Race Report : Transvulcania 2015

Warning: get a cuppa of tea now....this is a long one!

"Ah Balls". 

No, not a political statement about Ed (although I did smile when I heard he didn't quite make it), just my annoyance at collecting a[nother] DNF!

I knew if would be tough, 45 miles around a beautiful volcanic island with a minuscule 4200 metres of vertical ascent and probably more cruelly, a similar amount of decent. There is no doubting that Transvulcania is a beast and now I've had time to linger on it, it's a beast I plan on taming in 2016, hopefully with the help of a friend or two.

The alarm woke me at 2am, although I really hadn't managed any kind of sleep, tossing and turning and constantly jumping up thinking I'd missed my alarm and throwing the covers off to realise it was only 34 seconds since I last performed this stupid bedroom dance. Why I needed to be on a bus at 3am for a 45-60 minute journey for a race that started at 6am is anybodies guess. Better early than not at all and after scoffing some yoghurt and peanut butter, Nikki very kindly dropped me off and returned to the apartment to continue her beauty sleep.

The bus journey was uneventful, mainly because I slept the whole way much to the amazement of the Spanish chap sitting next to me. In fact I was a little groggy upon arrival which made him chuckle more. The start of the race is at the most Southerly point on the Island, Faro de Fuencaliente, a beautiful lighthouse and a very cold breeze awaited us as we disembarked. The buses appeared to have dropped us 5km from the start (aka 800-1000m), so we got to "enjoy" the downward slope down the sandy trail to the start line, where our 2 hour wait would commence.

I found a spot to curl up out of the wind and concentrate on not getting too cold. Luckily I had a drop bag with me, which would be transported to the finish and I wrapped myself in the clothing I had for an hour or so before taking on some of the extra water and food and then covering myself in P20 lotion to protect myself from what I expected would be a hot day of climbing. After dropping my bag off I made my way down the final decent and in to the crowd, after saying hello to Rick Ashton (who was right at the front, again) and then huddling like a [insert collective noun here] of Emperor Penguins on the ice.

5.4.3.2.......1....and we were off! Or not as it was in my case. The start is somewhat congested and only those right at the front could really make any headway and get themselves into a prime slot before the single/double track started 500 metres up the hill. I have never liked being pushed along at other peoples pace and so had made the decision to hang back, let the miles roll by and not get worried about things taking a long time.

Sometime later I looked down at my watch, 35 minutes (or thereabouts) in, everything going well.....wait a minute, I've only moved a mile? Jeeze, this is hard work hanging back.....must get a grip, keep calm, everything is fine, it's a marathon not a sprint. After the first few miles, the trail opens up a bit and I started my little trot up the hill, overtaking a few people who were clearly puffing having been pushed hard up that first sandy climb. At this point you maybe asking yourself, why can't you overtake? Well you can but you will sink in the sand more than you do on the trail and you'll end up carrying a shoe or two's worth of black sand with you until you can find the time to stop and remove it...yes even with gators on this happens.

Sunrise over the mountain

We got to experience a beautiful sunrise over the mountainside (see picture), before heading into the first aid station. I took a cup of water but didn't fill up my bottles, I was only 1 hr 15 mins or so in to the race and still had about a litre on me. Note to self, it's only in hindsight that I should have realised this was the start of a bad day out, drinking little and often is better than gulping it down when really thirsty. Although Nikki had planned on being at this aid station, we'd not agreed it 100% due to estimating my arrival timing, so it wasn't a shock not to see her as I quickly carried on up the trail.

The climb to the next aid station was uneventful, so much so that as I write this blog, I can't picture it in my mind at all. I do remember topping up with water and eating a nak'd bar at this point before pushing onwards and upwards. The route isn't crazy steep at any point but it's still quite soft underfoot with the black sand giving way to a larger, more gravel like, trail. The breeze that had been making us cold at the start had all but gone and the sun was rising in to the sky with the views out to sea fabulous with the clouds inverted and sitting well below us. Today was going to be....schorchio!

The black sandy trails

My pace felt comfortable, I wasn't getting overtaken and I certainly didn't feel like I was being pushed upwards by the other people around me. We'd been caught by the very fast front runners of the half marathon, which followed the same course to aid station 3 but they set off an hour later. Those guys were storming it!

Dropping in to Aid Station 3, I recognised the trail from a video I'd seen of the race in 2014 when Anna Frost ran through the wooded aid station which I believe is also the start point of the marathon. I grabbed a top up of my bottles, took on some of the lemon juice on offer but I don't remember eating anything (duh!). Seeing Nikki was a real boost and I stopped and chatted for a minute before departing on the next climb. 

Topping out above the clouds

By this stage it was hotting up and I'd thrown too much liquid in to my stomach in a short space of time at the aid station and so I felt a little bloated on the climb out of Refugio de El Pilar. The trail changes around this point and the loose gravel disappears and the trails become more rocky and dried & dusty, to the extent when the wind blew, you'd end up with a drier mouth if you weren't careful. The next stop was about 7km up the mountain and I made a conscious effort to try and push on as best I could to this point, running what I could manage especially on the bits of downhill.

Having been bloated leaving El Pilar, I'd only drunk half a litre on arrival at the next aid station but I was feeling ok. I topped up my bottles and took on some watermelon and some dried apricots before continuing upwards. The big signs, yes two of them, were telling everybody it was clearly 12.7km to the next aid station where there would be food and water available. 

It was now very hot indeed and the climb was relentless. I was getting slower. I was having to stop in the shade, not to catch my breath but to get some shelter from the relentless heat. I was drinking more and more, although ever worried I would run out, I kept a little bit back in reserve, just for a rainy day. For those of you who don't know me, I drink a lot. I've always drunk a lot, to the extent my friends mother tested me for diabetes at the age of 18 (or so) worried with the amount of fluids I needed to consume. 

That means having to eek your water out doesn't work well for me, it makes me want more water and it was a constant battle telling myself to not drink when my lips & mouth were dry and it was so bloody hot (hitting 32C according to my watch). I did my best but it wasn't good enough and I was soon out of water but I didn't have that far to go to the aid station, or so I thought. Up ahead I could see a building, it looked like a refuge of some kind and there were people there with water bottles. It felt like I was saved, I'd made it, my sorry ass was going to rehydrate and I'd be on my way again.

The view from the highest point on the course

Upon arrival at said hut, I was informed the water wasn't drinkable and it was only for cooling runners down. Ed Balls to that....I needed water and so I filled up my bottles, covered myself in water and headed on my way. It was so sweet, the water was just perfect and I drank what I could, not wanting to bloat my stomach again. Within what felt like only minutes, my shirt and buff were bone dry and I was baking again but I had full bottles and I was informed it was only 2-3km to the aid station at Pico de la Nieve. I could manage that with a litre of water, no problem.

I came over the top of the hill and I saw the timing equipment and the little tent, I'd made it and I rewarded myself with the final few sips of water from my bottles as I crossed the mat and my time was recored at 14:36, that's 8 hours 36 minutes into the race and only 38.5km of the 73km distance! 

Where was the aid station? It's about 5km further on the guy said, or I understood from his broken English. What? Another 5km? But I didn't have any water and there was now no shade whatsoever as we were pretty much above the tree line from this point onwards. Crap or words to that effect were used. Sit down, take stock and go again....this became the repetitive nature of the next 5km as I battled every increasing levels of thirst and the feeling like I was going to burst into flames.

Around this point I met a couple of Americans from Texas, who had both been at Rocky Raccoon in January. I forget names at the best of times so forgive me for not remembering them 9 hours into an ultra, so for now I've called them "he/him" and "she/her" . Anyway, *he* was going through a bad patch, as was I and we were both being shown up by *her* who was shouting at *him* to get up and keep moving etc. I did nothing to help *him* quite happy that somebody else was sitting down as often as I was. Then it dawned upon me that perhaps I should man up and show *her* that at least one of us was a man who could climb a mountain in the midafternoon heat. 

Spurred on by my new found friends and the fact that *she* was very kindly letting me drink her vaulable water, we continued up the trail, step after step, stopping when I could to pinch a bit of rest in some shade but not wanting to let *her* get too far ahead as my only source of water (and English conversation). At this stage of writing, I've decided *his* name was Drew but I'm too lazy to go back and correct everything, so you'll have to make that link in you head, he/him = Drew from now on.

Drew had dropped off from us and *she* was setting a pace I couldn't manage for much longer. We passed a lot of people on the sides of the trail with medical assistance being provided, or on their way to them. There was a helicopter evacuating one person (lucky git) and other people manhandling a stretcher with some poor guy covered in a foil blanket (he can't have been cold!). Then, as we came over the top of the next climb it was another false summit but it didn't matter, there were medical people running down the trail stopping at the runners heading up and giving them a drink.....oh please God, don't let them drink it all before getting to me.

The guys were running out to some injured person so couldn't hang around but promised us the aid station was close by, 10 minutes maximum. Around the next corner was another person, who promptly told me the aid station was 20 minutes away. This was getting crazy, how much further is this bloody place!

Finally I crested a summit and there it was, the white tents covering an army of people who would bath me in ice cold water and mop my brow and tell me it was going to be ok. Well, maybe not, but it was certainly a sight for sore eyes, as I plonked myself down in to the first chair and shoved my bottle into the hand of the nearest volunteer. I subsequently discovered that this aid station had been moved 5km further up the trail yet nobody had been told, meaning that it was 17-18km between aid stations which with the heat was probably too much. It's not an excuse for me not carrying more water, I know personally I think for this type of event I need to carry 3l but it is a factor in my demise during the race.

Cold water hitting your lips is wonderful when you are so hot and haven't drunk much for the passed two hours. When it hits your stomach, it's not quite so nice and if you aren't careful it tends to bounce. Luckily in my case it didn't otherwise there would have been more mess to clean up than just the empty water bottles and melon peel. I was in a hole and I wasn't sure I could make the cut off at the next aid station (11 hours) which was another 5km away. I needed to sit in the shade and sip water slowly, rehydrating over 10-15 minutes rather than attempting to neck a load of fluid.

Views during the big decent

Nikki popped up at this point and I think perhaps was a little taken aback by my appearance, needless to say I wasn't looking my best. She would later say to me that I wasn't capable of stringing a sentence together, I was a little withdrawn and my eyes were sunken into my skull...all in all I was generally looking a bit shit (cheers love). 

Just seeing Nikki helped me decide that I should get in the car and go home, I was done in and there was no way I could get 5km in 50 minutes. Part of me had secretly hoped she'd be there and when I saw her I knew it was time to quit but the bigger part of me wondered whether I could make the cutoff or not and it was somewhat better to be told you were out, rather than quitting of your own doing. 

Balls! That's it, I'm out! The watch was turned off, the officials informed and I was helped by Nikki to the car. Now just what I need is a 90 minute journey to get back home, why didn't you bring the time machine wife?

A DNF at Transvulcania is not what I came here for but it is what I'm going home with, along with experiences which I'll use in the future and especially at this event next year. I came here to challenge myself, to push myself out of my comfort zone and to see if I could handle the heat. In 2015 it turns out, I couldn't manage it but as my coach pointed out to me post race, it's only two years ago, almost to the day that I ran my first ultra (NDW50) and look how far I've come so just imagine where I could be next year (maybe we could be millionaires Rodney!).

Muchas gracias to my wonderfully supportive wife Nikki, giving up your valuable holiday time to watch me almost kill myself must be such a hardship. Although I'm just not sure you should be carrying around the life assurance policy with you at these events, it does look a little dodgy darling! Love ya!

Like The Wind Magazine

My piece on Addiction in Like the Wind #3

If you haven't come across this wonderful publication yet, I suggest you pick up a copy ASAP.  Check them out here.

Simon and Julia take a very different approach that is both refreshing and unique, whilst immersive and spell binding all at the same time. With contributions from the running community as a whole, including yours truly this edition, the pages are full of real life stories that you connect with immediately. It's a colourful and completely packed magazine, whose pages smell and feel fabulous, making the experience of reading it, different and amazing at the same time.

Pre Race Report : Winter 100

John with his weird re-breather stuff

Ok, so it's been awhile since I've posted a blog entry, mainly because it's been pretty quite and also because secretly I've not had much to talk about since my failure at the UTMB CCC in late August.  In fact I didn't even write up a race report as I was so annoyed at dropping out at mile 18; by not writing a report, it clearly didn't happen, right?

Anyway, now there is something else to talk about, a new challenge and certainly my biggest yet.  This weekend I will attempt my first 100 mile event called the Winter 100. I'm mentally prepared for this to hurt big style, as well as tax me mentally but only time will tell how much it will really hurt.  The weather looks awful but I know lots of people completing the event as well as the volunteers around the place, who I know will spur me along, including the Ultra Chicken himself.

If that wasn't enough, I've also got two good friends coming along for the ride.  They both offered to pace a 25 mile section with me; in fact they almost insisted upon it.  I'm sure most runners find it hard to find pacers willing to put themselves out and give up a perfectly good weekend to run 25 miles in the muddy, wet English countryside.  Not I! I've got them queuing up around the corner to offer their services, although I think it's fair to say, they all want to see me suffer more than they want to help me cross the finish line.

The Ginger Princess

I'm excited and apprehensive about what tomorrow will bring.  So what happens when an ex-fatty, a caveman and a ginger princess head off to run 100 miles?  Well you'll have to come back next week to find out!

Oh and if I don't make it through this weekends exploits, please do not believe anything Tim Lambert writes about me.  He is a compulsive liar and holds some kind of grudge over me after I wrote an honest and open account on the experiences of pacing him through his first 100 miler earlier this year.  Some would say I was too honest but what would they know, they probably all vote for the Liberal party.

Tracking me at the CCC

For those of you are aren't family (they have to follow me) and are having trouble sleeping; or have no life; or are on an NHS waiting list for mental health issues, you can track my progress or lack thereof around the CCC course next weekend.

My personal tracker which updates every 10 minutes (until the batteries die) will be available for all to see here

The official tracking info will also be posted to my Facebook page and Twitter feeds. The main parts of the race will be broadcast here and other live tracking tools available here.

Enjoy :-)

Pacing the ginger whinger at the North Downs Way 100

Before you reply to complain about the title of this post, I'm married to a ginger and have nothing against the majority of you! Tim Lambert on the other hand deserves everything he gets (& more) when it comes to his gingerness.

This past weekend was the North Downs Way 100; a little 102.8 mile jaunt from Farnham in Surrey to Wye in Kent along some beautiful and somewhat hilly terrain. I say somewhat hilly as I've recently been exposed to running (a.k.a. walking) in the Alps and so everything is now relative; what was once a mountain has become a tiny hill in comparison. 

The North Downs Way 100 Route

I digress. The plan for the weekend was to support Mr Lambert during his second attempt at the 100 mile distance, having bailed at the same event in 2013, this years was surely to be his year. He was prepared mentally as well as physically, with a plan to ease in to the first 50 so that he had enough in reserve to push on through the night and if needs be come in right inside the 30 hour cutoff. 

With kit checked (by my good self no less) and registration sorted, Tim and Solange rested up in readiness for the 6am start on Saturday morning. Nikki and I were helping out at registration Friday night and again Saturday morning. There was a slight change of plan at 0345 as some of the course needed marking, so I grabbed my kit and headed out to Newlands Corner. This meant that I missed the start of the race and Tim missed out on the much needed ginger abuse he should have received.

Arriving at Newlands, I bumped in to James and Eddie who had come out to help mark the course. They put in a good effort marking 0.2 miles under extremely tough conditions. The aid station was up and the front runners were expected within the hour and Nikki and Solange turned up having seen the start, so we waited for the arrival of His Royal Gingerness. During this time I decided I'd run far enough already to warrant starting the Centurion Volunteer Eat Your Own Bodyweight In Aid Station Food Ultramarthon. This is a tough event and something I excel at but in order to prevent me leaving the aid station heavier than when I arrived I decided to walk down the course to watch Tim's arrival and to cheer on the other runners.

Tim arrived on track, looking fresh, as you would hope at mile 14 with quite a few left to go. I walked in to the aid station with him, we filled his bottles and got him some food and sent him on his way. Solange, Nikki and I saw most of the running pack through before heading to the midway point at Knockholt to prepare the aid station and double check some of the markings around the aid station approach. 

Nikki and Solange disappeared for their morning run whilst I ran around another few miles of the course verifying the course markings and putting up some extra bits of tape and signs to direct the runners off the North Downs Way and down in to Knockholt Pound, along the road and in to the village hall. At this point of the race (~50 miles) the runners picked up their first (of two) drop bags and were provided with hot food. Tim was due in for another few hours and so I disappeared to get an hours sleep in the back of the car.

After 1.5 hours sleeping in the back of the car, I got my kit together and went back in to help out at the aid station. Runners were arriving thick and fast now with Tim expected at anytime. He arrived to the cheering of Solange & Nikki who, for some reason, were happy to see him. I on the other hand knew this meant it could be the start of a very long run through the night with his ginger ass, so was less than impressed with his arrival. 

Our plan had been for me to be ready to jump in at mile 50 if he was feeling rough but if not, I was to jump in at mile 60 and complete the rest of the distance. So with a presumptive close, I said to Tim "You are looking good, I'll see you at mile 60". And with that, we sent him on his way having fed and watered him. Excellent, I'd just saved my poor little legs 10 miles, wonderful news indeed. Next stop for me was the next aid station. Luckily I managed to get a lift from a very kind chap, Peter, who was crewing for his son that was also running, apologies for not remembering his name but thank you again, Peter. 

The course markings on the approach to the Wrotham CP weren't that clear upon our arrival, so I popped back down the road to the junction and marked it up to ensure everybody knew where to go. As per Steve's blog, it appeared as if the course markings were being tidied up by some people as this had been marked a few times already that day. Needless to say, it was soon rectified and I was back in the aid station awaiting the arrival of Tim. Luckily I was assigned cow bell duties which along with the riveting conversation from Steve and Mimi helped the time pass quickly.

Just as dusk was settling in, Tim arrived and for our 42 mile journey in to the night to begin. Settling into a steady walking pace out of the aid station, we soon caught up with another runner who laughed as we missed almost the first turn we had to make. Both Tim and I were too busy chatting and had barely left the aid station and we'd made a mistake.

Tim after finding out he had another 26 miles to go

The next CP was only 5.5 miles away and I thought we'd try and get some miles under our belt while the light was still with us and before the rain set in. Tim had other plans and wanted to sit down at every bench we came upon. Luckily there weren't that many and I had to chivvy him along and in to the CP, which happened to be Santa's Grotto. This of course is pure evil for the runners who now aren't sure if they are seeing things or there really are a load of people in a tent in the countryside in August dressed as Elves and Santa himself. I didn't see the need to reassure Tim it was safe to sit on Santa's knee and accept whatever presents he gave him.

It was lovely to see John (again) and Richard but we had some miles to cover and so Tim was pulled from his perch and made to shuffle along into the woods. It was at this point I discovered he is a big ginger wuss who is afraid of running in the woods at night, as if there is some boogie man about to jump out and get him. I tried my best to hold back on laughing out loud but just couldn't help myself as I decided it would be funny to switch off my head torch and wind him up. This wasn't well received and so I only did it 47 more times.

The food and drink from the aid station must have revived him as we ran quite a lot of the next section, through the woods on the final long 11 mile stretch to the next CP. We overtook and got overtaken by the same few runners as we slowed on some sections and were faster on others. When we walked I told Tim to slot in behind me and I'd stick to a 4mph pace so we were covering decent ground and we'd run all the downhill sections. I would shout out about holes, slippy terrain, sticks, stones, and dead bodies but would rarely get a reply that was coherent. This was a little concerning and so I kept looking around to ensure Tim was behind and hadn't decided to hole up at the side of the trail for a kip.

On this section Tim notified me his blisters were really playing up and that he'd need to get them seen to at the next CP. I told him we should stop immediately and get them fixed so we didn't slow down too much. This was the first of 3 or 4 times when I had to sit him down, remove his shoes & socks and touch his rotting smelly blister covered ginger haired toes that even an Ogre would be ashamed of. After a few minutes of applying plasters and taping his feet, I pulled him to his feet and we set off running again whilst he felt like a new man. The 5 minutes after each occurrence of this throughout the night were the best moments for me as the whinge factor would be reduced by an order of magnitude; pure bliss!

Arrival at Bluebell Hill brought Tim to mile 76.2 and I pointed out to him we were now on the home straight with less than a quarter of the distance to go. His retort was that he still had a bloody marathon to run and he was, to use a technical term "fooked". The rain had started as we arrived at the CP and the tent was full to the rafters with runners and pacers alike, all trying to find somewhere dry to replenish their weary bodies with energy. We plonked ourselves down and were well looked after with bottles filled, tea served and food provided. Tim also grabbed some lube for his nether regions, another part of his body I'd heard (a couple of times) was causing him immense discomfort. As his blog post confirms, I escaped having to apply this for him; all I can say is "Praise the Lord".

As the rain hammered down I ushered Tim to his feet and basically pushed him out of the tent. We had work to do and sitting inside a warm tent wasn't going to get us to the finish line. The very kind volunteers helped point us in the right direction and warned us of some fairly slippery bits of trail to watch out for. Next stop was Detling just under 6 miles away, where hot food, a change of shoes (for Tim) and a physiological barrier. These few miles the weather was at its worst and with our slowing pace Tim added feeling slightly cold to his list of ailments. Tim's feet were hurting again with the blister between his toes causing him a lot of pain and as we approached the aid station I ran ahead to see if the medics could tape them up for him and save me having to do it.

No such luck! Whilst Detling was great to get to, with the friendly face of James Elson and the volunteers, it didn't have a medic and so between myself and a very kind volunteer we applied what we could to Tim's feet and put clean socks on his rotten feet. I'd been carrying these clean socks in my dry bag but there was no way I was going to carry the old ones another 20 miles to the finish line. I was quite pleased when Tim announced that they were going to be binned, phew!

James showed me on the map the next section of the trail and advised me it was a little ugly and to not fret and just walk it and get through the next 4 miles and then it became easier and very runnable. I told Tim this so he didn't try and over do it and get stressed about the time. He'd been building his stress levels quite a lot over the night, worrying about cutoffs and getting to the finish in time. It didn't matter how many times I told him not to fret and to leave the maths to me, I'd get him there and not let him miss a cutoff. This shut him up for about 3.5 minutes, then it was like groundhog day and we'd go around the same loop again and again.

Climbing up out of Detling we were joined by another competitor who was probably quite keen on the company and slotted in behind Tim, who was following me as we made the ascent. The trail goes up and down as it traverses across a few hill sides with lots of steps rather than what would be very steep and slippery tracks otherwise. As we descended these tracks, Tim felt like he was holding up this other competitor and so Tim wanted him to go in front of him. When he was in front of him, Tim complained that he couldn't see me and would I hold up and let this guy go in front of me. Then we'd catch him as he'd slowed, I think he just wanted to follow us but at this point no matter what this guy did, it was wrong in Tim's head. I think I suggested it would be best for him to push on ahead of us as Tim rested on another bench and after this we never saw the guy again. I really hope he made it to the end as it wasn't his fault, or Tim's to be fair, it's just the gremlins of tiredness taking hold and making silly things really annoy you.

Tim arriving at CP12

After the hard Detling miles we started to jog and walk more regularly as the trail turned in to tracks and some road sections. Tim's moaning ebbed and flowed switching between ailment each cycle; interspersed with some of my singing and funny film quotes to try and lighten the mood. None of this worked particularly well, in fact it may have been the reason Tim then decided he felt a little light headed and not really with it. The things he'll say to get me to stop talking! On more than one occasion I would turn around to ensure he was still following me, only to be presented with a full frontal view of him watering the trail. I'm not entirely sure how he's managed to father two children with what I saw and put it down to the huge advancements in medical science we've made in the recent years.

After an uneventful journey towards the penultimate aid station at mile 90, Tim was now getting cold and so in the middle of a field near a farm, I sat him down and dressed him in my waterproofs, buff, gloves and over gloves in order to get him warmed up. I always carry full waterproofs, although I've never used them, but seeing how they helped Tim, I won't stop carrying them on events like this, they really did help him.

Some further taping of feet, biscuits, jelly babies pushed us homewards and soon we arrived at the final CP. I'd run on ahead at this point to grab food and tea (with 6 sugars) so that Tim "didn't have to stop moving". I duly did so although I have to admit to only asking for 3 sugars in his tea. I'm firmly of the belief you can't tell the difference once you get above 3 sugars. Leaving the final CP Tim put in a call to Solange and then his waterworks opened up, luckily this was the upstairs waterworks and not another view of his little fella. It now sunk in, he had 3 hours to get 4.2 miles and there was no way he wouldn't be able to do that.

These next few miles I tried my best to get Tim jogging and he did on occasion but in reality he knew he could walk it and still make it comfortable and so why put himself through any more pain. I have to admit I'd probably be of the same mindset but I was being selfish, with my Suunto battery almost flat I wanted to get to the end before it died. I have to admit I did think about leaving him and jogging on to the end just so Strava would be accurate.

The final few hundred yards of the course brought us in to Wye, through some lovely fields and in to the biggest patch of stinging nettles you've ever seen. Talk about having a sting in the tail at the end of a race! I did my best to try and get Tim to run the final few metres but the railway crossing was down and we were forced to wait it out. I did suggest the bridge but the look I received suggested waiting would be the better option. After the barriers went up, I ran on ahead to the finish to ensure Solange was out and ready to embrace her Ginger Biscuit as he crossed the line.

And with all that moaning and pain behind him, Tim crossed the finished line in 28 hours and 36 minutes. He had made a dream come true and earned himself the buckle he had for so long desired.  The look of joy and relief were obvious to everybody at the finish line and with so many people there to welcome him home made it all the better.  Nikki, James, Stu and others all held back whilst Solange and Tim doused the finish line with tears, hugs and kisses all around.  Nici even shed a few tears I'm told.

After being presented with his buckle, Tim and Solange presented me with my very own medal, a NDW50 medal to represent almost half the route that I'd covered with his royal gingerness.  How wonderfully thoughtful of them both.  I'm truly touched and it will live alongside my other NDW50 medal, until such a time as I'm mental enough to swap the two for an NDW100 mile buckle.

Well done Tim, a truly amazing effort and something you have worked hard to earn.  Most of the above should be taken in a joking way, except for the last couple of paragraphs.  You are an inspirational chap and like I said in my last post, I'm proud to call you my friend.  See you at the Winter 100 for some of get your own back time!

The 100 mile finisher, Mr Tim Lambert!

If the shoe was on the other foot

Lon Lomas was a runner that was entered in to a 100 mile race this year.  

Lon Lomas

Tim Lambert is a runner who is running his first 100 mile race this year.

Notice the different tense used in both of these statements.  Unfortunately Lon was killed on the 7th July near his home whilst out cycling in a hit and run incident.  He now won't be able to complete his dream of running 100 miles.

Lon and Tim knew each other through social media, as is true of a lot of our friendships in the small, although ever increasing, ultra community.  I too met Tim via the world of social media but have also had the pleasure of meeting him on a number of occasions including running with him.

Tim is planning to run the North Downs Way 100 this weekend in honour of Lon.  If that wasn't enough (100 miles is a long old way), he is also going to run the 100 mile race later this year that Lon had planned on entering.  This event is in Texas in December, which is where we need your help.

If you were suddenly not around anymore, for whatever reason, who would look out for your family? We all have family & friends and you like to think your love ones would be looked after and I'm sure they would be.  In this case, a guy from the other side of the world (almost) is helping out too...I don't think you can ever have too much help at a time like this. Tim is going to Texas and after he completes the race will present the finishers buckle to Lon's wife and kids.

Tim has managed to get free entry in to the event thanks to the organisers.  He has managed to get free transportation & accommodation as well.  What he needed help with was the £750 airfare to get to Texas and so he setup a Crowd Funding page to help raise awareness and to help fund this great cause.  

Within 24 hours of Tim's blog post going live, I'm happy to say that the initial target has been met and currently stands at £990 at the time of writing my post (I've been busy, honest).  There has been some great coverage from The Guardian newspaper and Run247 which has really helped raise awareness. Meeting the inital target is great but now there is a stretch goal that we're aiming for. So that doesn't mean you can put your wallet away, every penny raised over the total will go directly to Lon's wife and children to try in some small way ease their burden.  

So I urge you to go to the crowd funding page and donate/pledge what you can afford.  This isn't a small or large charity fund raising event with lots of people supporting the cause; this is a very personal thing that Tim is doing for somebody in our community and it makes me proud to say I'm a friend of his.

Race Report : Lakeland 50 : Ultra Tour of the Lake District

Drew & Claire waiting for the 100 runners

Ouch, that was an uncomfortably hot afternoon running around the Lake District.  Sitting here writing this blog, that is the first thought that enters my mind when I think back over the weekend.  Then I think of the huge positive that I took away from it, the very fact I was very close to quitting and I didn't.  I kept going and got the job finished; it wasn't pretty and it wasn't easy and it most certainly wasn't plan A or plan B for that matter but I crossed the finish line and that is all that matters.

The trip to the lakes was typical of a Friday with accidents and traffic jams galore as we headed up the M5 and M6.  Rather than the 3-4 hour journey I'd expected, it took us 6.5 hours, so when we arrived in to Coniston the campsite was already pretty full.  We covertly parked up the tiny camper (borrowed from Mum & Dad), grabbed my kit and went off to register.  Unfortunately due to the traffic the queue for registration was a little larger than anticipated and I was asked to come back later after the 100 milers had kicked off.

Rather than watch from the start line, we tagged along with Drew Sheffield, Claire Shelly & James Adams (he has a book out you know!) and headed up the first climb skirting around the edge of the Old Man of Coniston.  It was a beautiful evening, perhaps a little warm but certainly preferable to the cold and wet that is so often on offer in this part of the world. Perched on a rock overlooking the climb we waited for the field and it wasn't long before Marco, Charlie and the other front runners were upon us.  

Marco Consani
Winner Lakeland100 2014

Given I hadn't yet registered and being slightly panicky about this, I decided we should head down after the front runners had passed us and get back to base, which is exaclty what we did, wishing all of the runners good luck and I think I only told a few of them "not far to go now".  Steve Navesey had a big smile on his face, as did Tim Laney, both of whom finished and had even bigger smiles at the finish line.

Back at camp I got myself registered, weighed (by James Adams, he has a book out if you didn't know already) and chipped up.  I was now ready for my evening meal and a good nights sleep before the 0830 race briefing.  Of course being sociable we had to visit the pub with Mr Adams and Justin (sorry don't know your surname) and put the world to rights post dinner.  And so it was 11pm ish when Nikki and I crawled in to bed and I drifted off to sleep thinking of the next days events.

I was dressed and ready to role by 0730 with coffee in hand and breakfast in my belly, my bag was repacked and now I was clock watching.  As the minutes ticked by and along with Jamie Woods who was camping next to us, we drifted over to the school hall in time for the briefing.  The hall filled up and soon Marc was up on stage giving us the low down on what to expect, who would and wouldn't make it around the course, finally reminding us that we had plenty of time and finishing was more important than anything else. With those thoughts in our minds, we left the school all hoping that the next time we were in Coniston, we'd be running over the finish line and not arriving by some other means.

The coach journey could have been worse to be fair, with the temperatures rising I'd expected to be sweating my nuts off on arrival in Dalemain.  After about an hour and a quarter's journey around the countryside, we arrived at the start with about 45 minutes to spare before the off.  My brother Mike and his wife, Lynsay were already waiting for me as were Nikki & Bev Navesey who we soon located in the large crowd of people.  This was the halfway point for the 100 runners and they were coming through to great cheers from the spectators and 50 competitors alike.

At the end of the Dalemain loop

The start of the race is a 3.8 mile loop around the estate which helps to make up some of the distance but its main aim is to spread the field before getting out on to the hillside.  This loop you are allowed, even encouraged to run with friends and family and it was great to have Mike come along for those first few miles.  The stiles and single track we had to follow meant it wasn't always possible to be side by side, although we did manage to crack a few jokes and have a giggle as we made our way round.  

After waving good bye to Mike, Lyns, Nikki and Bev, I got my head in to the first section of the course, which according to Plan A was a 2 hour section to cover 11.2 miles to Howtown.  There was only a few small climbs, nothing massive and with 3.8 miles already completed around Dalemain, this hopefully wouldn't be too tough.   After crossing a road and running alongside a river, I found myself in Pooley Bridge and to my surprise saw Nikki again as I crossed over the bridge.  It's always so nice to see a friendly face when out on these types of events, even if I was only 5 miles in, especially when it's unexpected.

I arrived at the first checkpoint ahead of schedule by 2 minutes or so.  James Adams was working at the aid station (he'll do anything to promote his book) and he asked if I now regretted the climb up the Old Man the previous evening, to which my bullish reply "No of course not" may have been a bit telling. Secretly I blame James for my failure to hit either of my A or B goals, so I'm not going to buy his next book.

Running over Pooley Bridge

Departing Howtown, there is a long steady and almost never ending climb upwards out of the end of the valley to High Kop before you run across the top and down to Haweswater reservoir. It was on this climb that I started to feel awful; over heating and constantly thirsty, I had to keep stopping on the way up. With people passing in what appears like a constant stream I felt like I was at the back and couldn't believe how things had changed on this leg.  It was at this stage, around mile 13 that I knew plan A was out of the window and that I'd have to push to keep plan B on track.  As I dropped down on to the path on the side of Haweswater I knew that even plan B was going to be tough as I stopped at every stream on the path to cover myself in water and to fill my bottle.

Looking back on this part of the race now, I can see that I made some mistakes early in the race.  I probably pushed too hard on the first leg and should have run a little slower, so that I wasn't as hot and potentially dehydrated for the climb out of Howtown.  I also didn't fuel well enough during the first 2-3 hours and so on arrival in to Mardale Head I was suffering from the heat, dehydrated and running on an empty tank.  I also took one S-Cap on this section of the course and I think this massive input of salt may have caused me to drink more initially, although I needed the electrolytes getting this one massive shot of them may have impacted my thirst.

At Mardale Head I took the decision to sit down and sort myself out, as my head was telling me to just stop this stupid affair but my heart was saying otherwise.  I've only run a few ultras but I've never sat down before for fear of not wanting to get up again, so I knew times were bad when I plonked my arse in the chair.  I found Jamie sitting opposite me, looking how I felt, he was suffering from stomach issues as well as the heat. I was really surprised to see him as he'd passed me on the climb up to High Kop and I didn't expect to bump in to him again until Coniston.  The heat was clearly having an impact on other people as well, which helped my mental understanding of the conditions; it wasn't just me who wasn't able to deal with it.  

Time to stuff my face!  I had some soup, a cup of tea, a peanut butter wrap and a bit of a cheese sandwich.  The result was almost immediate, I felt so much better being hydrated and having taken on fuel.  After 20 minutes rest I told Jamie to get up and that we'd climb the next hill together.  He was muttering about quitting at Kentmere but I wasn't having any of that and told him to just keep going and see how he felt.  We pushed ourselves out of the chairs, filled our bottles and began the climb.

Getting to the top wasn't anywhere near the effort I thought it was going to be and I felt stronger as I pushed down the other side, saying my goodbyes to Jamie and enjoying the fast decent.  I pushed on with one of the 100 runners (John?) and soon arrived in to Kentmere where I topped up my water, grabbed an apple and took a few minutes to eat and drink on the grass outside.  The temperature had dropped significantly now although it was still sunny and there was a pleasant breeze.

Running in to Ambleside

After scoffing the apple I left to head over the hill to Ambleside, where I knew Nikki, Bev, Mike and Lyns would be waiting to offer a cheer and tell me I looked strong.  This section went well, I was feeling better and made up a few places arriving 20 minutes ahead of the ETA at the next checkpoint.  Mike and Lyns cheered me in and Nikki jogged in the last 100m, it was great to see them all.

I grabbed some salted crisps (why!!!) and something to drink and kissed Nikki goodbye and left the checkpoint.  Ten yards up the path I felt awful (again) and sat down to eat.  I forced myself on to my feet and began walking up the hill as the rain started to fall.  I'd put too much liquid in to my stomach too quickly and then shovelled in some nasty salted crisps making my stomach churn over and over.  God I felt crap and I contemplated walking back to the checkpoint to quit.

Remembering the statistics Marc had shared before the event; something like 95% of competitors who make it to Ambleside finish, I was determined not to become part of that 5% group.  I had to make it to the finish line and so onwards and upwards, plodding along, one foot in front of the other.  Slowly slowly catchy monkey...

As I appeared in Skelwith Bridge I was once again greeted by the support crew of Nikki, Bev, Mike and Lyns and this time Paul Navesey too.  I was feeling rough, which was confirmed by my grumpy attitude towards everybody (apologies).  I think I offered Paul my race number and asked him to finish off the last 12 miles for me, but for some reason he wasn't interested.  

A rare moment of running

Feeling rough I decided to put on some music as well as my waterproof and push on as best I could.  After another surprise hello from Mike & Lyns on the course, who walked along with me almost to the next checkpoint.  These appearances are such a morale booster especially when feeling rough and even more so late in the evening, by now it was after 10pm and I was using my head torch.

Chapel Stile aid station was another life saver for me.  I must have looked terrible upon arrival, as they sat me down, took my water bottles, gave me vegetable stew and plied me with sweet tea.  I'm not sure how long I sat there and I haven't looked at my watch data but it was time well spent taking on fuel.  Before departing I ensured I had my gloves on as I'd started to feel the cold, moving slowly and being soaked in sweat from earlier along with the wind & rain weren't helping matters.  

I left knowing I had 6.5 miles to the final aid station and my belly was full and I was feeling human again.  It was dark but I'd recced this part of the course before at night and so knew the way and I had my watch to guide me on those couple of tricky turns.  I knew I was moving faster and I soon warmed up and started to overtake people.  I had one thing on my mind and that was ensuring I didn't miss the mandatory unmanned dibber at Castle Howe. After finding this dibber, I jogged down the road overtaking yet more people who appeared to be finding the downhill hard work.  I'm blessed with big quads and so downhill running is something I find slightly easier than most on top of which I really enjoy pushing how fast I can get down a hill.

Tilberthwaite steps

I arrived in to Tilberthwaite up on the ETA of the timing system and decided to take a few minutes to drink another cuppa and take on some sugar...with only 3.5 miles to go it was time to hit the sugar.  Then it was back out in to the darkness and up those steps, climbing the last hill (or is it a mountain?) before descending down in to Coniston.   

This last climb was fuelled by jelly babies and I caught a few people on the way up the hill, remembering to keep the beck on my right and not cross it, turning left at the lone tree near the top.  At this point I could see head torches ahead of me and the same looking back down the hill and across the valley, this is a view that I'll remember for a long time and my only regret was not being able to photograph it.

As I crested the top I packed away my poles and decided to see how quickly I could get down and in to Coniston and so began a fairly quick run down the rocky pathway.  I over took a number of people and pushed onwards with the rocky path getting better and better to run on.  Finally the pathway becomes a gravel track and then finally a tarmac road and it was somewhere along here I found Nikki walking up to meet me.  It's hard to work out who is who with head torches shining at each other; I recognised her right away, if only she'd recognised me.  I didn't slow and she soon caught up and we jogged in the final few hundred yards down the hill and in to Coniston, over the bridge and with a final left turn and down the hill in to the school to great cheers even at 0156 in the morning!  

I had made it, after 14 hours and 21 minutes I was in Consiton at the end of the Lakeland 50.  I'd got my monies worth, spending a lot longer out on the course than either my A or B goals had allowed for.  You could say these goals may not have been realistic and perhaps my A goal was a stretch and things would have to have gone perfectly to achieve it.  My B goal was certainly within reach, I was only 50 minutes outside of it which is less time than I spent in aid stations around the course, so I know it wasn't out of reach.

Having had a few days to think about my result, I've got both positive and negatives to take away with lots of things to work on before the next big outing around the Alps in August. My positive is that I had the mental strength to gut it out and get over the finish line.  The going got tough and I got going.  

So what are the areas for improvement?  I need to work on my fuelling and hydration more. I think I need to try something other than just S/Caps, perhaps supplementing with Nuun or similar in my water to give me a more regular intake of electrolytes.  I need to also work out how to get back to having my Salomon back not cause such severe burns on my back.  It never used to do this and none of the older packs did it, so I'm not sure if this is because I'm not carrying more mandatory kit or if the pack is too tight or too loose.  Whatever the issue, it needs sorting and quickly.

The final decision I've made is that I'm going to go back in 2015 and re-run the LL50. I consider my result a failure as I missed my A and B goals and I know I can do better.  The only way to prove this to myself is to go back, having spent more time training, more time in the lakes and having run more races in the meantime.  I want to immerse myself in the Lakeland spirit and I want to get to the finish line on the same day the race starts, I know I can do it.

Big thanks go out to Nikki, once again for spending a whole weekend travelling around the countryside supporting my weird desire to punish myself running silly distances over mountains.  I also need to thank Mike and Lyns for doing the same, especially having had car issues and having to sleep in the car on Saturday night, you're amazing!

Bev Navesey also deserves massive thanks for (A) putting up with Nikki all weekend and (B) driving her around the course so she could see me at all the viewing points.  Bev, I hope to be able to return the favour when you and Steve run the 50 together in a few years time.

Now it's time to rest and get myself ready for the next event...