Thames Path 100...again

Last year, writing my post-TP100 blog, I was absolutely filled with positive emotions. I was totally elated, astonished that I could have enjoyed the whole experience so much, and to have finished in a totally unexpected time of 22hrs 20 minutes. I was convinced I had found my perfect race, and wanted to try and capture as many details of the event as I could. Fast forward a year, and this blog is harder to write. My experience of the race was totally difference.

As you may know, I've really struggled with training recently and motivation for anything to be honest, and I haven't put enough work in. I'm at least half a stone heavier than I was for the 2014 Thames Path, despite constantly promising myself to start eating well, to get to a more suitable race weight, and I just haven't been able to find the drive to properly prepare. I also think that having had such a great run last year left me a bit blasé about how hard 100 miles was going to be. To give you an idea of my lack of training, since the first week of 2015, my average weekly mileage has been just 33 miles, ranging from 14 miles to 70 miles a week. That compares with an average of 43 miles a week in 2014. I have managed to get some decent ultras done though which has helped, and I've been swimming and cycling too, which is new for me, so maybe the cross training has gone some way to mitigating the lack of running.

The other difference going into this race, was that I really believed that I was going to be able to beat last year's time, and so right from the start line I approached the race differently - rather than just going out there to see what happened, I felt more pressure to achieve the time I wanted, although with less excitement than in 2014. I was even carrying a little pace card! One thing that was the same was my upmost confidence that I would finish.

But anyway, race weekend saw me as disorganised as ever but I eventually arrived at the (far too expensive) hotel in Richmond where Francis and I were staying. Franc didn't join me until about 9:30pm, so it was a late but delicious pre-race dinner of fish and chips, before an appalling night's sleep - I phoned the reception desk at 2am to see if they had another room we could move to! It wasn't the best preparation, and Saturday morning soon arrived. While I was still getting ready, Francis set out on his own adventure - he'd decided that if we were all going to run from Richmond to Oxford, he was going to cycle it! No particular training other than the odd bike rides he does now and again but he got on really well and thoroughly enjoyed it :D Not for a medal either - think I should probably buy him one, especially as he has been looking after me so well since I got home.

Anyway, I headed down to the TP100 HQ for 8.30ish. Kit check, bag drop and race registration were all seamless, and I was amazed at how many familiar faces there were - every step I seemed to be saying hello to someone, sharing a hug or having a chat. It's such a great community feeling at Centurion events. My friends Steph and Keith had also made the journey down to Richmond which was lovely and I really appreciated seeing them.

Soon though we were off and running, and the journey to Oxford had started.

Long story short...the first 65 miles were absolutely brilliant. I felt strong, I was running (and walking) to my schedule to meet my target of a sub-22:20 race time, and I had forgotten just how lovely the route along the Thames is - sections of the river are absolutely stunning. I met Steph and Keith again for a quick hello, and shared miles with friends, some already met, some previously I'd only known on Twitter, and some newly made, while I sadly saw others drop out. I saw a pack of foxhounds being exercised by the river, and I stopped a few times to stroke the more friendly dogs out for their Saturday morning walks - each of them put a smile on my face :)

The weather was warmer than expected and I was overdressed - leaving one checkpoint I was suddenly blinded by the sweat pouring off my face. However, I made a very conscious effort to eat regularly despite nausea from relatively early on and I drank to thirst, adding electrolyte tablets to my bottles at every aid station, and so was able to cope with it. Thanks to Fiona who took it upon herself to look after me (and between her and Sue, it seems half of the other runners out there) I even had some particularly delicious pasta at the aid station in Henley - was surprised how easily some hot food went down! The darkness fell, and that was fine too - so many of my training runs are done at night so I'm very comfortable with it. Then we had the excitement of Susie, Shaun and Paul and the enthusiastically decorated aid station at Wokingham, and although the section through Reading was a bit disconcerting as I ran alone past groups of drunk lads - I was soon back into the countryside.

Unfortunately just before Whitchurch aid station, at 66 miles, I got a tiny bit lost (there seemed to be much less route marking than last year) and my headtorch died, both at the same time. The spare battery pack I had for my headtorch provided a much dimmer light than I had been running with, and these things combined put me in a foul mood. It doesn't take much. After leaving Whitchurch, I slowed down and starting walking more often, having a real pity party for one and feeling decidedly fed up, all the way to Streatley five miles later. After that, things did improve, but I'm not sure I ever really got my head back in the right place.

By the time I got to 80 miles, although I wasn't feeling too sorry for myself any more, my aimed for time had gone out of the window, and my body was starting to hurt - paying for my lack of training. My quads were particularly sore, and my feet felt pretty shredded - the persistent rain we'd had from the early morning wasn't helping with that, and I'd also had a couple of hot spots from about 20 miles but hadn't made the time to sort them out which was obviously a mistake. But, I plodded on, very pleased to still have a working watch, my Suunto Ambit, to give me some guide as to where I was, as by this stage every mile felt like it was three! As I'd been so careful abut eating and drinking thoughout, I didn't have to deal with the confusion that troubled me last year, and I felt much clearer about the whole thing, so the fields leading up to Clifton aid station weren't as soul destroying! I left Clifton at 85 miles and started being passed by people - and that was quite soul destroying. I wasn't feeling great again, and was telling myself that I would never do another long run in my life. 100km was going to be my limit from now on! Why on earth would anyone put themselves through this? This was an absolute hell. I was feeling very despondent too...I even sat down in chairs at the two last aid stations - something I never let myself do as it doesn't achieve anything as far as I can make out, except kill time and make you stiffen up more!

Eventually I got to the last couple of miles, and managed to start running again - clearly I was still physically capable but my mind just hadn't been strong enough. Seeing the finish gantry through the trees from the path was so wonderful...and then there's the red tape marking the last 100 yards, and the crowd cheers, and then you've finished, and it's over. I was so incredibly relieved.

Crossing the finish line

I was pretty dazed by the end, but had hugs and food was brought to me and lots of familiar faces made it all a bit more reassuring. I went to get changed out of my wet gear (oh, yes, didn't I mention? It rained, and rained, and rained), and managed to fall asleep, sitting up, in the changing room! I was woken by Karen who'd come to find me, as Francis and Chewie had arrived to take me home.

My placings improved throughout the race - I was almost dead last after queuing to get through a kissing gate at Richmond, 154th at the first aid station, 122nd at half way, finally finishing in 94th position out of 235 starters, and as 8th lady out of 35, in 23:19. So good enough to have earned the coveted sub24 "One Day" buckle, and a decent time, but I can't help but be just a little disappointed and it just makes me wonder what could I achieve if I was running lighter, and doing proper consistent, 50-odd mile training weeks for a few months.

Don't get me wrong though, I am proud of myself and am very happy to have added another buckle to the collection - maybe it even means more when I've had to work harder for it, and I know I finished in a time much faster than I deserved on the training that I've done.

After the race, I felt like I'd been hit by a bus - absolutely physically horrendous - as well as very tired, and sick with no appetite. I was convinced that I should pull out of GUCR because I just wasn't capable. Thankfully, this morning, the day after the race, I feel better - stairs are still a bit of a struggle, I'm making some very strange noises when I get out of a chair or bend down, and I'm still sore, but my appetite is back and I can move more easily. Let's not talk about my feet though!

I am still on the verge of withdrawing from GUCR, as I realise now how grossly undertrained I am. I had been worried that 3 weeks wouldn't be long enough to physically recover after the Thames Path, but now I wondering if it's also not long enough to forget the pain. I'll see how I feel over the next few days.

Now last, but by no means least, I want to say a thank you to the aid station volunteers, all of the other runners' crews and the whole Centurion team for making the weekend possible, for being in such good spirits the whole way round and for being so genuinely caring about our wellbeing. Some of the food on offer was inspired too - I loved all the fruit, and particularly liked the cheese and pineapple on sticks! Thank you all!!

South Downs Way 50

With things having gone so poorly in the last few months, and with so little preparation in the week leading up to the race, it was with some trepidation that I arrived in Worthing on Saturday morning, looking for the start of Centurion’s South Downs Way 50 miler. That soon gave way to mild panic when I realised I’d arrived at the wrong place.

Luckily, I managed to reset the sav nav with the right post code this time and 15 minutes later, pulled into the designated car park. Luckily, I’d been in the right town and not driven to the wrong part of the country!

Once I arrived, I vaselined my feet, and made a decision about trainers. I’d brought both my road and trail shoes with me - Asics Kayanos and Salomon Speedcross - and knew that ideally I’d be running in something in between those two extremes, but they were the options I had available.  I went for the Speedcross. Still relatively new shoes with only about 100 miles of pancake flat running in them, but I just had a feeling they would be better. Still not sure if that was the right call or not…

Anyway, I dropped my bag, headed over to HQ, and found the kit check queue, and Gary – who is notoriously strict. I felt very smug - I knew I’d got everything, for once. This turned to red faced mortification when I realised I didn’t have a survival blanket – a mandatory piece of kit, the same thing I forgot to take to the SVP100km last year. I remembered getting it out ready to pack, but obviously it never actually made it into my race vest! Luckily, for some reason, there was one in the car so I was good to go without too much trouble, but many thanks to Gary for being patient with me and not giving me any grief. Then I stood in a line to get my race number, except it was the wrong line, and Nici had to show me where to go…Then I realised I hadn’t brought my liability waiver.

It seemed it was one of those days where I clearly needed looking after, but where better for that than at a Centurion race – it’s their forte! It was good to get all the mistakes and problems out of the way in the first hour of arriving though, before the race set off, and after these relatively minor issues, everything started to go right. No queue for the toilets, my watch found a signal, I met up with Rosemary, John, Lisa and Ellen before the start :D We had the obligatory group photo, and soon we were running, with little time to worry about what was coming up. 

It soon became apparent what was coming up – lots and lots of hills! Rosemary and I settled into a pace that suited us both and so we ran together, although up every hill we walked and so it was difficult to get into a decent rhythm. In the first few miles, it felt like everyone else in the race must have been passing us, as other runners sped away up the slopes, but I was determined that I wouldn’t deviate from my tried and tested strategy of going out really slowly, so I could finish strong. Added to that, it takes me so long to warm up, that I couldn’t have run any faster if I’d tried! The first 6 or 7 miles always feel like the worst, when my breathing is all over the place and everything hurts and I feel more like a beached whale than an ultra runner.

Luckily, once those first few miles were over, I started enjoying myself. It coincided with some really runnable sections (i.e. not up a steep hill) and Rosie and I were chatting away - it felt very comfortable. The weather was ok, great company, the views were lovely, we came across sheep with their lambs, pigs and piglets, and some particularly fun downhills. All good!!

It’s always a little unnerving to think how far you have to go at the beginning of a race, and I didn’t like the fact that due to the nature of the course you could see a stream of runners disappearing miles into the distance ahead of you, but all you can do is just keep going – one foot in front of the other.

We got to the first aid station, which looked like a plague of locusts had been through it, so didn’t stop to snack, and pressed on, up more hills, walking whenever there was the vaguest incline! The weather started to draw in, getting colder and windier.

Rosie had John crewing for her, but as it was getting chilly, I decided not to stop when we first reached him, and pressed on alone, plugging into my iPod and some music. It’s very different, running solo and I really do enjoy it, but I was pleased I’d been able to share a couple of hours with Rosie. Lindley was also out of the course, crewing for Maxine - I do love having a few familiar faces out there to say hello!

So, on I ran, and was making decent time as I started passing people. I was totally warmed up by now, and had been drinking to thirst and eating regularly, so still felt great. I had to rein myself back a couple of times because I wanted to make sure I didn’t blow out my legs early on!

As the miles ticked by, the weather started to deteriorate. I’d had my gloves on (and off, and on again) from about 10 miles in, but by 20 odd miles (maybe further, I lose track), the rain came. Out came the waterproof. For the first time, I decided to put my coat on over my pack, rather than faffing about with removing it, and then putting it back on over the top. My jacket was too tight to be honest, over a bigger than usual me, and a pack, but doing it this way was was so much easier!

The rain stopped, then started again, the clouds rolled in, and it was grey and pretty miserable for a fair few miles. Other than that first aid station, the checkpoints were all fabulously stocked with every type of food you could possibly want, and I did better than usual at eating on my way round. Good practise for TP100! Watermelon and satsumas, jelly babies, nuts, crisps, sausage rolls, iced cake. Just perfect :D The volunteers at the aid stations, marshals out on course, the other runners’ crew, and friends and family really made up for the weather too. Everyone seemed genuinely friendly and wanted to help (often holding gates open) and cheered us on. At one point I decided I’d had enough of my coat for the time being, but was struggling to put it back in my pack, so just asked a group of people stood by the side of the trail if they could stuff it in one of the pockets. Within seconds my coat was stowed…and very much appreciated the help was too!

I ran intermittently with others thoughout the day, chatting to a few people – I don’t remember anyone’s names I met on the course, because I’m terrible like that, but particular mention to a guy (who said he read the blog), who was running his first ultra over 30 miles, which he did at the Stort. He looked very strong so am sure he would have finished well! It was great to meet up with Sue too, briefly, who I haven’t seen for ages. She and Joe, her other half, were running really comfortably and I’ll see them both at TP100 as that’s Joe’s next race. Generally though, I ran on my own, with only my thoughts and the iPod in the background for company.

For the last few hours of the race, the sun came out, and it was beautiful. The South Downs looked absolutely stunning...I had to stop a few times just to try and take in the views, to try and remember how perfect it looked. From such a high vantage point, looking down across rolling fields and over to the sea on the horizon, with the sun glinting on every surface and illuminating the water, it was like I was stood in a painting. My running (and walking) was going pretty well too – I felt comfortable moving, and just so privileged to be out there, enjoying myself, and doing what I love.

I was still going strongly as we went through the last couple of checkpoints and amazingly didn’t have any general aches or pains other than my toes. I realised that I’d absolutely destroyed my feet and was experiencing the most acute, agonising shooting pain as my big toes hit against the front of my shoes when I was running the steeper of the downhills. I ended up adopting a very strange style of curling my toes up tight as I ran, to try and protect them. It got me through, as did the nurofen plus I was very pleased I was carrying with me.

I focused on people in front, and ran on to overtake them, marching up hills and taking the gravity advantage down them. I eventually caught up with Amy out on the course, who had been so nervous about her first ultra, but who was doing incredibly well. There was one section where I was playing cat and mouse with a couple of guys on mountain bikes which entertained me – the hills were steep and I kept overtaking them as I hiked up, with them overtaking me when it became more easy to cycle and then disappearing whenever there was a downhill.

Eventually, hauling myself up yet another hefty slope, I was greeted by a marshal, who told me that I’d completed the last of the hills, and he pointed me in the direction of the route down to Eastbourne. I was so happy…and it was another spectacular vantage point as the sun started to fall low in the sky…so I stopped again, just for a few seconds to try and take it in. This section of downhill, at about 47 miles, was probably my favourite – through some trees on a technical bit of narrow trail, and despite my odd style of scrunched up toes, I managed to get up a bit of pace, and a couple of guys even stood to one side of the path so I could pass them. I was very grateful as I’m not sure how effectively I could have stopped!

Then I was onto the soul-destroying streets that eventually lead to the finish. I knew it couldn’t be far away (my Garmin had died long before), but it felt like it went on for far too long. All of that strength and enthusiasm that I’d felt on the trail drained away as the tarmac stretched before me…

In the end though, it happened - the sports ground was in sight, then I was through the gates, and then I heard my name being hollered by Ellen and John! It’s a really great feeling to have people at the end cheering for you :)

I had to do a lap of the athletics track, and it crossed my mind to try a sprint finish, but decided against that very quickly, finishing at an easy pace, in 10 hours 17 minutes. I was rewarded with a medal presented by Mimi Anderson (what an honour, she’s such an inspiration!) and a very big, very welcome hug from Nici, and then from James – who told me I had 13 minutes until the next coach that would take us back to the start line and our cars, otherwise I’d have to wait an hour.

Not wanting to hang around in the cold, I quickly got my bag, my t-shirt, said my hellos and goodbyes to John and Ellen (who had finished in a storming time of 9:41) and trundled over to the coach. The 7:30pm coach!! When I’d been expecting to have to get the 9pm coach!! I’d even emailed Nici earlier in the week to confirm there’d be space on the later one, I was so sure I’d be back after dark, what with all of the hills I was going to have to walk up!

So I was very pleased with myself. In fact, I’m in awe of what my body lets me do. With terrible fuelling, little training, and far too much weight to drag around, it performed brilliantly on Saturday and I am very grateful to it!

Now, I just need to get myself ready for TP100. My toes are still very sore, although they weren’t as bad as I’d expected when I took my shoes off. Big toe nails were totally black, but once I drained them (MUCH more blood than I’d expected) they have gone back to a relatively normal colour, and are now slowly healing. Just got to wait and see if the nails fall off or not and hopefully can avoid infection. DOMS was manageable post-race too – I was ok on Sunday, a bit more sore on Monday and Tuesday, but totally fine today.

Oh, and the winner? He finished in an absolutely astronomical, unbelievable, 5hrs 52mins. An average pace of 7.03min/mile. I can’t run that fast in a 5km! I think he must have caught a lift somewhere ;) The course record (from last year) was 6:11, which is still phenomenal. I can’t begin to imagine how strong you have to be to not only run a 50 miler at that pace, but to maintain that up the mountainous hills!! I am in awe – that's a level of fitness that will no doubt see him breaking course records up and down the country. Chapeau!

The women’s race was won in 7:19 – an average pace of 8:46. Although this wasn’t a course record, the winner, Sarah Morwood, will go down in the annals of ultra running for the truly lovely act of donating her first lady trophy, to the last lady to finish within cut-off! It was made even more significant I think, by Maxine, who ended up being the last lady, finishing with just 9 SECONDS to go until cut-off and the drama towards the end of the race, as everyone waited to see if she would make it in time, was a truly epic end to a fantastic day.

Thank you to everyone involved.

What a difference a day makes

After my last, very depressive post, I'm amazed at how inspired and happy I feel this evening, after my first run with the WMNRUN100 team.

WMNR100 is a project set up to improve the number of female participants in ultra running (the current gender split percentage is about 80/20) and to "inspire, support and encourage women to face a goal they may have never considered". They're putting together a team of women to take part in Race to the Stones 100km in the summer, and will support their runners as they achieve their goals.

This is an excellent mission, and is something I want to support, so when I saw they were arranging a social meet and greet 10km run in London, I decided to go along.

It was brilliant!

We met at Embankment station at 7pm after work, and took a route along the Thames. I really enjoyed chatting to the lovely, inspiring women that were there - some at the very beginning of their ultra journey, for whom Race to the Stones will be their first distance beyond a marathon, through to some who run fast and strong at really intimidating hardcore mountain ultras! It was a great mix. As an added extra, the route was pretty awesome too, taking us on a sight-seeing tourist route through town, and although I struggled with the busy pavements and the stop/go of the traffic lights, London in the early evening can be particularly beautiful.

I feel so inspired and re-energised about my running. Amazing to think that just 10km can do that... I definitely plan to join the team on another of their runs, it's just the sort of the motivation I need.

A confession - i'm failing

All is not well.

 

I feel that I have failed at this round of training…compared to last year’s 100 mile preparations, I’m not where I should be or wanted to be. My mileage in between my races has been pitifully low, and too many days have gone by where I haven't been able to get out of the door to run, and unusually haven't felt that concerned about the impact it would have on my overall training. I stopped working with Robbie Britton a month or so ago, I haven’t lost the weight I had hoped to (and am sure I've piled on half a stone in the last six months as I have been demolishing all the junk food in sight), my Achilles is still dodgy where I haven't been doing my strength and stretching exercises, and yesterday, although not my fault but to add to my frustrations, I twisted my knee…and not even when I was training - I was just walking along the street when someone stopped dead in front of me, and I tried to avoid them. I spent last night RICEing it.

 

It’s fair to say that although my races have gone relatively well and I've enjoyed them, generally I'm disappointed with myself, with my fitness levels and my whole attitude to achieving my goals this year.

 

I’m not quite sure what the root cause is of this failure to commit to my training. I struggled with returning to full time work in January after four months off, and finding the time to balance my 9-5 commitments, and our new puppy, has been a challenge that I had got used to not having…but in early December I went through a period of not being able to make myself run at all for weeks, so it can't just be that. I know that the change to our plans last autumn threw me (we were due to go backpacking in South America for 3 months but cancelled when my father in law suddenly fell ill, and then very sadly passed away) and maybe that’s been the issue. Life was totally turned upside down then, and maybe I've not worked out how to get back to normal yet. I’ve also had the added (self-made) distraction of preparing for triathlon to contend with, and hours on the bike or in the pool really aren’t what I need when my running miles are so low. Maybe I've just got too blasé about the 100 miler, after last year's TP100 went so well?

 

I don't really know, but regardless, these are all just excuses. Whatever the cause, I am where I am - undertrained and overweight - I have to deal with that, and move forward.

 

I have less than 5 weeks until TP100, with the South Downs Way 50 miler this weekend, and a couple of other marathons to run before the big day. Then it’s just three weeks until the astonishingly tough and ridiculously far GUCR.

 

I think I've been in denial but feel that I’ve woken up to the state of things and am finally able to admit how my training has gone, to myself and, publicly, to all of you! Now I need to dig deep and do all I can to redeem the situation. Hopefully I can turn things around.

 

I know that I can't do much in 8 weeks for my overall fitness levels, but I can start to eat more healthily, start training with greater consistency, and at least get to the start lines of my upcoming races with a more positive state of mind.

 

 

 

Ranscombe Spring Challenge

John's 100th marathon cake, made by Heather. Incredible.

On Saturday morning I found myself suddenly jumping out of bed in a panic, as I realised that although my alarm had gone off an hour before, I'd fallen back to sleep. I was late. Again! It’s how most mornings are for me, but unfortunately today was race day – the Spring edition of the Ranscombe Challenge - and I needed to be out of the house in 30 minutes.

Luckily I remembered to eat breakfast, before pulling some clothes on, throwing some stuff in a bag and rushing through the door. It was only as I pulled the car out of the drive I realised that my trainers were still in the house!

Trainers retrieved, eventually I arrived in Cuxton, the little village in Kent where the Ranscombe Farm Nature Reserve is located. Sat-nav working well, I found the designated street for parking, and despite cars seemingly lining the road nose to tail, I managed to find myself a space. I delved into the bag I’d hurriedly packed and was very pleased to see that I’d managed to bring everything I wanted – my garmin, my ipod and headphones, painkillers, I had Vaseline and could tape my feet, I even remember to bring a banana to eat before the race. Things were starting to look up.

I like pretty much everything about this race. It’s put on by Traviss and Rachel, who are awesome, the aid station is perfectly stocked and managed, the course is really varied and interesting with some lovely scenery, so although it’s laps it doesn’t get dull, and the medal is beautiful. One of the best things, though, as with all of the SVN races, is that it’s really friendly and I seem to know half the people who are running.

I arrived at the start line to be greeted by lots of familiar faces, and friends, and it was lovely to see John Close who was bouncing around, excited to get started for this, his 100^th Marathon. Amazingly, considering my late start, I had arrived in enough time to even go to the toilet (thankfully no queues at an event like this) and as I put my race number on, we all stood around chatting, mainly about the incredible TransGranCanaria marathon that Rosie and John had run the weekend before, and the 50 mile version that Rachel had completed! I managed to remember to leave my electrolyte tablets on the aid station table too, so I could add them to my water whenever I refilled – my plan was to carry a bottle all the way round and drink to thirst, and then just eat at the aid station, so every 3.8 miles. 

The Ranscombe Challenge is a timed event, and in the Spring version (one of four seasonal races) the limit is 8 hours. Last July, when I ran the inaugural challenge, I completed 10 laps, or 38 miles, in 7:55, and I wanted to beat my time and distance. I was planning on a total of 11 laps in the 8 hours, so 41.8 miles and thought that although I’d need to concentrate to get there, it should be within my capability on a straight forward, no mud, no navigation course, especially in the excellent weather conditions we had for running.

I started out with Rosie, John and Ellan, but after about half a lap I realised that I needed to get a shift on if I was going to have any chance of reaching my goal, so I sped up a bit and headed off. However, I'd totally forgotten how hilly some of the sections of the course are, and there are a couple of sections that are a bit technical underfoot. While the uphills forced me to walk, the steep downhills are brilliantly exhilarating, and I love that the second section of each lap feels easy compared to the first half, as it’s pretty much all gravity enhanced! :D 

I plodded along, plugged into the iPod, greeting friends as we passed each other on out and back sections of the route. Although the countryside looks very different to the idyllic, flower strewn fields that you see during the summer, Ranscombe at this time of year is still special and I loved running around the reserve.

That’s not to say that it’s easy doing laps, especially at an event where if you run just one lap you’re still counted as a finisher and get the medal and a goody bag! It does require mental strength to keep going. At about 10 miles, I was still sure I’d do the full 11 laps I’d planned, but by about 19 miles, I was convinced it was pointless, and the little voice inside my head was telling me I should stop when I got to marathon distance, especially as I knew that most other people would be finishing then, to celebrate with John and watch his 100 Marathon Club presentation. I also knew that if I carried on, I would sadly not only miss John receiving his hallowed blue and yellow shirt but also miss trying some of the amazing 100 cake that I'm sure tasted as good as it looked!

However, once the distance came up, and then for each lap after when Rachel asked me at the checkpoint if I wanted to ring the bell (to signify I had finished) or to take a band to count me onto the next lap, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind. I had set out at the beginning of the day to run 41.8 miles, and I needed to prove to myself that I was strong minded enough to do it! Added to this, I was having a lovely time out there, albeit with fewer and fewer other runners to share the trail with, and spending 8 hours on my feet makes another good training run for the TP100 and GUCR.

When I got in at the end of lap 9, at 34.2 miles, I realised that I was going to struggle to beat the cutoff - I had to have finished lap 10 and be out of the aid station again by 7hrs 15mins to be allowed to start another lap, but that would mean running faster than I had been. Speeding up with over 30 miles in your legs isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but it needed doing. There was lots of encouragement from the other runners still milling around, and a hug from Emily that was much appreciated – they swiftly sent me on my way.  

I had to work hard to get back in time, but I had resolved that I would make it happen, so I just got on with it through gritted teeth. Right up until I finished that 10^th lap, I wasn’t sure if I had made it in time. Luckily though, as I ran down towards the checkpoint, I saw Rachel holding up the bell and a band, I still had the option of either, so of course I took the band. I even had time to fill up water bottles and take on some more peanuts and jelly beans (pretty much the only type of food I’d eaten during the race) before heading out for my final 3.8 miles.

My last lap was much more relaxed – even if you finish your last lap after the 8hour time limit, the distance still counts, so I knew I didn’t have to push. I took it more easily, and enjoyed the views. I ended up being the last person to finish running, crossing the line in 8:00:33 but wonderfully came in second overall as only one other person ran the 41.8 mile distance, although they did it considerably faster than me, in an impressive 7:26.

As I walked back to the car, across the fields of the nature reserve, I reflected on just how lucky I was. To know so many of these incredible people, to be able to share the trail with them at these brilliant events, to be out on a sunny day in the countryside. I was very pleased with how the day had gone, and that I had completed my target mileage, especially as I had to really push towards the end, and bearing in mind it's been only two weeks since the St Peter's Way race.

 Once I got home, I just had to work out how I was going to combat the inevitable post-ultra tiredness and find the enthusiasm to go out that night in London, as we were off for dinner to celebrate a friend’s 40^th birthday. Unfortunately, these days, running an ultra is no longer an excuse for lazing around on the sofa in the name of recovery! :P


*Many thanks to Richard Harrison-Murray & Alex Hamilton for the photos!