Lakes in a Day 2017

Lakes in a Day 2017 (50miles, 13000ft) 2nd, 10:43

Hey look! A blog! Read this for a heroic regaling of an epic adventure across the most brutal course in THE toughest conditions. No hyperbole here, promise...

Photo: Ian Corless

Lakes in a Day, for context, is a 50 mile ultramarathon/ultra marathon/ultra-marathon/walking race from the north of the Lake District to the south. It starts in the village of Caldbeck and traverses the high fells, including Blencathra, the Dodds and Helvellyn, before descending to the metropolis of Ambleside. That's the first 30 miles, and about 9,000 of the total ~13,000 feet of climbing. The final 20 miles is flatt-er, but probably best described as undulating, and finishes in the village of Cartmel, within touching distance of the sea.

This was my final race of the ultrarunning season (aka the calendar year), having had a fairly mixed bag performance-wise this year. I finished 18th at the Haworth Hobble 50k back in March, which served as the selection race for GB at the world trail champs. Nothing about that race went to plan. I then had an enjoyable race at Transvulcania, finishing in the top 100 but without performing as well as I wanted competition-wise. I then finished 19th at the Mozart 100k, part of the Ultra Trail World Tour, which went horribly, but taught me lots about ultrarunning (I.e. how to keep going for 10 hours even though you feel like lying down and stopping). So I went in to my final race wanting to finish on a high and lay down a marker for 2018.

Before I even started structuring training towards the race though, things went wrong. At the start of September, on the bike ride into work for a weekend on call, a car drove into the back of me and knocked me off, breaking both my arm and my bike (There are two types of people in this world- people who care more about breaking their arm in this situation, and cyclists). Long story short, in the last five weeks before the race, I was able to do about 10 days of proper training and one long run.

This meant that I readjusted my expectations/ambitions from aiming to compete (win/podium/top 5 to top 10) to just go round and see how it went. Lakes in a Day was a race that appealed as a point to point, logical race that went through some beautiful parts of the Lakes with the added bonus that the harder stuff came first, so even if I started struggling fitness wise it wouldn't be too terrible late on.

To add to the lack of race fitness, I picked up a nasty cold the week before the race and then the weather really rolled in on race day-poor visibility, prolonged rain and high winds meant a forecast of 0 Celsius on the summits. Everyone had to run in those conditions though, and given the snotting and sniffing in the early miles pretty much everyone else seemed to have a deathly flu.

The first hill began as a road climb and then led out on to the open fell. It wasn't long before the clag closed in. There was a large group running together but it quickly split as some chose the firmer path that turned up hill sooner, whilst others (myself included) followed the race line across open ground. We all met up again a few minutes later in almost the same positions, so no advantages had been gained. It became clear, though, that there wasn't a specific person to follow that looked like they knew the route and the fastest line- if someone had reccied the course, that advantage seemed lost in the clag. This was further evident on the climb to Blencathra (after crossing a stream river on a makeshift bridge laid on by James at  Open Adventure given the heavy rain). There were 15 or so runners within a few minutes of each other on the long slog to Blencathra, and no-one seemed to be following the same line.

I was well placed in around 5th at Blencathra summit, before losing a good chunk of time to eventual winner Marcis Gubats and a couple of others on the descent down Hall's Fell. Hall's Fell essentially makes up all the promo material for the race- an exciting ridgeline with incredible views across towards the Dodds, Keswick and Derwentwater. Wainwright himself said, "For active walkers and scramblers, this route is positively the finest way to any mountain top in the district". Wainwright doesn't say what he thought of going down it as fast as you can on a wet day with the rock like black ice, though. He probably wouldn't have rated it. As it turns out, me not really wanting to use my broken arm and also not wanting to fall and die meant I lost quite a bit of time on this section, and came through the first aid station in 10th place or so. It was the only really technical section of the race, so I allowed myself to take it easy, knowing we had 40 miles more to cover.

I was in and out of the checkpoint at Threlkeld, grabbing some food to take with me and overtaking most of the guys who had passed me on the descent. Chloe had waited around to watch me through, but I resisted the temptation to reward her patience by talking to her very much, and carried on towards the next big climb, up Clough Head.

I'm not sure how Wainwright describes the ascent to Clough Head from Threlkeld, but I'm pretty sure I'm paraphrasing him when I call it a 'bastard climb'. The gradient up grassy trod hits 40% in places, and it was slow going for the ~1200ft climb over two-thirds of a mile. There was a group of 6 or 7 of us spread out along this climb, and I think we all pretty much ascended at the same pace.

The section from Clough Head to Helvellyn ensured the race got strewn out, though (and ended for some people, I think). It's no exaggeration to say that visibility was close to zero. Add in the 45mph winds and driving rain, which intermittently turned to hail, and all notion of racing this section went out of the window. In truth, it wasn't until I turned up in Ambledside, cold and hungry and nearly 20 miles later, that I was able to get back into a mindset of 'racing'. I'd done this section once or twice, including in reverse during a race, but I had no recollection or orientation of it in these conditions. As I worried I might, I lost the racing line at one point and ended up following the footpath up to Great Dodd; extra climbing that wasn't needed. I got myself back on route, and this ended up being the only real nav error I made.

I came close to making a big mistake after Helvellyn, though. I was in a group of 5 or 6, all running for 3rd place. At one point around Lower Man I stopped to put some gloves on, as the cold started to hit, and the group I was with vanished into the clag within about 20 seconds. In hindsight, this might have kept my race in check- I didn't see most of those runners again and I think they may have ended up following the footpath that descends from Helvellyn to Thirlmere. The one runner in this group who I did see again was Katie Kaars Sijpesteijn, and we ended up running mostly within view of each other for the next 30 miles to the finish.

Grisedale Tarn was a welcome relief from the higher ground- it was the first time we could appreciate some Lakeland views and the wind finally eased. The relief was short-lived as we climbed back up to Rydal Head. A long descent to Ambleside and it's checkpoint brought an end to the horrendous conditions.

Ambleside to Cartmel was the final 20 mile stretch, and even accounting for ultra-shuffling in the later miles, I knew that time-wise a large chunk of the race was done. I had aimed for something around 5 and a half hours to Ambleside, so was roughly 30 minutes off my intended time. I took a few minutes at the checkpoint to regroup, change shoes from Inov-8 X talons to a pair of more cushioned Scott Supertrac RCs, a clear sign that the race from this point leaves the fells behind and is majority trail. Katie had barely even stopped at the checkpoint, so I left Ambleside in dry shoes in 3rd place.

I saw Chloe, my mum and my dogs in Ambleside park. They reckoned at this point that Marcis was about 12 minutes ahead in first. I felt strong and ready to charge- I knew that the smoother trails might favour me and so had the mindset that I had 20 miles to make up 12 minutes. I caught back up with Katie around Low Wray and pulled ahead gradually on the smooth, undulating trails. I was feeling good! The terrain and profile of this section felt like my day to day runs in South Devon, where every run I do is a rollercoaster of 300ft hills, and for 6 or 7 miles I felt like I was going to sail through this section. Never count on anything being predictable in ultras though. Just before we hit the lakeshore, I saw my Mum and Chloe and found out that the gap to Marcis was now down to 8 minutes. However, I think he had rallied from an earlier fall and was now looking strong and controlled. Between the lake and the final aid station, I was to have a couple of low points over a few miles that ended my chase. Marcus widened the gap that he held to the finish, and it became a race for 2nd.

I still couldn't see Katie behind me but things started to go wrong on the climb to Finsthwaite and the final checkpoint. The legs felt heavy, I felt hungry, thirsty and lightheaded. In previous races, I might not have been able to sort myself out at this point and would have lost positions. I ended up arriving into the checkpoint at the same time as Katie. Again, she left quicker but this time I had an enforced stop to allow a new tracker to be fitted as mine was apparently showing me in, rather than alongside, Lake Windermere.


The final 8 miles took nearly 1.5 hours- there were still a few nasty short climbs on tired legs and the paths from here were showing the effects of several days of torrential rain. Katie and I crossed through Newby Bridge together and began a long road climb back to the hills. This was where I made a move, running up the climb and just keeping that relentless forward progress going. At Finsthwaite I had regrouped, got some coke and chocolate on board and my energy levels had now returned and I committed to running as many of the climbs as possible. This was the best I felt at the end of a race and I was determined to just get it done as quick as possible, and pushed the energy levels as much as I could on all of the final, short climbs that led to the final road mile to Cartmel and the finish. With fading light, Cartmel came into view and I shuffled my legs as quick as they could to try and avoid needing to get the headtorch out in the race. A quick last minute attempt to get lost was averted by Katie's husband Casper as I initially ran past the turn into the finish, and then I was met by the adoring crowd of Chloe and my Mum. I crossed the line and fell into a long, loving embrace with my dogs. There was a camera crew to capture the moment, and I tried my best to give a witty interview. The proof that I failed in doing this will be when I don't make the cut of the race video.

With my fans

Well done to everyone who finished a tough course in incredibly tough conditions. A huge thanks to James at Open Adventure and all volunteers for putting on a really good event, despite conditions no doubt making things harder. A particular well done to Marcis Gubats for a dominant performance, leading pretty much the entire way. And to Katie Kaars Sijpesteijn for smashing the course record just a few weeks after Glencoe Skyline.

Some stats:
Lakes in a Day, 50.4 miles. 2nd place, 10:43

https://www.strava.com/activities/1221626548

Strava gives an elevation of 14,700ft, though the real number was probably closer to 13,000.

Kit:
Inov 8 X talons 200 (to Ambleside)
Scott Supertrac RC (from Ambleside)
Injinji toe socks
Salomon S-lab Sense Ultra Set 5L
Inov 8 Stormshell
Inov 8 Softshell
Trekmates Merino Baselayer

80km du Mont Blanc

80km du Mont Blanc, 6000m ascent
14:58, 50th/1000

Race highlights here, courtesy of Marathon du Mont-Blanc
Race photos here, on competitor.com

Error #1: Can't even put a temporary tattoo on properly!

A race report describing a perfect day out is pretty boring (a race report describing a terrible day can be boring too, of course). Either way, this race report does definitely not describe an easy day. But then, when is 50+ miles, 6000m ascent and 35 degrees weather in the Alps easy?

It's frustrating to still feel like I'm making the same mistakes in races. At the same time, I'm making each 'A' race I do another big leap out of my comfort zone; I'm not making these mistakes at a 50km distance, where there is less time available to make these mistakes and you're more in control of your race. It just means the 100 mile distance is probably still a little way off, at least one of similar elevation profile.

This race report basically reads as a list of ultra running cliches- mostly a list of don'ts, so apologies for the lack of original content. I'm still on a big learning curve, I guess...

1. Prepare for the weather

The weather going into the race was unpredictable- there was still plenty of snow on high ground, forcing a route change in the days leading up to the race- the highest climb to 2645m was shortened and we instead dropped back down to the valley floor and then back up to Emosson. That might make the race seem a little easier, but more on that later...

Driving through France in the preceding week however, the weather was noticeably improving as we travelled south. By the Tuesday, when we were camping at Lake Annecy, the weather was in the 30s, and by the time we arrived in Chamonix, it was more than that, with a similar forecast for race day. This promised two things; 1) clear blue skies, great sunrise, incredible views and 2) a huge amount of suffering in the heat. I know I don't fare that well in the heat, as proven at the Kathmandu Valley 50km in March; having originally been disappointed at the prospect of a wet and cloudy day, walking around Chamonix at 5pm the day before the race when it was 33 degrees made me change my mind.

2. Manage Expectations

This was my first European race, with all the fanfare and the big crowds. Knowing that the first climb was pretty much immediate and on narrow switchbacks, I wanted to make sure I didn't get caught up at the back. It was a 2.30am wake up call to drive from our apartment in Les Houches to the start line. I placed myself in and amongst the first 100 or so, comfortably mixed in with the crowd away from the very front (but still standing out at 6'4").

With it being my biggest ultra to date, I'd no idea how I'd do in the competitive side of it. My tune up races in the UK had been a win at a marathon in the Brecon Beacons, and a 3rd place at the Keswick Mountain Festival 50km, behind Donnie Campbell, who was top 10 at this race last year-I was a long way behind him though, so was under no pretences of doing something similar. Studying previous results, I did think I was capable of a top 30 finish, however. I like to have 5 aims going into a race, on a scale of one aim being to have the dream race, and the last aim being to just finish the damn thing. For this race, those aims were (in either ascending or descending order)...

1. Finish it
2. Top 100
3. Top 50
4. Top 30
5. Top 20

I knew I wasn't realistically capable of top 20. But you need something to chase after, and that was it. As it is, my day was so miserable for large parts that it all became about just finishing, so the pre-race plan that the racing only starts in the last ten miles went out of the window, for me anyway. I hovered around the top 50 all day, finding myself maybe 40th or so at the last checkpoint at mile 43ish. In my ideal race, this was where I would make up places, on the final climb and the steep descent, but as it was I was the one being caught, largely thanks to blown out quads. Just to prove I wasn't completely done in though, I managed to find some (relative) speed running through town to claim back two places from the 7 or 8 I'd lost to sneak 50th place. Imagine the end of a race in slow motion, where a runner comes from the back on the home straight to take the win, and that's what it looked like. Except that slow motion wasn't a special effect! And it definitely wasn't a win.

3. Expect the pain. 

This was the first ultra I've done where I really experienced what it's like to bounce back from incredible suffering to feeling good within the space of a few miles. As a result of the brutal course, the heat, and this being the longest race I'd done by a fair few hours.,I started feeling bad a lot earlier than I've done before, comfortably before the half way point. The altered route basically meant we had 6 rather than 5 big climbs, the extra one being an ascent to the dam, rather than arriving at it on a descent. This ascent lacked tree cover, with the temperature already soaring, and on technical trail that made it hard to get a rhythm going. Basically, it broke me; my pace slowed right down, I kept stopping at streams to cool down, and I couldn't see how I could keep going when I felt so exhausted after just 5 hours. I got passed by so many people (including some day hikers!) that I was honestly ready to give it up at the next check point.  However, as I said, this was where I truly learnt the lesson of ultras. I phoned my girlfriend Chloe, desperately ready to throw in the towel. She convinced me to keep going to the aid station at the top and then she would meet me at the checkpoint back in the valley- as she pointed out, I had a bit of downhill coming up. I'm pretty sure that without Chloe's intervention, I'd have stopped. She gave me the determination to keep going and the belief that I could get through this.Eventually, by the time I had got back to the valley floor, I knew I wanted to carry on. I still didn't feel great, but I'd cooled down, my legs were in good shape and there was no physical reason to stop. Chloe then arranged to meet me at the aid station at Les Bois at mile 40ish- I knew if I got there I wouldn't give up with 10 miles to go.

4. Accept the pain. Embrace the pain. 

By the 4th climb, around the halfway mark, I'd got my head fixed and was back in the game. At this point, a bit of pre-race motivation came back to me.  I'd watched  Billy Yang's film Mont Blanc, and remembered something US elite David Laney said which resonated with me, "you have to have apathy towards pain, accept that this is going to be terrible, for three hours or ten hours or whatever...and just don't care anymore". It took me a while to get my head in the right frame of mind, but by that climb at 45km I had good rhythm going up, slow but purposeful, and was repeating to myself, "It's going to hurt. It will end". At this point, with the race not going according to the "dream" plan, this acceptance of the suffering managed to improve my frame of mind.

5. Make the race manageable.

-One thing I know I didn't do in this race was break it up into small chunks. I didn't prepare properly on that front, mainly because I had no course knowledge- in my last 50 miler, I estimated my time to each check point to within 5-15 minutes accuracy, and had broken down the race into small sections and carried that with me on a piece of paper in my race vest- in hindsight, I don't really know why I didn't do this, as it makes such a difference mentally.

6. Don't waste time in aid stations.

It's easy to fall into a trap of spending a few minutes longer than needed here and there at aid stations, and find that you've added excessive time onto your race. Obviously, the flip side of this is that if you don't spend enough time in them, you might not keep on top of nutrition and hydration. I'm normally through them as efficiently as possible. At this race, my time spent at aid stations added probably 90 minutes on to my finish time, but it also meant that I had a finish time. I needed them, to get out of the heat, cool down, and get myself in the frame of mind to keep going. If I really felt like I was "racing", I'd have been kicking myself for wasted time, but every second at checkpoints was vital to getting me through the day, so I can't really see it as time wasted.

7. Enjoy it.

At some point, you find yourself asking why you're doing this. I worked out a while ago that to feel like this at 2.30 am, or whatever stupid time you have to get up, that feeling this is normal, and I always know that by the end of a race, no matter how miserable some of it felt, I'm glad I did it. This race was slightly different in that the suffering came earlier and lasted longer than it has previously. Did I enjoy it? Yes. Did I enjoy all of it? No! But it's a 50 mile plus ultramarathon, 18,000 feet of climbing, 35 degree heat. Minimum 11 hours on feet, even for the sharp end. It's never going to be 100% enjoyable. But I got from this race what I wanted- a huge challenge, mind blowing scenery, a brilliant atmosphere at both start and finish, and overall a fantastic experience.



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Kathmandu West Valley Rim 50km

Kathmandu West Valley Rim 50km (+3400m) 4th, 7:20

I signed up to this race a while ago when I knew I would be in Nepal for a couple of months. I planned to treat it as a nice long run and wasn't going to taper, though food poisoning in the days before the race meant I had to! Trailrunning Nepal put on loads of races throughout the year, check them out! Here are my stray observations from the race:

This was one of the more interesting places I've started a race! Certainly beats a village hall in Wales (sorry, Wales).

•  Most interesting race bib I've got- David Beckham, bananas and a leopard.

• It was also the first time that an ultra running legend has filled out my registration details. Lizzy Hawker was on hand at both the start and finish, and had spent the days before the race out marking the course, less than a week after her 200km Kathmandu Valley loop!

• Nepal is hilly. Kind of obvious! I guess I'd never thought much about the kathmandu valley before, as most of the pictures you see of Nepal is Everest, the Annapurna range etc. But even just a few km from the city, we climbed up to 2300-2500m, and the race packed in a fair amount of vert! And downhill, obviously! Sorry, quads.

• Steps are not my friend. Nepal has a lot of steps. Going up is so slow, and going down is slow. I like to think I'm a decent down hill runner, but trying to fit my size 12 feet on the tiny steps as I descend makes me feel like an arthritic old Labrador lumbering down the stairs.

• The valley is also stunning- you would never think that a huge urban sprawl is just the other side of the ridge line when you're running through this:

• Never before have I felt so bad in the first 10km of a race. I know you're meant to stick to your own pace in the beginning of a race, but when Nepali runners in old football tops and jogging bottoms are gliding past you on stairs it's hard not to have the phrase "all the kit, still shit" ringing round your head. Not the sort of mantra that running advice articles advocate! The major climb of the race (nearly 3,000ft in less than 3 miles, pretty much a VK within a race!) was like a battlefield of walking wounded though, with cramping and exhausted runners sat down on the floor. Slow and steady! 

• However, the next 10 miles were some of my most enjoyable racing miles, as I found myself alongside Mira Rei, Nepal's running sensation. From watching her rise to the top of the Skyrunning scene and having read the countless articles detailing her back story, I knew she had a reputation as an exceptionally positive runner; she clearly just loves running, and rolling through the valley's villages with her was great fun. She waited at aid stations for me to finish sorting out my pack, called me back when I took a wrong turn, and manages to race at the sharp end without (seeming) to take it seriously. A lesson to be learnt!

• The heat really caught up with me at mid day, though. Just as I started to struggle and the first signs of dehydration crept in, Mira put on a jacket and ran away from me on the next uphill. A winter's training in the Brecon Beacons doesn't prepare you for 30 degree heat.

• On a related note, if you start thinking your back is getting really sweaty then it might be worth checking your water isn't leaking. The start of a long climb in the heat is not the time to run out of water. The next couple of hours turned into a real suffer fest.

• On another related note, turning a tap on to find no water coming out of it is one of the worst feelings you can have mid race!
• New food strategy: I had a Bounty at the next aid station. Race saved!
• Cool, and technical final descent to the finish line, luckily my quads were able to handle it. So picturesque, too:

Pic courtesy of Antti Rautavaara

• The thing that kept me motivated to the finish line:

Finally, go to Nepal, and do a race there! Such a good experience.

3x3000 80km Ultra Trail

50 miles, 13500ft of ascent. A loop starting and finishing in Keswick, taking in Scafell Pike, Helvellyn and Skiddaw.

11:02, 9th place

As with any race, a huge thanks to the people that make it happen- High Terrain Events for organising a great event, and the marshals out on the route and at feed stations; it would be a lot harder and a lot less enjoyable without people giving up their Sunday mornings to watch you suffer!

Courtesy of High Terrain Events

This was my 3rd ultra and first 50 miler, and the biggest elevation profile of any of the races I'd done, so it was always going to be tough and always going to take me a long time. Going in to the race and after a recce weekend, I'd estimated finishing in anything over 10 hours, knowing the winning time on a slightly altered course last year was 8:30. On the full course, Ricky Lightfoot won in just under 9 hours, with Sarah Morwood winning in 10:30 for 1st female and 5th overall: both very impressive athletes.

Training had featured one solid block of 5 weeks of high mileage, high amount of elevation and a good amount of specificity, with a couple of weeks at home in Yorkshire, a training weekend in the Lakes and a couple of weeks on placement in the hills of Abergavenny. Other than that, I'd spent a month in East Africa, getting some running in, ranging from a long run in the heights of Iten, to doing 6x3 minutes up and down the only car-free dirt track I could find in a Kenyan city, so it wasn't exactly consistent. And before that, exams had got in the way and I was confined to running on the flat roads and paths of Cardiff. Still, I felt pretty good going in to the race, especially on uphills.

One of the things that excited me about the race, aside from the stunning course, was that some pretty big names were entered into the race, including Ricky Lightfoot and Donnie Campbell, who have some incredible results internationally. It was exicting to be in the same race as these guys for a few seconds; About 30 seconds into the race and they were out of sight...nice whilst it lasted anyway!

I'd broken down the presumed 10 hours of running into chunks to mentally deal with the distance. Basically, it was a 2 hour run in the dark, a total of about 3 hours climbing, and the last two hours were always going to just be a suffer fest. By these calculations, it was therefore only a 3 hour run, which is less than my weekly long run, so it was pretty straightforward really!

The first couple of hours passed with the help of a couple of guys; one of them, Matt, had his dog with him- she ran the whole race and when I saw them at the finish line she looked like she'd barely done anything and was ready to go all over again. For comparison, my black labrador has inadvertently been conditioned to hide from me when she sees me in running shorts, such is her fear of hill repeats, so I'm a fair bit envious of this!

The section in the dark was one of my favourite parts of the race. I knew the section well so didn't have to worry about the terrain, and I think it being dark allowed the time to pass by and before I knew it, we were nearly 2 hours in. It also meant I didn't get sucked into looking at the mileage- I knew roughly the mileage of each point of the course, but I actually didn't look at the distance on my watch at all during the race. (If that makes you wonder why I even bothered using a watch, then you clearly don't have Strava- after all, if it ain't on Strava...). I turned my headtorch off on the climb towards Scafell Pike, and got into a decent rhythm climbing upwards. The gap to the guys ahead wasn't changing, and although a couple of runners behind me were getting a bit closer, I was in no rush. I had no idea what position I was even in, and deliberately didn't want to know- I found out shortly before the climb to High Raise that I was in 8th- I don't think my position altered by 3 places all race, so in general my pacing was fairly consistent- I've just got to get enough strength in the legs to actually attack in the last 10 miles of a race and try and move up the rankings. Small steps, though. (Or bigger steps in a quicker stride).

A couple of runners I spoke to after the race said they think the descent to Wythburn is one of their favourite bits of the route. I'm clearly not as sadistic as these guys, as I didn't enjoy any of it! On paper, it's a rolling 4 mile descent after the first major climb, so should be fun, but I think the bog makes it frustratingly slow, with every step forward also being a foot down into the soggy ground.  Coming from Yorkshire and living in Wales I'm used to these conditions, but it doesn't mean I have to like them!

I knew from running parts of the course previously that this was the hardest bit underfoot, and that it marked the half way point of the course, so I felt after a beast of a climb up High Raise and then a boggy descent that it was all downhill from there to the finish, psychologically anyway. In reality, what that part actually marked was the start of a very very big uphill- switchbacks lead you all the way up to Helvellyn in just a couple of kilometres. Still, ultra running is all in the mind!

Since Scafell Pike I'd been running in 8th or 9th, in the middle of a group of 6. For a good 20 miles or so, I was continually within eyesight of 4th place, a few minutes ahead, and no more than a few minutes ahead of 10th place. It stayed this way for most of the ridge running along the Dodds, though maybe 4th and 5th had pulled away by the time we got to Clough Head. The gradient of the descent off Clough Head is ridiculous at nearly 50% in places, so you've just got to let gravity do the work for you and hope you make it down with your quads intact.

From there, there's a few miles of flat running before the climb up to the checkpoint at Latrigg at mile 38. I'd agreed to meet Chloe, my mum and my dogs here, just in case I needed some moral support at this point. I'd roughly worked out I would be passing through this point at 8 hours, and ended up passing through in 8.15- not bad estimations on my part! Obviously, British politeness made sure that the first thing I did was apologise for being late! At this point, if we turned left and down the hill into Keswick, we'd be done and finished in 15 minutes. Unfortunately, the reality was that we had to complete a 12 mile loop  of Skiddaw beforehand.

The first few miles of this loop were horrible, all ran at a gradual incline- Chloe said she could see it in my face when I looked at the path that I really didn't look like I wanted to go that way. On fresh legs it would have felt like a nice easy jog on smooth easy terrain. On tired and battered legs, it's a completely different story. The final steep slog up to Skiddaw was slower than I would have liked, but I still felt like I had a good rhythm going up. By this point I'd been running in 9th place for nearly half the race, and was still running with an equal gap to the runner ahead and behind. I was almost convinced it would stay like this, so it was actually a surprise when I caught the guy ahead of me, who had a low spot just after the top of Skiddaw and stopped. I stopped to check he was OK and if there was anything he needed (he said he'd run out of water but unfortunately so had I as I'd accidentally left a bottle at the last aid station, so couldn't help) and I was surprised to find myself suddenly in 8th. That position lasted about 5 minutes, however, as the runner who had previously been in 10th finished impressively on the final descent and overtook me just before Latrigg. I felt reasonable coming off Skiddaw, but a fairly innocuous collision with a stone on Scafell Pike was finally taking its toll on my big toe nail and I could feel it separating from the nail bed, which made for a fairly painful last few miles on the downhills.

The final mile into town from Latrigg was straightforward. I passed Sarah Morwood walking the other way having finished, and appreciated her cheer of support as I rounded the last corner and in to the finish line at Moot Hall. Overall, I'm pretty pleased with how the race went, as it isn't the easiest race to make your first 50 miler. I'd quietly hoped for a finish in and around the top 10, and I never had any real dark moments during the race, so I definitely think I am managing the mental side of ultras better with every race- there was no point during the race where I felt like I wouldn't get across the finish line, and I think each race I finish breeds confidence going into the next one.

Next for me now is a short break, then a winter of hard training in the Black Mountains and Brecon Beacons, with a few shorter races thrown in, then my next ultra should be the Kathmandu 50km next spring, during an 8 week stay in Nepal...if that doesn't make me better at going up and down mountains, then nothing will!

My Favourite Places to Run

It's a grey day in Cardiff (and it's June), I am supposed to be revising for the next few weeks for more exams, and I'm still not quite back to running properly after the Brecon Beacons Ultra. I went for a tester run yesterday, which was ok, but it might be another week of practising for old age, when my knees give up, by cycling for fitness (and barely for fun). Instead, I thought I'd list a few of the places that I would much rather be right now, running.


I've not been to the US or even any of the main European mountain ranges (though my bucket list is pretty much made up of races in these regions), so this list is probably a little different. Even so, I think these are some pretty great places to run! In no particular order...

1. Ilha Grande, Brazil

Ilha Grande is one of those places that runners dream about, even if they didn't know it yet. A small, tropical island about 3 hours from Rio, it has a network of 90km or so of trails pretty much circumnavigating the island (which means it is crying out for an FKT!) and the highest peak reaches up to almost 1000m-given the trail up starts at sea level, you almost have a VK race in the making there!

By basing yourself in the tiny village of Abraao, you have a great range of restaurants, hotels and bars to come back to, right on the beach. However, you can camp on the other beaches around the island, which you can get to by water taxi. Or running, obviously! The island is also great for a bit of cross training- mountain biking, swimming, kayaking, surfing and Stand-up paddle boarding. I had a great 10 days or so here, mixing up some brilliant trail running with beach time, followed by great food and caipirinhas in the evening. More than any place I've been to in the world, it's the place I want to go back to. 

2. Samaipata, Bolivia


I managed to spend 4 weeks in Brazil last summer during the world cup, and despite the obligatory drinking that comes with being party of the Barmy Army, I was still doing some decent running, inspired by the beaches and trails, as described above. I then went to Bolivia with wild ideas of some amazing runs on the Salt flats and in the mountains around La Paz. A combination of tape worms and stolen passports ate into our time and stomachs, meaning by the time I had just a few days left in the country, the best I'd managed was a few runs in smoggy cities and on the banks of the rivers in the Amazon Basin.

That all changed in Samaipata, though. It's a small town, only 3 hours or so from Santa Cruz's international airport, and home to quite a few expats. Set at an altitude of 1600-1800m (for reference: bit less than Iten, similar to Boulder) and with surrounding hills and roads rising another 1000m or so, the dusty roads and network of trails are great for exploring. We rented a villa just outside the town belonging to a lovely German couple, just up the road from an ice cream parlour, and I would follow the tracks up the hills until I was bored/tired, and then fly back down again. 15 minutes away by motorbike there's a set of waterfalls with peaks rising above them and a good set of trails, and there's also plenty of opportunity to rent guides and explore the surrounding mountains. It's not the Bolivia you picture before you go, and if you are used to altitude or have the time to acclimatise in La Paz and its surrounds (at 3500-4500m) then you really can get in some truly wild trekking, but I think what I liked about Samaipata is how unexpected it was. As an aside, the areas of Tarija and Tupiza in the south of the country are also great for running. Tupiza is like the wild west and Tarija is wine country.

3. Southern France

Obviously, the Alps would make most peoples list- Chamonix is a place that I have to go to soon! From my own experiences though, I spent a couple of weeks in a small village called Puivert, between Carcassonne and at the foothills of the Pyrenees, and loved it. It was at a time when I'd just finished my first triathlon (The Slateman in North Wales) and staying in a house a 2 minute walk to a swimming lake massively improved my open water swimming. There were also some great trails, though, with plenty of elevation. The days went something like this: morning open water swim, croissants and coffee, lunchtime swim/run, baguettes and coffee, evening run and swim, baguettes and wine/beer. My running came on massively here, as did my love of croissants, baguettes, coffee and wine.

4. Snowdonia, Wales

Right, enough prancing round in exotic locations in nice weather. Time for some grit. I can't and won't ignore the places where my running saw big improvements. Being based in Cardiff, and now that I have a car, I do get the chance to go and explore the Brecon Beacons. However, it was in Snowdonia last autumn on a university placement that I got my first chance to spend an extended period of time in the mountains. I was logging my biggest mileage and most elevation to date.

I think I did Snowdon's Llanberis path the first afternoon I was there (standard) but then moved onto better, if about 16 metres smaller, things, and I would say the Carneddau mountains provided me with my favourite and most memorable runs. The ascents are hard, the terrain is hard and the descents are hard. Proper mountain running.

5. Lake District

Obviously The Lakes has to make the list. I've been going to the Lakes since I was about 4 and Skiddaw was the first mountain I ever ran up . Even when I didn't run 'properly', I would run up Latrigg and look out across Derwent water, so that view over Keswick has to be one of my favourites. These days, it's a long trek from South Wales, but I was up there earlier this year for the Keswick Mountain Festival, and I'll be running the 3x3000 80k later this year, with a recce weekend planned before that. I always look forward to going back.

Also, BGR is obviously on the bucket list...one day.

An honourable mention has to go to my home in Yorkshire, but I think Yorkshire would be at the top of everyone's list, it's too much of an obvious choice! I think I'll write about that at some point in the future. In the next 12 months I will be going to East Africa and to Nepal, and I also have an eye on Tranvulcania 2016, so I'm pretty sure this list will lengthen!

 

MCN Brecon Beacons Ultra

MCN Round 2 Brecon Beacons Ultra

42 miles, 9000ft
5th place, 7:37

I wrote a review of this race over at RunUltra (here), so if you're after a more detailed description of the course and route, check that out, or see the event website for more information about this race or any of the great races the MCN team put on.

The Training (skip ahead if this bit's boring)

This was the longest ultra I've ran, so I'm really pleased with my time and position. In my first ultra at the Endurancelife South Devon, I'd started strongly (classic rookie mistake) and been 5th at the 20 mile point, but had faded really badly and by the time I finished I was just wanting it to be over. I'd then ran the Round 1 Black Mountains marathon in March, mainly to practice my nutrition and build confidence in a race situation, and finished 3rd.

The weeks leading up to Round 2 had been pretty perfect in terms of training. I'd stupidly signed up to a race which fell just after a fairly heavy exam period, so I was having to fit training in around revising all day, every day for a good 5 or 6 weeks. This meant I wasn't sacrificing mileage but I was sacrificing specificity and time on feet, as even though I live in Cardiff and am only about 45 minutes away from the mountains, I didn't have the time to drive up to the Beacons, so a lot of my running was in flat Bute Park, with my long runs featuring a considerable amount of flat trails and roads on my way out to the hilly forest trails near Caerphilly. The Garth hill was probably my saviour. 3 or 4 times a week during revision, I cycled out on the Taff Trail to the Garth, and did hill repeats up there. In a 5 or 6 mile run, I'd run up and down the slopes of the Garth three times, with the hill repeats offering an average gradient of 15%. All in all each run gave me just shy of 2000ft of elevation. Fortunately, these sessions coincided with never-seen-before-and-surely-never-seen-again period of constant sunshine in Wales, for 2 whole weeks, in April, which made the 6am starts much easier. The fact that I was slowly but surely acquiring a pretty great vest tan was definitely a bonus, if not the main reason I was out there.

The last 3 weeks before the race featured my biggest ever training week. I'm fairly new to running 'seriously', and 12 months ago I was used to running 30-40 miles a week, with a lot of cross training thrown in. After a training period of 50-80 mile weeks, in the first week of May I threw in an 87 mile week with 16000ft of elevation, back at home in Yorkshire, and followed that week up with a 4th place at the Keswick Mountain Festival trail race. 2 solid weeks of tapering meant I felt pretty good going in to the Brecon Ultra.

The Race

My mate Cal was running the 10 mile race, and was going to stick around after he finished for moral support if I was dead at the finish, and to provide chocolate milk if I did require resuscitation.

The race starts with a nice easy 3 miles along the canal, so the temptation to start fast was strong. Luckily, I started near the back because I prioritised getting a nice photo over starting near the front, so I missed the chance to get to the start line. In hindsight this meant that I saved energy on those first few miles. By the first hill I could see the front 4, which meant I had a good view of them running off course and veering right before the summit of Tor y Foel. I wasted a bit of time stopping to check the route map with the confusion, so the gap between me and the 3 guys running together stayed about the same by the time they'd realised their mistake. The leader, Andre Jonsson went off course for longer before realising his mistake, though he caught me frighteningly quickly and passed me within only a few miles of the wrong turn. He won by over an hour and is clearly a top top runner- it was actually pretty exciting to watch how good he was on the trails. I've since seen that he has a few video blogs about trail running- the advice he offers clearly works.

At mile 10, there's a good 6 or 7 mile uphill through the bogs up onto the ridge, which saps your energy. You're then rewarded with a nice descent down the motorway that is the footpath from the main car park for Pen y Fan. A few people I spoke to afterwards complained about how busy this path was with people walking up, but I loved the chance to feel like Kilian as I flew from rock to rock, doing my best to avoid being the bowling ball to the pins that were groups of schoolchildren. Disaster averted, but I clearly got carried away as it took me a few hundred metres back on the flat to regain a normal running stride. I stopped to refill at the next checkpoint, with the guys from Imperial trail team in 2nd and 3rd a couple of minutes ahead, and the Swedish winner presumably already finished. I turned round to look back up towards the road and saw about 5 or 6 runners a matter of seconds behind me. I had to reassure myself that it was too early in the race to matter, but it felt ominous. I eventually got overtaken by the 1st female and 2nd overall (who I later found out to be Beth Pascall, who I've heard interviewed on Talk Ultra and is a pretty great runner) on the descent back across the A470.

The next 5 miles so was basically up a mountain, down a mountain, up a mountain again. I found myself with the guys who would eventually finish just behind me on the climb up from Storey Arms to Pen y Fan, the summit of which more or less led us to mile 26. I had a bit of a gap by the time we'd descended back into the valley and started the long climb up to Cribyn, though Tim Woodier, who finished very strongly for 3rd overall, caught me about halfway up. He climbed with me for a few minutes, which was just enough time for me to know that he's a really nice guy and so it was hard to begrudge him overtaking me with an incredibly fast powerhike on the scamble up Cribyn, at about 32 miles.

It was a relief to clear the summit of Cribyn. I'd texted Cal just before that climb, not really thinking about how big of a climb lay ahead, and told him I was on mile 30 so I would probably be another 2 hours or so, depending on how many miles over the  "40ish" miles described by MCN was. 20 minutes and probably only 200 metres later, I was still on mile 30. I never texted Cal to readjust my time, which was a little bit selfish on my part but probably indicates how much I hated the world at that point, and how much I regretted being a self proclaimed "lover of hills". From the summit of Cribyn, of course, everything was right with the world again, and I felt pretty good along the next 6 or 7 miles. 3rd place was long gone and I was fairly comfortable, a couple of glances behind reassured me 4th was probably safe...

I had a bit of a shocker in the last few miles, though. We had a couple of miles descent down to Talybont reservoir, then a few miles of rolling in to the finish back along the Taff Trail and canal path. The biggest annoyance of my race came at the reservoir, when I seemingly crashed for no reason. It wasn't tiredness, muscle fatigue or lack of energy, just simple dehydration. I hadn't had any water since Cribyn and there wasn't any water at a checkpoint at mile 37, as the map suggested, so it had been a while without water, which was a mistake on my part and shows how easy it is to stop thinking straight as you tire. If it hadn't been for the fact that we ran past a reservoir, I would probably have been OK. However, running alongside that giant glass of cold water was really difficult, and I actually stopped to look over the wall to see how easy it would be to just take some. It was just after that point that I got overtaken by the guy who finished fourth, Jonathan Bamber, who found me walking the very small, final climb on the Taff Trail. He stopped to check I was OK and offered to run in with me, which is a great example of everything you hear about how great ultra runners are. I told him to head on without me though, and by the time I was running on flat again my heart rate had slowed back down and I felt good again, which allowed me to run in the final few miles relatively comfortably.

This was yet another great event by the Might Contain Nuts team. A big thanks to the team and all the marshals for their amazing effort, and well done to everyone who ran this race. It was the furthest and hardest run I've done, (which still won't be that far compared to a lot of people!), but it's early days so I'm pleased that I managed a step up in distance and difficulty and was still able to finish relatively strongly (strong desire to jump in a reservoir at mile 38 aside).


My next big race will be the 3x3000 80k Ultra in October, so I have a few weeks of rest and recovery before thinking about starting my next training cycle. I had felt a slight niggle in my heel from about mile 15, which I felt the whole way round. It didn't affect my performance too much, but it's fair to say I've struggled with walking this last week- a bit of peroneal tendonitis which is thankfully showing signs of fading, but it's cycling only for me for a couple of weeks until that fully heals.