through a massive thunderstorm rolling across Salisbury plain. I was now getting quite excited, because I love running in cool wet weather, and was hopeful that the storm would clear the muggy heat of the past week.
During:
I went into the SDW100 knowing that there were a few GB girls running, which I felt took the pressure off me, as I had no intention to try to race those girls!! Starting out I was nervous because of the pain I experienced during the TP100. I was also a little worried about my knee holding out especially on the downhill stretches. I tried to settle into a slow swinging rhythm. I ran for a while with a group of girls, one of whom I recognised as Karen Hathaway who I met at the green man ultra. I also ran for a bit with a nippy lass who I later realised was Sharon Law. I pulled ahead a little way into the run because I prefer to run uphill than to walk. I spent the rest of the race expecting them to overtake me again.
The journey to the 27 mile checkpoint was a bit tough. I ached a little and felt a bit lethargic. But after 27 something seemed to kick in, and I became comfortable in my stride, my energy levels picked up. You know you’re built for ultras when your second wind doesn’t come until after the marathon point! I was feeling so cheerful that I picked a handful of flowers to give to my husband who was at the next checkpoint, and tucked one jauntily behind my ear while thinking ‘This is what running should be about!’
During the Cotswold way and the TP100 I had tended to linger at checkpoints. This time I tried to be in and out of them fairly fast. I did stop for a bit at 32 miles though, because they had jelly and icecream! I also stopped to give my husband his (now slightly wilted) flowers, and to top up on gels. I also drank a lot of orange juice! I was trying my hardest not to run out of fuel, knowing that I’d feel queasy later on.
I knew that the 50 mile checkpoint would be a boost for me, because my mate Darren Long was volunteering there. And sure enough, the sight of Dazza made me feel full of energy! By this point the heavens had opened and it was like I was running through a waterfall. As I left the checkpoint I remember him yelling after me to keep up the pace, and thinking ‘No problem, I’m loving this!’. I still felt comfortable. This was so different from the way I felt at 50 miles on the TP100!!
As I headed into the second half I began to recognise bits of the route from the SDW50 the previous year. I’ve never done a race where I know the route, and it was actually quite nice to have an idea of what was coming up! I knew there were a couple of pretty steep hills in this section and I did struggle a bit particularly at around the 75 mile mark when I had a massive hypo. Sweaty, shaky, legs turning to jelly, and I just had to sit by the track for a minute or 2. Thinking about it I realised I hadn’t taken on any fuel for a good 10 miles. I stuffed down 2 gels and a potato I found in my pocket (I’d picked it up at one of the checkpoints and completely forgotten about it!!). I also broke into a packet of dextrose tabs to give me some quick sugar. About 5 minutes after that I felt back to normal(ish).
The last 20 or so miles of the run are a bit of a blur. I remember an amazing sunset, a friendly duck, being freaked out massively by a pair of eyes in the dark which turned out to be a fox, and the guy on top of the hill 2 miles from the end pointing people down the correct route (what a hero!). That was where I got lost on the 50 last year. This time I stayed bang on course. I cruised (yes, cruised…that’s how I felt!) the final mile to the finish line. I crossed the line in 17 hours 36 minutes. I previously had no idea of my time, because I don’t wear a garmin, so it was a massive surprise to me! The finish line was, as always with Centurion, amazing. Hot food, friendly faces. But this time there was a part of me that knew I could have carried on. I was back out and running after only 1 days rest.
So, two 100’s. Two completely different experiences. And the knowledge that if I wanted to I could have gone faster on the second one!
I think I’ve found my niche.
100 number one. The Thames Path 100.
Before:
I entered this race after a place came up when I was on the waiting list. My only other hundred at that point had been the Cotswold Way 100. I didn't have any races other than the UTMB planned for 2014, mostly because my job doesn't allow much forward planning, so I was really excited when a place came up. I was also really nervous as my training since the Green Man ultra was mainly focused on the VLM which was 3 weeks before the TP100. I had aimed for a sub 3hr time, and failed by 2 minutes. Still,3hr02mins, a PB. The week and weekend following the VLM I stepped up my distance, finishing with a back to back 20/15. The next week I put in a couple of 10s and the weekend before the TP100 I did 12/13 (incorporating the Plymouth half marathon in a less-than impressive time!). I hate short fast runs. Finally, the weekend of the TP100 arrived! I was working the day before and had to catch the train up to London after work. I didn't get to my accomodation until past 11pm, but managed to get a 6 hour solid sleep in and arrive at the start in time to get a coffee and chill out for a bit.
During:
I had no concept of the pace I should start at for this terrain and as a result I set off way too fast. During the first 11 miles I managed to get lost with a group of guys, which made me panic and run even faster to try to get back to the path. I'm not sure of my splits, but I know I reached 22 feeling less than top form. One of the things I remember about the Cotswold was how comfortable I felt even into 60-odd miles. This was not the case on the TP100! By the fourth checkpoint my quads were already hurting. By the 50 mile point they were screaming, and I was already having to stop to walk for short periods. Not good. My sister-in-law and her husband were waiting for me at the 63 mile checkpoint, and I tried to be as cheery as possible, but I was dreading the remaining distance.
The first half of this race was a bit uncomfortable. The second half was pure agony and has become a blur of pain and sickness in my head. I also got cold overnight as the temperature dropped to around 2 degrees, which made the pain even worse. It was a nightmare. I only have 3 or 4 distinct memories: After Streatley I hooked up with a guy who was also suffering. He had a pacer with him and they were doing 1min running 30 secs walking. I joined them for a bit, which was a lovely ray of light in a long dark night. At Wallingford it was pub-chucking-out time, and I got trailed by a group of tipsy excitable girls for about half a mile. They were chattering on about how amazing I was, how they couldn't believe what I was doing, they were really really encouraging, but all I could think was 'leave me ALONE!!' I was so miserable I couldn't deal with their lovely cheeriness. (After the race I considered going back to Wallingford and sticking up some posters saying thanks to those girls!). At the 85 mile checkpoint I was convinced I was going to burst into tears on the shoulder of one of the marshals. For some reason I didn't. I was probably too tired!
I finished the TP100 in just under 20 hours (19.57). I was first lady, and had broken the 20 hour mark, but I was less than impressed with myself and my body. So much pain for a not-too-amazing time! I spent the day following the race hobbling very slowly around oxford. It was 3 days before I could walk properly again, and I sustained a knee injury which seriously restricted my running for the following few weeks.
100 number two. The South Down Way 100:
Before.
When I got back home from the TP100 I was so annoyed with myself that I wanted to enter another 100 immediately. I didn’t want the memory of that second 50 miles to be with me too long, and knew I’d need a better experience to replace it. I saw that the waiting list for the SDW100 was open, so I added my name and about a week later I got an email offering me a place. At this point I was struggling to run at all due to my knee injury and the race was only about 3 weeks away, but I was feeling optimistic so I signed up. The week prior to the SDW100 I had the Dartmoor discovery – 32 miles of hilly road around Dartmoor. I thought this would be the perfect tester run to check out the knee situation. I did steady run, falling around 15 minutes short of the time I would have intended had I been racing, but my knee held out! So, all set for the 100! On the day before the race I finished work a bit early, and my husband drove me up to Winchester. On our way we drove through a massive thunderstorm rolling across Salisbury plain. I was now getting quite excited, because I love running in cool wet weather, and was hopeful that the storm would clear the muggy heat of the past week.
During:
I went into the SDW100 knowing that there were a few GB girls running, which I felt took the pressure off me, as I had no intention to try to race those girls!! Starting out I was nervous because of the pain I experienced during the TP100. I was also a little worried about my knee holding out especially on the downhill stretches. I tried to settle into a slow swinging rhythm. I ran for a while with a group of girls, one of whom I recognised as Karen Hathaway who I met at the green man ultra. I also ran for a bit with a nippy lass who I later realised was Sharon Law. I pulled ahead a little way into the run because I prefer to run uphill than to walk. I spent the rest of the race expecting them to overtake me again.
The journey to the 27 mile checkpoint was a bit tough. I ached a little and felt a bit lethargic. But after 27 something seemed to kick in, and I became comfortable in my stride, my energy levels picked up. You know you’re built for ultras when your second wind doesn’t come until after the marathon point! I was feeling so cheerful that I picked a handful of flowers to give to my husband who was at the next checkpoint, and tucked one jauntily behind my ear while thinking ‘This is what running should be about!’
During the Cotswold way and the TP100 I had tended to linger at checkpoints. This time I tried to be in and out of them fairly fast. I did stop for a bit at 32 miles though, because they had jelly and icecream! I also stopped to give my husband his (now slightly wilted) flowers, and to top up on gels. I also drank a lot of orange juice! I was trying my hardest not to run out of fuel, knowing that I’d feel queasy later on.
I knew that the 50 mile checkpoint would be a boost for me, because my mate Darren Long was volunteering there. And sure enough, the sight of Dazza made me feel full of energy! By this point the heavens had opened and it was like I was running through a waterfall. As I left the checkpoint I remember him yelling after me to keep up the pace, and thinking ‘No problem, I’m loving this!’. I still felt comfortable. This was so different from the way I felt at 50 miles on the TP100!!
As I headed into the second half I began to recognise bits of the route from the SDW50 the previous year. I’ve never done a race where I know the route, and it was actually quite nice to have an idea of what was coming up! I knew there were a couple of pretty steep hills in this section and I did struggle a bit particularly at around the 75 mile mark when I had a massive hypo. Sweaty, shaky, legs turning to jelly, and I just had to sit by the track for a minute or 2. Thinking about it I realised I hadn’t taken on any fuel for a good 10 miles. I stuffed down 2 gels and a potato I found in my pocket (I’d picked it up at one of the checkpoints and completely forgotten about it!!). I also broke into a packet of dextrose tabs to give me some quick sugar. About 5 minutes after that I felt back to normal(ish).
The last 20 or so miles of the run are a bit of a blur. I remember an amazing sunset, a friendly duck, being freaked out massively by a pair of eyes in the dark which turned out to be a fox, and the guy on top of the hill 2 miles from the end pointing people down the correct route (what a hero!). That was where I got lost on the 50 last year. This time I stayed bang on course. I cruised (yes, cruised…that’s how I felt!) the final mile to the finish line. I crossed the line in 17 hours 36 minutes. I previously had no idea of my time, because I don’t wear a garmin, so it was a massive surprise to me! The finish line was, as always with Centurion, amazing. Hot food, friendly faces. But this time there was a part of me that knew I could have carried on. I was back out and running after only 1 days rest.
So, two 100’s. Two completely different experiences. And the knowledge that if I wanted to I could have gone faster on the second one!
I think I’ve found my niche.
Monday, 3 March 2014
Green Man Ultra - Lessons learned.
Last night I came back from Bristol having completed the Green Man ultramarathon. This is a 46 mile race around the Community Forest PAth which circumnavigates Bristol. The run itself was not challenging in terms of terrain (mostly flat, quite a bit of mud but also quite a bit of tarmac paths), but rather navigation as the path is largly unmarked and follows a seemingly random route across fields, through housing estates, along river banks and roads. I learned several important lessons this weekend;
1. Tapering does make a difference, and 3 intense speedwork sessions in the week leading up to an ultra is not a smart idea!
2. You have to run an ultra at your own pace. Even if you know you would do a similar overall time to another runner, that doesn't mean you can match their pace for the entire distance. Some start fast then slow down, some keep a steady rhythm throughout, some start slow then speed up.
3. If you want to run an unmarked route, you have to know it. Navigation whilst running is frustrating, very difficult and breaks your running rhythm
I started the run much faster than I would normally set out. I was a little nervous as I hadn't run over 35 miles since the Cotswold Century last september and really wanted to keep a steady pace to start. Most of my good runs I've started at the back of the pack, then I gradually end up overtaking people as they slow down and I keep on going. My strength is definately endurance rather than speed. In this case though my aim was to keep up with fellow MCUT member Stuart, who knew the route. However, after checkpoint 2 the initial burst of speed on top of legs aching from lack of tapering was taking its toll on me and I lost him after a couple of turns. I was now at the mercy of my own navigation, which failed pretty quickly despite having GPS and OS maps of the route. My only solution was to wait for the group behind me to catch up, as I knew the girl in that group had run the route before. The problem here was that her pace was much slower than my normal pace, and I would keep settling into a rhythm, only to pull away from her, have to stop and wait for her to catch up as I had no idea where I was going! A few times I tried to carry on but would end up missing a turn and having to backtrack. Frustrating to say the least!
Between checkpoint 4 and the finish we were caught up from behind by another lass who also knew the route. She was obviously a 'start slow and speed up' runner, as she was doing a fairly brisk pace, and so I hooked up with her. My dilema now was that I really wanted to finish in first place, but again had to rely on this lass for her knowledge of the route. However when we got to Clifton I knew the last 3 miles and having spent most of the race running much slower than normal I had quite a bit left in my tank, so I picked up my pace and pulled away from her. I felt a bit guilty doing this, as if I hadn't followed her, and indeed the lass behind (who came in 10 minutes behind us in the end) I would never have completed the run as I would have got cocmpletely lost.
In the end I came in 2nd overall, 1st female (by only 1 minute on the girl behind me). The race finish was superb, with free hot food, sports massage, fantastic finishers goodie bag, and my husband and father waiting to take me to the pub! But overall I didn't enjoy this race, as I didn't run under my own steam, having to rely on others around me for route knowledge and as a result completely breaking with my normal race rhythm.
So. Lessons learned. And I am now officially a Woodwose (http://gaveller.wordpress.com/about/) and hopefully a know myself a little better.
However, I now know the route, and so I will be back next year to get the sub 7hr 30 time I was aiming for!
1. Tapering does make a difference, and 3 intense speedwork sessions in the week leading up to an ultra is not a smart idea!
2. You have to run an ultra at your own pace. Even if you know you would do a similar overall time to another runner, that doesn't mean you can match their pace for the entire distance. Some start fast then slow down, some keep a steady rhythm throughout, some start slow then speed up.
3. If you want to run an unmarked route, you have to know it. Navigation whilst running is frustrating, very difficult and breaks your running rhythm
I started the run much faster than I would normally set out. I was a little nervous as I hadn't run over 35 miles since the Cotswold Century last september and really wanted to keep a steady pace to start. Most of my good runs I've started at the back of the pack, then I gradually end up overtaking people as they slow down and I keep on going. My strength is definately endurance rather than speed. In this case though my aim was to keep up with fellow MCUT member Stuart, who knew the route. However, after checkpoint 2 the initial burst of speed on top of legs aching from lack of tapering was taking its toll on me and I lost him after a couple of turns. I was now at the mercy of my own navigation, which failed pretty quickly despite having GPS and OS maps of the route. My only solution was to wait for the group behind me to catch up, as I knew the girl in that group had run the route before. The problem here was that her pace was much slower than my normal pace, and I would keep settling into a rhythm, only to pull away from her, have to stop and wait for her to catch up as I had no idea where I was going! A few times I tried to carry on but would end up missing a turn and having to backtrack. Frustrating to say the least!
Between checkpoint 4 and the finish we were caught up from behind by another lass who also knew the route. She was obviously a 'start slow and speed up' runner, as she was doing a fairly brisk pace, and so I hooked up with her. My dilema now was that I really wanted to finish in first place, but again had to rely on this lass for her knowledge of the route. However when we got to Clifton I knew the last 3 miles and having spent most of the race running much slower than normal I had quite a bit left in my tank, so I picked up my pace and pulled away from her. I felt a bit guilty doing this, as if I hadn't followed her, and indeed the lass behind (who came in 10 minutes behind us in the end) I would never have completed the run as I would have got cocmpletely lost.
In the end I came in 2nd overall, 1st female (by only 1 minute on the girl behind me). The race finish was superb, with free hot food, sports massage, fantastic finishers goodie bag, and my husband and father waiting to take me to the pub! But overall I didn't enjoy this race, as I didn't run under my own steam, having to rely on others around me for route knowledge and as a result completely breaking with my normal race rhythm.
So. Lessons learned. And I am now officially a Woodwose (http://gaveller.wordpress.com/about/) and hopefully a know myself a little better.
However, I now know the route, and so I will be back next year to get the sub 7hr 30 time I was aiming for!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)