Training - a bit of discipline maybe......

Well, there was a bit of disappointment in not getting a place in the UTMB ballot but I see many people I know had similar bad news so that's life I suppose. It will seem strange missing out on the Chamonix party for the first time in seven years but I've opted not to transfer to the TDS and instead take my guaranteed UTMB place in 2013.  I'm thinking about a Plan B and should have something sorted out in a week or two, but the hiatus has prompted me to think a bit about training. I don't normally post about this sort of stuff but I'm interested in what others do so here's my bit for the year.

Anyone who follows my ramblings will remember that I went for a performance assessment back in November, the result of which was that I was advised that I was good at running very slowly, but if I wanted to get better results I was going to have to put a bit of effort in on some faster-paced work. Well, I tried, really I did. I went out and did the tempos and the intervals and whatever, but I just didn't enjoy it. I was perpetually knackered and started to feel I didn't want to go out at all This isn't what running's all about, I told myself, we do it for fun not as a chore. So I went back to my old ways, a few runs here and there as I felt like it, and I turned up for my last two ultras of the year in the Brecons and the Lakes and enjoyed them. I convinced myself that running quickly wasn't really required, for ultras it's time on your feet that counts, that's what everyone says, right?

Then over the Christmas period, people started reviewing their year's efforts, and some of the details were interesting. A lot of runners who don't have my sort of free time to go out for two or three longish outings a week do a lot of shorter faster stuff  -  and get much better results than I do. Well, they may just be better runners (what do I mean "may"?) but it made me think again. A bit of guilt, maybe. Perhaps I hadn't given it a fair chance. So on the dot of Jan 1st, I started again.  This time I was determined not to overdo it, but to make a sensible controlled effort. So for the past four weeks my schedule has been like this:

1. A steady run of 7-10 miles a shade faster than marathon pace (which for me is 8 minute miles)

2. A 40 minute tempo run. I'm averaging 7:15 minute miles now, trying to get this down to 7:00. I find this the hardest session of the week.

3. An interval session, combination of 4, 5, and 6 minute intervals totaling 24/25 minutes now, working up to 30 minutes, 2 minutes recovery between intervals. At present my pace is around 6:40, I'm trying to get this down to 6:30.

4. A steady 5 mile run but doing two sprints (50m and 100m) during each mile, while keeping the overall average pace just below 8:00.  I enjoy this one, but it's harder than it sounds.

5. A steady run of 10-15 miles, around or just over marathon pace. Every two weeks I'm allowed to replace this with a longer trail run!

It's needed a bit of persistence, but this time I think I'm getting there. Every fourth week I'm planning to miss out one of the faster sessions to get a bit of a rest, but I'm intending to keep it going for at least twelve weeks to see what effect it has. I got the impression I was missing out a lot of miles so I did some comparisons with last year and found that this isn't necessarily the case. I compared the first four weeks of this year with the four weeks before last year's Highland Fling (excluding the taper week) and the four weeks before the Lakeland 100 (again, not the taper week):

                        Miles below     Miles between      Miles over     Total Miles

                          8:00 pace        8:00 and 9:00      9:00 pace

April 2011              25                      56                     77                 158

July 2011                 7                       27                    130                164

Jan 2012                 59                      41                     55                 155

So similar miles, just shorter and faster.  It should be interesting to see how it goes from here.

A couple of weeks ago I went for 20 miles along one of my local trails. Cold, clear air. Bright low sunlight over frozen ground. Woods, hills, lakes, steps and stiles, rocks and tree roots. Brilliant trip, made you feel great to be alive, I could do this all the time. But it took three and a half hours, average pace ten and a half minute miles, average heart rate 115. And that, I suppose, is the point.

2011 and all that

A week into the New Year so I'm a bit overdue for a look back on the one just gone. Still, it's a useful exercise for me and may be of passing interest to anyone else starting to plan their 2012, so here goes.

Statistics

I ran 181 times during the year for a total of 2178 miles. Taking straight averages this means a run roughly every 2 days with an average length of just over 12 miles, but of course it's a bit more complicated than that, so splitting the runs into length bands gives the following:

6 miles and under    -    84 runs

6 to 12 miles           -    47 runs

12 to 20 miles         -    25 runs

20 to 50 miles         -    19 runs

50 miles and over    -      6 runs

Earlier in the year some of the shorter runs were at tempo pace (around 7.00 - 7.15 for me) but after May I didn't do many of these so all my runs were then at a very modest speed. I've mentioned this before so I won't dwell on it except to say that I will be concentrating a bit more on speed in the coming year.  I like going out for a longish day at least once a week in the spring and summer; maybe I do too much of this but one of the basic principles of ultra training is "time on your feet" so it can't all be bad. I'm thinking of covering this in a bit more detail in a later post. Overall, the outings were enjoyable and saw me through the year with no major injury problems.

Races

I ran two marathons and eight ultras.  I run the marathons because I still enjoy a bit of the mass atmosphere, but I don't generally have a plan for them, maybe I should.  For a few years my focus was to get inside 3.30, but once I had done this the next goal of 3.15 seemed too far away to be taken seriously.  I surprised myself with a 3.17 a few years ago but that's likely to remain my best effort and these days I'm happy to finish in good shape in somewhere near 3.30. So Rotterdam in the Spring was a bit of a disappointment at 3.36.27 as I was training quite hard then, but Chester came as a pleasant surprise at 3.34.59 in the Autumn after virtually no road running since May.

Fine Weather on the Hardmoors 55

On the ultra scene, I started with the Hardmoors 55 in March. I treated it as a training run but expected a PB because it was far better weather than on my first attempt a year before. I beat my 2010 time but only by around 30 minutes, although I wasted about 20 minutes by leaving a checkpoint without my water bottle and having to go back for it, Overall, reasonably satisfying but I think still scope for improvement. The Highland Fling was a bit of a disappointment. I normally like the sunny conditions we had, but I messed up by only taking one 500ml water bottle and getting fairly dehydrated in the later hotter sections. My 10.18 was the second fastest of my 5 runs over the course, but I could and should have done better.

I love the West Highland Way Race, but I just didn't have a plan. I had got the long-sought 24hrs the year before so all I had on my mind was to enjoy the day and not get too tired with the Lakeland 100 coming up a month later. The conditions weren't great for me, continuously wet underfoot and with plenty of precipitation on the day, but even so 26 hours wasn't good enough, must have a more focussed plan for next time. I did recover quickly though as I was out for thirty miles in the Lakes the following weekend. 

Rain on the WHW

The Lakeland 100 was my most satisfying run of the year. Though not quite in the UTMB class as the organisers claim, this is still a big gnarly event where getting round is a good enough reward. It was good for me also in that for the first time here I experienced getting through a really low point and coming strongly out the other side  - up until then whenever a race had started to go badly for me it continued that way to the end.

Leg 1 of the Lakeland 100

I couldn't pull off the same trick in the UTMB though. Getting mildly hypothermic I pulled out for my fourth (!!) failure at this event. But I'll get it in the end, I'm nothing if not persistent. After the annual Chamonix experience the Autumn ultras don't hold the same sense of urgency for me and I'm happy to enjoy them as days out without any pressure to do anything too arduous. I managed a PB at Rotherham though suffering a bit from the Chester Marathon 6 days earlier, but it was in far better conditions than I'd ever seen it previously. The Brecon Beacons and the Tour de Helvellyn were nice events that I hadn't done before, really enjoyed, and didn't do spectacularly well in.

So some highlights, and I enjoyed the events as ever, but I think the teacher might say "could do better" for the year as a whole.

Other stuff

Without a doubt. the outing that I enjoyed most during 2011 was my three and a half day recce of the whole of the UTMB course in glorious sunshine in mid August, almost made up for failing in the race, and one of the views from which appears right at the top of this post.

Another significant event was when I chatted to Mark Barnes in the bar after the Hardmoors 55. He was wearing some strange looking running shoes which he said were called Hokas. They were rather reminiscent of the crepe soled jobs that went with a bootlace tie and a velvet collar when I was a lad, but I was intrigued and bought a pair. Difficult to get used to, they have very little heel lift so the gait has to be rather like barefoot style and the toebox is a bit low for me which sometimes isn't always kind to toenails, but their overall comfort on a long day out and superb descending ability are both remarkable. I can only describe going downhill as being the difference between riding a mountain bike with suspension and one without. I didn't dare try them in the Fling or the WHW, but I bit the bullet for the Lakeland 100 and haven't worn any other shoes in an ultra since. They now have over 700 miles on the clock and I'm thinking of a replacement pair.

Well-used Hokas

So that was 2011.  I haven't sorted out 2012 yet, the overall game plan will depend on the UTMB ballot on 20th January - looks like like this year there will only be a one in two chance of getting in, with no automatic transfer to the TDS, so I'll need a Plan B just in case. Watch this space.

Christmas Cracker

The "Tour de Helvellyn en Hiver" is a brilliant event. Low key almost to the extreme, it is organised by a very able and enthusiastic crowd led by Joe Faulkner and based in Askham in the North East corner of the Lake District. There are no dire warnings, no pre-race briefings, just an understanding that whatever Cumbria chooses to provide in the way of weather on the shortest Saturday of the year, the race will not be called off so just make sure you're up for it. In Joe's words in the single email you receive when you've asked to be let in, "now let's be safe but have some fun".

I entered the inaugural running last year but failed to make the start line, grinding to a halt on the M6 somewhere north of Preston behind several hundred trucks stuck in the snow. This year the weather was marginally better as I left home just after 5am; I was treated to continuous icy rain for most of the journey which had reduced to a chilly "is this rain or snow?" drizzle by the time I got to Askham Village Hall just after 7am. Welcoming hot tea put a better face on things and there were a few familiar faces - Jon Steele, Nick Ham, and to my surprise that pillar of the West Highland Way and Scottish Athletics, Adrian Stott, slotting in a run during his journey home from Cornwall to Edinburgh, as you do I suppose.

The course itself describes a 38 mile "lollipop" shape, taking runners across the moor (Askham Fell)  from Askham to Howtown, then up Boredale to Boredale Hause and down to Patterdale. From here, you go over Sticks Pass to the northern end of Thirlmere, along the hillside above the lake to Dunmail Raise then back over to Patterdale via Grisedale Tarn, from where you retrace your earlier steps back to Askam.  There are half a dozen or so checkpoints, some of which are manned and some self-clips; the event is run as a sort of loose time trial  - you can start at any time between 7 and 9am, but the checkpoint in Patterdale at 10 miles doesn't open until 10am and the maximum time allowed for the trip is 12 hours.

I had decided I was going to have a comfortable day. Warm walking trousers instead of running tights, a fleece under the jacket right from the start and plenty of food. I wasn't going to be fast but would be happy to get round, near the back of the field but quick enough not to get concerned about the cutoffs. I had intended to start at 7.30 but there was a bit of a queue to pick up numbers and tallies so it was just after 7.45 when I stumbled out of the hall with Adrian, to find it just about light enough to do without a torch and that the precipitation had for the time being stopped. We slid off down the icy streets of Askham then up onto the moor.

First few miles across Askham Fell

                                                                                                   

Spits of showers were coming and going, the ground underfoot was a mixture of ice, snow and bog, but it was good to be out in the hills and I made steady progress across to Howtown, always in sight of other runners as about 100 of us would set out during the two hour start window.  Three of us arrived together at the first checkpoint at Martindale Church, spotted the clipper, and after a bit of a struggle because it was on a very short cord, clipped our tallies. We then carried on round the church to find on the other side a marshal and a completely different clip - the one we had used was an old one, could have been there since last year!

On the first real climb over Boredale Hause to Patterdale the weather seemed to be improving, though the steepish descent was quite slippery. I had brought Yaktrax and had them on and off during the day, but the regulars knew that the proper footwear for the event was fell shoes. I saw the stud marks everywhere. I felt a bit like a foreigner driving in the Alps, stopping for chains on and off all the time while the locals cruise by with their snow tyres.

In Patterdale I made a rather embarrassing mistake. I hadn't bothered to look at the map, I just knew I would turn left at the bridge and follow the stream. Two other runners did the same. After a while it was clear that we weren't seeing what we were expecting. A too late look at the map revealed that I had come up Grisedale rather than Glenridding. In an event whose only real instructions were  that you had to be able to navigate competently over open fells in winter conditions, I had managed to take the wrong road out of a village up completely the wrong valley. Such is life occasionally. It may have cost twenty minutes or so, and pushed the total distance closer to a nice round 40 miles but it wasn't going to spoil my day. I retreated chastened and got back on track, going up what was now a rather gloomy looking Glenridding.

Up into Glenridding

Beyond the Youth Hostel the track rises steeply for a while, and as these Eastern valleys of the Helvellyn range hold any snow that's going, it was soon getting deep. Skiers were making their way up the track too, and going off the side into the soft stuff to get past them was quite hard work. A runner came past me at a cracking pace, really impressive in the conditions. I didn't see many of the fast guys go past, I suspect a lot of that happened while I was making my little diversion. The next checkpoint was at the footbridge over Swart Beck, and when I got there I was amazed to find a marshal - what a hero!

Marshal at Swart Beck footbridge

I asked him how much longer he expected to be there and he said there were about 15 people behind me. We chatted a minute or two and he offered to take a photo - I don't get many photos of me so I took up his offer.

I had thrown the goggles into my bag almost as an afterthought, but they were really helpful over the next stretch over Sticks Pass.  The visibility deteriorated quite quickly and the wind was blowing around both the odd snow shower and already fallen snow, although with quite a few people having been through before me it wasn't too difficult to pick out the track. Higher up as the pass started to plateau out the wind was covering the tracks rather more and we were approaching near whiteout. I hadn't seen any other runners since just above the Youth Hostel, so it was quite comforting in  this white wilderness to catch up with a group of three just before the top of the pass. Up here it was quite eerie to hear a dog barking quite nearby but out of sight, until we were met by a couple of walkers following the Helvellyn ridge; they wandered off to the left and were quickly out of sight again.

Near whiteout on Sticks Pass

Once we were heading down the going became very easy in the softish snow, a gentle trundle allowing us to keep up quite a good pace. We popped out of the mist a few hundred feet above the next checkpoint at Stanah Gill footbridge directly below us. No marshal here but below the main snowline and the clip easy to find, I let the others get ahead again as I stopped to find some more food out of my bag - I definitely wasn't going hungry on this trip.

Approaching Swirls checkpoint

A fairly horizontal track just above the fell wall seemed to lead in no time to the next checkpoint at Swirls car park just above the northern end of Thirlmere, this one complete with marshal in Santa outfit offering......... mince pies! Never had one of these on an ultra before, must remember that they do go down well. From here to Dunmail raise the route follows a broad forest track above the lake. On the map it looked fairly flat, but it turned out to have a number of quite testing rises. Apart from these it was all runnable so I felt I should probably get a bit of time in hand while the going was easy. Along here I caught up with Tony, a local from near Askham, and who I was really encouraged to find out was about five years older than me - there's clearly some hope for the future! He and I passed and repassed each other, then eventually I ran with him to the finish. We found the next unmanned clip at Homesdale Green Bridge, then after a short distance headed back up towards the snow, climbing alongside Raise Beck up to Grisedale Tarn. The northwest wind was still quite keen but the movement kept us warm enough.

Up Raise beck towards Grisedale Tarn

I found the short stretch contouring the hillside above Grisedale Tarn to be the most trying ground on the whole trip  - fairly deep soft snow over occasionally very deep soft bog, a couple of above the knee incursions couldn't be avoided. On the plus side it was quite dramatically beautiful up there as visibility had improved and the clouds were lifting and parting. I was disappointed not to get a photo but I had been carrying my camera in a waist pocket and the battery was having a hard time in the cold.

The descent of Grisedale was tricky at first, slippery snow over a rocky track, but soon eased and I was able to run the last couple of miles down to the main road in Patterdale, and from there round to the checkpoint. By now the clouds had almost gone and it was shaping up to be a beautiful clear evening

Down Grisedale in improving weather

Another welcome surprise at the checkpoint, they were offering hot drinks so a big cup of tea just couldn't be refused. Joe himself was at the checkpoint and I told him I'd had a great day out. It's not quite over yet he remarked, ah yes, just the stumbling around in the dark to get home I agreed.

Tea at Patterdale

10 miles to go. The climb back up to Boredale Hause was steep enough but the last real uphill. Near the top I met up again with Tony and two of his friends also running, another Tony and Claire. Once off the first rocky bit we picked up a bit of speed and jogged most of the way to the final checkpoint back at Martindale church. There was probably some mild game of chicken in play, as lights didn't go on until we needed them to find the clip. The compensation for this was that we had a great view of the now completely cloudless starry night.

The steady pull up from Howtown to the top of the moor could have been tedious, but with people to chat to now and then it passed quickly enough. I had it solidly covered in my GPS as on the face of it it's pretty featureless territory, but my local companions seemed to know every path junction like it was the end of their street; I was definitely getting a free ride. Along the top of the moor both in front and behind you could see spaced sequences of headlights; it felt like we were coming into Heathrow.  But we're not on the final approach yet said Tony, more like just past the outer beacon. Then the ground angle changed and we really were on the final approach, wonderfully easy running all the way down to the finish, bright lights, dry clothes and hot soup. All that remained was to spend 10 minutes de-icing the car for the drive back to Chester.

I finished in just over 11 hours. Quite near the back but that was the plan. Apart from my senior moment in Patterdale in the morning, I had negotiated the course competently enough, met some nice people along the way, and had an enjoyable and very satisfying day out. An early Christmas present.

To get better times you have to run faster.....

Simples. But interesting how we can deny the obvious if it appears that tiny bit unpalatable.

I've been running ultras for the best part of five years now, and although I look forward to, enjoy, and have fond memories of each race, I started to wonder a bit about what comes next. Apart from my particular bete noir the UTMB, I can do the races. Doing them again is fun, but the challenge isn't quite the same. So, I decided, before I really get too old and decrepit for this game, what's to lose, I should have a go at doing some of them a bit faster. And rather than bumbling on in my own disorganised way I would get a bit of properly informed advice.

So I got myself along to one of these breathe in the bag and run until you drop test sessions, to be specific at the sports clinic run by Marc Laithwaite the Lakeland 100 RD, which is in St Helens quite near me. If you've done one of these you'll know the score, in case you haven't this is the process. You do a test on a treadmill while wearing a mask so that the volume and composition of your exaust breaths can be measured, from which a fair bit of analysis of your abilities can be made.

So I explain what my objectives are and we start with a warm up jog. Now I've got a low resting heart rate, in the 30's on waking stabilising to low 40's later in the day. I can't claim any particular achievement here, it's hereditary I think.  And I've self-tested my maximum heart rate a few weeks ago at around 158, not impressive but I'm not really in the first flush of youth and it's not far off the 220 minus your age approximation. So I jog along really not warming much up at all, so the speed is increased a bit and I manage to break into a bit of a sweat, and we carry on for 5 minutes or so.

Then come a few minutes rest and the real business begins. Every minute, the treadmill speed increases until we're at 15 kph.Then the speed stays the same but every minute the angle of the treadmill increases. Only it doesn't, because after the second increase my HR is at 162 and I'm done, game over. From jogging to exhaustion in no time at all, something of a disappointment really. My tester Angela plugs the figures into the computer and we try to make something of the results. Some peripherally interesting stuff here and there but the basic conclusion is clear - I'm good at running very slowly. My aerobic efficiency is, well, deficient. The problem is, she says, that how well you can perform over 10k or even shorter distances will have a direct effect on how well you do over 100 miles. So it's not speed versus endurance, it's speed and endurance that gets you there.

I go home, have a think, then dig out the records of my training runs for the first three quarters of this year. They look like this:

                    Miles Jan-Mar       Miles Apr-Jun         Miles Jul-Sep

Pace                 T      M                T      M                 T       M  

7 -8                118      6.5             51      7.2              18       4.6

8-9                 112      6.2           148      9.2             132      6.9

 9+                 395    16.0           404     20.2            425    26.5

Pace is in minutes per mile. I don't run faster than 7 minute miles.

T is the total mileage at that pace for the quarter. M is the mean length of run.

This stuff backs up the test result of course, and I guess deep down I know it already. I enjoy long slow runs in the country and on the hills. If I feel tired I slow down, running is for fun, right.

After this Marc and Angela work out an initial 16 week programme for me to follow. To begin with, it's a lot of short and fast. Outings lasting longer than an hour only allowed once in two weeks. Concentrate on flat courses to keep heart rate steady. But I did get started. Everything hurt. 4 minute intervals, 30 minute tempo runs, lamp-post sprints, every session left me knackered, and all for a total of around 25 miles a week.

But I've just had a break, a week's paid work in Chicago couldn't be turned down, and in some strange way I've missed it, sort of like a bit of unpleasant medicine, must be doing you good. I'm rather looking forward to that next feeling of "but it can't still be another minute until I can slow down.....".

Will it work? Who knows? At least the winter will feel a bit different this year.

Brecon Beacons Ultra

I had never been to the Brecon Beacons so I decided the 45 mile Likeys Beacons Ultra was a good opportunity to rectify this, especially as it is run in November when not a lot else is happening. I must have got lucky when I found the website because I don't remember rushing but apparently the event was full within a few days of entries opening back in May. Popularity augurs well for quality so I was looking forward to it. By the time it came round though I had had a month of near inactivity trying to see off an Achilles niggle which had left me minus a lot of miles and plus half a stone in weight. No matter, my head is always convinced I can crank out a 50 miler whatever the circumstances so until the body lets it down I'm happy to go with that; I would just have to take it fairly gently. I had been doing some contracting work all week but sneaked off at 3pm on Friday to drive the hundred miles or so of wiggly roads from Chester to Brecon.

It's a bit strange in the hall on Saturday morning. I've got used to seeing at least a few familiar faces at the start of events but this time I don't know anyone. A guy called Paul recognises me from reading the blog, we commiserate, he had to pull out of the UTMB this year as well, then it's soon around 7.15 and time for the race briefing. Race director Martin tells us "not to fall in the canal" and if we do to "get straight out again" - British Waterways rules, apparently - then we wander out to the start and at 7.30 prompt, 144 of us trundle off down the towpath. The weather is dry and quite mild but still quite Novemberish because the hill fog above the 300 metre level has shown up as forecast. The route crosses the Beacons ridge twice and I guess for this reason it's a "full bag" event  - compulsory equipment of full waterproofs, fleece top, woolly hat and gloves, survival bag, etc, etc, and all food for the trip. Even though it is a two lap race, passing within 50 yards of the start/finish at half way, you're not allowed to pick up or drop off anything from start to finish. Water is available at checkpoints about every 7 or 8 miles which means a 500ml bottle is all you need, but even so with the bag and my additional new ballast I don't feel very sprightly as we set out.

The first three miles are along the canal towpath, then the route swings off right through woods, a couple of fields, then open hillside to the first climb up Tor y Foel, 1200ft of ascent in 2 miles. Of the 5700ft in total on the course, the two ascents of this first hill are the only real full on climbs. I'm sure the boys at the front run up it but all the field that I can see, in front or behind, has settled for a steady walk. Not that I can see all that far because by now we're getting up into the fog. A brief video of the event here gives a bit of the atmosphere of the day. If you don't blink you'll see me towards the end of the clip, recognisable as easily the slowest runner featured (or by way of my usual headgear).

The descent from Tor y Foel is great, grassy and a perfect angle for just letting go, then a mile or so of easy track and we're at the first checkpoint. There was a warning of a rocky descent from here but it turns out to be just an easy angled stony track, good ground for the Hokas which I've been using since late spring this year. Then comes around 5 or 6 miles of gentle ascent, first along forestry tracks and then an ancient bridleway across open hillside to the high point of the course, the col between Cribyn and Fan y Big. This probably has a proper Welsh name as do most significant "bwlchs" but seems to be known generally just as "The Gap". In the mist, right on the crest, is a small tent with a couple of marshals outside. These guys always deserve more than a word or two of thanks, they were probably going to be there from around 9am to 7pm, what a way to spend your Saturday!

The easy angled but stony track continues down the other side, and I'm cruising down with thoughts miles away when I manage to trip on a loose stone and measure my length. A quick count to ten then start moving things and assess damage - a bloody hand, flow easily staunched by a quick wrap of the faithful WHW buff, nothing broken, adrenalin masking the rest for now, no doubt there will be some bruising and stiffness to come but off we go again. Luckily the field has thinned out enough for no-one to be aware of my moment of incompetence.

Down out of the mist and the next checkpoint soon appears, on the border between hillside and pastoral farmland. A narrow stony track, hemmed in by hedges both sides, then out into fields and country lanes. I catch up with one or two other runners around this time, and chat with a lady who I later find out was Mimi Anderson (check out her CV!), should have twigged when we were talking about shoes and she said she was sponsored by Hoka, but I'm not very good at that sort of thing. Still with company, now a guy from Manchester, we reach the canal again with two miles along it to the start of the second lap.

I was never quite sure about doing a two-lap race, I sort of like to feel my events are journeys rather than performances in an arena, but I'm feeling OK and I know now what's to come, so it doesn't seem too bad. One thing that does leave an impression though is the canal, five miles at the junction of laps 1 and 2 and more than enough for me. No view except trees, no change of angle, in fact no real change in anything - note to self, never do a canal race.

Lap two takes me nearly an hour longer than lap one. The hills are bigger, the distances in between longer, and I run nearly all of it without seeing any other runners, but the checkpoint crews are as enthusiastic and welcoming as ever. As I descend from the Gap for the second time (carefully to avoid a second ground excursion) the mist clears momentarily ahead and I can see a small piece of blue sky, the first and only one of the day.. Dusk is gathering as I reach the farmland before the canal, so I am able to play one last game - can I get to the finish without turning my torch on? The gloom steadily deepens along the tree-lined waterway but the ground is even and I can make out where the edge is. A couple of hundred yards before the finish I'm passed by a runner who has judged her race better than me, but she has a torch on so I nearly lose my vision, but in the end just make it. I finish in 9 hours 26 minutes 19 seconds for 51st place. That's OK, I would have taken that if offered at the start of the day. I would have liked to have seen the Brecon Beacons but apart from that it has been a pretty worthwhile trip.

I have a couple of cups of tea and stay awhile for the prizegiving. The winner Mark Palmer (winner also for the previous two years) got home in the amazing time of 6 hours 16 minutes. That's 45 miles with nearly 6000ft of ascent at a pace that I would be chuffed with for a flat marathon - a shade over 8 minute miles. He has just completed a 14 hour Bob Graham though...

I get changed, thank Martin for a good day out and wiggle my way back through the now misty Welsh roads to Chester, shifting position every few minutes to combat the aches and pains in the legs  - driving home after an ultra is always like this but I know I'll be OK tomorrow.  I call Jan, then stop to collect fish and chips and a few celebratory cans of Boddingtons. As I pull into the drive at around 8.30pm it occurs to me that it's still two hours until the race cutoff time, runners and marshals are still out there in the darkness. What a bizarre game this is.

A Whole New Experience

I've never bothered too much with injuries.  Don't admit there's anything wrong with you and it will probably go away. It's how we learned the game I suppose, just look after yourself and don't expect any help. Some years ago I left a pink trail in the snow down a mountain in Kyrgyzstan, a place where the possibility of rescue varies from remote to non-existent. The elation of bagging a virgin peak had been somewhat dampened by a bit of incompetence early in the descent; I was still trying to decide whether I had a broken ankle inside my climbing boot when my companion in crime noticed it first. "Hey, you're leaking". "What? Oh, right, I think I'll leave looking at that until we get down". Can't take a joke, shouldn't have joined.

Things fix themselves eventually. So when I took up trail running I had a lot of time for the Joss Naylor approach, "If there's something that ails you, you've just got to shrug it off", and it's seen me through nearly five years of fairly busy activity.

I must be getting soft, or old, or maybe both.

Recently I went along to the physio for the scheduled 3 monthly visit to check that mobility in my lower back hadn't got any worse, and mentioned that I had some soreness in the Achilles/calf area. Let's check it out she said, digging around a bit. Then........ this really isn't great, we need to work on it, forget about your back until we have this sorted out and absolutely no running until then. Three "interesting" massage sessions over the following week or so, each leaving me feeling worse than when I went in but better after a day or two, and she said I was good to go. But there were strings attached. The first day I could run 2 miles at 10 minute mile pace, stopping for a stretch in the middle. And so on. I think getting back is going to take a while.

So I'm not as unbreakable as I thought. A fair degree of hubris exposed and chastened. I'll maybe heed the signs a bit more in future.

The Short and the Long of it (Chester marathon and the Round Rotherham 50)

I didn't run at all after the UTMB for a couple of weeks or so; disappointment at yet another poor performance on Mont Blanc coupled with some tiredness after a busy summer I guess. Whatever it was, I didn't have the enthusiasm. I diverted to walking, climbing, and other more instantly gratifying activities. Then I came home and entered the Chester Marathon. I still can't think why I did that, except that it sounded like a good event running right through the middle of our historic little city then taking in a fair bit of both Welsh and English countryside, and finishing back in Chester along the river to the Roodee racecourse. There was an added bonus that I could leave home less than an hour before the start.

On the other hand, there were less then three weeks to go before the race and I hadn't done any road running to speak of since April. A couple of ten milers and a slowish eighteen did nothing except leave me with rather sore Achilles tendons in both legs. Roads are hard. I stopped and had a couple of weeks rest, I'd done plenty of mountain miles, enthusiasm would get me through - well maybe.

Around four thousand others thought the event worth entering, enough for starting pens down on the racecourse; I went in with the 3:30 crowd, more in the hope of not tripping over too many Elvis's at the start than for any serious time ambitions. It was going to be a great day for a run, dry, partially cloudy and with a pleasant breeze.

After a five minute delay while crucial bits of road were finally cleared (better than the fifty minute delay just up the road at the Liverpool marathon for the same reason!) we were off. I took my usual approach of just going with how I felt and not looking at the watch until half way. It came up in 1:43,  a bit quick for me and I was probably going to pay for it later. Or rather I knew I was, because although the organisers had billed it as a flat course, we locals knew of the several sharp little rises in the second half that were going to need a bit of effort. I kept on eight minute miles until around mile 21, when the lack of road training kicked in and things got hard. But you can always suffer a bit for three quarters of an hour or so and I made it to the finish in a shade (well a second to be precise) under 3:35. I had trained properly (sort of) for the Rotterdam marathon earlier in the year and taken a minute and a half longer on that, so I came away pleased with my day. The event itself and the organisation had been superb, I'm sure I'll do it again.

The only slight cloud on the horizon was that I had already entered the Rotherham Round which was due six days later, an event which has real class and which I had not been able to get to for various reasons since 2008. I did nothing in the intervening five days and hoped it would be OK.

The Rotherham 50 miler is a brilliant mix of countryside, woodland, canals, rivers, industrial estates and suburbia. You are never in any environment long enough to get bored, it really is a great tour, and the 800m of climbing comes in so many little jumps that it is barely noticeable at all. The welcome you get at the start and at every one of the seven checkpoints is wonderful. Getting lost occasionally is part of the game, almost everyone does, even if they've done the course several times before, as little bits change every year due to things being built, knocked down, paths rerouted and so on.

My memories of previous events were of cold, continuous rain and ankle deep mud. Then three years ago it was moved from December to October because "we were spending all night trying to find people who'd got lost in the dark" and as well as increasing daylight this has improved typical conditions enormously. Even so, the weather forecast for last Saturday was exceptional, wall to wall blue sky, temperatures rising to a 15 degree maximum, and with a slight breeze. I drove across the Pennines before dawn under a cloudless starry sky, to arrive just before the "walkers" start at 6am. I registered and found a few familiar faces, Jon Steele, Shirley Colquoun, and John Vernon. The "runners" start is at 7am, just about light enough at this time of year to run without a torch; I decided to go for nine hours but be happy with ten, either way a torch wouldn't be necessary, I left it in the car.

After the usual low key briefing and start that accompanies many of the best ultras, we were off on the first and longest leg, a bit of park, canal towpaths then fields and hedgerows. It was chilly at the start in teeshirt and shorts; we had expected that but the sheen of frost on the first wooden bridge deck was a bit of a surprise. I ran a few miles with Jon, then he went on when I stopped for a gel and a drink, we would pass and re-pass each other several times during the day. The day warmed, miles and checkpoints passed, it seemed to be going well.

Then at around 15 miles, along a section with hardpacked footpaths before and through Rother Valley Park, my legs started to sieze up. Quads, hamstrings, calves, first tightening then beginning to hurt quite a lot. I clearly hadn't really got over the marathon six days earlier. I was fairly convinced I would have to start walking, but concerned that if I did that this early in the event I would never get going again. I decided to push on until I really couldn't run, get as much ground covered as possible. I started doing calculations on what distance I would have to reach to be able to get home at a walk; I was seriously regretting not having brought a torch because although the finish would be welcoming runners home until 10pm or later, my own cut-off would be around 6.45 when it got dark! But at round 22 miles the tracks gave way to open fields, springy grass and crop edges. I got to the Harthill checkpoint at 25 miles feeling a bit better physically, and a whole lot better psychologically for getting to half way. 

I decided that if I cut my stride (and therefore the pace) significantly, I could probably keep running. I had averaged just over 10 minute miles (plus stops) to half way, so I decided to go for around 11,30's for the second half. It seemed to work, and the whole thing got more enjoyable again. I went through good and bad patches as you do in every ultra, and for me the stops for cups of tea when available definitely get significantly longer as an event goes on, but from about 30 miles on I was sure I could keep running to the finish.

I didn't do any time calculations until the Maltby checkpoint 10 miles from the finish. If I could cover these at 11:40 pace including stops, I might squeeze 9 hours. Well, a stop for an orange squash and a couple of Jaffa cakes at the final Denaby checkpoint couldn't be avoided, and in the last three or four miles anything that wasn't horizontal or better got walked, but I just made it. 8 hours 59 minutes 8 seconds. Perfect pace judgement  -  well that's my story and I'm sticking to it. It was a PB for the event. Now conditions couldn't have been more perfect, but I'm at the stage where PB's are so rare I'll take them with whatever environment advantages are going, the more the better!

I'd better get back to a bit of training again now.