I wandered lonely as a cloud.

When I came back from my UTMB failure I went a bit mad entering things. This race looked like it could be interesting, and I'd never given Skyrunning a try. Plus, I'd always fancied a run in the lakes. What more excuse does a girl need?

I travelled up on the Friday morning and went and recce'd the Scafell climb. It was wonderful! I could feel myself getting more and more excited, and I really had to resist the temptation to carry on running all afternoon!

On Saturday I recce'd the Helvelyn climb. The photo below is better than me trying to explain the wonder of the experience.

Sunday morning, 5am. We set off from Keswick and were quickly off the tarmac and onto forest paths. The first section to Scafell was all runnable, and along some lovely trails underfoot with boulders to jump, undulating sections that made you feel like you were on a rollercoaster and the hint of the sunrise promising a wonderful day ahead!

The climbing started from Seathwaite. I found that I could run most of the initial ascent up to Styehead Tarn, wondering if I would regret this later as I caught up and then overtook a group of guys ahead of me. But I knew that the pain would be on the descents and flat sections, so I decided to just let my body go with it and enjoy the climbs.

The corridor route to the start of the final Scafell climb was a treat! Ridges to clamber along, boulders to hop off, real hands and knees stuff! So THIS is why people love Skyrunning! I hadn't had this much fun since the Borriol Mountain Marathon!!

I made it comfortably up to the summit of Scafell having overtaken around 5 guys on the climb. A couple of them then overtook me on the decent, as I minced my way down a terrifying vertical scree slope and then scrambled around on some boulders on top of another peak. How do the fell runners throw themselves down this stuff so fast?! I followed a chap who was really motoring along on the next undulating section along some peaty paths and then hit another climb. I met another couple of guys here, and got chatting. I'm not usually that sociable during runs, preferring to just get into my own little world of pain and euphoria. But I really, really enjoyed the company of these guys all the way down the decent, through some deep bogs and seriously lumpy terrain to the base of the Helvellyn climb.

One of the blokes I was running with (I'm really sorry, I never asked your name!) started the Helvellyn climb just ahead of me, saying that he wanted to get a head-start on me so we could run along The Dodds together. Ah, that's nice!! I never really thought of anyone enjoying my company during a race, I always alternate between silly and grumpy! We climbed up, chatting for a bit and marvelling at the view. Unfortunately I was still in the power-up mode, and so I lost him on the climb. This is when I noticed Dave Troman. Bright blue shorts. About 5 minutes ahead of me. And that is where he remained for the rest of the race!

I hit the summit of Helvellyn and then set off along The Dodds. About 30 minutes later I started to feel a bit funny. I was sure I'd been keeping on top of my nutrition...or had I? 5 minutes later I fell over. I didn't trip, my legs just gave way. I stood up again and tried to keep on running. This bit was flat. But I couldn't run. Nope, definitely not keeping on top of my nutrition. I frantically searched my bag for stuff I could eat, and settled on a 9 bar and half a block of Kendle Mint Cake. 10 minutes and a bit of staggering later I felt the effects kick in and suddenly I was off again.

I got to the top of Clough Head, and at that point I lost the path. After running around the top for a bit I saw it. I'd been warned about this decent, but I was still shocked. That's a cliff, not a slope!! Grassy, sheer, with some mildly interested sheep dotted down it. Well, at least I'd have something soft to land on if I fell!

I started to edge downwards. No blue shorts in sight. Damn it, I'd lost the guy ahead of me. As the slope started to flatted a little, I started to run and caught my right foot on a boulder. I'd already gone over on this ankle twice on the night section, and it was feeling pretty sore. This time my ankle twisted and I heard a crack. I collapsed, grabbing my ankle and rolled around like an injured footballer for a bit, before I realised that wasn't getting me anywhere. A few minutes of limping and I found that thankfully there was no serious damage. It was bloody sore, but I could still run on it. Mental note to self - when I go back to do this race next year, I am going down this descent on my arse!!

The next section was a flat 4 miles to the base of Skiddaw. I was feeling pretty sore in the usual places, and very tired. I plodded up to the checkpoint at Latrigg ready for the final climb. 'See you in a couple of hours' the marshal said. A couple?! I thought this last bit would only take me an hour or so! Talk about misjudging distance! I didn't realise that there was a few miles of runnable path before the final climb started. I struggled along, definitely feeling the effects of my early power-climbs. The path was undulating and rocky, the kind I usually love to run, but I was getting very tired. I had a couple of shotblocs which gave me a little boost, but was very happy to hit the base of the climb. This one was different to Scafell and Helvellyn, the path was mud and grass rather than paved/boulders. It reminded me of the coastpath climbs between St Gennys and Bostcastle. Except that it went on and on and on! I could still climb well though, so really got stuck into it. As I neared the top I saw a figure standing on the summit silhouetted against the sky...what a sight! A moment or two later and the figure gracefully leapt of the cairn and ran over the horizon. That HAD to be Sally (Sally Fawcett, fell-runner and fellow GB trail team member)!! That girl is like a gazelle on the hills! She had been competing in the fell relay in Patterdale that morning, and had come over for a jaunt up Skiddaw to meet me. Sure enough as I got to the summit there she was! She offered to keep me company on the final decent. I felt pretty good at first particularly when Keswick came into view! But I think we set off a little fast, because despite the runnable nature of the descent, I suddenly I felt that horrible hypo feeling again. I couldn't run, and I thought I was going to pass out! Sally patiently waited for me to stand and sway pathetically for a bit whilst filling up on calories, then led me on down the hill to Latrigg. From here it was a gentle downhill along forest paths back to the centre of Keswick, and FINISH!

This event was spectacular. The course included just about every different kind of terrain you could imagine running on. Boulders and ridges, bogs, forest path, scree slopes and grassy trails. The Marshals were fantastic and really friendly. The finish included hot soup and a massage, and for me a pint, fish and chips, and a chance to catch up with Sally. And finishing in the centre of Keswick was amazing, with loads of friendly passers-by cheering and chatting to us afterwards.

Thanks so much to the event sponsors, Suunto, Leki and Petzl for the amazing prizes!

Thanks High Terrain events, for a wonderful day! This one is definitely on the calendar for next year!

Mud glorious mud

Ok, so it was only 2 weeks since I dropped from the UTMB. I've been feeling knackered, my injuries are not yet healed, and I still can't run downhill comfortably.
But I'm also daft as a brush.
So, last weekend I went to the Black Mountains to sample some more delicious trail laid on for us by the team at Might Contain Nuts. My aim was to test out my endurance and hill legs and treat the race as a long training run ahead of the 3x3000 in October.

I've done one other race in the Brecons this year. The midnight mountain marathon (put on by Brutal Events) was a wonderful marathon(ish) race which included the summit of Pen-y-fan. I went into that one with fresh legs, but a stinking hangover, which was completely cured by the time I finished!

I've decided to start keeping a bit more of a record of training and kit now (having previously been someone who keeps no training log and doesn't run with a watch/garmin).

Training Week leading up to the race:
Saturday - 12 x 1 minute hill sprints. Sunday - 2k swim. Monday - 9 miles hilly road. Tuesday - cycle to and from work, then post-cycle 6 mile tempo run plus extra weight. Wednesday - 2k swim, 5 miles steady run. Thursday - cycle to and from work. Friday - 3 miles steady.

Clothing list: Shorts, long-sleeved running top, Hilly single-skin socks, Nike sports bra, Asics gel Fuji Trabuco trail shoes.
Kit list: waterproof trousers and jacket, long running tights, gloves, hat, headlight, compass, map, water and food.
Estimated food consumed during race: 1 pack shotblocs, 2 x SIS gels, 2 pieces of flapjack (picked up at checkpoints)

Here's my bullet-point race rundown, comprised of snippets of thought that I can recall.

*Ok, I can run, slowly but I can run

*I can't run fast and I feel very heavy. This is hard

*This climb is AWESOME! I feel like a mountain goat!!

*Yay, rain! The best kind of ultra-weather!

*Damn it, I'm lost. (This was a recurring thought throughout the race, as a lot of the course markings had been blown over)

*Oh hell, major energy slump. When will I learn to fuel properly?! (1 packet of shotblocks and 2 SIS gels were not enough for this run)

*It's really hot, I wonder if anyone would judge me if I ran in just my sports bra....no, I just can't do that to the world.

*Why the hell do I always seem to feel so short of breath and lethargic these days?

*Woohoo, I made it into first place! Thank you hill-legs!

*Boo, I still can't run downhill properly, I'm back in second!!

*This is the best macaroni cheese I've ever had in my entire life!!! (The catering company doing food at the end of the race were amazing)

Thanks Might Contain Nuts, another brilliant event!!

The cause and solution to all of life's problems.

Today I went for a run, and I felt terrible. My heart was thumping out of my chest, and my legs would barely move. I am exhausted.

It's been a generally bad year so far. I make no secret of the fact that I have mental health problems. They have been troubling me. I have felt myself become isolated and I have lost my enthusiasm. I have lost a close friend because of my difficult nature. I feel uncertain of my future.

That's the problem with racing when you have depression. The racing becomes a way to vindicate yourself. One bad race, and you lose all faith in yourself. 2 bad races and your world might as well have ended. At that point, you have become worthless. Because your only worth is in winning races, right? That's when people praise you, that's when people want to know you. The rest of the time you are just...nothing.
And even if you do do well in a race, you always know you could have done better....

That is the rut I have found myself in more and more this year, and it is sapping me of strength, and taking the pleasure out of running. Because, as a result of this, every bad run (not just race, but run) becomes overwhelming. And bad runs become more frequent. I find myself stopping and sitting by the side of the trail from sheer exhaustion after only a few miles. Instead of coming back from a training run and feeling satisfied and accomplished, I come back in tears. Why has my body stopped doing what I'm telling it to?

I have begun to examine the role of running in my life. Why do I do it? What does it mean to me? Why is it significant?

There are many reasons. Fresh air, love of the outdoors, desire to travel. But there are 4 major reasons which I identified.

1. I run to remain slim. I was surprised to find this at the top of the list, but the truth is, having suffered from anorexia as a teenager, and then piled on a load of weight in my early 20's, the fact that I can remain quite slim despite relatively normal food intake is massively liberating and comforting. And yes, when I can't run, I do withhold food from myself. My ideal figure is an androgynous one, and the years since I started ultra-running are those I have been most comfortable with my body.

2. Endorphins. I know that I get cranky and agitated when I can't exercise. I get sad, I stop eating (see reason 1), I drink more alcohol. I joke with people that running is just a more socially-acceptable form of opioid addiction, but it's closer to the truth than a joke. And point 2 is intimately interlinked with point...

...3. The good run. You know this one. The run that feels effortless. Your feet have wings attached and you glide. Your mind is free, your body is part of the air around you. I'm not an inherently spiritual person, but this is the closest I get to meditation.

4. Competition. I fit the stereotype; high grades at school, anorexic, competitive from an early age (originally in music). My mum always recalls how I phoned her in tears when I got a 2:1 in my second semester at uni. Her friends couldn't understand why I was upset, because 2:1 is good, correct? But for me, it wasn't a 1st and that was the point. These days I am not ambitious in my job, but in my running. I strive to achieve...to win. Then, if I do, I feel no sense of achievement and am still acutely aware of my own inadequacy.

And herein lies the problem. I have begun to define myself by this. These points have become over-arching. My other hobbies have faded away. I am a runner, but in my mind I am nothing else.

Today I went for a run, and I felt terrible. My heart was thumping out of my chest, and my legs would barely move. I am exhausted. Who am I?

...I need to find myself...

....I should go for a run.

The Centurion SDW50 was my first real ultra back in april 2013. (prior to that I'd done the CTS 32 in feb, running easy with a friend, and the VO2 JCC in march). I climbed the rankings all the way through the 2013 race, as the severe weather conditions picked off the field one by one. By 40 miles I had made it to first female, and I remember singing as I clambered up the hill 4 miles from the end...only to get lost on the top of the hill in the fog, add a 5 mile detour, and end up finishing an hour later than I'd expected, and in 3rd place. Disappointment was an understatement (especially when I saw the amazing centurion trophy that I had missed out on!!)

2014 brought me a win in the SDW100, and I managed to stay on course the whole route, but I was still not satisfied, I had to make up for that stupid mistake of 2013!

Earlier in 2015 I had been selected to the GB team for the world trail championships. I have been extremely nervous about this, as I'm the first to admit that my strength lies very much in endurance and not speed. Over 2014 I predominantly ran 100 mile races, and my overall pace has slowed considerably as a result. The other runners in the team seem to be people who excel over shorter distance. Holly Rush, Jo Meek, Sally Fawcett all have sub-3hr marathons to their name, whilst Lizzie Wraith and Bonnie Van Wilgenburg both have outstanding wins at shorter distance trail ultras. So since selection I have spent the time trying to improve my shorter distance speed. SDW50 seemed like a good chance to try a bit of a faster pace over the 50 mile distance.

I drove up to the start the night before the race, and stayed in a youth hostel (Before I started running I'd never stayed in a youth hostel before. Since starting running ultras I've become a member of YHA, as I find them the perfect, low cost option for accommodation before races.)

I'm not going to bore people with all the details of the day, but here are a few highlights that stick out in my mind. As previously, I've divided them into good and bad.

Pre-race.
Bad
The sickening feeling I always get before a race that I know people are expecting me to do well in, combined with the fear of failure and absolute belief that I am in no way capable of even completing what lies ahead.
Panic at realising I'd left part of my race kit at home
Fear of any one of my accumulated running injuries flaring up and causing me to DNF.

Good
Picking up my number to find Nicci had written 'Fly, Sarah, fly' on the back of it.
Going through my kit check with Gary, and having everything I needed (although I did later confess that I'd had to buy a couple of items at the pre-race shop!)
Meeting up with some Mud Crew folks (Bridget and Becky) and having a good pre-race giggle.

Mid-race.
Bad:
Higher-than-normal levels of irritability during the whole race. I never quite got into my comfortable ultra-rhythm.
'Jingly coin man' (At this point I feel I should explain and apologise. Just after the 11mile checkpoint I started to yoyo with a guy who must have had coins in his pocket. As previously mentioned, I was feeling more irritable than usual and I really had to bite my tongue to stop myself yelling at him to sort his damned pockets out. Jingly coin man, I apologise if I was less than friendly when you tried to chat to me.)
That goddamned headwind.

Good:
Comfortably running up the hills that I remember struggling up in 2013
Bursting into the 27 mile checkpoint yelling 'Gangnam style!!'
Taking the correct route after the final checkpoint!!!!!

End:
Bad:
Not getting close enough to the course record for my liking.
Feeling very heavy in the legs despite the short distance
Sore feet (This was the first time I've tried an ultra wearing my road shoes. It didn't feel good).

Good:
Centurion post-race food!!!
Coming in first lady, getting that coveted trophy that I missed out on in 2013, and then getting to donate my trophy to the last woman in, Maxine Lock.

As always, Centurion guys, I love you!

Wales, Wales, land of the Hills and the....bogs...

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!

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!

•  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.

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.