Looking Forward not Back

As I've said more than once on these pages I'm an engineer. You learn the principles, how to do things, no need to remember the numbers, you can write those down.

At this time of the year we spend a week in Kinloch Rannoch because that's what we do. Overlooking the village is a hill, or rather the shoulder of a hill for it is no summit, more by the way of a viewpoint sort of thing. Each week that we're here I shamble up it once or twice; it's not far and it doesn't take long, it sits quite nicely between the main project of our day and drinks before dinner. Only I clearly didn't remember the numbers, just how far and how long exactly as I set out a couple of days ago. About a mile each way I said to Jan, back in half an hour or so.

It's just over a thousand feet of up (at least I remembered that right, wonder why...) and steep at the start. As I cleared the trees above the steepest bit I had the usual feeling that it was steeper and further than last year, but then there's a breather for a few minutes across a boggy but gentler-angled section before the final pull up to the top, which I discovered was nearly two miles from home rather than the one I had guessed. On the way down I tried to push on a bit and succeeded in sliding full length through the worst bit of bog. Not only late for tea now, filthy as well. I got back to the ranch and apologised, a bit disappointed with my efforts. The outing had taken 49 minutes.

I remembered that last year I had been up there two or three times, culminating in an end of week trip that I was quite pleased with. After dinner I bit the bullet and looked back over last year's logbook, and was fairly amazed to find that the run I had remembered as being a good one had taken 57 minutes.

It's seemingly unimportant little events like this that can change your whole attitude to things.

If you follow my blog even occasionally you'll know that I picked up an injury in the autumn of 2013 that took me well over a year to get (almost) sorted out.  The first half of 2014 was a write-off and the second half saw me completing events at a very slow pace as I recovered.  I tried harder in 2015, put in a lot of miles, but the overall fitness I had before the injury never came back.  By the end of the year I had come to the conclusion that I would probably never regain it, but that I was still OK to go on enjoying events at a more modest pace  -  "just to finish" as they say.

So this year I changed my training. If I wasn't going to race so hard I didn't need to train so hard. I've done a lot fewer miles and I've kept to fairly modest speeds, in fact I've done fewer miles up to now than I have in any of the previous 8 years except 2014. I decided that distance and speed were the things likely to lead to more injuries. I still tweak things if I get too enthusiastic, but I know now to stop, have a rest for a few days, and not get too concerned about losing the miles. But one thing I have done is to start running up hills more (well, jogging to be strictly accurate   -   as the Sundance Kid said in the film.... "You call that running ?!!").  Near our place in Keswick we have plenty of hills that I can get to just by opening the door and starting to run  - Latrigg, Walla Crag, Bleaberry, Skiddaw, Cat Bells, Grisedale Pike  -  just a big playground right outside the door. I now try to run as much of the uphill as I can. I'm reasoning that this should take the place of speed work and is less likely to cause injuries. But all this still against the background of having to take the events much more easily.

But recently, two or three events have got me thinking.

A few weeks ago I ran 10 miles on the roads round our house in Chester in just under 80 minutes. Pretty pedestrian for a real runner but not a time I'd seen since earlier in 2013. More importantly, I hadn't done any speed work to get there. I never run a single mile faster than 7.30 these days, and anything above 3 or 4 miles I go much nearer to 8 minute miles.  Then last week, I managed to run all the way up Walla Crag, again nothing to write home about but there was one little steep bit that had always defeated me before. And now Craig Varr, the most encouraging one of all.

I'm cautious, but I think I'm beginning to believe that I'm fitter than I was last year. And if that is actually true, and I build gradually, there's no reason why I shouldn't carry that on for a while yet.

This time last year I failed to make it through the Dragon's Back Race, simply because I wasn't fit enough for the event. The next one is in May 2017, and I put my name down for it earlier this month. I couldn't resist it. I hadn't worked out how I was going to bridge the gap but it's just such a great event I wanted the experience again. Now I knew the route I could maybe think my way around losing the hour or so a day I needed to get round. But I'm now starting to believe that  there is no reason why I can't be significantly fitter next year than last, and that's a much better plan.

Looking forward not back.

PS. Typical, since I started writing this last night, I went for a gentle 5 miles along the Loch shore road this morning. Steady 8 minute miles but in a pair of shoes I hadn't used on tarmac before. Came back with a little Achilles tweak. Not great with the Northern Traverse starting in 6 days, but it will probably be OK. Just shows how careful you have to be.

Different Times, Different Values

This is not really about running, but running provides a way in, if you like, to a wider subject maybe worth exploring.

I decided to take a turn up Snowdon yesterday to make the most of what looks like the last day of this spell of fine weather we've been having. It's not too far from where I live so I was off up the track from Llanberis just after 7.30am. After a mile or so I was passed by a number of people coming down, maybe a dozen in twos and threes, fairly spaced out. The usual good mornings were exchanged but their presence puzzled me at first, you don't often see people going in that direction at this hour, but the giveaway was the facial expressions, a combination of tiredness and satisfaction; they were clearly coming to the welcome ending of a "three peaks" trip.

Combining ascents of Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon in a continuous expedition seems to have become rather popular in recent years. I know there are some who don't like the idea, but if it gets a few more of our largely sedentary population out into the hills occasionally, then so long as they don't annoy the residents of Seathwaite and wherever else they might impact, then it's fine by me. With an average bit of fitness it's possible to complete the outing in 24 hours without breaking any speed limits, so that seems to be the normal "challenge" deal.

Now this is all fine and dandy, but then a somewhat piratical friend of mine announced that one of the West Highland Way race family had recently completed a solo trip in under 19 hours, and did anyone know of other such completions. I should have kept quiet of course but I didn't, and added to the discussion, I suspect to some incredulity, by saying that in my youth a reasonable target was felt to be 12 hours from the top of the Ben to the top of Snowdon. I should have kept quiet because you can't feasibly do this sort of thing nowadays, and what is maybe more significant is that we all know that it would be pretty irresponsible to try. But having opened this particular box, should I firmly close it again or try to explain what's inside?

It comes down to this. Do I and my generation take a more sensible attitude to driving now simply because we are older, or because the world and its values have changed? I'll leave you to work that one out, but here's a bit of background, history, and I hope not too much nostalgia.

I passed my driving test in 1965.  At that time there were no seat belts in cars, no speed cameras, no breathalyzer. The MOT test had come in a few years earlier but it covered only lights, brakes and steering and took about 5 minutes to carry out. Petrol was 25p for 4,5 litres (5 bob a gallon). Old cars were cheap. In 1967 three of us bought a Ford Popular for £15, squeaked it through the MOT and drove it to Athens and back.

But in my first 8 years of driving I was involved in three crashes in which the car I was travelling was a write-off (on 2 of these occasions I was driving, one was definitely my fault). It was sort of par for the course. In 2014 there were 36 million cars on UK roads, and collisions resulted in 1800 deaths. With barely 10 million vehicles in 1966, the death total was just short of 8000. Everyone knew these figures back in the 60's, but they had no effect on driving culture. Perhaps the best illustration of the general attitude towards speed was when the speed camera was first introduced onto UK roads, as late as 1992. The first camera was installed on a dual carriageway in Surrey which had carried a 40mph speed limit for some time. It was set to trip at 60mph because the argument at the time was "we only want to catch the worst offenders".  In 22 days of operation it recorded 23,000 drivers exceeding 65mph. I had an Italian colleague sometime in the 1990's who explained to me in all seriousness the prevailing attitude towards speed limits in Italy at the time "You have to understand" , he said, "that we view the limits not so much as laws but more as........ suggestions".  Before speed cameras were introduced, I don't think the UK could have claimed to be a whole lot better.

So by the mid seventies we had good jobs and could afford good cars, and of course for the climbing fraternity (in those days thought of much more as a lunatic fringe rather than the establishment activity it is nowadays), fast journeys from our base in the Chester area to North Wales and Scotland were possible. There was then no North Wales Coast Road (well there was but it was single carriageway and went through all the towns), no motorways north of Carlisle, no bridge at Ballachulish, but the only way you were going to get caught speeding was by being followed by a police car for the statutory three tenths of a mile  -  and if you were a competent driver that wasn't going to happen.

The following is an article I wrote for the Chester Mountaineering Club Journal in 1977. It has one or two CMC "in" jokes but I don't think that gets in the way of understanding for the general reader:

"The Transport Game

Fundamental laws tend to govern most things, and even the climbing weekend has not escaped the ravages of the scientific brain. Basically, the first law says that the sum of climbing time, sleeping time, drinking time and driving time is a constant. Since it follows that any reduction in the last of these factors increases the potential enjoyment of the others, motor transport has always been a subject dear to most climbers' hearts. Unfortunately, the second law says that during any climbing weekend driving is inevitable, while climbing is at best only probable. Consequently, the average climber has a far greater chance of finding himself out of control in the horizontal plane than in the vertical. With this in mind, we ask what are the guidelines for keeping body, mind and wallet reasonably intact?

First choose your weapon. To be fair, the ideal climber's car is not currently on the market, presenting a golden opportunity for the enterprising motor manufacturer. Basic requirements are to carry four climbers and their gear at a steady 90mph while returning 50mpg. Shape and colour are not important as most climbers modify these periodically with the aid of trees, stone walls, etc. The once ubiquitous Morris Minor van is now losing popularity because (a) they don't make them any longer, and (b) they don't stand up too well to the Friday night burn up to Scotland that the M6 has made possible.  A Morris Minor which I had once failed to get up the hill to Pen Ceunant, so I don't rate them anyway, especially as the brakes weren't too good on that particular car and I ended up reversing into the field quite quickly. Sports cars are OK for posing and quite good on pace but definitely unsuited to the style of lightweight camping to which Colin Green is accustomed. Better settle for something bigger, estates being favourite at the moment. But by far the most important point to remember when choosing a car for the weekend's climbing is to make sure that it isn't your own. You only share petrol, not depreciation, and in any case you get more sleep if you don't have to do the driving.

This means of course that you have to learn to be a relaxed passenger, otherwise you don't get any rest and the ploy becomes self-defeating. Just tell yourself that the man with glazed eyes and locked hands hurtling you across a pitch black Rannoch Moor at 80mph on two inches of damp slush knows what he's doing, even if both of you really know the truth. I was once driving another CMC member down to Wales in my trusty Spitfire when we came unstuck on an icy downhill stretch coming over the Clwyds. With awesome detachment he sat through all the excitement unflinchingly, just murmuring "fight it, fight it" to himself as we went into the third spin, and "nice one" when I finally got things sorted out. This same stalwart when being slid sideways towards the parapet of the bridge at the Ugly House on the A5 by another CMC driver was heard to remark phlegmatically "I notice you only do that when the wall's on my side". Passengers like this are worth their weight in gold.

Though driving styles in the club vary greatly (some might say dramatically), drivers with a cool party and finding good conditions have been able to complete some of the classic routes in considerably less than the guidebook times in recent years. CMC teams have done Glencoe in four and a half hours and the Llanberis Pass in under the hour, though even the driver admitted to being "quite worried at times" on the latter expedition. These times seem unremarkable however when compared with the feats of one legendary Dr Moore (see "Rockclimbers in action in Snowdonia" by Tony Smythe) who managed to average 76mph between Marble Arch and the Pen-y-Gwryd before the M1 was built. Perhaps the younger generation just doesn't have the class. Some CMC drivers, while showing little interest in the classics, have become technical experts in their local routes. One in particular is famed for his vituoso performances across Minera Moor (usually in a vehicle not his own!)

Once at the climbing ground the next challenge for the climber is to drive as near as he can to the chosen crag, eliminating as far as possible any involvement in walking. The rules of this part of the game have changed over the years, and it's unlikely whether the modern climber would get away with leaving his car by the side of Llyn Llyddau as did Menlove Edwards (see the photo in Mountain 25). Outcrops and quarries are of course relatively easy, it's possible to belay from your bumper at places like Millstone and Denham. I once drove up to Stanage High Neb in a Landrover, but one always has the suspicion that these tactics would be frowned on by the NP Warden. The same goes for places like Carreg Alltrem, which is either a roadside crag or a nasty walk depending on your moral stance and your relationships with the Forestry Commission. Some fairly high crags are still fair game for the technical driver however, Dow being a notable example. Full marks to the unknown driver who parked his Citroen Dyane above a bit of the track which we had found hard enough going on foot.

This aspect of the transport game takes on another dimension abroad, probably because the rewards (in terms of height gained) for persistent driving are so much greater. It's easy to put the smell of burning clutch to the back of your mind when you know the alternative is a 3 hour hut slog. Not that this sort of thing is without its drawbacks, for instance over half the 4500ft from the valley to the Sciora Hut in the Bregaglia can be driven, but the track then comes to a dead end with hardly any turning space. Drive up there on a Friday night and you're stuck until Sunday, like it or not, parked in by a few dozen mad German weekenders. The Dolomites in particular have more than their fair share of attractive excursions, very often extolled by the guidebook. For example, in the approach directions for the Cinque Torri Hut one reads that "it is possible to drive a long way up to the hut, but the last section will defeat many drivers, especially after rain." One CMC driver decided we couldn't possibly duck a challenge like this, so we arrived triumphantly at the hut amidst clouds of dust, flying gravel and and burning rubber, only to find a battered Fiat 500 which clearly did the trip every day parked by the door. Rather deflating, but I suppose that Italian driving in general is something rather special, so Italian climbers must have the edge over most of us, more than making up in flair what they lack in technique. They are in fact prepared to crash, with the sort of commitment which once provoked a CMC gentleman climber witnessing a more determined friend fighting a Frodsham overhang to remark "Good Lord, you're actually prepared to fall off!" I once commented to a Yugoslavian friend (another nationality not exactly noted for their consistency on the tarmac) on the recklessness of Italian drivers. "No, no" he replied gravely, "they are excellent drivers  -  they drive with courage" !

As long as our society creates jobs and mountains as far apart as at present, the driving climber will continue to impress himself and disturb other road users. So to get the most out of your weekends, remember the rules of the game. Don't ask your prospective partner whether he can lead HVS, ask him how fast his car is!"

Such a piece would be met with justified opprobrium nowadays of course, but forty years ago it fitted the mood and culture of the times. And I didn't even mention the Alpine trips where we would leave work in Chester on Friday evening and expect to be climbing in Switzerland the following morning, or the time we drove back from the Verdon Gorge in Provence to Chester at an average speed of over 60mph (including the stops for fuel and the channel ferry trip). Crazy.

I'm not a petrol-head but it's a rare bloke who doesn't retain at least some interest in cars. These days I still have a Caterham 7, but although it goes round bends with amazing agility and is able to overtake in places that sometimes surprises people, I keep pretty well to the laws of the land. Maybe it's the culture, maybe it's the policing, but I like to think that I have grown out of the irresponsibilities of those earlier times. Mea culpa. Or as the finest poet of the twentieth century once put it...

"Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now".

Postscript: In the same 1977 journal from which I took the article above, I found another one written by one of a pair of CMC members on their experience in the 1976 Fellsman. I knew the guys in question, they were good climbers but they wouldn't have done any particular training for the Fellsman trip, they wouldn't even have thought of it. They had (what seems to be normal for the event) pretty appalling weather and got round in 22 hours. Not too shabby. Different times, different values.

Pembrokeshire Coast Ultra

This was the weekend for the Highland Fling but as I think I've said before, I enjoyed the eight that I did but the whole affair has got a bit too big for my own tastes now, though the race itself goes from strength to strength with new records and lots of great performances this year. Then of course it was the Hardmoors weekend too, with both the 110 and the 160 being run, this year in the opposite direction to fit in with the Tour de Yorkshire bike race. John Kynaston was entered for the 160, but with the Northern Traverse just 4 weeks away even the 110 was much too big an undertaking for me.

So I contented myself with a more modest objective at the Endurancelife Pembroke Coastal Ultra, which I felt should be a nice outing at 35 miles and 3600ft of ascent. I'd had a few calf problems since the Manchester Marathon but after a week's rest and a couple of visits to the physio, coupled with a plan to take things easily and walk if it got sore, I was happy that things would probably be OK. I wouldn't break any records and would be happy with around 7 hours for the 35 miles.

A visit from daughter Julia turning into a fairly lengthy (but very enjoyable) Italian lunch was probably not the best way to start the trip down to Pembroke, which is around 175 non-motorway miles distant from Chester. I got away before 5pm but a one hour delay due to an accident on the brief bit of A5 encountered didn't help. After that though it was plain sailing down roads ideal for some Caterham fun and I arrived in Haverfordwest in time for something to eat and a beer watching the snooker before turning in.

The event was based at the small seaside village of Little Haven about 5 miles from Haverfordwest. Registration could be left until nearly 7.30am so no crack of dawn starts were required. It was a cloudless but still quite cool morning as we assembled first for the 8am briefing and then the 8.30am start. I thought of the Hardmoors 160 runners who had by now put in a solid and probably fairy chilly night shift.

I've walked most of the Pembrokeshire coast path over the years and it's all attractive, a bit like Cornwall but maybe not quite as severe, so I was looking forward to the day. There was a gentle onshore breeze as the day warmed up so conditions were pretty well perfect throughout. The first five miles took us down the coast path to the first checkpoint at the inlet below St Brides. Checkpoints on Endurancelife events turn up regularly at between 4 and 7 mile intervals; they all have water and a selection of biscuits and jelly babies so you don't have to carry much in the way of food and drink.

The next 4 miles followed a more inland route across clifftops and an old airfield to a neck of land above Dale and checkpoint 2, level and very easy running. The next stage was much more varied around a complete peninsula taking in Dale Point and St Annes Head, a bit of road down through Dale then coast path all the way, clifftops, descents and reascents, occasional wooded areas, 7 miles in all back to checkpoint 2. Those on the marathon course (28 miles this one, distance interpretation rather like on the Hardmoors events...) could now head back up the coast towards home, but for the ultra distance we had to repeat the 7 mile loop around the peninsula. On this second loop my calf started to feel a bit sore so I cut the pace a bit by taking shorter strides, a tip from the physio. It continued to hurt for the next 15 miles or so and was getting a bit concerning, but it finally went away a few miles from the finish and I have no residual effects a day later so all seems to be well. But overall it meant that my pace, which was looking steady at a few seconds over 11 minute pace, was now drifting into the 12 minute area.

After our third visit to the checkpoint above Dale the course headed northwards again, but this time along the coast to Marloes Sands then cutting off some of the Wooltack Point headland to arrive back at the original checkpoint 1 by St Brides. I saw almost no-one along this stretch, the field of both the marathon and ultra being pretty spread out by now, but I overtook two or three runners in the last mile or two before St Brides, and another few as I left the checkpoint.

All required now was to complete the original five miles in the opposite direction back to Little Haven and the finish. I got home in 6:51:52, nicely inside the 7 hours I had previewed for the trip even though I had slowed up somewhat to avoid pressuring my calf. I finished in 28th place, which coincidentally was exactly the same position that I got in the previous race in this coastal series, up in Northumberland a few weeks ago. Generally a satisfying day out, and I was back home in Chester for dinner.

But we've had the warm-ups now, things get serious soon with the Northern Traverse starting in just 4 weeks time!

Greater Manchester Marathon

I hadn't done a marathon for three years, mainly because as I've got a bit older I've found that doing higher road mileages is neither all that interesting nor all that good for joints and muscles when compared with the altogether more rewarding pastime of running in our hills and forests.

But I had a couple of reasons for this one.

Firstly,  I had a feeling that I was not keeping up the level of fitness that I had done when I had the discipline of the occasional road race to keep me honest. Nowhere to hide on the roads, you can't blame the weather, the mud, or any number of things you can use to kid yourself that you really could have run an ultra faster but you were somehow prevented by circumstances beyond your control. If you take out the more extreme examples such as Snowdon, then a marathon is a marathon, and your time will tell you what state you're in. So running a marathon would be good for me.

And secondly, I had a feeling I would like to run London again sometime. I'd done this back in 2006, but entry was easy then, I was working for the sponsoring company and we got a good number of places for company employees. Nowadays it's more difficult. I can't sign on to the ethics of running for a charity - probably the subject of a whole post so I'll just leave it at that for now - and tales of the ballot were pretty depressing, people being unsuccessful for five years and so on. So my remaining option was to get a "good for age" place, for which I needed a recent "official" time; the requirement gets progressively easier as you get older, for me it's now 4 hours (and in a couple of years or so goes up to 5 hours!). In my last run at Blackpool in 2013 my time was just under 3 hours 43 minutes, so I assumed with a bit of training that the intervening years would not have removed 17 minutes from my potential and I ought to be OK.

I chose Manchester because it's local, I hadn't run it before, it's (in theory) logistically easy because it starts and finishes in the same place, and the course goes through the area where my son and his family live so I could probably get a bit of personal support at least at one point! For one reason or another the training hadn't really gone as I'd planned, but I'd done at least one road run each week since Christmas with a couple of half-marathon jaunts and one 16 miler at just over 9 minute pace. Not really enough but I assumed that it would be OK.

On the day it was a beautiful but chilly morning as I drove over to Old Trafford, parked at MU and walked over to the start/finish area at the cricket ground. I got a coffee and queued 10 minutes to drop off my bag - this contained warm clothes for the finish and the exercise was a mistake in hindsight as the car was only a 10 minute walk away - then made my way to the start pens. It was all quite low key and unstressful, I guess as a result of this not being "big" for a city marathon, I think there were about 12,000 starters on the day. Among the other starters was Katrina Kynaston, here with John; I didn't know that at the time or I would have looked out for them.

The starter was the evergreen Ron Hill  -  a strange coincidence for me as he started the last marathon I ran at Blackpool in 2013  -  and we were soon under way. The course wandered around Old Trafford for a couple of miles then headed out towards Sale. The organisers must have generated some clout because they had got the main road through Stretford to Sale closed for the event - impressive. I set out to maintain an 8.50 mile pace to give me a workable but not excessive cushion on my 4 hour target, but I noticed after 3 or 4 miles that my watch was reading high against the course mile markers. Either my watch was a bit out or the markers hadn't been too carefully sited. To be on the safe side I assumed the former and took my target "watch" pace down a bit to 8.45. This seemed pretty easy so I was happy enough.

There were more than enough water stations so I was able to go with the plan I had used on many marathons previously of taking on about 200-250ml every 10k. I normally walk through the water station as I'm doing this, I think the time you lose is more than paid back by the ease of a comfortable drink and something to eat at the same time, maybe a bit of ultra technique spilling back into marathons. Today I just ate a couple of squares of Shotblok every time I stopped for a drink, it works for me OK.

The crowds at the start had been a bit sparse but at soon as we hit Sale and Altrincham they were brilliant, lots of people and lots of noise. Shortly after turning into Brooklands Road at about 10 miles I saw John with his wife Jade and our two granddaughters on the other side of the road, we all waved furiously but it came and went quickly of course. The course is advertised as flat but there is a steady climb from Brooklands up to Altrincham, where there is a little loop before it works back down to Sale. The halfway point was in Altrincham and I was pleased to see it go by at around 1:55 - just nicely inside 4 hour schedule, my watch seemed solid at 8.45 average from the start.

On the return leg back up Brooklands, now approaching 17 miles, Jade and the girls had gone home but John was still there, now on my side of the road taking photographs and close enough for a quick high five.

From Sale, the return course wanders north out through Urmston, an area I don't really know. This, probably combined with the effects of distance run and the rising temperature now that the sun had really got a grip, gave me the first thoughts of tiredness at around 20 miles. I was still solid on my 8.45 pace "on the watch", but then a quick calculation told me that I was now pretty "safe" on my target and could allow the pace to drop a bit and still get comfortably inside 4 hours. The problem then of course is that unless you are really determined to resist it, once a thought like that that gets into your head then that's what you do! At half way I had considered re-adjusting my target to 3:50, but now although I'm sure it was perfectly possible it wasn't a powerful enough motivator for the bit of extra effort required. I drifted down a few seconds a mile back into a comfort zone, but then was surprised at how many runners I was still overtaking this late in the race. Looking at the splits afterwards it was somewhere around here that I must have passed Katrina, but as I wasn't looking out for her I wouldn't have noticed. She went on to finish in just over 4 hours.

Before long we were back into known ground, turning into the main road in Stretford with barely a mile or so to the finish. Good crowd support again and in a few moments it was done. My finishing time was 3:52:56.  I was pleased enough and feeling pretty good, but still slightly kicking myself that I had let that 3 minutes get away over the last 6 miles because basically I couldn't be bothered to make a better fight of it. Still, if I can still get under 4 hours in London next year I guess I'll be happy.

The finish had its good and bad points. After collecting your medal and goody bag, all runners were offered a free pint of chilled alcohol-free lager; I normally wouldn't touch the stuff but in this situation it absolutely hit the spot. a brilliant idea. Less good was the enormous queue to pick up your clothes bag, which was clearly going to mean a wait of hours rather than minutes. I thought about the rather well used items of clothing I'd left, inside an old dry bag, and decided it wasn't worth spoiling the day over so I abandoned it, walked back to the car in the warm sunshine and drove home.

I later heard that some competitors had been on the baggage queue for nearly three hours. The organisers took it on the chin that they had cocked up, apologised, said they would sort it next time, and offered everyone a discounted entry for next year. More surprising, without my even contacting the organisation (everyone makes mistakes, it's what you do next that counts), three days later my bag arrived home by mail. Well done, Manchester.

Training, Events and the Lakeland 100 Recces

It's occurred to me that I've been a bit slow on the blogging front of late, probably even slower that my normal running speed. The year started well with three posts in January but then declined with only one in each of the following two months. At times like this I often wonder whether it's just because I don't have anything worth saying nowadays, whether I should just call it a day and wrap things up. But it's the place where I dump all my thoughts on running, both on the events and other stuff; I find it interesting to look back over from time to time, so I'll probably continue.

It was puzzling to see where March had gone to after the Northumberland Coast Ultra at the end of February. My main focus was to have been the Hardmoors 55 on the 19th, but I then had the opportunity to go on a ski trip with my daughter and her friends. I'm finding that ski-touring seems like hard work these days so I don't go with the gang I accompanied for several years, but the chance of plenty of lift-served piste and off-piste in the Trois Vallees with an enthusiastic and fairly adventurous young team was too good to miss. As a bonus, we had good snow and great weather.

Back at home it was the normal story for this time of year  -  the odd bits of good weather didn't coincide with my available days and I didn't get out in the hills as much as I would have liked, so I spent most of my time on the trails in my local forest or doing laps on our nearest "mountain" (Moel Fammau in the Clwyds), a rise of all of 900ft from car park to summit! I did a few road runs in preparation for the Manchester marathon, but more of that in a later post I think. So I have the feeling that I need to buckle down and get some quality miles and feet of ascent in before the real season starts, which for me is at the end of May. Assuming I manage to get fit enough, I'm really looking forward to the summer and a great series of events.

First, another little warm-up at the end of this month with the Endurancelife Coastal Ultra down in Pembroke. I like this well-organised no-frills series and this will be my fifth over the last two or three years; up until now I've done the events at Exmoor, South Devon, Anglesey and Northumberland. Pembroke is classed as "moderate" at about 34 miles long and with what looks like about 4000ft of ascent. Pembroke is where we spent a lot of family holidays when our children were young so I'm looking forward to the re-acquaintance. I won't go for broke on this one but it will still be my last "run all the way" event until the autumn, a good test of whether I have a bit of the speed/stamina combination required.

Things get more serious with the Northern Traverse starting on the 30 May. This is a new event taking on the well-known Wainwright "Coast to Coast" route from St Bees to Robin Hood's Bay. Starting at 10am on Monday morning,you have 5 days to complete the route which is just short of 200 miles and 40,000ft of ascent. It's run by James Thurlow's team "Open Adventure"; I've done their "Lakes in a Day" event twice and been impressed, so I think the organisation will be good. An added incentive for me to finish not too late on Friday is that we have tickets to the Keswick Beer Festival that evening! Sleeping is possible at the checkpoints (tents provided) but they are about 40-50 miles apart and don't fit logically with the days, so I guess making the best compromises between getting some rest and not wasting the daylight will be the key. I originally thought I could recce quite a lot of the course but I haven't found time one way or another. I know the bit through the Lake District and the North York Moors section follows the Hardmoors 55 route for about 15 miles, but the rest of it will be completely new to me. 

Then towards the end of June is the West Highland Way, still my favourite event on the ultra calendar. Having done eight in a row up to 2014, I took last year off because it clashed with my (failed!) attempt at the Dragon's Back, so I'm looking forward to getting back on this brilliant trail. I ran the Highland Fling (the first half of the WHW) last year but I don't think I'll go again, it's a bit too big and crowded for me now. All credit to John Duncan and his crew, they've made it one of the UK's premier and high reputation ultras, but that's not really what I go to Scotland for. Limit on numbers keeps the longer WHW a rather more serene affair, much more my scene.

Similar to the WHW in generating its own family atmosphere is the Lakeland 50/100 weekend in late July, with many runners going back year after year. This will be my seventh year of involvement. I marshalled at the start and finish last year, a great experience after competing the previous five years, and this year I'm going back again to run in the 100.

A unique feature of the Lakeland is that the organisers run a series of four recce weekends throughout the year which in total cover the whole course. They are worthwhile events in their own right, usually with some related talks on the Saturday evening and buses to the start on the Sunday, allowing you to run the relevant course section through manned checkpoints back to your car. For the last couple of years I've run as sweeper on the recces and had a great time. Last year I did all four, but this year clashes with other events have meant I can only manage two, the last being the Buttermere to Dalemain section about ten days ago. I was asked to do the Saturday talk for this one  -  they had last year's winner Paul Tierny for one of the earlier talks this year so at least I could speak from a completely opposite point of view in terms of competence! Actually, my main theme was pacing because I believe that many of the runners who DNF in the Lakeland 100 do so because they go too quickly over the first half, particularly the first thirty miles or so where nearly all the hard ground on the course is concentrated. Another thing I touched on was the recce coming up the next day, described by Race Director Marc Laithwaite on the website as "one of the easier sections of the route with relatively good tracks and few aggressive climbs and descents". In fact, Buttermere to Dalemain is 33 miles and nearly 6000ft of ascent - requiring quite a bit more effort that the Pembroke ultra I'll be running in three weeks time! The fact that Marc's statement is completely true just illustrates what a challenge the Lakeland 100 presents.

The recce run went well, we had fine clear weather even if continuous rain for the preceding two days made it a bit sloppy underfoot at times. As on the previous recce from Ambleside to Coniston, I shared the sweeping duties with Billy Burns, who is himself doing all four this year. Last year Billy completed the Lakeland 100 in 33:37, a time which I'm sure is beyond me, but what was more impressive is that he did it on the back of an extremely conservative first half. He arrived at Dalemain, generally thought to be the halfway point in time for a well paced race, in 18:22 in 204th place, and picked up 100 places before the finish. He's going for the 100 again this year and I predict the improvement will be significant!

Sweeping was fun as usual, you get to chat to a lot of nice people about their experiences and ambitions, at a pace that is normally well within your own. Then occasionally the last runner will decide they've had enough for the day and drop out, so you have to make sure they have a reliable route back to safety then put on a bit of a push to catch up the new backmarkers. Billy and I ran on our own from Blencathra to Dockray, with estimates of how much we had to catch up varying between 20 and 40 minutes. We eventually just failed to catch the pair ahead before the checkpoint. but it gave us a pretty fair workout for a while. It was good to get back on the course again, though I don't expect I'll have time to revisit much more of it before the race in July.

And then at the end of August, the UTMB is lying in wait. Back once again to the big Chamonix party!

Northumberland Coast Ultra

No great tales of derring-do, suffering or achievement in this one (as if there ever are on these pages!); just a simple account of a nice day out, as much for my own benefit as anyone else's, something to look back on from time to time.

I've done a few of the Endurancelife Coastal Series over the past two or three years and found them well-organised events, run to a standard pattern in coastal areas worth visiting. No stress involved, the courses are fully marked and the checkpoints close enough that you don't need to carry very much, just turn up and go really. Other than two days with Jan visiting Lindisfarne and Berwick-on-Tweed I'd never been to the Northumberland coast, so I decided to give this one a go.

The event base was at Bamburgh Castle, so I spent Friday evening at the Victoria Hotel in Bamburgh with a good meal, good beer and a very boring game of rugby (Wales vs France).  The pub was so close to the castle that breakfast on Saturday morning was possible before going down to check in. Endurancelife registration is normally in a chilly tent in a field, so this one actually in the castle buildings was quite plush. A quick briefing then we were on the buses for the short journey down to the start in a field just outside the walls of Alnwick Castle.

After all the mud through the winter it was good to be out on a cold crisp morning. No sun at the start at 8.20 am and a scattering of frozen hail still on the ground, but underfoot it was wonderfully firm and easy to run on. The first 5 miles or so followed the River Aln down to Alnmouth, mostly flat field tracks with the odd rise or bit of road, easy running. I wasn't sure what pace to aim for because I knew the course was fairly flat and runnable most of the way, but over the past two or three years all the races I have done have been hilly with fairly frequent walking sections. In the end, before the event I had decided to go for a 10,30 m/m average for as long as it felt comfortable, assuming I would probably slow down a fair bit later in the race. I was near the back of the field over the first few miles and the group I was in seemed to be holding about 10 minute miles. I was slightly concerned that it might be too fast but it felt easy enough and so I went with the flow.

The first checkpoint turned up just after we hit the coast. They were all similar, about 6 miles apart, outside but with good supplies of water and snacks. Normally, a marshal carrying the dibbing box was a few yards before the resupplies so it was pretty efficient getting through. At this first one I didn't need any fluid as I had started with a full 500ml bottle, so I just grabbed a handful of jelly babies and pressed on through. Everyone I was with stopped for water so the result was that I was suddenly out on my own for a mile or two. After this I don't think anyone else in the ultra raced passed me and I was able to work my way through quite a chunk of the field before the finish.

By now the clouds were starting to break up and the sun was warming the day up a bit, although it never got really warm. There was a slight headwind all the way, but nothing really to be concerned about. Overall it was a pretty perfect day for running. The running was really fine, low cliff-tops with grassy tracks or firm dunes interspersed with sections across beaches with beautifully firm sand. The tide seemed pretty far out so we could take direct lines across the beaches and not have to bother following the contours of the coastline. Just the odd sections of rocks or an occasional gate or stile to break the flow, but it was mostly the sort of country to encourage a continued steady pace.

Endurancelife Coastal events always comprise four races taking sections of the same basic course  -  an Ultra (usually around 33-35 miles), a Marathon, a Half Marathon and a 10k. The Marathon was due to start at the same point as our ultra, Alnwick Castle, but about an hour later than us. The faster guys had not caught me yet, but as I approached the pretty village of Craster it was clear that I was about to get involved in the Half-Marathon start. Crowds of runners were heading from the village to the open ground beyond which was where the start was located. I threaded through the crowds and out past the impressive ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle on the headland beyond. I passed another half dozen ultra competitors on the track and golf course just after this, but kept wondering where the "Half" runners had got to. Just up a little hill and the first one came haring past; from here to Bamburgh I was passed by a fairly steady stream of Half and a few Marathon runners, nearly all of whom wished me well as they passed.

I was still going surprisingly well (for me!) and had managed to maintain a 10 min/mile average from the start. I expected things to get a bit tougher soon, but so far so good. More low cliffs, dunes and beaches. At the end of a long beach a short distance before Seahouses I could see another group of runners milling around for the 10k start. As I got nearer I could hear the pre-start briefing, and this time I hadn't got many yards beyond them when I heard the countdown and then they started to come pouring past.

On the grass just before Seahouses I started to feel a bit of a twinge in my left calf. Not wanting to let it progress into anything bad, I stopped and stretched it out for maybe a minute or two. That seemed to do the trick and I had no more problems with it to the finish.  Through the town to lots of encouragement from bystanders, then out the other side along the coast for a mile or two, then we were down over some rocks to the final beach section leading to Bamburgh Castle, which we could now see. I went through the true marathon distance (the actual marathon race was a bit longer) in 4 hours 20 minutes, still on 10 minute pace, but not long after this things started to toughen up a bit.  I was still passing the odd ultra runner and one or two of the 10k competitors who had maybe gone off a bit fast, but then we were funnelled off the beach and up a steep soft sand track through the dunes and up to the castle, I guess a couple of hundred feet or so above the beach. About half way up there was a fork in the route; all the others races carried on straight up the hill to the finish in the castle, but the ultra diverted off to begin its final 9 mile loop back to the same place. From being on a crowded track, I was now on one with no other runners in sight. 

In a while I caught up with another two but they were going quite slowly so I carried on past, up a steady incline, first up a section of narrow road then around a golf course. There was only around 1500ft of ascent on the whole route, but as the majority of this was in these final 9 miles it made a bit of a mess of my average. This was compensated by great views all round as the course gained height. A winding downhill after the golf course led to another section of mostly uphill, this time across rutted fields which I found I could only cross efficiently by walking. A final checkpoint, no need to stop as I had half a bottle of water left and less than six miles to go, then anotherl uphill up a bit of road. A runner was a few hundred yards ahead giving me a good target and I caught him just on the crest of the hill. We jogged on together for a mile or so chatting about this and that, then a quick look at my watch suggested that I might just have a chance of getting under 6 hours if I pressed on. I needed to better 10 minute miles from here to the finish.

It started well down field tracks and minor roads, but each hundred yards of uphill were making dents in my schedule now. Eventually I made it back down to the beach about a mile short of the castle. There were still one or two ultra runners there, and one or two slower competitors from the other races, so I pushed on. But another check on the time showed that I still needed a 10 minute mile, including the final hill up to the castle, and I wasn't going to do that. Reality kicked in and I slowed down to enjoy the final mile of the trip, finally making it to the finish in four minutes over the 6 hours for the 35,4 miles with my final average up to 10:17 for the whole distance. I would have accepted 11:30 if offered it at the start, so I was still pretty happy with the result. I came in 28th out of 84 starters.

A late lunch in the Castle Cafe rounded things off nicely. I'm going to another of this coastal series at the end of April, this time to Pembrokeshire, another lovely area. I'm looking forward to it.

Safety and the "Mandatory Kit"

Always plenty of threads on Facebook. Runner X asks whether this bit of lightweight kit will pass the inspection, Runner Y says don't be daft, take something heavier or you'll die, so the debate begins, you'll have seen it. Most races of any length these days have a mandatory kit list, some of which makes sense, some which doesn't, so I thought it might be interesting to tease out what is going on here and how we might approach the subject with a bit of objectivity. My views as always, I don't expect everyone to agree, but it's one of those subjects which as well as being good for a bit of pub discussion, covers areas where some sensible choices could give you a much better race experience, and might just keep you alive.

If you continue reading you'll have to indulge me for a bit while I ramble over a couple of climbing anecdotes  -  I know they come up far too frequently in what's supposed to be a running blog but it was how I spent my formative years and I think the two pastimes are not really so far apart in many ways.

In my second or third Alpine season, four of us went out to climb the South Ridge of the Aiguille Noire de Peuterey, a classic, not too difficult but very long and committing rock climb on the south side of Mont Blanc. The normal starting place is an unguarded but comfortable and well-equipped hut 2 or 3 hours walk up from the Peuterey valley road. From here, our guidebook gave 12-16 hours for the ascent and 4-6 hours for the descent by the East Ridge back to the hut. Those sort of times suggested a bivvy was likely, so we took the gear and decided to bivvy anyway. We left the valley around lunchtime, ignored the hut, bivvied about a third of the way up the South Ridge and again about half-way down the descent of the East Ridge, getting back to the valley about 48 hours after leaving it. On our second ("summit") day, we were passed by two Swiss climbers. They had stayed at the hut, were travelling light and fast (I guess they had just a waterproof, spare sweater and lunch in their sacks), and would make it back to the hut for a second comfortable night's sleep. They too spent a total of 48 hours away from the valley but their experience was completely different from ours. Who had the most fun? Who was the safest? Discuss.

A few years later, I went with a friend to another climb in the same area, the Gugliermina Pillar on the Aiguille Blanche, a more difficult and rather more remote climb, approached from the Monzino Hut over the Col de l'Innominata and the very tortuous Freney Glacier, a 4 hour trip landing you on some ledges (the Schneider Ledges) at the foot of the face. Our English guidebook recommended a bivvy at this point and said that "a confident party can leave their bivouac gear here and return to it in a day".  But we had been talking to a French guide who said the trip was now considered possible from the Monzino, back in a long day without a bivouac. So that's what we attempted, but we ran out of steam and daylight on the Col de l'Innominata on the return trip, resulting in a pretty chilly bivvy at over 10,000ft  with just a sweater and a polybag. But we survived OK.

I had numerous other experiences along these lines as we gradually worked out how to conduct ourselves effectively and safely around the mountains, but the conclusions I eventually came to were pretty simple:

- if you take enough gear to survive, then you will survive, though it may not be comfortable

- if you take enough gear to bivvy comfortably, then it will slow you down and you will probably bivvy, even if by travelling lighter you could have got back in the day

- lighter is faster, and faster is safer - you are exposed for less time to all the objective dangers inherent in mountains (rock and ice fall, weather changes, etc), and are less likely to yield to dehydration, energy deficit and poor decision making which are often the results of being out too long.

But how is this relevant to running ultra events and the "mandatory kit list"? Well, stay with me and hopefully it will become clearer as we go.

To start with, what's the big deal with keeping everything as light as you possibly can? Well, if you don't believe it's important, try a little experiment. Find a nice bit of trail that you run regularly, something like 5 miles with maybe 1000ft of height gain would be good. Run it carrying nothing, then again carrying 2kg, then again with 4kg (and possibly even 6kg, judging by the packs I see some runners carrying!) You'll find difference in effort required is fairly dramatic. And you're going to see that difference over many hours. It's the difference between dancing over boulders or trudging between them. The difference between an uphill feeling like a welcome rest from running or an obstacle to be overcome. And it works like this for everyone, whether you're at the front of the field or the back. Take some weight out and you will be faster everywhere; that's less time for something to go wrong. If you really want to enjoy your races with a good safety margin, carrying the minimum you actually need is important. 

While we're on the subject of keeping weight down, have a think about food. Many races nowadays have well-stocked, or maybe even just adequately stocked, checkpoints. For quite a few years I carried a lot of my own food but even a few energy bars, gels, or whatever you think powers you along can add up to serious weight. I've now come to the conclusion that if someone's happy to take it round the course for me, why should I bother with the extra weight? Just get a bit less picky about what you eat, it's all calories.

The key to weight is that it's cumulative. You can convince yourself that each bit of extra kit or food doesn't weigh much, because probably it doesn't. But add all those little bits together and it becomes significant. Conversely, take little bits of weight out wherever you can and that adds up too  - Kaizen for ultra runners. Weigh your pack before each race, you'll know when you're getting it right.

Anyway, on to the mandatory kit.

There are two lists of kit that you have to consider when packing your bag for an ultra, (a) the kit that the Race Director says you have to take, and (b) the kit that you believe is appropriate for the task in hand, based on your experience and judgement. These lists will not necessarily be the same. During the race you have two responsibilities, (a) to carry the mandatory kit (if not you break the rules of the event), and (b) to make sure that you stay safe. Again, these are not necessarily the same thing.

I'm always surprised when I hear someone say that such-and-such bit of kit is with them on all their events; I prefer to consider each event in its own right, using a sort of mental checklist:

- what is the terrain like?

- how long do I expect to be out?

- what is the weather going to be like? (forecasts are pretty accurate for at least a couple of days)

- how close together are the checkpoints?

- are the checkpoints indoors or outdoors?

- what can I expect at checkpoints ? (no point in carrying food and drink if someone is going to supply water and jelly babies every two hours or so)

- what degree of navigation is required? (and how well do I already know the course)

- how remote is the course? (from roads, towns, etc)

- how big is the field (proximity of other runners, etc)

- if I am forced to slow down, what will my strategy be?

- if I am forced to stop, what will my strategy be?

Asking these questions helps me to decide exactly what kit I would take if there were no restrictions. Clearly what's good for one race may be completely inappropriate for another. For a 30 mile trip on a nice day with frequent and well-stocked checkpoints, I may be happy to carry nothing (though of course the rules may dictate otherwise). For a lengthy trip across the mountains with no support I may want to carry items that are well in excess of the mandatory list. 

Now let me be clear that I would never argue with any Race Director about his particular list - it's his right to make it a condition of his race and I will always make sure that I have everything stipulated. I won't need any clarification on the items that I agree with and see a real reason for, but I will go as lightweight as possible ("skimp" if you like) on the items which my personal strategy says that I will never use. So let's have a look at the sort of things that appear on many mandatory lists, and why they might be there, and if they are in fact useful.

Waterproofs seem to figure pretty well everywhere these days so lets start here.

Waterproof Jacket. I wrote a complete post on this a while ago if you're interested (My Waterproof Jacket Leaks). But basically, you wear a waterproof not to keep you dry (you'll be wet anyway from sweat) but to keep you warm, because water transmits heat from your body much more efficiently than air. I've never understood the logic behind taped seams  -  the fraction of a percent a non-taped seam might let in seems irrelevant alongside the water you're generating internally. Likewise a hood; if you have a waterproof hat that covers your ears I'm not sure what it's for. I have one  jacket with a hood for races that require it, and several without for all other occasions. But what is key is having the proofing in good condition, you need the outer layer shedding droplets fast rather than wetting out, that's the way to stay warm. So I'm a bit cynical that paying a lot more for "quality" is worthwhile, it more than likely goes into styling and gizmos. I have an OMM smock, not because I think it's any more waterproof but because I like the stretchy non-rustling material. But in general there is no reason not to go as light as you can get, so long as it doesn't shred on every tree you brush past The only exception I would make to this is for an event where long periods of pretty nasty weather are likely, ie races where you are going to wear a jacket for long periods  -  such as the UTMB/TDG with a bad forecast, or the Spine Race. In these conditions I would go with a lined mountain jacket - even a thin mesh lining has a significant impact on the heat transfer so is a much warmer system. I know I've gone on a bit about this but having a jacket that you have confidence in is for me one of the most important factors in staying warm and safe.

Waterproof Trousers. I've never worn these against rain, only against wind, so I personally would be happy with windproof. But almost every RD stipulates waterproof/taped so I go with a cheap as chips version as light and compact as possible  -  I'm currently using Peter Storm which I think were about £15. If I ever get around to justifying the cost I would probably go with OMM for the stretch and quietness; I'm sure one pair would last me the rest of my running career.

Now for the ancilliaries that you may need for various types of race, due to the time of year, duration, weather uncertainties and so on.

Hats. To keep you warm or to keep the sun off. Apart from the UTMB which specifies both because extremes of temperature there are the norm, there doesn't seem to be a lot of logic in what is included as mandatory and why, so I  go with what suits me and it normally passes OK. If I take a warm hat I prefer a waterproof fleece-lined cap style with ear flaps that you can turn up and a peak that clips back when you're wearing a torch. No heavier than a beanie and much more versatile.

Gloves. Again, I think only the UTMB specifies waterproof, but unless its just for the early morning of a low-level summer affair, I think if it's worth taking gloves then it's crazy unless they (or at least your complete hand covering system) is waterproof. I have on several occasions had to open rucksacks for runners whose fingers were too numb to operate because their gloves had got soaked. Once you get to that stage, if you're a distance away from civilisation then things can get nasty quite quickly.

Torch. I would only take one torch on an event where I knew its use was going to be limited to a couple of hours or so. Beyond that, it's a no-brainer for me, always take two.  Torches fail or run out of battery in the dark. Even if it's not raining or blowing a gale, that's not the time to be fiddling around fitting new batteries, or worse trying to see what's gone wrong. Get your second torch out, click it on and you're back in action. Conversely, I see people with huge torches projecting lighthouse-like beams; the weight of a single one of these is far heavier than the two I carry. Unless you're a top-end performer wanting to cover really technical ground fast, I say go with the light you need, not with the brightest available.

Well, so far all of this is stuff you will probably use a lot, and probably not too controversial. But now we come to the two areas where a badly thought-out mandatory list can make life hard for you. These are firstly hydration and secondly stuff you may need if something goes wrong.

I really don't get why so many races specify a minimum quantity of liquid to be carried. This figure can take no account of the facts that different runners have different fluid requirements, these requirements vary with conditions, and water is often readily available on the course at frequent intervals, either at checkpoints or naturally occurring in streams, etc. Water is really heavy; you can work hard to pare off 50g here and there from the weight you have to carry then you have an arbitrary kilo (or more!) added for no good reason. Some events take a more sensible view. The Round Rotherham race is 50 miles but has no fluid specification, and  with checkpoints no more than 10 miles apart on a flattish course I have never carried a water bottle. Similarly the Lakeland 50/100 events; frequent checkpoints and water available almost everywhere in the Lakes anyway means you don't need more than a single 500ml bottle unless conditions are extremely hot. What would be much more useful would be for organisers on other events to flag up where water is available and let runners make their own decisions on how much to carry - as it is I suspect many people will fill up for the kit check then pare down to a level they think is sensible once out on the course.

As a little aside here, I'm amazed at the number of runners who carry conventional sport "water bottles". A typical brand will weigh in at around 60-70g for a 500ml bottle, whereas the weight of a typical PET soft drink bottle (Oasis, Powerade, etc) is 25g and will last perfectly well for the duration of a 2 or 3 day race.

Now let's get to the kit that causes the most debate - stuff that you hope you won't have to use but you carry in case something goes wrong. 

I don't understand the First Aid Kit thing. These are often specified in some detail  - the  trouble is that the details are different from race to race. Some ask for blister treatment - I don't get blisters. Some ask for wound dressings, some for various bits of bandage and so on. I'm not sure that they've thought through what all this is going to be used for. I'm happy with a few paracetamol and a metre or so of adhesive elastic tape (yes, this is one that I think the UTMB guys have definitely got right) This bit of kit will do sprains, cuts, grazes and plenty else beside. You don't need a knife or a pair of scissors to cut it, a Stanley blade wrapped in a bit of insulating tape weighs almost nothing. 

But minor trauma that can be fixed with your first aid kit is not your main or most likely problem. The thing most likely to spoil your day is simply that you get cold.

How does this happen?

The probable starting point is that you slow down more than you intended. You might have sustained a minor injury, sore muscles or blisters may be slowing movement, you may have food or digestion problems, or you may simply be too tired to go any faster. You may even slow down because you're carrying too much stuff! Whatever the cause, you slow down. You stop generating as much heat as you were when you were going faster so you start to get cold. This is not a race-threatening situation...... yet. You need to put more clothes on. If it's not raining, you put your waterproof jacket on and that retrieves the situation, you can carry on to the next checkpoint and re-appraise your strategy at that point. But if it's already raining and you get cold, what then? What are you carrying thanks to the mandatory list that might help. A space blanket? Well, you could wrap it around you for a bit of extra warmth to the CP (it has been done) but then it's probably game over. An emergency bivvy bag? Ditto, but you're not going to stop, the situation doesn't feel that serious, you'll wrap it around you and carry on. A spare base layer? Well, once you're in the rain and cold, the presence of mind and determination it takes to take everything you have on off, before putting on another layer in the pouring rain, should not be underestimated. The chances are you won't bother, you'll struggle on possibly hypothermic until hopefully you reach the next bit of civilisation and then stop.

If you can foresee a situation in a particular event where what you see as your normal running kit won't keep you warm when walking, then you need something you can put on quickly and easily and that gives you some real insulation, and in which you can continue your race. A light fleece or a primaloft smock will do this  -  and neither of these is likely to weigh more than 300g, less than a third of the compulsory litre of water someone wants me to carry. On a race of any real length in anything other than a perfect weather forecast, I wouldn't go without one or the other, I think it has more value than many of the "mandatory" items you have to carry. It's interesting to see that just this week Jon Steele has added a Blizzard Survival Jacket to his mandatory list for the sometimes wintry Hardmoors 55 as an alternative to the bivvy bag. I don't have one but I think it's a sound move. When we were young and inexperienced we took sleeping bags to bivvy in the Alps; with more experience we progressed to bivvying in duvet jackets with our feet in our rucksacks  -  a bit more uncomfortable at night but you can't climb in a sleeping bag.

From the above you can see that my personal attitude towards dealing with and ultimately surviving an unplanned situation is to keep moving towards safety for as long as you possibly can. Get lower, get to more shelter, get to the next checkpoint, but keep moving. This is improving the situation you're in. Unless you absolutely have to, stopping before you've reached a place where you can regroup and warm up is bad news, things are unlikely to improve if you do. So I believe your safety kit should be geared to support this strategy.

OK, very occasionally you may be faced with a situation when you genuinely can't move - though short of breaking a leg I can't think what it would be (I'm assuming that action in more serious incidents such as a heart attack is likely to be out of your hands). This is the situation that your emergency bivvy bag is for (space blankets are for the finish of city marathons in my opinion and have no place in an ultra-runner's bag). I can't really argue with that, and at 100g for the most modern ones it seems a light enough insurance policy. The stuff you brought for keeping warm while moving will still work inside it and your backpack will give you a bit of ground insulation. But it probably won't be much fun.

To wrap up, my philosophy for kit can be easily distilled into three rules:

1. Don't argue with the mandatory list
2. Really work at going as light as you can
3. Emergency kit should keep you mobile, not make you stop.

So as I said at the start, my views, I don't expect everyone to agree but I have reasoned them through to myself over the years to my own satisfaction. I haven't gone into the more esoteric items on the mandatory lists of races like the Spine, which present different challenges. I have my views here too but they're probably of less general interest than what I've covered above.

As a well-known runner and race organiser is often heard to say "Let's have fun and stay safe out there!"