You heard it right! Off-the-hook, not off-the-peg!
People sometimes ask me if I have a Marathon or an Ultra-Marathon training Plan I can share with them. Trouble is, we’re all different in terms of the starting point of exercise experience over the last few weeks and months. Not only that, we’re probably all hoping to achieve different things in our Marathon or Ultra. Do you want to achieve a particular time or simply finish the race and enjoy it as best you can? Then there are all the variables of the race – or run! – itself and the conditions on the day. Is it on road or trail? Is the course flat, undulating or mountainous? Will it be ‘blowing a hoolie’, blazing sun in clear blue skies or freezing cold sleet and rain?
A marathon might not be easy but here are a Baker’s Dozen simple suggestions so you don’t make it harder than it needs to be. To keep you interested my top-tip comes close to last….!
(1) Be realistic. If you take more than 30 minutes for a ParkRun you will (probably*) take more than 5 hours for a Marathon. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nor anything wrong with 6 hours or more. Just understand what time the race organisers plan to start picking up their belongings and heading home.
(2) Under-prepared is better than over-prepared. If you have a training plan and have to miss something don’t try to play catch-up and add it on later in the week. Especially don’t add it on to a long run!
(3) Eat, drink and be merry. During your marathon. But also during your practice runs. This is the the second most important thing to a successful and enjoyable marathon. Yes: practice eating and drinking while out training. BTW, ‘drink’ means water + ‘salts’ to replace the ones you lose while sweating. ‘Food’ means carbs. Carbs are the fuel that keeps you going. Being happy means you will want to do another marathon!
(4) Think about time, not distance. This applies to both training and when you run your marathon. You will slow down during your marathon. It will feel as though time is moving more slowly. It isn’t but you are. If you are ready for 5, 6 or 7 hours you can accept and enjoy the journey.
(5) Any run training sessions of more than 2 hours and 30 minutes are degrading your body, not building it up (according to my well-qualified coaches and the article quoted in tip (11) below). Something to bear in mind if you have a training plan which needs you to spend more than 2.5 hours every week running 16, then 18, then 20, then 22 miles in preparation for your marathon. Especially worth bearing in mind alongside being under-prepared rather than over-prepared. NB: two separate 2-hour runs on consecutive days will probably make you a lot stronger than one 4-hour run!
(6) Save your best to last. There is no need to set off at your ParkRun pace in the first 5k of a marathon. You may also struggle to run your ParkRun pace in the last 5k. But you definitely won’t if you set off too fast! I recently read an article which said many runners regretted setting off too fast in a marathon. No-one ever regretted setting off too slow.
(7) Most of your training runs should be at an ‘easy’ pace. If you run a ParkRun in 30 minutes then your ‘easy’ pace is likely to be around 13 minutes/miles, not 10 minute miles or 11 minute miles.
(8) Take rest days. Preferably two a week. More if you feel ill or stressed.
(9) A slow 30 minute run on a day you don’t otherwise want to leave the house is more valuable than another 30 minutes on a long run. Infact, it’s the very best session you can do.
(10) If ‘life’ gets in the way of training, don’t worry. It happens to all of us. Family, friends, work and ill-health affect us all. Don’t fight it. Don’t try to play ‘catch-up’. Under-prepared is better than over-prepared.
(11) The best training you can do is consistent training. Small and often. Slow and easy. An extra 30 minutes with a second run in a day is better than extending the long run so you are knackered (*) and unable to do a short, slow, easy run later in the week.
(12) walk when you want to or when you need to. It’s a very handy option when you need to eat, drink or your legs get tired. If walking is tricky too the stop, turn around and walk backwards.
(13) The top tip of all is to just let your race happen. “Success, like happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue” (a quote from Viktor Frankl). Once you’ve done the training let the race happen. Concentrate on feeding yourself and drinking – including an appropriate balance of ‘salt’ in an electrolyte to replace your losses through sweat.
Training plans are very individual things. There is no ‘one size fits all’. So do what you want, when you want. No need to feel guilty.
Just to show my planned and actual training in the 12-week build-up to the Western States 100-mile run last summer and then my training so far this year, here are a couple of tables:
You can see four days when I ran for more than 2.5 hours in the build up to the Western States 100 miles. Sunday 3 April was a 100k race in Scotland and Monday 18 April was the Boston Marathon. Other than those two races, both more than nine weeks before my ‘goal’ race, mo coaches only scheduled two more long sessions, on 22 and 28 May.
For 2023 you can see both the planned training time [hours:minutes] I’ve been given by my coaching team and the actual time I’ve put in. Weeks such as weeks commencing 15 and 22 January were very low weeks – probably due to miserable weather making it hard to motivate myself (!) and I’ve only really started building up since mid-February. You can see only two runs of more than 2.5 hours. On 8 January I set off in a 12 hour race but abandoned after 5 hours and 50k. Then last Saturday, 11 March, I did 4 hours at the Haworth Hobble on the shortened course.
My main ‘goal’ race in the first half of the year is the Grand Union Canal Race (GUCR) from London to Birmingham on 27 May. Other than running the London marathon on 23 April I don’t expect I’ll be given more than one or perhaps two long runs of more than 2.5 hours before GUCR. Infact, I’ll try to limit any ambitions I have for long days out before then!
It’s now forty five days since the race. Memories are fading. A full five section write-up is a transient, ethereal thing. Time to make something reasonable, verging on ‘good, triumphing over the never-seen perfect’.
The shotgun fires. The race starts.
The first section of Western States is known as ‘High Country’ for good reason. Starting at nearly 1,900m at 5:00AM the course doesn’t dip below 1,650m until 36 miles have passed. Before then it tops out on Emigrants Pass at 2,645m height with a second high point of 2,060m at Robinson Flat after 30 miles. This took me just under eight hours to cover – so not fast!
The climb to Emigrants Pass was a delight. I’d crossed the line dead last and gently eased uphill watching and photographing as the slopes ahead lit up in the rising sunlight. Crowds of people were out, especially near the Pass.
Photos of climb to Emigrants Pass as the sun rose
These first hours were an entertaining, socially inclusive blast! More conversations in eight hours than I’d normally manage in eight ultras. Keeping it light and easy, initially because of the steep gradient up to Emigrants Pass, then a combination of single-track path and frequent stops for photos of the landscape. The photos and conversations were part of the plan: I wanted to capture the moments and the memories plus I knew this approach would ensure I wasn’t in ‘full on race mode’.
Early morning shade welcomed us through the protected Granite Chief Wilderness area on the far side of the Pass (this short, four mile section, limits the numbers on the race to under 400 starters).
Photos of Granite Chief Wilderness in shade and looking in to sun
Granite Chief Wilderness brought a sighting of what I’m sure was bear poo – but make your own mind up:
Do bears poo in the grass, by the trail side?
After just under three hours and 10 miles covered I reached the first aid station at Lyon Ridge. On the first descent afterwards I stopped briefly for a runner who had slipped and needed help putting a band-aid over a graze. Before long I’d had two trips and falls myself. Luckily I did no serious damage and managed to roll onto my right shoulder to absorb the impact both times. No cuts or grazes.
The next aid station was Red Star Ridge after 15 miles by which time the trees on the ridgeline were beginning to thin out and the temperature was starting to rise. A photographer was positioned on a small rocky outcrop, Cougar Rock, taking advantage of the backdrop.
Photo – Cougar Rock
Next up was the Duncan Canyon aid station with six hours elapsed after 24 miles. While I stood in some shade and sipped an ice cold can of Cola the aid station captain, Kristina Irvin, was giving out advice to take a nice long dip at nearby Duncan Creek. She warned that the climb on the far side up to Robinson Flat would be one of the most exposed and hottest of the day: full body immersion until you shivered was her prescription. Kristina said she was a 10-time finisher of the run so knew what she was talking about. She was right!
Photo – Duncan Creek
On leaving the comfort of Duncan Creek it was indeed a long, long drag to Robinson Flat with the sun beating down on your back. Finally I arrived at the aid station and took my first sit-down (other than the lie down in the creek). Eighteen minutes later after a change of shoes and socks, another can of Cola and a little food, I was ready to go again.
Robinson Flat was the first point I took any serious notice of my pace: anything earlier would have been far too soon to be meaningful. Reaching Robinson Flat in under seven hours gave the possibility of a sub-24 hour finish and a much cherished ‘Silver Buckle’. Anything close to eight hours pointed to a 30-hour finish. This was where I expected to be and it was indeed where I was. Instead of stressing about pace I felt I could relax and just make sure I finished before the 30-hour deadline.
After Robinson Flat I’d been warned there was about 13 miles of steady downhill running: the advice was not to go too fast over this section as there were hard climbs to follow. I reckon I took the advice pretty well, but probably because it certainly wasn’t all downhill running! Sure, there was plenty, but also undulating sections and some parts where it was definitely uphill. Also I had more than 30 miles of running and walking in my legs by now, plus the temperatures were rising. I did my best to keep my legs turning over.
Aid stations came and went at Miller’s Defeat (mile 34) and Dusty Corners (mile 38) . The trail was a mix of pretty single-track and some wider tracks but always within wood and forest. Out of Dusty Corner there were a few nice single-track switchback as we made a steep descent of 100m and shortly after I pulled over for a five-minute rest to enjoy a can of low alcohol beer I’d been carrying and take in the view over the canyon, with the river 500 or 600m below at around 860m.
My mid-afternoon picnic spot over-looking the first deep canyon
Ten or twelve runners went past me while I drank and rested but I caught and overtook most of them over the next 5k, once I’d finished my can . Rolling in to the next aid station at Last Chance, mile 43, eleven hours of the race had elapsed. I’d begun to feel a blister forming on my right heel and I decided to get it attended to in the aid station if there was some specialist foot care available. WSER has around 1,500 volunteers out on the course so the standard of care at every aid station is exceptional. There was indeed a foot-care team so I settled in for their treatment regime and sipped yet another can of soda while they worked on me. After an eighteen minute stop they’d fixed me up with bright green Kinesiology tape and I was ready to go.
Leaving each aid station there were signs indicating the time you needed to be leaving to hit the 24-hour or 30 hour finishing times, plus the cut-off times which, if you failed to meet them, would result in you having your race terminated. From Robinson Flat I’d started paying attention to the signs and I’d been consistently arriving in to aid stations around 30 minutes before the pace required for a 30-hour finishing time. The extra stops on the way to Last Chance and then to get my blister treated meant I left Last Chance about ten minutes ahead.Up to Robinson Flat I’d managed a good, regular intake of carbs in the form of a gel every 20 or 30 minutes: perhaps 16 to 20 gels over the eight hour period. Since Robinson Flat I hadn’t felt like I wanted a gel but I’d survived and kept pushing on by drinking cans of soda (either full fat Coca Cola or Mountain Dew). I either drank these at aid stations or took one with me in my back-pack and drank it during a walk break. I was also taking my time to sip the liquid, trying to prevent the carbonated drink fizzing around in my stomach. The drinks, and my approach to drinking them seemed to do the trick, despite me having no idea about the ‘carb content’ of a can. [I now know its around 38g carbs/330ml of fluid].
The Canyons
Exiting the Last Chance aid station at mile 43, I made a schoolboy error, putting down and then forgetting to pick up my hand-held water bottle while volunteers topped up the ice in the sleeves of my arm warmers, between my buff and my neck and under my sun-cap. The ice was a necessary precaution to keep the body temperature somewhere near comfortable as the air temperature was in the high 30-degrees (C).
Half a km after the aid station I realised my mistake and doubled-back to fetch the bottle. I had two other 500ml water-bottles but I didn’t want to run the risk of running out of water and reckoned doubling back was worthwhile. Finally, now only 5 minutes ahead of the 30-hour schedule, I was under way.
Pretty soon I caught up with Manouch Shirvanioun. I’d first heard about Manouch from a guy named Jim Kepfer who was to be my pacer (a runner who will accompany you for ‘moral support’) from mile 78 to the finish. More about Jim in a moment. My wife, Gill, and I first met Jim and his wife Jennifer 5 days earlier when they’d welcomed us into their home in Auburn. Jim had suggested to me that it might not be a bad idea if I tagged along in the race with anyone who had done it before, leaning on their experience.
Only about 20% of entrants, perhaps 75 to 80 runners, in the Western States have done the race before due to the intense competition to get into the race: maybe 40 of those 75 to 80 runners are amongst the elite runners )including the ‘top ten’ male and female finishers from the previous year who automatically earn the right to return, plus winners or runners up at other predetermined races such as UTMB, or the Javelina Jundred in Arizona, which give a ‘Golden Ticket’ entry route. So that leaves a very small number of ‘normal, average people’ in the race who have done it before and Manouch was one of those. Better still, Manouch came with a great back-story. He’d finished the race in 2019 but only after tripping and cutting and bruising his face. He’d toughed it out and been the very last official finisher in that year. Three years younger than me, perhaps Jim recognised in Manouch someone I was likely to meet as we’d be at similar pace.
I’d first said ‘Hello’ and passed on Jim’s regards to Manouch around 20 miles into the race somewhere between Red Star Ridge and Duncan Canyon. He’d overtaken me while I sipped a can of beer looking over the American River 5km before Last Chance and then I’d overtaken him again once I re-started. Now the treatment to my foot at Last Chance brought us together.
Once we’d met up the trail was single-track for about ten miles and we were entering the section known as ‘the Canyons’. Two steep climbs which, on paper and in English conditions didn’t sound too bad to a reasonably experienced fell-runner. I’d done my desk research and reckoned that both climbs, Devil’s Thumb and Michigan Bluff, might be more than 450m in elevation. Both easier than Yewbarrow on Leg 4 of the Bob Graham Round, but both no doubt tough in their own way.
Having Manouch for company was a real bonus. Almost always in the lead Manouch was able to point out features along the way and set a brilliant, steady walking pace: never too fast, never too slow. From Last Chance the trail heads steeply down through a series of switchbacks to a fork of the American River. Descending smoothly and not racing we overtook a couple of runners I’d chatted to earlier in the race, Mike Grimm and Joanna Duran. While slower than us on the descents, both Mike and Joanna overtook us on the climbs. On both descents Manouch took the pace off completely as we neared the canyon bottom, ensuring our heart rates dropped back in readiness for the climb up the other side. Both of us diverted very briefly off the trail and went for full body immersion in the American River to cool down before the climb to Devil’s Thumb. Jim Kepfer told me later that most locals cool off in a stream and small pool just the other side of the Swinging Bridge river crossing but I reckon we got the best deal!
Photos of the American River (featuring Manouch) and Swinging Bridge
The climb up to Devil’s Thumb is the steepest on the course – 460m of ascent in 3km compared with Michigan Bluff being 495m in 4.33km and Emigrant Pass at the start of the race being 755m in 5.75km. It felt good to get it done and sit down briefly at the Devil’s Thumb aid station for a can of soda and a little fruit. Almost 48 miles completed in just under thirteen hours.
I was briefly joined by fellow Brit runner – and fellow 64 ticket, 7 year qualifier – Richard Goulder in the aid station here. I had thought Richard was some way ahead of me but apparently I overtook him at the Robinson Flat aid station. Richard had been a little behind the 30-hour cut-off pace but he’d made some time up. Even so, we were only just inside the 30-hour pace timings on arrival at the aid station.
The aid station volunteers were trying to get us two Brits to leave together but, spotting Manouch leaving out of the corner of my eye I wished Richard ‘Bon Voyage’ and set out myself. Initially fairly flat the trail headed past what Manouch said was the cemetery for the now-abandoned settlement of aptly-named ‘Deadwood’. We were now definitively inside territory which had been scoured and mined for gold and silver by the ’49-ers’. Not that they had left much behind.
Soon we were on the next steep canyon-side descent, this time down to the Eldorado Canyon and the aid station, at mile 53, on the other side of the bridge. Nearing the bridge cries went up of ‘Manouch!’, ‘Manouch!’ from many of the aid station volunteers including Western States legends such as Tim Twietmeyer, race Board Member, five-times previous winner of the race and the only person with twenty five race finishes in under 24-hours. Wow! I very much felt as though I was in Manouch’s shadow.
We both climbed into the river again for another full body immersion before the climb. Just over fourteen hours elapsed now and just eighteen minutes ahead of 30-hour schedule entering the aid station. A fresh can of soda and fresh ice in the arm warmers and inside the buff and we were away, climbing up the trail.
Manouch once again led the way up this longer climb before pulling to the trailside a little short of the top saying he needed a moment and needed a salt tablet. After checking I couldn’t do anything to help I pressed on, knowing the top wasn’t far away. My main concern since Devil’s Thumb had been the fact I’d stupidly left a head-torch in a drop-bag there. My next drop-bag with another head-torch was at Foresthill, mile 62, and I wouldn’t be getting there until after 10:00PM, well after dark. The race details had advised runners at my pace to pick up a head-torch by Michigan Bluff but I’d planned my drop-bag locations around using Devil’s Thumb and Foresthill. Manouch gave me reassurance I’d be OK and I’d reckoned I’d just have to see how things went.
Michigan Bluff, mile 56, has the aid station set just after a sharp right hand bend in the trail and it’s a popular spot for supporters and runners’ crew. There was plenty of ‘whooping’ and ‘hollering’ as I ran in in 247th place out of 385 starters. Out of nowhere I suddenly heard and spotted Gill which was a wonderful surprise. Not only Gill but Kyle too (Kyle Vogt, who had been recruited by Jim Kepfer and was planned to pace me from Foresthill, mile 62, to the river crossing at Rucky Chucky, mile 78, where Jim would take over). As well as the motivation provided by unexpectedly seeing Gill and Kyle the good news was that Kyle had a spare headtorch!
In the company of Gill and Kyle, my supporter and crew, I sat at Michigan Bluff in our recently acquired, USA-built, camp chair (Safe Laden Weight 226kilos!!!), drank yet another can of soda and changed shoes and socks, revealing the Kinesio tape on my blister.
Much needed sympathy for the state of my feet from crew (Gill) and support runner (Kyle) at Michigan Bluff!
I also bumped in to Christian Maleedy here, another Brit runner and another runner with 64 tickets and 7 years of qualifying. Gill and I had met up with Christian and his wife Caroline, plus Richard Goulder and his wife Katherine and one more Brit runner, Dave Stuart, for a pre-race pizza on Thursday evening. Now the wives were forming the ‘Anxious Wives of Golden Hour’ club, waiting to see if their husbands would finish in or during ‘Golden Hour’ or, worst of all, after the 30-hour cut-off!
Run for home
A quick hug with Gill who said she’d see me again at Foresthill and after a twelve minute stop Kyle and I were under way, seventeen minutes inside the 30-hour schedule. Time spent running the trail with Kyle seemed to fly by. We caught up with Mike Grimm and his pacer before the light faded then with headlamps on we headed into dusk and night-time on some single-track through trees. Before long we were walking and climbing gently up a tarmac road which marked the final stretch to Foresthill. Arrival here with 62 miles elapsed was at 10:20pm, twenty-five minutes inside the 30-hour cut-off. Yet another sit in the camp chair, a can of soda, some tinned peaches, a change of shoes and socks and, finally, access to my own head-torch!
Out of Foresthill I seemed to have fresh energy and overtook quite a few people on the way down to the ‘Cal-Street’ section of track and the next three aid stations before the Rucky Chucky river crossing. Maybe I was just over-taking those runners I’d let go past me while I sat in the camp chair at Michigan Bluff and Foresthill! From 247th at Michigan Bluff I’d moved back to 255th at Foresthill but advanced again to 241st at Dardanelles aid station (mile 66) and then 235that Peachstone aid station (mile 71). I wouldn’t stay so high in the rest of the race.
Kyle explained that Cal-Street was a former irrigation canal feeding the mine workings in the canyons with a constant water supply. While it was reasonably level at times it also seemed once again to be an undulating route so that it was difficult to keep running continuously. In following a contour in the canyons the path also kept on bending sinuously in and out of ravines. From time to time you heard voices of other runners and their pacer who might have been ahead of you but might have been behind you. Lights from one of the three Cal-Street aid stations often twinkled nearby in the dark ahead but then you need to go the far end of a distant ravine before turning back on the other bank and reaching the destination.
We reached Dardanelles Aid station 35 minutes before the 30-hour schedule and Peachstone 48 minutes before the scheduled time for 30-hour pace. By Ford’s bar, mile 73, the time advantage had fallen back to 27 minutes and maybe fatigue was setting in as it was gone 2:00AM . Generally though, everything felt pretty relaxed.
Rolling in to Rucky Chucky we saw Gill and Jim ready for the change-over of pacers. It was another 10 minutes or so in the camp chair and, while there, Gill saw Richard Goulder arrive (3 minutes before me) and Christian Maleedy (13 minutes after me). Dave Stuart had been an hour earlier.
Christian & Caroline Maleedy at Rucky Chucky putting a brave face on things at around 02:30. Recognise the chair?
It may well be that Jim was a little concerned at this point about how things were going to proceed over the next 22 miles! At the end of the race he explained that in maybe 20 years of pacing international runners at Western States he’d never before had a finisher leaving it as tight as the ‘Golden Hour’.
First things first, we had to cross the river which was absolutely freezing. Perhaps deliberately (?), the line we had to hold on to – to avoid being swept away – was set so we had to traverse over large boulders and then into deeper pools almost up to our waists. As Jim said after the crossing, pity the poor volunteers standing for an hour or so at a time in the cold, dark waters, helping runners across!
Rucky Chucky river crossing – around 03:00 hours, so quite dark!
Once over we were immediately into the Rucky Chucky aid station (mile 78) with drop-bags and I needed to check I didn’t have anything critical in the drop bag here. I think that reflects that my brain was now working quite slowly as, other than some gels which would be surplus to requirements since I still had plenty in reserve, there was nothing else I needed. Jim convinced me not to sit and change my wet socks in the aid station (perhaps an indication of his concern about how tight I was against the 30-hour finish time). His recommendation was to keep walking up the hill to the Green Gate aid station at mile 80 and see how things were then.
On the way to Green Gate Jim was checking on my nutrition and, while explaining I’d been surviving on Cola and Mountain Dew for my carb intake over the last 11 hours, we discussed and I agreed to try a gel again. We agreed a schedule of a gel every 30 minutes.
The pace wasn’t fast but it was getting the job done. Just four more aid station to the finish line with Auburn Lake Trails (mile 85), Quarry Road (mile 91), Pointed Rocks (mile 94) and Robie Point (mile 99). Jim was great at giving me the history of the Western States Trail, the work done by volunteers plus stories about the wild-life, especially bears, he’d seen during his many years trail running in the area. We were running towards Jim’s home in Auburn and this trail was his ‘back-yard’. Jim was also telling me about key points in the trail to come but, truth be told, I was probably just trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The sun had come up, head-torches unnecessary, before we rolled in to the Auburn Lake Trails aid station at 5:47AM, still 38 minutes up on the 30-hour pace.
Succesive 30 minute intervals came and went until I’d managed three gels and a Kellogg’s Square (itself containing a sugary mix of around 20 g of carbs). All of a sudden when the next 30 minutes had passed and I opened the next gel I had a wave of nausea. It was probably around 6:15AM. I stopped by the side of the trail to see what was going to happen next and dry-retched for a moment or two. Jim disappeared around the next corner, maybe saying a silent prayer that it wasn’t all going to end right here.
Checking myself over it seemed the nauseous feeling had passed, at least so long as I didn’t try another gel in the near future. Walking, then trotting, then starting a slow run again we were back in the groove. Jim reassured me that we were holding a pace of sub-18 minute miles since the previous check point and I was confident that a finish inside the 30-hour mark was in sight. Doing the maths from the Auburn Lake Trail aid station I knew that 3 miles an hour would get the job done. But I also knew there were two ‘sting in the tail’ steep climbs still in store and I wouldn’t be running up those or walking up them at 3 mph. Time to press on.
Trying to put the nausea to the back of my mind I was delighted as we crossed a stream on a footbridge and Jim said that was 90 miles completed. With only 10 miles to go it always seems possible to get the last 10 done in a 100-miler. Almost immediately we entered a downhill section in a rutted creek and I had enough leg strength in my quads to take the descent without losing speed. Jim expressed satisfaction that this would help on a subsequent downhill section and it was uplifting to hear this.
The downhill brought us out at Quarry Rocks aid station, mile 91 with 26:27 elapsed, 33 minutes ahead of the 30-hour cut-off. While I took a trip to a porta-loo I think Jim engaged in conversation with Scott Jurek and Hal Koerner, respectively 7-times and one-time winners of the Western States run and both volunteering at the aid station. Jim had filled my water bottles so, on existing the porta-loo we headed straight on through and on up the trail. And that’s how I missed out on meeting Scott Jurek and Hal Koerner.
At 7:27AM the temperature was starting to rise. Initially we made some good progress for 15 to 20 minutes down a wide, dusty path towards the junction which Jim Walmsley had missed in 2016 when leading the race in a course record time. After the junction for 5km and around 270m of ascent a rutted uphill single-track path climbed up to the Pointed Rocks aid station at mile 94. This was a slow march and Christian Maleedy speeded past at one point. Arriving into Pointed Rocks at 8:44AM I was now 30 minutes ahead of the cut-off with just over two hours to do the last six miles.
During 5 minutes at the aid station to top-up on ice I saw Manouch come through (the first time I’d seen him since Michigan Bluff at mile 55). I was so happy to know he was going to get a finish and that he almost certainly wouldn’t be the last finisher again. Richard Goulder also came in and headed out before me so he too was going to make it.
The ‘Anxious Wives of Golden Hour’ (Katherine Goulder, Gill and Caroline Maleedy)
Leaving Pointed Rocks the trail now descended almost 300m down another rocky gulch. My legs were good enough to get a little speed going with a couple of sub 9-minute kilometres. At one point I overtook Richard Goulder again.
The bottom of the gully gave us views over the American River and, after a couple more switchbacks we were out on No Hands Bridge. Here the full force of the morning sun was heating the air and the ground and for a couple of kilometres I walked a flat section to avoid overheating. The we started the final climb up to Robie Point, blessed now and again by some shade.
The finish line felt close. Passing through Robie Point at 10:12AM with just over a mile left I was sprayed down with cool water and turned the corner to see the start of a tarmac road surface. Then, there was Kyle Vogt again to welcome me and together Jim, Kyle and I walked the last small section of uphill tarmac, past houses and a few well-wishers out to watch the race. Near the high point on this section we saw a beautiful deer and young fawn very close to the road in the front garden of a house: Jim reckoned the fawn had either been born that morning or the previous day.
Galvanised now by the closeness of the finish I got my pace up somewhere near 6 minutes per kilometre, overtaking one or two other runners and their family, friends and supporters in the process. Round every corner I expected to see the entrance to the Placer High School track. We ran past Jennifer, Jim’s wife, cheering us on and, then we were at the stadium entrance. Gill was there, floppy sunhat, sundress and sandals and, together with Jim and Kyle we ran the final 250m round the track to the finish. 29 hours, 32 minutes and 6 seconds.
The final few metres on the finishing straight!
Celebration time: Katherine & Richard Goulder:
Celebrations on the finishing line:
My coach, pacer to elite runner Hayden Hawks and, as of 26 February 2023, GB 24-hour long distance run record-holder Robbie Britton gets to join the celebrations by holding my ‘buckle’ while I hold the clock awarded to the ‘oldest male finisher in the 2022 WSER’ (photo credit to Hayden Hawks, 2nd finisher in the 2022 WSER):
No, not ‘decorating’. I’m talking about ‘decompression’ time, a period of time familiar to scuba-divers but perhaps ultra-runners experience something similar.
scuba-diver: deco time is coming soon!
In scuba-diving ‘deco’ time is needed after a deep dive to let the body recover. The deeper the dive, the more recovery time is needed. Isn’t it the same after an intense ultra-run?
The physical effects of an intense long run tend to be very different from runner to runner. And that’s before you try to calculate the impact of a 100-mile run for an elite runner, taking anything from 12 to 22 hours (depending on the course and terrain) compared to the ‘back-of-the-pack ‘completer’ taking 24 to 48 hours. What is even harder to understand are the mental impacts of a race.
Re-living a run isn’t unusual is it? Maybe it adds to the pleasure – or the pain – of a run. I think it certainly makes the overall experience richer and deeper, being able to re-wind and re-visit particular moments or maybe sections of the trail, helping embed them in our memories. Then, if we ever run the same trail again we have those recollections as a treasure-trove to dive right in to (sorry, diving again, no pun intended).
I guess there comes a time where endless reflection is unhelpful and the moment comes to ‘move on’. Quite when that moment arrives is just less clear. Here, scuba divers are lucky as much experience midway through the 20th century led to the creation of ‘decompression’ tables, developed so that safety could be enhanced. But those tables for scuba-divers are a guide to managing the physical effects, not the mental effects. I feel we’re a long way from having anything that can guide us on the mental effects of ultra-running.
If there is a ‘cause and effect’ to ‘deco’ time in ultra-running I’d say that the more intense the experience in the build-up to and during a race then the longer the appropriate ‘deco’ time. Again this will be very individual for every runner. A runner struggling to achieve work/life balance, experiencing an injury, health issues or stress at work or home will more than likely feel a greater sense of achievement at finishing a race as a result of overcoming those hurdles. Then some races present enormous hurdles just to get to the start line through sheer weight of applicants and the qualification process.
All of the above are my ‘generalised’ thoughts as I continue to go through ‘deco’ time after Western States. I ran a 37km fell race in the Lake District last Saturday with 2,200m of ascent and descent. It was cold, wet and miserable on the tops, perfect English Lake District weather. I was almost an hour quicker than when I did the same race in 2021. I even approached the finish line from the correct direction (unlike 2021). And yet, my brain keeps processing Western States.
Sure, I’m still evaluating and filing over 1,000 photos from the holiday in California including about 150 from the race. And I’m still trying to write up my thoughts on the race: maybe completing that will allow me to ‘move on’. Or maybe that’s just a hope and the actual mental processing will take as long as it takes. As ultra-running coach Robbie Britton says when asked how to tell crew and supporters when you’ll get to an aid station “just tell them you’ll be there as soon as you can”.
Maybe that’s why my next big challenge is to run around a 400m track.
This note aims to show that the journey to Placer High can be achieved by runners of many different abilities. What you do need is some resilience, a collaborative partner and either persistence or a good slice of luck.
Race briefing in Olympic Valley: bonus points if you can spot Gordy Ainsleigh…
The Western States Endurance Run (WS100) is truly an epic race. The terrain through which the race is run feels like what it is – a wilderness! And everything in the USA, including the wilderness, is on such a massive scale compared with the UK or Europe. Then there is the restricted size of the field and the intense competition to enter the race. These factors combine to give the event a unique feel: it’s like a village rather than a town: a village where everyone is happy, perhaps even surprised and delighted, to be there. 80% of the entrants have never done the race before since it is so hard to get a place. In the main its only the elite runners and a handful of local runners who’ve done it before. Heat, altitude, snow and ice (packed into your clothing at every aid station to cool you down),river crossings, stunning scenery, bears, rattlesnakes, scorpions and truly the most helpful volunteers and aid stations I’ve ever come across. All culminating in the unique atmosphere of the finish at Placer High and, if you’re lucky like me, a finish in the ‘Golden Hour’!
So how do you get there?
The WS100 website ( https://www.wser.org/qualifying-races/ ) gives details of the entry process. The short answer is that you need to run a qualifying event every year to enter the ballot. In year 1 you get 1 ticket in the ballot. Every year you fail in the ballot, just run another qualifying event and re-enter the ballot where your number of tickets doubles. So 1 ticket becomes 2, then 4, then 8, 16 and so on. Eventually you do get into the race. I’m living proof!
So far, so good. But what about these qualifying events and, worse than that, the fact WS100 is a 100 Mile event. This is the really good, really cool part. It’s almost like sharing a trade secret.
100 mile running isn’t really about running. It’s certainly not about running fast (unless you wish to compete with the elite runners).
Walking the first 4 miles uphill to Emigrant Pass
What the 100 mile distance is about is ‘the journey’. Your own ‘journey’, but also that of your crew, supporters and loved ones. Three of the most important things you can do in a 100 mile race are:
a) slow down (however slow you think you’re going, it’s probably too fast)
b) eat, then eat some more
c) get there as soon as you can (just don’t pressurise yourself with predicted arrival times for aid stations along the route or, worse still, the finish line). Whatever will be, will be: just let the ‘journey’ take you there.
Once you enter the 100-mile state of mind you discover that anything is possible provided your body and mind can cope.
There are long races in the UK and overseas which do not require participants to provide any evidence of having previously competed any long distance run, not even a marathon. The community interest company (‘cic’) which organises three long canal runs in the UK – https://canalrace.org.uk/grand-union-canal-race/how-to-enter/ – every year is one of these. They’re website states:
“We welcome any old Tom, Dick or Harriet who fancies a crack at it, without any qualifying criteria or previous ultra experience; just a marathon has proven enough. A strong will and desire to give it your best shot is all that is needed”.
That statement is so empowering. And it could apply to any race, over any distance, for runners of all abilities. That’s why I love it!
There is no such thing as a “one size fits all” WS100 qualifying races within the UK. Four of the eight UK qualifying races are organised by Centurion Running ( https://centurionrunning.com/ ), all are 100 mile events and all require entrants to provide evidence that they have successfully completed a 50-mile race within 15 hours. Two more 100-mile races are fearsomely difficult: the Arc of Atrition on the South-West Coast Path in January (January….!) and the Lakeland 100. The Lakeland 100 is also now very hard to enter with 300 places regularly selling out within 15 minutes (* update: i believe there’s now some kind of ballot….?). Last, the Hardwolds 80 or a sub-17 hour completion of Race to the Stones count as qualifiers.
Assuming you might want to enter one of the Centurion Running events in 2023 then spaces are still available. All you need to do is enter and complete a 50-mile race at least 8 weeks before you stand on the start line of your chosen 100-mile race. The Rowbotham’s Round Rotherham event on Saturday 1st October 2022 could set you on the path. Entries are currently available, priced at £27 including all the food you can eat at their well-stocked aid stations.
So there you have it. From Rotherham to Placer High, California!
Lots of Ackworth Road Runners have run ultra-marathons, whether it be 27 miles, 30 miles, 50 miles or more than 50 miles. Events like Manvers ’Dawn till Dusk’ and Endure 24 regularly see our club runners clocking up these distance. Why not now take the next step and make that commitment to get to the start line at Palisades Tahoe, Olympic Valley, aiming for Placer High?
It may take a decade but, you never know, you may get lucky and get drawn with only 1 lottery ticket. Every year that happens for a small, select bunch.
Me, I’ve got my qualifier done and dusted now for the December 2022 ballot for the 2023 race. Fortunately, completion of WS100 counts as a qualifier!
So, you never know, if body and soul hang together I might get back there inside another 10 years, aiming to win another clock for ‘Oldest Male Finisher’. Until then, nothing would give me more pleasure than to see another ‘Ackie’ embark on the journey to qualify. If and when you get there and I’m still able to run, call me up if you want me as your pacer from Foresthill to Placer High – I’ll be there for you!
A finish at Placer High School in the ’Golden Hour’: this could be you in two years time!
Once again the great British public is doing what it regularly does, panic buying. And once again we’re entering the biannual marathon season.
I’m just about to chow down on a wedge of chocolate tiffin outside the Woodlands Café at Wintersetts when a voice pipes up. “If you wrote about what you eat while you are running I might read it”. And another voice is raised in agreement. So here we go. How to keep your tank topped up and keep on running.
First up – and very importantly – what we eat is highly individual to each and every one of us. So this certainly isn’t intended to tell you what to do. If that is what you want, please stop reading now!
What this blog will do is share what I’ve learnt for myself over the last 10 years of ultra-running plus what I’ve been trying to improve during the last six months, during which I’ve been involved in and paying for some professional coaching.
The next thing to say is that this blog concentrates on how to combine running and eating during a race. It won’t cover anything about what you should eat or how you should eat it in the lead up to a race. So the assumption is that you are fit and healthy on the start line and that you’ve been eating a ‘normal’ balanced diet in the days and weeks up to the race. Personally, I’ve never been one for ‘carb loading’ before a race so I can’t properly comment on what that might achieve.
Moving on to the race itself, nowadays the first thing most runners probably try to eat while running is some kind of gel. And then a lot of people conclude that they just can’t face – or stomach – the prospect of having to eat a gel during a run. Here’s my thinking on gels. I’ve used a few different gels over the years but certainly not tried them all. My favourites these days are GU or Torq. There is a huge range of flavours and tastes even within the GU and Torq ranges. GU include Mandarin Orange, Jet Blackberry, Tri-berry, Gingerade, Salted Caramel, Espresso Love, Toasted Marshmallow, Campfire S’mores, Vanilla Bean, Birthday Cake and Tastefully Nude! Sometimes a particular taste will hit the spot for me whereas at other times it can be a struggle to get a gel down. Almost always I’ll look to wash the gel down with some flavoured water, including electrolyte, just to clear the taste from my mouth.
But here’s the good news. You don’t need to rely on gels.
The Histories of Herodotus record the first ultra-run in around 490 BCE, when Philippedes ran from Athens to Sparta before the Battle of Marathon, to request help from the Spartans. No mention of gels there, despite the distance of around 150 miles. In the 1960’s, when I was a kid, Alf Tupper, the notorious ‘Tough of the Track’ in ‘The Victor’ comic seemed to thrive on hard work and Fish and Chip suppers. Fast forward to the first London Marathon in 1981, when 22,000 applied and 7,741 crossed the first ever Start Line (numbers were limited due to safety considerations so maybe Health and Safety considerations aren’t so new, after all). A quick search of the internet suggests there weren’t any gels back then either and that they only first emerged in 1986.
Professional ultra-runners in Ancient Greece. No gels.
If not gels, then what?
More good news here! It’s up to you. But before we go into full MasterChef mode, thinking about exotic combinations of different flavours from around the world, let’s just think about how much we should be eating.
This is a large part of where my learning and development has been focused over the last six months, focusing on eating up to a specific target, based on my body-weight. Experienced runners and running coaches, including Robbie Britton, one of my coaches, believe that endurance runners should target 1.0 – 1.2g of carbs per hour. And by ‘endurance’ they mean anything more than 90 minutes running. In my case, weighing in at around 75kg, this means I should ideally target 75 – 90g of carbs per hour of running.
Importantly, if you don’t have any history or background of consuming a particular target figure of grammes of carbs per hour, don’t suddenly throw everything else aside and simply think you can munch and chomp to a PB. You probably won’t. Like every other sensible piece of running advice, take it easy and aim at small increases. Very much in line with the advice to only increase your weekly mileage by around 10% a week to avoid the risk of injury. Now you know you can go out and run AND eat while you are running, all in the name of practice – result!
As I’ve tried to put theory in to practice over the last six months its changed my habits going in to ultra-races. For each race I’ve built a robust plan in advance, factoring in whether there are aid stations and access to ‘drop-bags’ along the route and how much food I need to carry with me. I’ve gone further, bagging up the food I want to use each hour or each four hours or six hours, making it easier for me to monitor my food intake in carbs per hour.
After races I’ve been able to measure my food intake compared to my plan. The results so far have been that I managed about 40g of carbs per hour in the Thames Path 100 in May over 22.5 hours; the same result in the Summer Spine Challenger in June over almost 33 hours; rising to about 45g of carbs per hour at the Self Transcendence 24 Hour Track Race in mid-September. So I’ve managed a small improvement but I’m still not at the level of eating I want to achieve!
There are a few factors to consider when trying to fill your tank while running. The natural circadian rhythm of the body makes it harder to eat at night (for those of you who might find yourself in a 24 hour race). To some extent there is a natural compensation as you slow down at night and so your body needs less food. By contrast, running fast or running in heat can also make it more difficult to digest any food, thus making it harder to hit the quantities you really need. So if you find it hard to eat while running, simply slow down and eat. And then there’s practice and your current and recent experience of eating while running. In my case, it will take a few more events and more practice to get up to my target levels.
What I’ve also started doing over the last six months is properly reviewing the information on food packaging for the first time. I now know that a GU gel weighs 32g and contains 22g of carbs whereas a Torq gel weighs 45g and contains 29g of carbs. So you need four GU gels to equal three Torq gels. Amazing!
Next – and here you can go the full MasterChef – you get the chance to experiment. Check out the food that you enjoy and mix it up between sweet, savoury, salty, and bitter or sour to suit your taste. If you’re a marmite person, go for it! All you need do is check out the carbs per 100g of weight and weigh your home-made product to see what you’ve got and how much fuel you’re giving yourself in races.
My preparations for long distance races now include some wholemeal wraps (hummus and avocado; tinned peaches, porridge in a pot and yoghurt wherever there’s an opportunity to leave a drop-bag; a few sweet bars like a Tunnock’s Wafer or Kellogg’s Square; gels and, my latest craze, home-made savoury rice-cakes. Others prefer ‘Shot Books’ to gels.
The rice-cake was recommended by our coaches and is apparently a ‘big thing’ in professional cycling. Follow this link to see a video demonstration of how to prepare rice cakes: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RG7bWKK9G7E
Wrapped in grease-proof paper, cut your rice-cake to a size that suits you. I find them easy enough to digest and, apparently, the fact that the individual rice grains have such a high surface area makes them easy for the stomach to digest.
From here on in, the world really is your oyster. If oysters are your thing.
Getting fluid and the right level of salts back in to your body to replace losses through sweating, (unless you suffer from non-sweatiness, like Prince Andrew), is a whole different topic for another day. But it’s just as important as fuel and fuelling.
Another possible subject for a future blog is the use of painkillers such as ibuprofen, known in the medical world as NSAIDs (non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs). The fine print in the Event Guid for this year’s London Marathon states they should be ‘avoided within 48 hours of running the marathon’. By this I’m pretty sure they mean the 48 hour period before and up to the marathon, probably also including the marathon. The Ultra Tour du Mont Blanc has just announced a ban on NSAID’s for next year’s event in 2022 but I’ve seen elsewhere that other ultra races have banned them since at least 2014 because of the potential damage which they may cause runners.
To close, I’ve checked with my coaches before preparing for this year’s London Marathon and their advice is absolutely to stick to the same formula for getting food in – or risk running out of fuel during the race. They also absolutely advise eating right from the off, within the first hour. The analogy they use is, if you see a fuel station, don’t just drive past it because you never know when you might see the next one. In late September 2021, in panic-buying Britain, never was a truer word said. For more of Robbie Britton’s musings on this subject, see [ http://www.runultra.co.uk/Training/April-2019/How-to-eat-your-way-to-the-finish-of-your-next-ult ].
Food preparation for the Self Transcendence 24 Hour Track Race
“Here am I sitting in a tin can, far above the world. Planet Earth is blue and there’s nothing I can do”.
“I’m spinning around, move out of my way….”
Battersea by night
5:00 am in central London. The sky is still dark, punctured only by a few street lights. A huge jet airplane skims the rooftops making its final descent. Port and starboard wing lights shining red and green. Ninety seconds later another follows, then another. Maybe “I dreamed I saw the silver spaceships flying…”
Hour Two: Temperature rising. 23O C. Humidity: 60%. Partly cloudy. Slight southerly breeze, 9 mph. Breathing regular. Food bag number two. 74g carbs. Spin rate steady: 29revs/hr.
Hour Three: Temperature rising. 24O C. Bright sun, cloudless sky. Breeze dropping, 5mph. Breathing still regular. Pace slowing. Adjust flight path to avoid crash landing. Spin rate: 24 revs/hr.
Hour Four: Temperature rising. 25O C. Walk to maintain regular breathing. Destination unknown. Trust the process. “Take your protein pills and put your helmet on”. Spin rate declined to 20 revs/hr.
Hour Six: Temperature falling slowly. 20O C. Humidity rising: 75%. Stomach issue resolved. Shoe and sock change: size 9.0 UK. Spin rate rising: 22 revs/hr.
Hour Nine: Spin cycle change – clockwise. Humidity rising. Temperature falling slowly. 16O C. Pulse steady. Spin rate declined to 17 revs/hr. Steady.
Hour Eleven: “Ground Control to Major Tom”. It’s your wife calling by. “Tell her I love her very much she knows”. And can she bring low alcohol beer?” Can you hear me Ground Control? Can you hear me Ground Control?” Spin rate steady: 17 revs/hr.
Hour Twelve: 101km completed. Prepare to start re-entry. Eat peaches. Shoe and sock change: size 9.0 UK. Small blister. No further action. Spin rate rises: 20 revs/hr.
Hour Thirteen. Spin cycle change – anticlockwise. “though I’m past one hundred [… kilometres] I’m feeling very still. And I think my spaceship knows which way to go”. Temperature falling slowly. 13O C. Humidity still rising: 90%. Spin rate in catastrophic freefall: 10 revs/hr.
Nighttime loops
Hour Fourteen: “Ground Control to Major Tom, your circuit’s dead there’s something wrong, can you hear me Major Tom? Can you hear me Major Tom?”
Hour Seventeen: Spin cycle reversed – clockwise. Temperature rising. 13O C. Humidity still high: 90%. Hot chocolate. Silver spaceships flying. Yellow haze of the sun. Flying mother nature’s silver seed to a new home in the sun. Wasp sting. Pratfall. Spin rate steady: 18 revs/hr.
Hour Eighteen: Film crew, filming Finn [Adharanand]. Christiana bike-job. Chariot-of-fire. Spin rate steady: 18 revs/hr.
Hour Nineteen: “Commencing countdown, engines on. Check ignition and may God’s love be with you”. Spin rate steady: 18 revs/hr.
Hour Twenty One: 100 miles. “This is Ground Control to Major Tom, you really made the grade. And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear. Now its time to leave the capsule of you dare”.
Hour Twenty Two: I’m stepping through the door. And I’m floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today”. Retired. Shower. Sleep.
Scoreboard after 21 hours. 100 miles done. 13th place
Hour Twenty Three: Christiana bike crew crash. Crew injured. Best wishes.
Hour Twenty Four: Back to track. Too late to witness last 5 minutes (“best part of the race – A Finn’). Failed to get recorded as a finisher due to not being on the track at the end. By such fine margins…..
“Got myself a better wardrobe. I’m through with the past, and no point in looking back, the future will be. And did I forget to mention that I found a new direction and it leads back to me? I’m spinning around, move out of my way, I know your feeling me ‘cause you like it like this” (Kylie, Spinning Around)
Afterword:
“Well I dreamed I saw the silver spaceships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun
There were children crying and colour flying
All around the chosen ones
All in a dream, all in a dream
The loading had begun
Flyin’ mother nature’s silver seed
To a new home in the sun (Neil Young, After the Gold Rush)
Strava Trace
With acknowledgement also to David Bowie’s Space Oddity and Lemon Jelly’s Experiment Number Six.
Time/date: 15:00 hours, Tuesday 9 July. Location: at home (Ackworth, West Yorkshire)
I’d promised myself not to start checking the weather forecast until 48 hours before my planned start time. Ultimately this proved impossible with forecasts appearing everywhere: in newspapers, on the radio and on social media. Long story short, the days up to and into the weekend were dominated by a ridge of high pressure meaning that the weather pattern was stable with calm conditions dominating.
The Mountain Weather Information Service forecast suggested that Friday afternoon would become dry and Saturday 13 July would start largely dry, with a few showers developing from mid-morning. While some areas might have rain for an hour or two from slow-moving scattered showers, other areas would remain dry. Winds would not be high enough to cause a problem. The only down-side was that the chance of cloud-free summits was rated as 40% and ‘banks of cloud might shroud summits above 600-800m for many hours’.
Assessing this information I knew that the planned 22:30 hours start time on Friday had a green light. I would not need to inform the support team of a weather related delay. My aim was to finish atbany time within the 24 hour limit: my detailed schedule was for 23 hours, 38 minutes.
Time/date: 10:45 hours, Friday 12 July. Location: passing Lancaster, northbound on the M6
The Lakeland fells came in to view for the first time. The Coniston range was clear all the way to the summits. Stunning.
Having entered the Lake District it was obvious that there was more cloud over the northern fells and the Helvellyn ridge. Ho hum. It’ll be what it will be. Time to stop worrying and just focus on the task at hand. After a quick lunch break at the Queens Head we completed the journey to our Keswick base and I spent a couple of hours doing final kit checks.
A small and select band of us met up for a quick carb-load before a couple of hours of shut-eye and on to the main event. Five support runners, two for Leg 1 (Jim and Robbie), two for Legs 1 and 2 (Kristina and Mark) and one for Leg 2 (Dave) plus Jim’s wife Lesley and my long-suffering spouse Gill from the road support crew. It was nice for us to be able to meet and mingle before the ‘off’.
Time/date: 22:10 hours, Friday 12 July. Location: Keswick, Moot Hall
The task of organising the party crept up on me until it became the dominating factor in my life. I hadn’t anticipated that. Luckily my ‘road support’ remained rock solid. With a week to go the road support plan was locked down. All I had to do was balance the roster of support runners.
Party time in the centre of Keswick. Greetings, hand-shakes, introductions and snatched conversations. The party has been several months in the planning. A handful of those on the original invitation list are missing now for a variety of reasons. In their places are some new arrivals. We are quorate. There are enough of us – and probably one or two to spare in case ‘events’ overtake us.
Dave Allison of Ackworth Road Runners had kindly volunteered to act as ‘Road Support Chief’ once I’d given him a bit of background. Dave was planning the heroic task of travelling to each of the road crossings where support runners would change over and I could access my spare kit and food supplies. Just time then to give Dave a few last minute directions about the contents of the plastic box I hand him containing the kit and food. Supporters Vicky and Allan and Leg 2 support runner Callum have joined the rest of the gang from the Casa Bella carb-fest.
Next up we all approach the famous Moot Hall steps and I enable the Open Tracking tracker device. The green lights flash. Good, all set.
Just before the count-down, we all line up in front of the steps for the obligatory photo.
Mandatory starting line-up photo!
I climb the steps, ready for the last few seconds to tick away, standing up there on my own.
Easy-oisy across to Fitz Park with the full gang in tow then, after those not coming the full Leg 1 distance have dropped out, on up Spooney Green Lane on the side of Latrigg Fell. Me leading the group, talking to the others and giving advanced notice of where to run and where to walk when the gradient kicks up. Asking Jim to remind me to take a gel every 45 minutes.
I’ve reccied Leg 1 beforehand all the way with Jim, with mist on top of Skiddaw and Blencathra. We managed fine then, both for time and navigation, so there are no worries now.
The moon is three days short of a full moon and climbing up the gradient it hangs high over Keswick and Derwentwater – a spectacular sight over our left shoulders.
Above Little Man we see clag (or mist) hovering and I make the call to don a waterproof top at the first fence. Sure enough, from here all the way to the summit visibility is poor. More than that, there is damp in the air so our headtorches reflect light back off the water vapour and the rock we’re running on is now damp and slippery.
With Jim and Kristina calling the shots on GPS we hit the summit trig point and soon find the path for the initial descent followed by the slight right off to hit the fence for the descent to Hare Crag. Spot on.
As we descend the visibility becomes better and the ground dries out. It’s probably the best conditions I’ve experienced on the descent and then the ascent up to Great Calva.
The moon above Keswick and Derwentater
A momentary hesitation considering which side of the sheep-pen to go round after the descent from Great Calva. Then through the peaty path towards the River Caldew. Mark Harber loses a shoe in the bog. Much hilarity but we try our best to disguise it. At the river Robbie makes a big leap to keep his feet dry, Jim achieves the same by a slight detour while Kristina puts both feet in and I immerse my right foot. So three damp feet altogether. As we start the ascent to Mungrisdale Common the ground is suddenly waterlogged all around.
There is mist again around us on the climb. As we reach the higher slopes and traverse on the contour line just below the Blencathra summit ridge we see that there has been a cloud inversion. The moon is setting in the west with a rosy red glow, casting light on the cloud-tops in the Caldew valley below us. Very atmospheric.
Summit of Blencathra
Summiting Blencathra we take another photo and crack on with the descent to Threlkeld via Doddick. Robbie had struggled on the ascent of Blencathra, probably due to insufficient nutrition and hydration. A Tunnock’s Caramel Wafer gifted by Jim sorted him out and now he’s following me down as I lead, calling out each rock step as we hit them. At one point my foot and leg disappears into a vacuum surrounded by grass: I take an easy tumble. It’s enough to force Robbie not to follow me!
The track along the contour at the foot of Doddick is covered in bracken high enough to obscure the path. Sure enough, my toe hits a rock and I make another elegant tumble, a forward roll leading with my right shoulder. Unscathed again.
On past the kennels and down to the road. Mark comes up and checks I have fresh pacers lined up for Leg 2. When I confirm that I do, he suggests that, if I don’t mind, he’ll persuade Kristina to stop at Threlkeld so they can save their legs for their own BGR attempt the following weekend. I tell Mark that’ll be fine, knowing I’ve got Callum and Dave ready for Leg 2 and knowing I’ve reccied the whole of the Leg with them.
After a quick re-fuel at Threlkeld in the company of Dave Allison and Lesley I’m off on Leg 2 with Callum and Dave Hughes. Again I’ve reccied Leg 2 with Callum and Dave earlier in the year, albeit in brilliant sunlight on an April day with snow lying on the higher ground – a slight contrast to this ‘middle of the night’ affair. Still, I’ve confidence in their ability. Headtorches on, visibility is good as we complete the short road section and the initial lower slopes of Clough Head.
Looking back we can see the headtorches of another set of runners descending Blencathra across the valley behind us. Probably the group rumoured to have set off at mid-night on an eighteen hour schedule. Then, as we ascend, we enter the clag again. The path to the Clough Head summit is still easy enough to follow.
Trig point touched we descend towards Calfhow Crag confidently enough and take the trod bearing slightly left to avoid Calfhow Crag itself. Still confident at this stage that we’re heading in the right direction and we start the climb up to Great Dodd.
Somewhere on this climb at around 04:00 hours and with low visibility I lost faith that we were on the correct path and made a call to pull us right and up to the top of a ridge. Then, realising we probably had been on the right path after all, we yomped steadily along the highest part of the ridge until we hit the Great Dodd summit cairn. Not much time lost but a loss of confidence.
At the cairn marking the summit of Great Dodd I was sufficiently worried about our ability to find the path down to Watson’s Dodd in the mist that I pulled out my compass and the notebook in which I’d recorded all the key compass bearings. If we were at the shelter just to the south west of the cairn we would want a bearing of 210 degrees. Since we weren’t at the stone shelter, presumably we could bear a little to the left of the 210 degree bearing?
The Tracker trace showing our unconventional route choice
After descending for five minutes we hadn’t spotted the track. After another five minutes, during which we both descended further and searched both to our right (uphill) and left (downhill) we still hadn’t spotted the track and alarm bells were beginning to ring in my head. We spread out and did another sweep both left and right. No joy. There were absolutely no features of any kind for us to focus on or offer assistance.
Dave made the very sensible call to ‘set the map’ so that’s what we did. Obviously we then had to make an assumption about where we were: a big call at this point. We assumed that we were still on the ridge connecting Calfhow Pike to Great Dodd and, with that in mind, we set a bearing of 180 degrees, due south. In theory this meant we should hit a stream before too long and, after crossing the stream, ascend a steep bank on the other side to reach Watson’s Dodd.
I set Callum and Dave off in front of me and kept them on a heading of 180 degrees. However, after descending for at least five minutes there was no sign of a stream. I called us to a halt. Perhaps our assumptions about our initial position had been wrong. Perhaps we’d somehow started out on the south side of the ridge between Great Dodd and Stybarrow in which case my scrambled brain told me we would be tearing down the hillside with nothing between us and Ullswater at the bottom. In that case all was lost. So what should we do?
That’s when I started thinking about the other fifteen people, support runners and ‘road supporters’, scattered around the Lakes. Although the day was first and foremost about me completing the Round in under 24 hours, I couldn’t just ignore everyone else involved.
The least I could do was re-focus and ensure I reached the three key locations, Dunmail Raise, Wasdale and Honister, at a time as close as possible to my planned times. That way no-one would be left hanging around waiting for too long.
And I knew a way to achieve this goal. Miss out the out-and-back section of route between Grizedale Tarn and Fairfield. I’d still achieve 41 peaks within the 24 hours and everyone would be kept ‘on schedule’.
Right then in the silence I realised I could hear a stream. I shouted this out to Dave and Callum. Within a minute Dave, on my left hand side, had spotted the stream and we called out to Callum, lower down and on my right, to come back up and traverse to the left with us.
Staying on the contour now, we saw the other side of the bank. Dave was fired up and charging up the bank, Callum following and me behind. The mist was still enveloping everything as we climbed.
Popping out on top of the grassy bank we soon found the track connecting Great Dodd with Watson’s Dodd, almost exactly at the point it starts a very gentle rise up to Watson’s Dodd. We made it to the summit at Watson’s Dodd and almost miraculously the mist started clearing.
I touched the summit of Watson’s Dodd at 04:50 so the ‘round trip’ from Watson’s Dodd had taken thirty nine minutes compared with the scheduled nine minutes. Thirty minutes lost.
My expected times between each summit were lodged somewhere in my brain: a very quick calculation convinced me that everything, all 42 summits-worth, was still achievable. In fact, as we left the Threlkeld change-over point earlier in the morning, at 02:40 to be precise, I’d said to Callum and Dave that I’d be happy if we got to Dunmail Raise by 07:30 and ecstatic if we arrived there between 07:00 and 07:15. My brain might have been ignoring the fact that my schedule required arrival at Dunmail Raise by 07:10 and departure by 07:25 – but I think those stats were wiped out by the memory of a Round where I’d supported on Legs 2 and 3 in mid-May. That run in mid-May had really given me confidence and right here, on Watson’s Dodd in the early morning with the mist lifting, it was still working for me.
Whiteside
Nethermost Pike
Helvellyn
Fairfield
Seat Sandal
With no further ado, Dave, Callum and I were off and covering the summits which come thick and fast between here and Dollywagon Pike (summit 13). Although we were robbed of a glorious sunrise by the mist we did eventually see the sun shining on top of the clouds which were sunk down in the valley above Haweswater. We could also see across to Scafell Pike where the tops were clear of cloud in this early morning. Not a word was said about the navigation error: we just concentrated on hitting each target as it came in front of us.
Dave was leading us along in powerful style. At Sticks Pass, between Stybarrow Dodd and Raise a crack team of three Cumbrian-sounding lads went smoothly past us, exchanging a few pleasantries. They had minimal kit and must have been the guys we’d heard about who had set off at midnight on an eighteen hour schedule. From their comments they needed to confirmation we were attempting a Round rather than a recce: one of them expressed surprise that each of us was carrying kit as clearly they didn’t expect the person making an attempt to have any kit with him! Stung by these comments Dave simply went faster and quieter!
Descending from Dollywaggon Pike to Grizedale Tarn. Cloud over Seat Sandal.
By Nethermost Pike just after Helvellyn we had recovered seven minutes against our scheduled times. We then lost three minutes on the section via Dollywagon Pike to Fairfield, held our own going up Seat Sandal and gained back nine more minutes on the descent to Dunmail Raise. We hit the road crossing at 07:30: absolutely spot on as far as I was concerned. The escapade between Great Dodd and Watson’s Dodd was firmly consigned to history and it definitely wasn’t going to affect the outcome of this Round.
Arriving in to Dunmail Raise twenty minutes down on the schedule we shortened the rest stop by seven minutes from the planned fifteen and set out thirteen minutes down. Since my schedule was for a 23 hour, 38 minute total time, we were already pushing against the limits of a sub-24 hour finish.
Dunmail Raise road crossing, 07:30.
While daylight had broken three hours earlier there was plenty of cloud around, including the coverings on the higher summits. At least this should help keep temperatures down.
Once we’d climbed and made the summit of Steel Fell the team for this Leg was well and truly forged. Senior man Declan took a natural leadership role and quickly barked out instructions to the rest of us. For me it was simple. Give my race vest and all it’s contents to someone else. Eat and drink when required to do so and either run (when I could) or walk at maximum speed.
Mick was navigating so needed to be up front. Peter and Will were acting as mules, water-carriers and photographers while Declan was my personal mentor, instructor and self-appointed inspiration. Peter and/or Will were also instructed to carry out a time-check to confirm whether I was gaining or losing time on every one of the remaining fourteen summits on the Leg.
Everything now had focus. Me and getting me round. Nothing else mattered.
There was very little chat from me as I conserved energy to keep moving forward as fast as I could. Much of what I did express was either assent or rejection of yet another piece of food. Declan had made it part of his personal mission to ensure I ate some food and had a drink every ten to fifteen minutes. Little and often.
One exception to my silence was the moment when I proudly announced that “come what may today, I was going to get myself back to Keswick, however long it took”. Obviously I intended this to be hugely motivational for my devoted support runners, re-assuring them that I wasn’t some sort of flaky ‘quitter’ who would bale out half way round if things got difficult. If I was a support runner this is exactly what I would want to hear.
What actually happened in response was that my ‘bubble – of pride – was quickly burst’: Declan promptly told me to stop thinking thoughts like that. He went further for emphasis: ‘you’ve got everything lined up perfectly today so you just have to do it: if you don’t do it today, you’ll never do it’. So that was me put in my place. Sub-24 hours or bust!
It was time to buckle up and ‘get with the programme’. Notice the way I avoid using the phrase ‘enjoy the ride’! That would come later but, for now, it was just too intense for enjoyment. At one point I’m sure even Declan uttered the phrase ‘I hadn’t expected it to be this anxious…’
Did Declan not know what had happened on Leg 2?
Early on he’d asked me if I had any ‘proper’ food. I’d replied that I had a selection of ‘wraps’: smoked salmon and hummus, avocado and brie, salami & cheddar cheese and strawberry jam with peanut butter. Much mirth ensued. Even more so when a search of all the bags we were carrying failed to reveal any of my wraps. This could have been the result of incomplete and hurried searches by my support runners (if I’m being kind) or perhaps there was a little jealousy coming in to play? Either way, I was literally relegated to eating the crumbs from Declan’s table. These turned out to be finger-nail sized chunks of brioche filled – I think – with marmalade. Apparently the egg in the brioche is the magic ingredient. I shouldn’t moan. They kept me going. And I was eating Declan’s snap.
Although we dropped a further three minutes in our progress to summit number 18, Sergeant Man, (to arrive there sixteen minutes down), from that point on our spartan regime and organisation meant that we were only four minutes down by summit 28, Broad Crag, just before Scafell Pike. Part of Declan’s motivational spiel was that we could only have a break at Wasdale if we made sufficient progress. By Broad Crag the break and a cup of tea (kettle-willing) was on the agenda.
There were one or two moments of tranquility during the route-march. Firstly, near the top of Rossett Pike I had to sit on a rock and allow my stomach to compose itself after I drank a too-concentrated concoction of High 5 electrolyte. Dr O’Duffy described the cause of the problem: “stomach cramps”.
Searching for dragons, half way up Bowfell
Secondly, in a small pool on the approach to Billy’s Rake on Bowfell I kneeled down and immersed my face then head in the delicious cool water for refreshment. And promptly found myself held under for longer than anticipated!
Except for a very slight wobble approaching the summit of Sergeant Man the navigation and lines we took were well-nigh flawless. Visibility of the trods and paths wasn’t a problem and we were still benefitting from temperatures kept down by the low cloud base clinging to the summits.
Lord’s Rake
West Wall Traverse
Screen run to Wasdale
After the peace and solitude on most of the other fells where we never came across more than a couple of folk together, Scafell Pike was predictably busy. In the photos I count at least forty people around the summit. Scafell Pike was just another ‘touch the summit and go’ moment for me as we headed off for Mickledore. Lord’s Rake and the West Wall Traverse took us to the summit of Scafell and, after the exhilaration of the scree-running descent, we were down in Wasdale, nine minutes down on the scheduled arrival time.
Saturday lunchtime at Scafell Pike: you must pre-book your table
Like a slick, well-oiled machine, support runners James and Sam stepped in as mules, water-carriers and photografphers in place of Peter and Will while Mick and Declan prepared themselves for their second supporting turn on Leg 4. Dave Allison was also now ‘in the groove’ churning out hot liquids by rubbing two cars/sticks/battery packs* together (* delete as appropriate). Vicky and Allan had survived being ‘lambushed’ to reach Wasdale along with Rose and Edward, there to greet Mick.
Wasdale road support point
At Wasdale I changed into my Bowland vest and took my shoes and socks off for the first time in fifteen hours. A much needed five minute ‘drying out’ session for my feet before a fresh pair of socks and then the same pair of shoes. They were doing well so I saw no reason to change.
Cutting five minutes off the planned twenty in Wasdale we set off again four minutes behind schedule. The sun was breaking through the clouds and the trudge up Yewbarrow and then Red Pike would coincide with the hottest part of the day.
Legs 3 and 4 really are the ‘heart’ of the Bob Graham Round and I knew that many of the people who fail don’t get beyond Wasdale. I knew that wasn’t going to be me.
Yewbarrow was tough. There’s no denying it. By the summit I’d lost another five minutes against the schedule so was now nine minutes down in total. We all had a quick pause at the top and I took up my now customary position, sitting on a rock. Then we were off again, descending to Dore Head and climbing up to Red Pike.
Having made the ascents of Yewbarrow and Red Pike I was beginning to feel that the end was both in sight and attainable. And yet, the voice of my conscience (Declan) was still concerned, pointing out that contenders could lose a whole lot of time getting up Kirk Fell and Great Gable. Queue further laughter and much rolling around when I said I quite liked the climb up Great Gable!
Steeple and Pillar came and went in fairly short order, making up the five minutes gained ascending Yewbarrow and we were soon on to the long descent to Black Sail Pass with its three technical rocky steps. Close to Black Sail Pass James and Sam ran ahead to drop down and fill up our water bottles from the stream. Mick made a belated decision to join them. Declan and I started up Kirk Fell and, when he asked which route I wanted to follow, I had no hesitation saying ‘the gully route where it’s in shade’. In a route previously unknown to me, we headed further left than I’d expected but the reward was a long gully climb completely in the cool shade. James and Sam soon caught us up and Sam explained that the gully was regularly used in the Ennerdale Fell Race. Reaching the flatter area near the summit we soon topped out on Kirk Fell and began the progress across and then down to start climbing up Great Gable. I don’t think I realised it at the time but we lost eight minutes between Pillar and Kirk Fell so we were now twelve minutes down again on schedule.
Somewhere between Kirk Fell and Great Gable I came to realise how I’d been treated for the last ten hours. Essentially I’d become ‘King for a Day’. I didn’t have to think about anything else except ‘being King’ because someone else was there to do it, whatever it was, for me. It might be feeding me, fetching me water, telling me where to go and when I had to be there, changing my shoes and clothing, you name it, it was being done for me. Immediately this realisation hit me I knew that Declan had become my self-appointed Prime Minister and Chancellor for the day, issuing instructions and directions to his cabinet. Peter and Will, then James and Sam had been Ministers for the Environment, checking the food and water supplies. I guess that made Mick Foreign Secretary, reaching out to check we were going in the right direction. OK: maybe the analogies are becoming stretched, but you get the picture.
Fortunately, while tough, the ascent of Great Gable wasn’t the disaster Declan might have feared. Sam led and, with James alongside me, I maintained a respectable pace and pulled back two minutes. We hit Great Gable summit at 18:09 so I had four hours and twenty minutes in which to finish.
We’d actually dropped Mick on the ascent to Great Gable but, knowing the sun was out, visibility was good and that he knew the terrain, we decided to press on without him, confident he’d get to Honister under his own steam. As we made the short ascent to Green Gable we caught sight of Mick again, descending Great Gable behind us. The ridge from Green Gable via Brandreth to Grey Knotts is pleasant running and the descent down to Honister not too challenging. James and Sam ran ahead to get the next crew change-over prepared and Declan briefly fell back (for the first time?) to take a comfort break, exhorting me to stay ahead of him and ‘don’t let him catch me!’
Naturally Declan did catch me. And even at this stage he was imploring me to stay focused, minimise the time in Honister and make sure I didn’t waste the opportunity. He explained that he was going to drop out at this stage and, as profusely as I could in my condition, I thanked him for all his help and assistance.
Honister
To properly repay my debt to Declan, I understand that Bella, our white Spanish Waterdog, promptly ate half his food at Honister while he wasn’t looking.
Time/date: 19:00 hours, Saturday 13 July. Location: BGR, Leg 5
Jon, Darren and Jim now rook their places alongside me, to complete the Round via Leg 5 back to Keswick. Jim had rested and refreshed himself after his exertions on Leg 1 support.
It was a glorious summer’s evening and virtually all the clouds had disappeared. The boys were full of energy, constantly repeating that “it was in the bag”. Declan had given them there instructions to keep me fed and watered and I soon gave them individual team roles to keep us rolling forward.
The cairn at the summit of Dale Head was achieved with a small loss of time against the schedule but no big problem. I encouraged the boys to get a selfie as the views are so good from Dale Head in good visibility and I pressed on.
Dale Head summit
A couple of minutes were recovered in reaching Hindscarth and now it was just the final summit that awaited us. We took the direct trod about 50 metres before the fence line and maybe lost a couple of minutes bearing too far back left once the gradient eased off. Long shadows were now forming on the east facing slopes. Still the 42nd summit was reached and duly celebrated. The boys were all still enthusiastic and confident as we pressed on into the descent, Jon leading the way with Darren following. Jim had now replaced Declan as my close-quarter confidant and mentor.
Darren!
Hindscarth
Robinson
The atmosphere now changed slightly and I realised that both Darren and Jim seemed a little anxious about the time I had left. Both were indicating I needed to ‘get a wiggle on’. My quads were hurting and the balls of both feet were also sore. I think we had an hour and 25 minutes left and I calculated there were a little over 5 miles to go.
On tired legs the descent of Robinson can prove a little tricky. I think we all slowed slightly, trying to find the best lines on the technical rock steps. With the final grassy steep descent we hit the miner’s track and the fell running part of the Round was behind us.
This needed me to kick up through the gears and get some speed in my legs. The miner’s track wasn’t the easiest place to,do this as it wasn’t a completely flat and even surface as well as having a slight left to right downhill tilt. Nonetheless, I picked the pace up slightly and managed to maintain a jog on the slight uphill to the cottages where the rough tarmac road begins.
Speed was maintained on the downhill section to Newlands Church, despite the extra strain this caused to my quads. Jim reassuringly called out that we were doing 6 minute 30 second kilometres. If I could maintain that pace then the sub-24 hour finish was on.
With Jon up ahead Gill and Lesley, waiting at Newlands Church were able to cheer us on and escort me to Lesley’s car where my road shoes were waiting. A most welcome brief sit down on the back seat while someone, Jon or Darren, changed my shoes for me. Then we were off again with just over 4 miles left. One hour and ten minutes left on the clock.
Most of the tension had now left us. Jim had again provided reassurance by saying that there were only two small uphill sections left and I could afford to walk both of those. Sure enough, we soon got back on the 6 minute 30 second per kilometre pace and held it fairly steady.
At some point talk got round to the pub at Swinside and everybody managed to talk me in to having a drink. It was a lovely evening, there was time in hand, so why not? Order placed, Darren ran ahead to ensure minimal time was lost. Just time for another photo as the drink went down and we were off again, two miles to go and roughly forty five minutes in hand.
Two miles and half a pint to go
As we reached the shade of the trees just before Portinscale Kristina came trotting out to meet us, offering congratulations and following us in. She asked if we’d mind her filming us for the documentary she was making (primarily for her Danish audience?) and Darren, proud of his unique, photogenic looks, instantly said ‘no problem!’.
The traffic on the road was thankfully quiet and I kept taking the ‘racing line’, cutting corners wherever possible.
Jim was still the voice of calm and reason. Now he counted down the distance to go: two kilometres, 1.6 kilometres and then, around the time we crossed the foot bridge at Portinscale, less than one kilometres to go. With about 600 metres to go we could see Lesley on the path ahead, ecstatically shouting ‘only four more minutes to go!’. Then, slightly further on, Gill and Bella, with Gill telling us there were only three minutes to go.
On to the final run in it was just a case of sticking to the pavement, avoiding the bollards and avoiding the cars at the mini-roundabout. Someone (Darren?) made as if to stop the traffic for the runner coming through. One hundred metres to go and I messed up my decision-making about whether to go for the steps on the left or the right. Still thinking like a man on the fells my first reaction was to go left where the ground was higher. Then I noticed that all my supporters were on the right so right hand side it was. Bella made one last valiant attempt to scupper the whole project by wrapping her dog lead round me but she’s played that game before so I was ready, just. Up the steps, touch the door, stop the tracker and sit down. Job done.
The final run in
My thanks to all the supporters who made this possible:
Road Support
Dave Allison – Crew Chief
Gill Bennett
Allan Gill
Lesley Needham
Vicky Wathey
Edward Wigglesworth
Rose Wigglesworth
Leg 1 support runners
Jim Needham
Robbie James
Kristina Madsen
Mark Harber
Leg 2 support runners
Dave Hughes
Callum Parke
Leg 3 support runners
Peter Kirby
Declan O’Duffy
Will Smith
Mick Wigglesworth
Leg 4 support runners
Sam Harrison
Declan O’Duffy
James Simon
Mick Wigglesworth
Leg 5 support runners
Jon Bennett
Darren Horobin
Jim Needham
Key kit:
Shoes: one pair of Salomon Speedcross 4’s for the whole round until the road at Newlands Church
Photos of the American River (featuring Manouch) and Swinging Bridge
Running around the World 