3rd Time Unlucky for the UTMB

You have to feel sorry for the competitors and organisers of the UTMB race. Bad weather yet again seriously affected the events in Chamonix last weekend. The race is always targetted to start at 6.30pm on Friday evening and run round a 166km course through France, Italy and Switzerland, arriving back in Chamonix to finish, but that hasn't happened now since 2009, the events of the past three years being roughly as follows:

2010:  After a week of beautiful weather, torrential rain hit Chamonix early Friday morning and continued unabated until Saturday. The UTMB started on time but was abandoned after a few hours because mud slides were carrying away the markers on the Col de la Seine, and all the runners were returned to Chamonix. The CCC which had started on time at Friday lunchtime at Courmayeur was abandoned at Argentiere after about 400 runners had gone through because of flash flooding on the Aiguilles Rouges. The TDS, due to start from Courmayeur on Saturday, was abandoned before it was started. This was the first time bad weather had seriously affected the races and the organisers had to do some quick thinking to salvage something of the weekend. In the end they offered a "revised UTMB" race to 1200 of the TDS/UTMB entrants on a "first come first served" basis, starting mid morning Saturday in Courmayeur and following pretty much the CCC course back to Chamonix. I and most of the people I knew there signed on and ran this (after all we had come to Chamonix for a run) in sloppy but not desperate conditions; we all got a UTMB gilet but felt we had missed out on the real event. Of the runners who started out from Courmayeur, 90% finished.

2011: Again after a week of near perfect weather, a cold front was due to come through Chamonix on the Friday. The TDS, starting two days earlier this year, was mostly finished before this hit. The organisers decided to try to let the front go through ahead of the UTMB, and the start was delayed until 11pm, with a warning to runners to expect bad conditions. There was heavy rain all afternoon which carried on for the first four hours of the race, getting everyone completely soaked. The air temperature then dropped rapidly, leading to a near blizzard as I crossed the Col de la Seine, and remained very cold for the rest of the event. The bad weather made the Bovine climb impossible, so an "on the run" course modification took runners on a diversion via Martigny, an addition of several miles and a near 3000ft additional height gain. Many competitors, me included, just couldn't keep warm enough over the higher ground in the conditions, and withdrew. It's a mistake in clothing choice that I won't make again. Of the field that started from Chamonix, 48% made it to the finish; those that did clearly had a fairly epic but ultimately very rewarding experience. Those of us that pulled out just weren't up to the job that year.

2012: And so to this year. I wasn't in Chamonix this time, having deferred  my loss in the ballot into a place for 2013, but was in Zermatt just a few miles to the east, getting similar weather and watching developments in Chamonix via the UTMB and other websites. It was a familiar story, good weather in the preceding few days followed by an adverse change coinciding with the weekend of the races. This year the bad weather came a little earlier, affecting the TDS with very cold snowy conditions for all but the fastest runners which resulted in only 44% of the starters completing the course. The UTMB competitors were initially told to prepare for bad conditions, then later that the course would be modified to avoid the high passes (Bonhomme, Ferret, etc); the course would be reduced to around 100km and would be all in France - effectively around the Chamonix and Contamines valleys. The speed with which this was arranged suggests that the organisers had it up their sleeve as a "plan B" in the event of bad weather - learning from previous years' experiences. With nearly 6000m of climbing this was still a fairly demanding race; it started at 7pm on Friday and was run in by all accounts fairly miserable conditions for most of the way. However, of the 2481 runners that started, 86% of them made it to the finish, though I'm sure it still felt a bit disappointing for the majority.

I don't think it's helpful to try to draw any real conclusions from this. Alpine weather is notoriously fickle and even with all the modern technology it seems difficult to predict the actual effect on the ground that any individual weather system will have. Here in Zermatt the forecast over Friday and Saturday was for "light snow showers" above 2000m, yet when I went for a walk yesterday (Sunday) I found a good six inches at 2500m and nearly two feet at 3000m. In the face of this sort of uncertainty the organisers of the UTMB races have an almost impossible task. Do they let the event go ahead, warn people it will be tough, and accept the sort of drop-out rates that we saw in last year's UTMB and this year's TDS, or do they go for a lower, more manageable course that the majority of runners will complete? A high drop-out rate causes big logistical problems on these courses, with the high numbers of participants and many potential drop-out points very hard to access; getting runners home is a very difficult business. But I guess the ultimate concern will be that letting an event continue in bad conditions may lead to accidents and at worse fatalities. My own view is that the UTMB organisation has done a pretty impressive job over the past three years in treading the fine line between giving competitors the adventure they trained for and keeping them safe. Those of us unlucky enough to have run a "reduced course" were just that  - unlucky.

The background that the organisers have to work against (and to a certain extent one which they have themselves created) is the very accessibility of these races. The entry requirements are low, you can get enough points to qualify for the UTMB without ever having been near a real mountain, and the course marking is such that (until really affected by bad weather) the navigational and general decision making ability required of runners is almost zero. Although "self-sufficiency" is mentioned in the race information, the emphasis for most people is getting away with the lightest possible minimum equipment rather than taking enough to really look after yourself in the hills. These are not criticisms, just observations on the overall style and ambience of these events.

The fourth event in the series, the PTL, has much tougher entry requirements in terms of track record and real self sufficiency. In spite of being longer and higher than any of the other events, it has been much less subject to modification over these past three "unlucky" years. 

Holidays and the Italian Job

View from outside apartment

A couple of days rain forecast here in Zermatt, so no excuse now for getting down to what will be my only post for August. I'm never quite sure how interesting this stuff is, but at least it provides a record for me to look back over from time to time, something I'm sure I would never do without the discipline of actually writing my thoughts down for the blog. Anyway, back to Zermatt in the rain, this same weather front will affect the start of the UTMB race on Friday, so commiserations to those involved. For what it's worth, the improvement is due to start Saturday morning, so for those still flogging up towards the Flegere on Sunday, it may well be plenty hot enough for you by then!

But for me here and now a bit of rain's not a problem. I just love it here in the mountains whatever the weather. We have a small apartment on the hillside a few minutes walk from the village (including 110 steps on the way back!) and are just enjoying a bit of walking and of course some beer and rosti. Along with Chamonix and Val d'Isere, Zermatt is one of the Alpine places where I have spent many weeks over the years (I even climbed the Matterhorn back in 1981) and I always look forward to coming back.

While enjoying the holiday, I'm still looking forward to going round to Courmayeur at the end of it for my biggest event of the year, the Tor des Geants, which starts at 10am on Sunday 9th September. This promises to be something of a different experience from my last race, a 50 mile "sprint" round the Lake District a month ago.

This will be the third running of the event, and not many Brits have competed in it to date so it's difficult to get a real feel for what it will be like. The statistics are fairly simple: it follows the trails Alta Via 2 then Alta Via 1 in an anticlockwise loop around the Aosta valley, and is 330km (just over 200 miles) long, with a vertical ascent of 24,000m (about 80,000ft), and you have 150 hours to complete it.  The course is divided into 7 sections by 6 valley bases; you are provided with a large drop bag which follows you round the course and which you can access at each valley base. It's a continuous event, you choose where/when you want to rest or sleep  - at the valley bases (noisy places by all accounts), in mountain refuges (2 hours max stop allowed), or on the hillside if that's your thing. I think there will be about 11 hours of darkness each night by then.

It's been difficult to know how to train for the trip, but I started by coming to terms with how continuously steep it is. Mark Barnes, one of the few people I know to have had a go at it, said he expected at least some flat bits along valley bottoms, but there weren't any. A blog I read by an American entrant said at one point something like " there was a hundred yards or so of level trail at this point - I mention this because I don't remember any more of it any where else".  Using a "feet of ascent per mile" comparison, I could see roughly how the TDG compares with races that I have experience of:

West Highland Way  -  147 ft/mile

Lakeland 100  -  219 ft/mile

UTMB  -  286 ft/mile

TDG  -  390 ft/mile

So the TDG is not only seriously long, but it's seriously steep. Dauntingly so, perhaps, but it does change the game in one significant way  -  you have to go SLOWLY.  So right from the start I decided that I will only run (or rather jog!) when it is actually easier than walking, and I have trained with this in mind. Since the West Highland Way in June I have covered about 25% less mileage than in previous years but have managed to average around 11,000 feet of ascent a week. Hope it's enough! I could have done more but I do this for fun, and while (for example) a better training day in the Lakes might be laps on Skiddaw, covering all the tops in the Grasmoor group was a much better day out.

The other advantage of going slowly is that you can eat and digest proper food in reasonable quantities, so if you can keep the muscles and joints in reasonable condition, the engine should stay fuelled much better than in a "normal" ultra.

At the Gornergrat top station

The TDG goes quite high. The UTMB touches 2500m at three points, while the TDG goes well clear of this on a dozen or so occasions, including the 3300m Col de Loson high point, so I'm using some of my time here in Zermatt to get a bit of acclimatisation in. Yesterday morning I walked up to the Gornergrat, about 1500m above the village; at 3100m it's still not the Col de Loson, but gets you in the right sort of area. I'm intending to walk up to the Hornli Hut on the Matterhorn later this week which is at 3260m.

During the BGR attempt in the Lakes back in July, I was chatting to John Malcolm about the TDG and he asked whether I had a strategy for the race; at the time I confessed that I didn't have a clue. Well, since then I've read a few race tales, had a think, and fixed on a plan. Of course it may not survive the first day but you have to start somewhere. As the race starts at 10 in the morning, I've decided to carry on through the first night without stopping. In all probability I'll still be too caught up in getting under way to sleep even if I tried, so I'll hope to get through to the second valley base at Cogne before my first major stop. After that I'll hope to get into some sort of rhythm and stop for 4 or 5 hours each day to regroup. I'll be happy to finish at around the 144 hour mark. 150 seems generous but I'm sure it isn't, judging by previous years' results. On top of this, my only simple rules will be

- go SLOWLY. Don't climb at a pace that I can't keep up all day

- don't be too enthusiastic on the descents. My quads are better than my knees, so I can afford to indulge in a bit of work to soften the footfalls

- stay near the back of the field for at least the first 48 hours, even if it feels very slow. Looking at previous years splits, these times are easily fast enough to get round, and the cut-offs are generous (unlike those near the start of the UTMB!)

- take warm clothes for the nights, this is September at 10,000ft.

- fix any problem immediately. I'm sure this is not an event where you can "hang on".

I've one or two niggles of course;  I've  a knee that starts to stiffen on a long descent, an Achilles that needs taping, a hernia due to be fixed in October, and PF in one foot which flares up sporadically, so I'm not bombproof but then who is? I'm as well prepared as I'm ever likely to be and looking forward to getting to the start line. Watch this space.

At the Lakeland 50 and 100

A few years ago I ran the "Devil of the Highlands" race from Tyndrum to Fort William along the northern forty-odd miles of the West Highland way. One of my reasons for this was that I had already done a couple of complete WHW races and I wanted to know what the northern half felt like when you didn't have to run 50 miles to the start line. I felt a bit the same way about the Lakeland 50, which follows the same course as the second half of the Lakeland 100; an added bonus here though is that the two races are run together, with the start of the 50 timed so that the finishers all come in over more or less the same time period, which with nearly eight hundred runners involved in the two races makes for a great weekend. I'd also decided that I didn't want a big demanding event just now because I didn't want to interrupt my training for the Tor des Geants in September with any taper or recovery time, so I signed up for the 50.

I left it a bit late considering the Friday afternoon traffic but still arrived at the John Ruskin School in Coniston just about in time to see the start of the Lakeland 100 at 5.30pm. A number of people that I knew were running and I wished them well at the start of their adventure.

Mark Leggett, John Kynaston and Dave Troman at the start of  the L100 

Jon Steele and Shirley Colquhoun starting the L100

John Kynaston was aiming for around 30 hours; I said I would try to catch him before the end but I didn't honestly think it was likely. Within a few minutes they were on their way in the fine sunshine. The weather forecast was good overnight but turning showery before our start at noon the following day.

The school is used as the main base for the event, with camping on the school field and a seemingly continuous supply of food available from the volunteers in the school kitchen. So while the real runners forged on into the night, we L50 dilettantes were able to take our time registering, having supper, and watching bits of the Olympic Opening Ceremony on the TV in the dining room. It was an easy evening and I didn't really get into race mode until the next morning, when a fleet of buses ferried the 500 competitors over to the start at Dalemain just north of Pooley Bridge on Ullswater. While we waited for the start we spent our time cheering on L100 runners coming into and (most of them) leaving their major "halfway stop" on their round.

I'd thought a bit about the L50 race. At over 9700ft it has quite a lot of ascent for a 50 miler, but when you look carefully at the map you see that almost all the uphill is concentrated into 10 discrete climbs, over a total distance of only around 11 miles. I decided that I could afford to walk all of this at the steady pace I'd been practising over the past few weeks, which should leave me with enough gas to run the rest at a reasonable pace -  at least until things started to get hard, which they normally do........

At three minutes past twelve (this becomes significant later) the hooter was sounded and we were off. The first ten miles or so are easy going, a short starting loop on the Dalemain estate then on via Pooley Bridge over a gentle moor to Howtown; just one short walking ascent involved and a lot of fast (well....) running territory. I didn't bother taking a Garmin because I was treating this more or less as a training run, but I guess I was able to keep a 10-12 minute pace going on most of the runnable territory. I'd also decided not to linger at checkpoints, superb and welcoming though they are at this event, so I got into a system at the first one at Howtown and stuck to it throughout the race:   one - make sure to "dib" the electronic bracelet into the machine, two - refill water bottle, three - drink a cup of coke, four - grab something tasty "to go" (flapjack, nuts, jelly babies, always lots of choice), five - thank the volunteers and get going! I doubt if I stopped for more than 5 or 10 minutes total in the whole race.

Out of Howtown comes the biggest climb on the L50 course, over 2000ft up Fusedale to the top of High Kop. I remember that on last year's L100 it was like a furnace, temperature in the high twenties, not a breath of wind and not a cloud in sight. This year in complete contrast running conditions for the whole of my race were almost perfect - cool but not cold, a breeze but not a wind, and occasional showers but long bright periods in between. I wore a single layer long sleeve top the whole way, the rain jacket stayed in the bag. Conditions underfoot were still occasionally sloppy, legacy from the rain of recent weeks, but you can't have everything. The climb went well, the run down to Haweswater was easy and the 4 miles along the lake to the next checkpoint at Mardale head seemed to go quickly. This checkpoint was run by a club called Delamere Spartans who meet in the forest where I run at least once a week, so I said I would get in touch with them when I got home.

Next came the second big climb up to Gatescarth Pass. I was getting a bizarre feeling on this run. Because I was just walking steadily up the hills and putting in a fair bit of effort on the descents and flat bits, I was actually looking forward to the uphills  -  to get a rest! I marched up to the top and started to accelerate down the other side, when I saw a L100 runner in front of me. They were usually easy to recognise by their numbers being less than 300, and it's something of a tradition in this race that the L50 runners always recognise their senior colleagues with a word or two of encouragement as they pass - after all, whenever I passed a L100 runner he had always been out on the course eighteen and a half hours longer than me. I said something like "Hi, well done" and was just easing past when he said, "Hey, Andy, It's me!" It was John K, who I hadn't expected to see until much later, if at all.  I walked and jogged with him for a few minutes. He said he was fine but had had one or two low points, including running an unnecessary extra mile when missing an unmanned checkpoint in the dark. He was clearly going to finish OK, so I wished him well again and pushed on - sorry I didn't stay longer John. John went on to a 34hrs 33min finish - anything under 35 hours is a fine time for this event, I reckon it equates to something like a 24 hour West Highland Way.

I carried on down the first of the long stony descents, territory made for Hokas. There is still a lot of debate about these shoes but on this sort of ground I think they're unbeatable. I passed numerous runners selecting footfalls on individual stones or searching out short sections of grass to the side of the track, where I could just cruise straight down the middle as easily as if it were asphalt. I caught and ran for several miles with a guy who was trying Hokas for the first time; when we got down to Sadgill he said "that descent alone was worth the £75!" We were soon up and over to Kentmere, another major checkpoint with lots of temptations to hang around for, and where on last year's L100 I spent the best part of two hours getting my body and mind back together after a major low point. This year I was in and out in less than a minute, hands full of chocolate chip cookies and jelly babies. My fuel strategy was pretty simple for this race. You don't need a lot of food to get round a 50 miler, and digesting what you don't need just takes unnecessary fluid and energy, so I took a drink and a gel every hour plus a handful of whatever looked nice at each checkpoint. It was a coolish day so I just took a Succeed cap every two hours for electrolyte. I drank only water, plus a cup of coke for a quick sugar and caffeine hit at all of the checkpoints that had it.

As I settled into a steady walk up the Garburn Pass, I was aware that I was now over half way with only just over 5 hours on the clock. I hadn't set out with any sort of schedule; I sort of assumed I would get round in twelve hours give or take but wasn't really bothered, I was only here for fun. But I was still going easily and a "stretching target" (the sort of thing that always seemed to be popular with the management when I was gainfully employed) started to form in the back of my mind. You always expect to slow down in the second half, and I had never been able to beat ten hours at the Highland Fling in spite of a couple of serious attempts, but although the L50 has more climbs and some tough ground underfoot, it is a fair bit shorter. Maybe. Cresting the pass, I started to push a bit harder down the next long stony descent to Troutbeck, then walked just a tiny bit quicker up the hill the other side. Just a cruise now down to Ambleside.

Ambleside was amazing.  On my previous two visits on the L100 I had arrived late into the night, streets deserted, the town almost sleeping, the checkpoint crew getting ready to end their shift. But this time it was just after 6.40pm and although I was the only runner in sight ahead and behind there seemed to be people cheering at every corner. The final little road up to the checkpoint was lined both sides with clapping supporters, it really made you feel you were achieving something, and of course it puts an extra spring in your step. In and out of the checkpoint with even less delay, I was now on a mission.

Down through the park then on to the steep little hill up Loughrigg. I had been passing L100 runners occasionally but for the first time for quite a while I saw a L50 competitor a hundred yards or so ahead. He seemed to be going faster than me but I must have caught him by spending less time in the checkpoint, so he gave me a target for the next few miles. As the track opened out onto the fell the steepness lessened so I decided it was time I started running a few uphills, nothing to lose now, don't want to "leave it out on the course" as they say. A bit of heavy breathing then over the top and a nice easy descent to Skelwith Bridge. Here I caught a couple of L100 runner, one of whom was Mark Leggett. In spite of an arduous Bob Graham attempt a couple of weeks previously Mark was going well and went on to complete the L100 in a shade over 30hours, a super performance. OK, I thought, as I set off along the most runnable couple of miles of my route, now where's Dave Troman?  Not a chance though, Dave was long gone and at pretty well that precise moment was reaching the finish in Coniston in tenth place overall, in a time of under 26 hours which may even have surprised him. I'm looking forward to his story.

Along the flat path from Skelwith Bridge to Elterwater I was probably doing 9 minute mile pace but not gaining on the guy ahead. I finally passed him on the gentle rise after crossing the river when he paused to walk for a short while, then I was soon at the Langdale checkpoint. Four or five other L50 runners were just setting out so I did my stuff quickly and tagged onto them. They had obviously stiffened a bit from too long a stop and were slow to get going so I went past, but I could hear them behind for the next few miles so they must have quickened up again. This bit of track is undulating and bouldery but runnable in good light so I pressed on. It then steepens up to a sharp climb to Blea Tarn which I walked, passing a guy who said it "felt like Everest" on the way. I passed more L50 runners on the track through the woods by the tarn then set off on my least favourite stretch of the whole route, the tortuous track out to the Wrynose road. There was an unmanned check right at the end of this, so no incentive to drift down out of the boulders and shortcut through the deep bog down to the road, which I'm sure I would have been tempted to do otherwise. As I "dibbed" my bracelet in the checkpoint I was aware of someone coming up behind. Glad to get that bit out of the way I said, the other runner agreed. It was a young guy called Nick running the L50, and we carried on together from that point to the finish.

I hadn't covered this ground since last year and couldn't remember where the next couple of turns were, but Nick had reccied the section very recently. We ran down the road, across a flat bit and carried on running up the hill on the far side. "There's a signpost at the the turning" said Nick "It says one mile to Tilberthwaite but it isn't, it's quite a bit further than that!" We resolved to run to the signpost, then we walked some of the steeper sections but ran when we could to the first false top, groaning a bit as the second and finally third real top arrived. On the descent we discussed the 10 hours. It didn't really look on, we both knew about the steep climb out of Tilberthwaite, but we decided to keep pushing at least to make best use of the remaining daylight because it was now touching 9pm and starting to get a bit gloomy. A bit of heavy breathing from Nick along the road but he was back on song for the final down slope to the last checkpoint. A cup of coke, grab a flapjack and go, no need to top up the water, I was unlikley to drink anything else from here to the end.

We had just under 50 minutes to cover about 3 and a half miles with just under a thousand feet of climb and twelve hundred of descent. Nick took the lead up the steep steps and the scrambly ground beyond, and for the first time in the day I was glad to follow someone's heels, he did a great job up there. Two guys we had caught at the checkpoint were also pressing hard, and as the slope eased off onto the open fell I waved them through. This turned out to be a good move because although I lost two places here, they gave us a great target on the long gentle uphill to the final pass and we probably ran a lot more than we would have done without them. We counted down the final uphill, two hundred yards, a hundred yards, yes that's definitely it, downhill all the way from here.

But the course still had a final small problem for us; we had a fairly technical descent of a few hundred feet and dusk was fast approaching, just the worst time for my eyesight (it's a date of birth problem I'm afraid). I didn't want to put my specs on, and neither of us wanted to get a light out because the re-adjustment would likely cost us more time than it would save. So we pressed on down carefully but as fast as we could, a last grassy shortcut then we were out onto the relatively smooth track at last. How far from here I asked, a mile and a half or so was Nick's guess. Eleven minutes on my watch, not really enough as it was almost dark now but we kept going, picking our feet up high to avoid tripping on the stony track. Then the asphalt arrived much sooner than we expected, how fast can you go Nick, I think there's still nearly five minutes left, you might do this even if I can't.  He hared off into the darkness. I did my best, certainly reaching my highest speed of the day but he was still twenty seconds ahead at the end.

Done!

I made the tape in 9hrs 56mins 55seconds. Where did that extra three minutes come from? Yes, you got it  -  I was wearing an ordinary wristwatch, not a stopwatch, and had completely forgotten about the 3 minutes delay at the start. Sometimes a bit of technical incompetence helps you on your way. 35th place. Possibly my best ultra performance to date, and with my 64th birthday next Monday one I'll be doing well to repeat; definitely one to treasure. Into the bright lights, welcoming supporters, satisfied fellow-finishers, nice medal and tee-shirt, and wonderful bowl of chilli.

This is a great weekend, whichever race you do. I'm sure I'll be back.

No more running then

Well, not strictly true but the West Highland Way race is a sort of tipping point in the season for me most years as it's the last event of the summer period where actually being able to run  is required. Although it has some climbing, the WHW is very much a runner's race - if you're fit enough you can keep up a good pace most of the way because the hills are generally gentle and the going under foot is pretty good. Training for a good time means plenty of long trail runs, 20 milers or so, at around 12 minute mile pace for me (and I guess around 8 minute miles if you're Jez Bragg or Terry Conway!). At 95 miles it's still a long event, but one where the winners are shooting for the 15-16 hour mark and a competent middle of the pack guy won't be happy at much over 24.

But then the game changes, the big races take to the hills and everyone slows down. In the Lakeland 100, which even last year's winner Terry has described as "a power walk with a bit of running thrown in", getting under 35 hours for the 105 miles is pretty respectable; under 30 last year would have seen you in the top 25 out of over 200 starters. The similar length UTMB takes even longer and the majority of finishers take 40+ hours. The reason of course is that these events have a lot of ground where because of its steepness or technicality, almost everyone is going to walk. And it seems to me that if that is what you are going to do in the race, that is how you should train for it.

So since the WHW I've limited actual running to around 10 miles a week total at a fairly gentle pace on easy trails. My two big effort days each week, one on my local Clwyd Hills and one in either Snowdonia or the Lakes, just involve going up and down hills; walk up, run down (but only if it's easier to run than to walk). I've stopped being at all interested in the miles covered, I'm concentrating only the total feet of ascent. 10,000ft a week is the minimum target with an occasional bigger week thrown in. At least you get to train in some nice places and the weather at last seems to be on the turn.

I've two events coming up to see whether this plan is successful or not. First, the Lakeland 50 next Saturday. No special preparations or taper for this one, if I'm fit enough I ought to be able to soak up a hilly 50 miler as part of the training, not too bothered about the time but it will be a good test of where I'm currently at.

Then a few more weeks of up and down before the big one, the Tor des Geants which starts in Courmayeur on 9th September. Of all the events that I have done since I started in ultras about 5 years ago, this is the first one where I have had occasional thoughts of "just what have I signed up for here?" when I think of the scale of the undertaking. 200 miles and 24,000 metres of ascent (compare this with 100 miles and 9,000 metres on the UTMB, which I have yet to finish). I was chatting with John Vernon who put it into perspective - "Well, think of it as three Bob Graham Rounds, it's the same distance and height gain.........". A bit daunting but the flip side is that you have 50 hours to complete each of the BG's. Should be able to do that if I can keep going, we'll see. Back to Moel Famau tomorrow, 900ft up, 900ft down for a few laps. If nothing else it's a good place to listen to the WHW podcasts.

And now for something completely different.....

A couple of weeks after the West Highland Way race I was on duty as a support runner for a Bob Graham Round attempt, so it was off with the Hokas and on with the fell shoes for a week or two. The aspirants were four very fit and competent running friends; I'll let them tell their own stories if they choose to, this is just about how my day out went.

My "shift" was to navigate and pace the third leg from Dunmail Raise to Wasdale Head, around 15,5 miles and 6800 feet of ascent. The scheduled time was from just before dawn at Dunmail to a late breakfast in Wasdale, just over 6 hours. This sounds like quite a comfortable pace, and it is  -  unless of course you have already completed legs 1 and 2, with their combined 25,5 miles and 11,100 ft of ascent, after which anything must start to feel a bit taxing. BGR old hands will tell you that unless you're a record-breaker, speed is not the key, you just have to keep going. And don't worry too much about high mileage training  - time on your feet and a steady diet of 10,000ft of uphill a week for a few months is what gets you round.

I went out to practise my Leg the weekend before. Conditions were quite bleak, visibility nil, continuous rain and a blustery wind, but that was all to the good as it allowed me to check that the navigation was OK and the pace was doable whatever the weather. It went fine but it occurred to me on Great End, where the really bouldery territory starts and I had not seen anyone all day, that this would be a silly situation in which to slip and break an ankle so I retreated back down into Langdale. I missed the bus by 15 minutes which of course forced  me to while away a good hour and a half with a late lunch and a beer or two in the Old Dungeon Gyll, so the trip ended pretty well.

At 5.30pm on Friday the runners and supporters assembled in the pub next to Moot Hall (it was too wet to stand around outside). Up to this point I had been very doubtful whether the attempt would start. The weather had been bad for days, there were flood warnings out across half the country and I had passed several crashes on the M6 driving up, clearly caused by the wet conditions. The Met Office mountain page for the Lakes had amber warnings for rain, hill fog, and wind.  But the runners were made of stern stuff and spirits were high so at 6pm we cheered them off.

I got myself some fish and chips then drove slowly round to Dunmail, parked up and settled down for the night. Just after exhausting my efforts on the crossword I got a text from the support at Thelkeld, the road crossing after Leg 1.  I didn't get the details, just that the runners were forty minutes behind schedule, one runner had pulled out but three were continuing into Leg 2.  It didn't sound good. The rain was hammering down on the roof of the car, not the sort of rain where you convince yourself that it won't seem so bad when you're outside, the sort where you absolutely know it won't. Before getting some sleep I idly re-checked the weather page on my phone. As it flicked on I could see that the amber warnings had gone but there was now a red one. Specs on to make sure I was reading this right. The red warning was for strong sunlight. By very early morning the rain would stop; contrary to all previous forecasts, Saturday was going to be a clear sunny day. I set the alarm and nodded off. When I awoke the valley supporters arrived and we waited for the runners to appear. 

I later learned that their experience through the evening and night had been grim. As well as torrential rain and near zero visibility, the Skiddaw Leg had seen gale force winds which threatened to sweep them off their feet. Descending Hall's Fell Ridge from Blencathra proved impossible so they detoured off to the side, losing a lot of time. The runner who dropped out had had a migraine causing some concern but he got down safely. The bad weather continued into the first part of Leg 2, giving them navigational difficulties which cost more time, and the continual battering from the wind and rain was very debilitating.

When they arrived at Dunmail the 40 minutes lost had turned into nearly two hours and one of the remaining three had already decided not to go any further. But they had started with a fairly aggressive schedule and if they could claw back half an hour or so in the rapidly improving conditions, a 24 hour round might still be on so two runners elected to continue. We set off up Steel Fell.

Although it was still very wet underfoot, we were rewarded with one of those magical Lake District mornings when you can see for miles, the sun gradually warms you as it rises, the light shows the fells at their very best and you can't think of anywhere you would rather be. As far as Scafell Pike we saw not another soul, making me decide again that it really is worth the effort to get up and out at first light, whether there is some special event involved or not.

But it was clear from very early on that the lads were tired, the rigours of the preceding nine hours had taken too much out of them. We more or less held to schedule as far as the Langdale Pikes but we weren't gaining any back. And from then on we steadily leaked more minutes; in spite of gentle attempts to up the pace, it wasn't going to happen. Thoughts moved gradually from completing in 24 hours to maybe carrying on and completing the Round anyway, and then to the realisation that although possible this would be a lot more discomfort for a less than ideal reward. Still, we visited every top on the Leg before descending to Wasdale, rest, food and families. Theirs had been a fine effort. Two other BGR attempts had started out an hour or two later and neither got this far. The frustration to everyone was that the forecast changed so late. With a bit more weather knowledge the attempt would have started 6 hours later and in all probability would have been successful for everyone. But that's the Lake District. I think they'll be back.

Wet Highland Way Race 2012

The forecast was rain. Actually to be precise the forecast was for a lot of rain. And as we re-consulted it day by day, it didn't change or go away so by Thursday it was a stone certainty that we were going to get wet. This made things pretty straightforward, take the right gear and MTFU as they say nowadays. Then I had a small logistics issue; one that I was more than happy to have you understand, I just became a grandfather so a key member of my usual support team had far more important things to do looking after his brand-new daughter than spending the weekend running around Scotland in the rain. I was saved by the generosity of Steve Walker who I knew was crewing for Jon Steele, and who agreed to stand in as emergency support for me at Balmaha so my ladies could get some sleep on the Friday night and meet me at Auchtertyre, 50 miles in. To keep things simple I decided not to involve Steve in provisions or clothes, but to carry what I thought I might need and rely on drop bags at Rowardennan at 27 miles and Beinn Glas at 41 miles, so I arrived at Milngavie Station Yard with one and a half litres of flat coke, full waterproofs, space blanket, a light fleece in case things got chilly, hat, gloves, torch, gels, Mars bars, you get the picture, this was not going to be a lightweight exercise.

It had rained all day but just before the start it stopped, or almost did. It felt quite warm, we were overdressed, jackets came off, the guys in shorts looked smug, had the Met actually got it all wrong, we wondered? Then we were off into the night.

The honeymoon lasted about an hour. As I hit the old railway line section at 6 miles the rain started properly again and it was clear that it meant business. The path started to fill up into a continuous puddle. The couple of miles of road between Gartness and Drymen were interesting; the tarmac was completely covered in water for most of the way, the depth varying from an inch or less to above the ankle, but of course in the dark you couldn't see where the deep bits were. The short, normally boggy field obstacle just before Drymen didn't present any decisions at all, feet couldn't get any wetter by now.

On through the treeless Garabhan forest and up the stream which was once a path onto Conic Hill. For me the rain persisted only occasionally uninterrupted through to Kinlochleven at 80 miles, but because of its effect on the ground underfoot in the darkness, the first 20 miles were the worst. I'm normally quite philosophical anyway about bad conditions, can't take a joke shouldn't have joined sort of approach, but in addition two images helped to keep me going through this stretch. Firstly, it was not going to get as bad as last year's UTMB, when four hours of torrential rain were followed by a rapid drop in temperature and a snowstorm on one of the highest cols on the route, and secondly the thought of Debbie Consani falling in the canal in the middle of the night on the Grand Union Canal Race, reasoning that she was already so wet it wouldn't make much difference, and going on to win the race. Can't throw in the towel in the face of that sort of example.

Hokas are comfy but steep grass and wet rocks are not their best territory so I descended the far side of Conic much more carefully than usual, silly to ruin your day with a fall this early on. I couldn't find Steve immediately at the packed fairground that was Balmaha car park but got him on the phone to say I was fine and carrying straight on. From here to Rowardennan was weirdly uneventful. After the crowds at Balmaha I saw almost no-one for the next 7 miles, the ground underfoot improved, the rain didn't seem so bad and I arrived spot on my target of 5 hours 30 minutes. I had set out on a 23-24 hour schedule; I knew I was underprepared this year due to around 6 weeks out with a rib injury but it seemed a bit wimpish not to give it a go. The drop bag was welcome as I had been sucking on empty for 3 or 4 miles, a milkshake downed and a litre of flat ginger beer in the bag. I had decided to fuel mostly with liquids this year and it seemed to be going OK so far.

On along the Loch. Through Inversnaid without stopping then the tortuous bit which I was quite happy to walk mostly, a quick pause to look back from Dario's post, then on along the bit which always seems further than it is to Beinn Glas.   I passed Graeme McClymont who said he was struggling this year; I knew he'd get it back and I told him he would be OK (he was, he went on to finish in 22nd place in 22.15) At Beinn Glas I chatted with Graeme Reid who arrived about the same time, and John K who was not running for the first time in many years but acting as Race Control (which I think means he's supposed to know where most of the runners are most of the time.......). I always enjoy the next bit up to Derrydaroch, then dislike it from there to the last hill in the forest above Crianlarich;  Saturday was no different but at least we didn't have cows all over the track like we usually do. I met Marco as I crossed the main road, then plodded up the hill to the cow track, along there in company with another runner who I'd not met before, then the hard work in the forest. Eventually I saw the WHW sign that signals the start of the last little hill, then it was soon down, down, across the road and jog round to Auchtertyre to meet my crew for the first time. At 11:25 from the start I was still on schedule despite the conditions.

It was worth the psychological boost to get a quick cup of tea, change to a dry shirt and pick up my favorite hat (which is sadly incompatible with a headtorch) but the shoes and socks stayed on without change until Fort William. Ditch the rucksack at last, pick up the bottle belt with one of Complan and one of fizzy water (time to switch to more savoury sensations), a marmite butty for the hill out of Tyndrum and hit the road again.

Pit stop at Bridge of Orchy

The section went well. On the open ground just before Tyndrum I heard shouts ahead, two runners coming in the opposite direction turned out to be Debbie and Sharon, neither competing this year, out to meet the crowds. Hugs from both, a word of congratulation from me on the GUCR and we carried on our separate ways. The ford in Tyndrum was to be avoided we were told by the marshal at Auchtertyre, so down the lane from the station and along the main road to rejoin the WHW at Brodie's store  -  easier in the conditions maybe, but I'm sure it felt longer. I walked steadily up the hill, eating and drinking most of the way, then a conservative but continuous jog all the way to Bridge of Orchy, rain all the way. I met Jan and Julia again here and decided not to stop but just picked up more Complan and fizzy water and carried on.

Murdo tM was in his normal spot near the top of the first little hill, together with a gaggle of young ladies (how does he do this?). I stopped for a chat, was required to autograph a hat for a reason that escaped me both then and now, thanked him for the regulation jelly baby, and crested the hill. I heard later that Murdo was at that spot for around 10 hours, what a hero.

At this point the track turns downhill, and so did my race. I'm normally happy to bound down here, it's a gentle gradient and an easy surface, but I suddenly felt overwhelmingly weary. It would be convenient to think that Murdo had spiked my jelly baby, but on reflection I think it was just payback time for the miles I've missed this year and the extra effort I put in in keeping to my schedule for the first 60 miles in the fairly difficult conditions. I had run a reasonable Highland Fling a few weeks previously but finished it feeling much more tired than in previous years although I didn't want to admit this to myself at the time. From this point onward I was just slow. I didn't feel bad, I was hydrated and maintaining weight, and eating more than enough to keep going; I just found making progress was hard work. Still, I ran to the start of the Moor, walked most of the first long hill, then shuffled most of the rest. Somewhere along here, on what is generally felt to be the bleakest part of the course, the rain stopped for a while and for all of two minutes the sun came out. As good as a shot of adrenalin. But it wasn't to last and by the time I was on the final down hill to the Glencoe Ski Centre it was gloomy and wet again. As I chugged in to the checkpoint Graeme Reade was just leaving, he'd been making up time on me steadily ever since Beinn Glas and would go on to beat me by nearly two hours this year, a solid performance.

I had blown any chance of a respectable time by now, but I knew I could and would finish OK so it was just a question of how much more time to trade for a comfortable final marathon. The weather was closing in again  (photo at the head of this post) so I dallied for a cup of hot Oxo then trundled off down the road towards the Kingshouse. The ladies were off to check in at the hotel in Fort William, I said I would be around 3 hours to Kinlochleven. The first half of this section to Altnafeadh always goes quite quickly, to nearly 5 of the 10 miles done before tackling the Devil's Staircase gives you a bit of a boost, and the subsequent climb was slow but continuous and uneventful. I jogged easily down the other side, slower than some years, faster than others, reflecting that this is real Hoka territory, no need to pick out individual stones to land on or avoid, just cruise through the lot.

As I reached Kinlochleven the rain was slackening and the sky was lightening all round, it finally looked as though the weather was going to improve. The flip side was that the midgies which had barely bothered me all day could now get out to play. There was quite a social scene inside the checkpoint, people sitting around in comfort with cups of tea, George Reid (supporting rather than running this year) who I had been seeing on and off all day, John K, local man Peter Duggan. I paused for a minute or two while Julia hunted my weight card. I was feeling good enough but very tired; I'm getting too old for this game I said, ah you were already too old when you started replied marshal Julie. At the weighing I was the same as at Milngavie, it's just a question of putting on more clothes to balance the weight loss I explained.

I was prepared to go through to the end on my own but Julia made the offer of company and I readily accepted. It's a bit bizarre she said later, I would normally think of a 15 mile trip in the hills as a full day out, with preparations, packed lunches and so on, but here I just turn up at 10pm, look for a spare jacket in the car, grab a headtorch and wander off into the night. We were not pushed for time so I delayed the start for tea and a sausage roll (definitely one of the all time best ultra foods for me on several occasions), then off on the last leg. It took a while, and I was passed by several runners going more strongly, Tony Thistlethwaite en route to his 9th completion, Tim Downie who has passed me here on more than one occasion before, and somewhere by Jon Steele who I had managed to keep my nose in front of all day but who came through to a storming last leg. The Lairig Mor was long, the hills in the forest tiring, but then all that was left was to drift easily down the big track to the road and on to a 26 hour 23 minute finish. 

Not one of my better times, but not one of the worst either. I found out at the prizegiving next morning that out of 172 starters, only 119 runners had finished. In 59th place I just squeaked into the top half of the field, I'll take that given the preceding and concurrent circumstances. I picked up my 6th goblet and also a prize for being the "oldest finisher"  -  a lovely piece of glassware but I'm not sure it matches my self image as a dynamic young ultra-athlete......

It was sad to see that so many friends with so many completions each  had not made the finish. It just wasn't your year guys, you'll be back. But it was also great to see the first time entrants who had made it, a dream that started a year ago now fulfilled, runners like Silke and Caroline, who had put in their hard miles in conditions far worse than Saturday's so were able to shrug off the conditions and make it to the finish. And the winning run by Terry Conway, breaking Jez Bragg's long standing course record by 6 minutes was a truly top drawer performance.  Julia had to leave on Sunday morning but Jan and I were able to drift off after the prizegiving to catch up on some sleep. I resurfaced for the celebrations at the Nevis Bar, all happy relaxed faces now, looking back a day or so and forward a year, you know how it goes. Good to catch up with Ian Beattie, thanks to him and the whole organising team for what was as always a memorable couple of days.

We left early Monday morning and the Scottish weather, having shown us who was boss over the weekend, went into siren mode to lure us back. We drove through a dry, sunlit Glencoe, my mind wandering back over the visits of our youth, for in our memory the weather is always good. Perched on a belay on the Buchaille's Rannoch Wall gazing dreamily out over the Moor while a companion struggled with difficulties above, creeping over the bald vastness of the Trilleachan Slabs down the Etive valley, making sure you hit the obligatory hundred miles an hour over the bridge by the Kingshouse on the way home. Jan and I headed south at a more responsible speed, and stopped for breakfast at 8.30 at the Bonnie Braes cafe somewhere opposite Inversnaid. We sat outside in the warm sunshine under a cloudless sky, eating our bacon butties and looking out over a millpond-calm Loch Lomond.  Rain?  What Rain?

Focus...............or Relax and Enjoy it?

The reports by Thomas and Marco on their recent Edinburgh Marathon runs were fascinating. Thomas had targetted the race, done some specific preparation, worked out a detailed plan for the day, and was rewarded with what he was aiming for, a great race and a PB. Marco on the other hand decided to enter quite late in the game, ran 36 miles the weekend before and a 10k race during the week. He thought the marathon would be a training run, no time target involved but he too got a great run and a PB. So how come?

There's a lot discussed about focus. Get your act together, decide what you want, plan for it, make it happen. Some nerves on race day are good, channel the energy, you won't go so well without them. But I have two little tales of my own to tell, apologies if you've heard them before.

I came to running quite late, decided the shorter distances were probably a bit fast for my ageing muscles so my first real race was a marathon. I trained for a few months and got round in 3 hours 37 minutes. This is OK, I thought, should be able to crack 3:30 next time. But I couldn't. I ran a 3:40, another 3:37, a couple of 3:34's and on one frustrating day a 3:31, but I couldn't get under the magic number. Focus, I told myself, take care of the details, get a plan and stick to it, don't be distracted. It eventually worked, and I completed a race in 3:24. I was totally knackered. Quads shot, took me half an hour to walk the quarter mile back to the hotel, had to sleep for the rest of the day. That's it I thought, that was my best shot, mission accomplished but I'm not going to get any better, in future just enjoy the day out, no pressure on times. The next marathon was the following year, I was working towards the Highland Fling two weeks later, the marathon would be a training run, there was no tapering involved. On the day I looked at the watch twice, once at half way and once at six miles to go. I finished in 3:17, it was a walk in the park, we spent the afternoon sightseeing.

By then I had got involved in the West Highland Way Race. First time out I just wanted to finish, but after that I read that an average performer ought to expect to get under 24 hours, so I worked at it. Each year I learned a bit more, improved a bit more, focussed a bit more, and on my fourth attempt at the race I got there with a finish just over  23 and a half hours, job done. The following year (last year) I turned up totally relaxed, nothing to prove. I was as fit if not fitter than previously, had done more miles and fewer races that year, but then struggled badly over the latter stages to finish a second or two over 26 hours, worst result for 3 years.

So this makes me think that Thomas/Marco results were probably not down to different approaches suiting different individuals, but that different approaches can work (or not work!) for any of us on different days. If you knew on any given day  what  was going to work for you, you could plan your approach accordingly..............and that would be a very cute trick.  Keep calm and carry on everyone.