Hardmoors Saltburn Marathon: It had moors. It was hard

Nic's review of the Hardmoors Saltburn Marathon

Moors.  Beautiful moors. Hard moors.

We entered the Hardmoors Saltburn Marathon at the start of the year, after I said I wanted a trail marathon to look forward to.  We like to use races as an excuse to visit new places, and Kurt had never been to North Yorkshire.  Then, a couple of months later, we entered Endure 24, and this marathon became something of an afterthought.

I had been struggling to recover after Endure 24, finding that I tired really easily and feeling like I’d lost strength and power when trying to run hills.  The first couple of runs after our Georgia trip were hideous.   I doubted I’d be marathon-fit by August 11th, and contemplated dropping to the half.  We’d already booked the hotel room, or we probably would have pulled out altogether, as Kurt was injured.  But then I suddenly found my mojo again at the end of July, while out trail-running with a friend.  It was like a switch had been flicked – I felt full of energy and running was enjoyable again – phew!  I was also loving running the Cotswold Way, recceing it in preparation for the Cotswold Way Century race in September.  With Kurt injured, the task of running the trails, map in hand, checking out the tricky bits, fell to me.  I ran the final leg of it, into Bath, last Wednesday.  We thought it was about 13-14 miles, but I went wrong big-style in the last few miles and added a couple of extras, eventually doing 17 miles.  I wasn’t too worried about this.  I wasn’t that tired at the end, I was uninjured and still full of energy.  I actually felt pretty confident about the marathon, I just needed to take it easy and make sure I ate regularly.

The weekend came and we made our way North.  After a pleasant evening, a nice Italian meal and a good sleep, we made the short drive to Saltburn by the Sea.  It was a beautiful morning – sunny and fresh, and the scenery looked very promising.  I didn’t feel particularly ‘up for it’ but that’s not unusual – I put it down to nerves.  In fact, I think I was the most nervous I’ve been about any race in the last few years.  The following few hours did not go well.

The route took a short road section out of Saltburn and before long hit the trails.  There was plenty of uphill in the first few miles, which I quite happily hiked.  I was keeping an eye on my average pace though, as I really wanted this race over and done with in around six hours.  I didn’t really feel all that good, but it has been taking me ages to warm up lately.  I figured I could always turn off at the half marathon split if I felt that bad, but it came after less than three miles, which was a bit soon to be making a decision to bail really!  I had some jelly babies at the checkpoint and carried on.  The trail was pleasant, very firm underfoot with some lovely views out to sea.  I was starting to feel a bit better as I loosened up and enjoyed the scenery.  The going started to get very hard at Guisborough woods, as the trail took a very steep gradient up the side of a hill, through some very overgrown (and sharp) vegetation.  This was really tough and unpleasant.  We continued to climb, eventually coming out on Stanghow Moor.  It was beautiful.  The heather was in full flower and the views were magnificent.

The calm before the storm

Running through a very narrow trail though bushy heather brought its own challenges though.  The trail was too narrow to run naturally, I had to trot along putting one foot very firmly in front of the other to avoid tripping on heather roots.  This took a great deal of concentration and didn’t feel good at all.  And, I was still going uphill.  I did however discover that heather is an excellent exfoliator.  Eventually, the downhill came.  Were it not for such a narrow trail, the downhill would have been a delight, as the trail was firm and the gradient was pleasant.

Lovely heather, narrow single track

Ten miles in was the next checkpoint.  All the checkpoint volunteers and marshals were so lovely and there was a nice array of snacks.  I had a couple of cups of coke (heavenly) and a chocolate cornflake crispy thing before hiking up a steep road and coming to the next section, uphill again on Skelderskew Moor.  I was really starting to fade at this point.  I felt exhausted and had no idea how I was going to complete.  The hills felt brutal.  At the high point on Skelderskew Moor, the heavens opened with some proper Yorkshire rain – cold and horizontal.  I pulled on my waterproof and ploughed on, grateful to find some downhill.  The trail here was made up of hard rock – it looked like slabs of rock had been laid to make a trail.  It made a change from fighting with the heather, but it was hell on tired sore feet.  After a mile or so of this, it was back to the heather.  I can’t tell you how many times I tripped and stumbled and almost fell down.  I was really struggling and as I reached the checkpoint at fourteen miles, three hours in, I phoned Kurt and said I wanted to stop.  He was busy at the finish, helping with timing, so I decided to keep going.  I really didn’t want to quit but I had no confidence of finishing without killing myself – either through falling down or plain exhaustion.  Another three hours felt out of the question.  Thankfully, the route did get a little easier over the next couple of miles, but I felt awful and after a couple more conversations with Kurt on the phone, I told him just to come and find me at a road crossing.  I’d had enough.  In those last few miles, I really tortured myself trying to make the final decision as to whether or not to quit.  I’d never quit a race before.  But I don’t think I’ve ever felt so bad in a race before.  Kurt picked me up at 17 miles in, four hours after the start.  I cried and cried but I’ve never been so relieved to stop running.

So what happened?  Simply, I failed to prepare properly.  I got a few things wrong.  I don’t know how much impact the 17 miles four days before had, but I don’t think that was the cause.  My legs didn’t feel tired after that run, and I felt physically fresh on the morning of the race.  But I suppose it could have had some impact. I had eaten well in the run up to it, but I did get my food strategy all wrong on the day.  In my other marathons, I’ve eaten things like Clif Bars in the first couple of hours, which has worked well.  In this race, I went straight to sugar, eating Shot Bloks, gels and jelly babies instead.  I just didn’t think about it enough, reaching for what was convenient rather than thinking about what works for me best.  So I sugar-crashed.  Not good.  The other thing I failed to do was actually look closely at the route map and the elevation profile.  If I had, I would have realised that the first 13 miles of the route are uphill and I would have paced myself better.  Instead, I was so worried about keeping my average pace around 13 min/miles, I pushed too hard and blew up.  I should have taken it much easier in the first half, knowing the second half was so much easier, and I could have made up time then.  But I failed to avail myself of this information and I paid for it.  I also think I am probably not fully recovered from Endure 24.  I do wonder what I would have done if Kurt had also been running, and unable to rescue me from my hell.  I probably would have plodded on and ‘deathmarched’ to the end.  It would not have been pretty and I probably would not have been able to run the lovely little trail run I did today.  So all in all, bailing out was a sensible decision.  My friend Roy says I must find myself another marathon to run so I can get rid of the demons – I think he is right – onward and upward is the only way!

Shoe Review: La Sportiva Crosslite XC

As the upper in my previous right trail shoe decreased its attachment to the lower portion of the shoe, I started to look out for a new model and brand.  Nic has been quite happy in her choice of La Sportiva Crosslites for several hundred miles, but when I tried a pair, the fit wasn't really what I was looking for.  I've been wearing Inov-8s since 2008, which makes it tough for anything new to get past the "first impression" test. I liked the upper and the rock plate, but something wasn't quite "right".  So, when I had the opportunity to try on a pair of Crosslite XC at the Snowdonia Marathon mini-expo, I took the chance and was pleasantly surprised.  The next thing I knew, I had a pair of shoes tucked under the wardrobe waiting for the untimely demise of my Roclites.

After my trip to the Wrekin last month, the time had finally come to try something new.  Carrying my new shoes in my backpack, I ran for my favourite proving ground - Bredon Hill.  My preferred approach up the hill begins with a steady track around a ploughed field, carries on through a firm pasture, slogs through a load of boggy muck, up a wetland that was like a shallow stream after all the rain, up a limestone track, and along a path that alternates between grass, slippery roots, mud, and rock.  Then it's a nice circuit of the hill and back down.  In a little over 7 miles, this route offers a fantastic mix of terrains and textures to test out a new pair of shoes.

The Crosslite XC is a light shoe (less than 280g in size 9) with a breathable upper, aggressive outsole, and lace gaiter.  Thankfully, the bright yellow mellows quickly once you hit the mud.

La Sportiva Crosslite XC - "Before"

The first thing you notice when you put on the Crosslite XC is that you can't get to the bottom of your laces.  Adjusting the tension requires an old-fashioned tug on the ends and some hope that you'll get it right.  It took a few tries, especially with cold fingers (I'd had a nice, if very cold, road run to reach my testing ground).  After a couple of stops, I got the laces right and was able to tuck them into the gaiter.  The gaiter comes up high enough to provide a good anti-muck layer above the most vulnerable grit access point, but not quite far enough to allow you to completely hide the knots.  Being able to tuck away the loops in the laces should help to keep the shoes from being untied by running through long grass, but the knots still get caked with mud as you find with any other shoe that needs to be tied.

The rubberized toe box and reinforced upper proved suitably robust against the various rocks, sticks, and roots I encountered on my way.  My feet kept reasonably dry when running through small amounts of mud, and the shoes seemed to drain quickly when I went through anything particularly deep.  I never felt like the shoe was holding an unnecessary amount of the water I was running through.

Widely-spaced lugs, angled to support ascending and descending.

The Crosslite XC is billed as an aggressive fell and trail shoe, designed for wet and slippery conditions.  The outsole bears out the description.  The lugs are angled in all directions to support forward motion - the outer lugs on the forefoot are angled to resist sliding away from the centre line, the main forefoot lugs are angled to grip and pull through as you go up hill and to push mud away as you go down hill, and at the back you can see the lugs turned around, so they offer extra grip as your heel digs into the shifting earth/scree on a messy descent.  The "FriXion" rubber compound is a soft rubber, ideal for wet rock.  The grip on wet limestone descents was unexpectedly good, comparing quite favourably to the popular Inov-8 Mudclaw. The harder sole on the standard Crosslite is not quite as sticky across wet rock, but wears well on the road sections of a route - I'm not sure how long the XC will cope with the inevitable road running between trails, but the extra stability on wet limestone is worth it on my local trails.  I felt incredibly well connected to the ground on my descent through wet leaves, rock, roots, and grass, with good grip throughout.

The rock plate and rigid sole provided excellent protection from the occasional sharp rock, but the difference  from the incredible flexibility I normally have in my shoes may take some getting used to.  I can think of several races over the past year when I would have loved the extra protection, so I'll be breaking myself in as quickly as possible.

They wash up well in running water, and don't keep it with you  once you carry on.

Towards the end of my run, I tested the built-in gaiters with a knee-deep mis-step.  Very little filth got into the shoe, which made a nice change from my previous pair.  I did manage to sweep some grit into the shoes as I washed off the mud in a stream, but nothing more than could be expected with the vigour of my swishing about.  Happily, the shoes also released the water as I ran, so there was no squelching after just a field or two.

As I sat to change back into road shoes for the 10K run home from the test, I encountered an unexpected bonus.  Although I hadn't really noticed the fit once I got the lace tension right, the Crosslite XC heel box fits me perfectly, with no slipping.  My feet typically tear out the heel box cushioning in all of my shoes, but these gripped in just the right places - to the extent that I struggled to get the slimy things off my very wet feet!

In summary, the Crosslite XC is an excellent fell shoe, great for wet and slippery conditions, with a great fit.  It handles rough terrain as well as its better-known rivals, and feels like it will last a bit longer.  It seems like La Sportiva are phasing it out (I can't find it on their website any more), so it's worth stocking up before they disappear entirely.  That said, based on my experience so far, I'd happily consider any new light-weight replacement the manufacturers come out with.

Mid-life update: 

It's nearing the end of February, and I've put nearly 200 miles on these shoes, so I thought it useful to update the review. Mostly, I have been running in mud - up muddy hills, down muddy hills, through wet and muddy fields.  The longest I've spent in the shoes is around 6.5 hours.  They really do drain well. I've managed 1 dry run in that time, and the shoes held up well.  My feet didn't get too hot, but I must say that after 20 miles, I was feeling a bit battered by the combination of already-tired feet, minimal cushioning and the fairly rigid sole.  I'm quite happy to run on a minimally cushioned shoe, but I would have liked a bit more freedom for my feet for a run of that distance given the amazing lack of soft ground on that day.  

As with nearly every shoe I've worn this winter, I am seeing some heavy wear around the toe box.  But, unlike my Inov-8s, I haven't had any holes developing in the Crosslite XC.  The fabric is pretty robust.  The test will be whether it separates from the sole after another hundred miles.  So far, the signs are that the shoe will last well.

I still think this is a top-notch shoe, but I can't see wearing it for any of the 8-12 hour events I've got coming up in the spring.  But, since that's not what the shoe is designed for, I won't complain about that!

Broadway Tower Trail Races - a view from the other side of the line

Normally, I only write about my own efforts or occasionally Nicola's.  Last weekend, for the first time in a while, I crossed the fence to the dark, hidden side of running: race directing.  The majority of that activity will remain dark and hidden - races are much like sausages: you enjoy them more if you don't see them being made.  But, here are a few reflections on the day.

Broadway Tower Marathon Start - photo courtesy of CM Running Photography

The routes for the Broadway Tower Marathon & Half Marathon have been under design for quite some time.  The original route was planned in the spring and in place early in the summer, with the diversion (the one I designed, not the unplanned ones) decided a bit more recently.  They include some of the most beautiful views the area has to offer, even on a rainy day.  On a nice day, the route can be absolutely stunning.  Over the past few years, these trails have been fantastic to run on, with occasional slippery bits and plenty of good hard-packed, often rock hard ground.  With the ridiculous amount of rain we've had locally this summer, some of the fields turned to sticky, muddy, horrible mires - especially in the 3rd quarter of the marathon course.  Having run nearly all of the route on the Wednesday and Thursday before the race, I am full of admiration for all of the competitors.  Conditions underfoot were tough out there on Saturday (but not a patch on how bad it was amid Sundays downpours!), and if the sun hadn't come out I dare say we would have had a regular transfer service running from the 20mi check point to the race base.

In every event, there are plenty of unexpected surprises on the day, for runners and organisers.  I can't imagine how difficult it would have been for everyone without the telephone safety net.  A few people needed some extra directions and reassurance they were on the right route and phoned to check.  A few probably should have made calls but didn't.  For anyone planning to run on the trails, whether racing or training, it's always a good idea to take a phone.  A quick text or call to say "I'm lost," "I'm OK, just really slow," "I'm really cold and need some help" can be the difference between a good day and a disastrous one.  Personally, I've used my phone for all of the above.  It's also worth knowing/remembering that a text message will send in low signal better than a phone call will connect.

I didn't get the chance to speak to everyone as they crossed the finish line, but I tried to catch up with as many as I could, and seeing the sense of achievement on so many faces was fantastic, and something I won't soon forget.  

Snowdonia Marathon - Marathoneryri - a once-in-a-lifetime race?

This weekend, Nic and I joined our friends Roy and Chris for a relaxing run around Llanberis and surrounding villages, at the Snowdonia Marathon.  The story of why we were there goes back just over a year, to my failed attempt at a PB in the 2011 Abingdon Marathon.  And once we got there, we enjoyed what can only be described in a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Cast your mind back to October 2011, when I was disappointed that my body, while clearly in the best condition it ever had been in, failed me for a second year as I attempted to break 3:20.  I knew I needed to put a lot more focus on my core strength and add more long, fast running to my schedule.  Then, I had to write a few "for fun" races off my schedule while I recovered the minor niggles.  It's safe to say that I wasn't in the best frame of mind for scheduling a fast road marathon for the third straight year.

If we fast-forward slightly to January 1st, 2012, when I came back from a slightly "merry" 5k jog to clear the fog, I had a text from Roy notifying me that entries had opened, and would be closing very quickly indeed.  So, with both Nic and me still somewhat judgement-impaired from bringing in the New Year, we decided it would be a great first road marathon for Nic.  I decided that I'd had enough tilting at the 3:20 windmill and would enjoy doing a road race somewhere "just for the fun of it".

Then, the magical racing year that has been 2012 happened.  As part of my ultra preparation, I had increased the core work, added a 4th run to my standard running schedule, and was enjoying the benefits of consistent training.  By the end of August, every race I had run was either a course best (trail) or personal best (1mi, 1.3mi, 5km, 1/2mara). So, I started to look at 2011 Marathoneryri times from runners I know and compare against that 3:32 from Amsterdam to see if there was any chance of keeping my streak alive with another road PB.  I concluded that it would be tight, but possible, and put a little more work into finding a sustainable uphill running effort for the final hill of the race.  The idea of cracking my PB, set on a pancake-flat course, among the hills of Snowdonia struck me as the sort of convoluted achievement that I particularly enjoy.  After all, a PB is always nice, but setting it with an extra 2500ft of ascent is so much better!

Along comes race day, and everything is set - after a few flakes of snow overnight, the sun came up to bring that rarest of beasts, a cold, bright, and dry day.  Everyone was amazed - it was the first clear day the race had seen in many years.  The previous 4 had all been held in truly wretched conditions.  After my warm up (yes, even for a marathon!), I made a quick trip to the car to dig out the sunglasses to deal with that funny thing showing between the clouds.

What's that bright thing behind the mountain?

Heading to the start line - sunnies at Snowdonia?!?

It's only a road marathon - how hard can it be?
Nic was in charge of the camera today.

The race, in all, was an exercise in guesswork - there were no sections of the course where I could judge whether my pace would get me the time I wanted, because it's such an undulating route.  I started the first half mile slowly (8:30mm) and just kept an easy effort going to the bottom of the first hill.  As the road went down, the pace got faster, and when we hit the hill just after two miles, I just kept the rpms high and spun up like I would on a bike.  I removed my Buff, pushed up my sleeves, and unzipped my top and just kept ticking along.  Just after 4.6 miles, it was time for the downhill.  Barring a few interruptions to climb up some very small hills, that downhill lasted a good 8.5 miles.

Most road races don't boast views like this!

Totally unable to tell if I was running fast enough or too fast based on pace, I went for the logic of "if I'm hot, it's too fast".  I tried to keep my effort level just high enough to feel warm, using my sleeves, zip, Buff, and gloves to manage the changing effects of the sun and wind.  At half way, I was on 3:20 pace, which I knew was an unrealistic expectation because the second half has more ascent than the first half.  So, I mentally allowed myself a net 5-minute loss for the final hill, did my best not to lose too much on the steady drag from 13-15 miles (I lost 2 minutes), and kept repeating the mantra "every minute not lost is a minute off your PB!" for the 10km in between.  This is the bit where Nic got bored of running on the road, so I'm glad to have had a goal to help me keep focus.

Snowdon off in the distance

The climb at Waunfawr hurt, as expected.  Hamstrings and calves started to rebel, and eventually I was pushed to a speed-walk to use some different muscles and try to stretch out the screaming ones. The run-walk strategy got me up the hill and I finally got to enjoy the final descent into Llanberis, although I got a gentle reminder that the legs have to be as ready as the head when I clipped a rock on the trail and spent a few seconds on the ground.

Just a short burst down to Llanberis and it's all over!

With a mad sprint down the mountain for 1.3 miles, I clawed back enough of the walking time to finish in 163rd with 3:31:16 - 70 seconds faster than I'd run on the flat roads of the Dutch capitol.  Twisted, for sure, but also evidence that two years of (mostly) consistent marathon and ultra racing are really paying off.  A personal best on a course with 2500ft of climbing, a sunny day at the Snowdonia Marathon - it's a combination that will almost certainly never happen again.

CTS South Devon Marathon 2012

Before this week, I've never done a marathon course for a second time.  It didn't occur to me when I entered, but upon reflection, it brought a an unexpected significance to this latest foray onto the trails.  Why, you may ask, did I enter in the first place, given such an apparent wanderlust?  Yes, I loved my CTS series last year, but that wasn't the main draw.  The main reason is that I needed something to do on the day.  Crew-chief Nicola had decided that she enjoyed the location so much during last year that she wanted to make it her first marathon.  So, rather than sit on my backside and wait for her to finish, I decided that I might as well run it.  The Endurancelife team encourage the marathon runners who will be at or above 6 hours to start with the ultra runners, about 45 minutes ahead of the main marathon start.  This gives them a chance to run with people who, for the most part, aren't really in any hurry.  It also gave me a chance to cheer Nic on her way, hopefully pass her en route to offer some encouragement, and finish in time to cheer her into the finish.

For last year's race, the weather was unbelievably warm and sunny.  Although it was unlikely to be such amazing picnic weather again, I had hopes of a fair day for the run.  As the time came near, though, it was clear that Race Director Gary's sun-god mojo had clearly gone AWOL for 2012.  The week running into the race was sunny and fine.  The day after the race was due to be cold and sunny.  Saturday, from the 15-day forecast to all the way up to the Friday night was due to be wet and windy.  Not wanting to believe the forecast, I still packed a selection of gear that would work from below freezing to unseasonably toasty.  Nic packed one outfit.  So much for stereotypes.  As a result of my extreme flexibility, I changed kit selections three or four times on Friday night and another couple of times on Saturday morning.  The final selection became a light, long-sleeve Helly top, 2XU shorts, the usual shoes, socks, and calf guards, Montane Slipstream gilet for the windy start, light gloves and my usual red Buff and my OMM jacket in the pack for if/when the weather turned nasty.

The first bright start to the day was catching up with EL's James Heraty as we approached race HQ.  During the series last year, James seemed to be everywhere with a smile and cheery word or two.  The camaraderie of the CTS team and participants is one of the reasons we all keep coming back.  These folks had been up in the wee small hours after a late night and yet were all smiles (or was it just chattering teeth!?).

By the time we got to check-in the sun was up, but the clouds were keeping its warming rays at bay.  We were playing a fine game of keeping warm enough not to waste energy, but cool enough not to feel too much of a shock when peeling off for the race.  Luckily, the marquee was full of runners and offered enough shelter to see out the requisite worry-pee-fret-pee pre-race period.

Finally, the briefing for the early start happened, Nic peeled off her final layer of extra warmth, and I made a complete mess of taking pre-race pictures.  Normally, I take pretty bad people pictures, but I was combining my poor skill with some technology issues to do a spectacularly (and humorously) rubbish job of it.  Due to a little mix-up caused by a last-minute trip to the vet's on Friday, we'd had to re-arrange our weekend plans.  So, Nic put away the good camera that we would take on our Sunday recovery hike.  Unfortunately, we keep the little camera I normally use in the same bag.  A little fraught over the sickly cat, I forgot, so was left using the camera on my phone.  I like my phone, but the camera function is pretty useless, and every time I tried to take a picture of Nic running off, something else popped up to get in the way of my hitting the "take the bloody picture already" button.  So, I sprinted forward, stopped, and took a bad picture about four times before I had to give up.  Nic started her first ever marathon laughing.  At me.

I went back into the marquee, stowed the offending phone, did my warm-up, etc.  While sorting out my kit (for the final time), I ran into Ian Corless of TalkUltra.  The new podcast has informed and entertained on my recent commutes.  I also noticed in passing several participants that I remembered from last year's series (good with faces, mostly bad  with names).  Everyone looked much more trim and chiselled than I remembered - must be the compression gear!

Finally, if somewhat reluctantly, we headed back out into the strengthening wind and the race started.  The first time I ran this course, my goal was to enjoy it and survive for the next one.  The next one isn't for a few weeks, and survival wasn't really in question, barring an unfortunate incident.  This time, I wanted to drop one minute per mile (~28 minutes) from the 2011 time.  With that in mind, I set out a at a reasonable effort level, to avoid getting caught too far back at the first uphill track.  To say I carried on that way for the next 20-odd miles seems a bit strange, but that's basically the way it worked out.

The climb up to Start Point (~ 2 miles) was tough but somewhat sheltered by the hill, so the wind wasn't too bad.  Then we turned to the southwest, and the shelter was gone.  The wind whipped up the cliffs and the technical terrain that would dominate the next few miles became that little bit trickier.  When there are little sharp rocks everywhere, it's often easier to launch over them than to pick through them.  But, when the wind is fierce, it's not always wise to get too far off the ground - who knows where one might land!

At around four miles in, I joined up with my friend Rueben from the 2011 series.  The last time I'd seen Rueben as at the Endurancelife Festival last May.  Aside from whipping me in the marathon, he also helped to save a damsel in tent-building distressed and was a great drinking partner in that evening's Live More Lectures.  We had the chance over the next mile or so to exchange stories of the past few months and the coming races (he's got his 100 miler booked for June).  I often find myself running long stretches of these races alone, so it was nice to have a bit of a chat.  Eventually, though, I felt I had a bit more oomph to give, and eased away.  By now, the sun was shining bright and I was peeling off the various accessories.

I could definitely tell I was moving well, especially when at 10km, I looked off into the (far) distance and could see the leader approaching Prawle Point lighthouse.  It was the last time I saw the leaders, but it felt good to still be within a mile or so of them.  When it was my turn to clear the point, I turned directly into the wind.  The early layers came back on and I pushed on knowing that I was only a couple of miles from a tailwind.

At this stage, my goal was to hit the 11mi checkpoint in 1:50 or better.  I came through on target and alternated between hiking and jogging to climb back to the top of the hills.  Once up, I was on the road with a nice tailwind to speed my way through the third 10km section.  At around 13 miles, I caught up with Noel who is doing all of the CTS ultras this year.  We had a short chat about the MdS he was training for during last year's series, and then I carried on.  He was in no great hurry, with a plan to get to the finish area just before the cutoff.  It was really nice to see another familiar face, even if only briefly.  Next month, we may have a bit more time to chat, since I'll be doing the ultra as well.

Not more than half a mile later, I spotted the most familiar runner of all.  Nic was powering along the last coastal view for a while.  I caught her up, had a wee chat, checked that she was well, congratulated her for being exactly on target for 13-minute miles, gave her a kiss, and shot off with a big smile.  It was great to see her running so comfortably, and even better to know that we were both having a good race.  Most of the past six months has been a case of one happy runner and one grumpy runner, so the change was most welcome.

I was, by then, well into the "fast" part of the course, with flattish roads and tracks.  Until the approach to 18mi, where there is a 20-30% gradient.  On a steep camber.  Going down.  I remembered it from last year as I ran, thinking of the pain in my toes.  I'm pretty sure it was a bit more muddy then, and therefore more forgiving.  It certainly hurt this time!

The fourth 10km section begins with the fresh pain of the steep descent, and contains four steep rollers - approximately 300 feet of climb over half to three-quarters of a mile, then roughly the same back down again.  My uphill speed must have improved in the last 12 months, because I managed to only slow to an average of 11min/mi for this segment, balancing off the 9:30 pace I'd averaged through the fast segment.  When I reached the marathon distance at Torcross (only one nasty hill to come!) at just under 4:30, I was pretty happy - not just because I was still on schedule for my 4:45, but because I had spent the past mile and a half battling a stiff headwind that was actually strong enough to later pick Nic off the ground!

The climb up through Torcross is sheltered, and even though I would have to walk up the steps, I was glad of the respite.  The stairs back down were slippery and tricky while running, but I didn't care - it was nearly over.  Then, it was a short and brutal quarter mile of headwind and I was through the finish.  By then, the wind and rain were so foul I actually kept jogging the extra 50 yards to get back into the warmth of the marquee!

After around 20 minutes of putting on warm clothes, chatting with a few other wet and worn runners, stretching out (I'd had to sit on the floor to put on dry shoes anyway), and getting some recovery drink down my neck, I started to realize that I was actually getting quite cold.  The tea queue was still growing, so I joined in before the shivering got too bad.  While waiting, I got another chance to talk to Ian about some of the technical aspects of putting together a podcast.  As we waited for our tea by the rack of giant pasties also on offer, and started to talk about mid-race nutrition, I saw a pink and purple flash out in the rain.  Nic was about 20 minutes ahead of schedule!  She had managed to hold on to her 13min/mi pace through the second half and was nearing the finish tape.

Normally, I would be outside shouting Nic through the last few hundred yards, but I hadn't dared yet to go out in the foul weather without getting something warm into me.  I quickly asked the tea maker to hold my cuppa and "sprinted" (well, it felt like it) to the finish line calling out encouragement.  Nic hit the "Stop" button a few seconds under six hours, and we both had wide grins at her great achievement.  As it turns out, her timing was impeccable, because when we got back into the tent, the tea was ready for her to share.  I couldn't very well make her wait 10 minutes while I was drinking it, now could I?  She changed into a warm top and we walked the mile back to our B&B in animated and elated conversation.

So many people have asked me why I run these stupidly hard races in whatever weather, and it's because of days like this.  Every person I encountered, whether organizers, volunteers, supportive families, runners, or local residents, was incredibly positive.  Even those hobbling to their cars encouraged the runners still on the course.  So, I have to ask in return, "Why on Earth would I not want to be part of it?"

Old Year's Resolutions and the CTS Anglesey Marathon

The great thing about setting out my event schedule 6-10 months in advance is that I didn't have to worry about any resolutions in January.  My goals for this year were already pretty much laid out:  1) complete the Endurancelife 7x challenge, 2) still be able to run at the end of it, 3) enjoy a few shorter / faster races to keep some leg speed, 4) aim for that 3:15 again in October.  I spent an enjoyable few days putting together the new spreadsheets, working out the recovery timings, and buying the bits of kit that were a bit pricey to put onto the Christmas list.  Following the XC race, I managed to pick up a strange calf complaint that left me hobbling instead of running.  Once again, Sara came to the rescue and I spent two weeks in compression socks with tape in esthetically pleasing patterns on my right leg.  I managed one confidence-boosting hill run, but otherwise there was a lot of rest and TLC.  Then, Nic and I packed our bags for Anglesey and the 3rd installment of my multi-marathon challenge and the delayed 1st leg of Nic's 3x half marathon challenge.

I'd never been to North Wales before, so Nic decided we should take the scenic route and enjoy a nice day driving through Snowdonia.  Last-minute work commitments took away the morning, which meant we risked taking the twisty roads through the hills after sunset.  Driving through this "Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty" in the dark would rather negate the point of the route, but the impact of getting stuck in Friday afternoon traffic near Manchester was even worse.  So we headed for the hills and hoped for good light.  With a combination of good traffic, well timed pit-stops, and incredible luck, we got more than good light - we caught a long, slow sunset over the mountains.  The clouds and mountainsides were transformed from beautiful to breathtaking as the sunlight reflected from one to the other.  Sadly, I have yet to overcome the genetic deficiency that prevents me from stopping by the roadside to take a picture.  A photo wouldn't capture the stunning scenery of the drive, but it might help the memory in a few years time...

Leaving Snowdonia and "mainland" Wales, we found Anglesey to be as flat as everyone had said it would be.  For a trail race, this one would surely rate as one of the flatest courses I could find.  Once we reached Holy Island, we could see a rather large mountain in the distance.  I was sure that the race profile had shown a maximum elevation of around 650 feet, so what was this massive thing in the distance?!  It's amazing just how big a hill can look when all about it is very flat indeed.  Holyhead Mountain is only around 700 feet high, but pretty much everything else nearby is not far off sea level, so it certainly towers above the surrounding land.  I had to remind myself that we were only going up the hill twice, so it was a lot less climbing than my usual weekend runs.

The imposing Holyhead Mountain.

We arrived in the great (empty) metropolis of Holyhead before 6, checked into our bargain motel, shook off any concern about the relative size of the hill, and headed out to a country hotel for dinner.  Fortunately, we had been pre-warned that there's not much in the way of dining-out in Holyhead, and had booked our table in advance.  Had we not, I'm pretty sure the place would not have woken the chef - it turned out that we were the only customers that night.  Our dinner at the Nant-Yr-Odyn hotel was very good, with plenty of potatoes in a variety of forms to cap the carbo-loading.  I finished with a large cup of ice cream (5 scoops!).  The portion was a bit over-generous for someone who doesn't do a lot of dairy, but the ice cream was so good I had to eat it all!

Well fed, watered, and rested, we arrived at Breakwater Country Park on Saturday to find the turf thawing to a pleasantly squelchy cushion.  The weather was cool and calm with low cloud.  In the race briefing, we heard about all of the slippery rocks, slippery boardwalks through bogs, icy patches, and cutoff to make sure nobody got lost on the hill in the dark.  We didn't, however, hear about the last-minute change of course that added some mileage and altered the race profile fairly dramatically.  That would have been nice, but wasn't essential.  After all, what's another half hour of plodding/straggling at the end of the afternoon?

Ready to go!

We eased away from the park HQ along the access road.  It was a nice gentle descent towards the coast to allow us a bit of a warm-up and to ease congestion before we turned around and headed up the hill.  Our ascent took us around the north side, with some nice coastal views, continuing past the North Stack weather station and then up the side of South Stack hill.

There's always one...

Holyhead Mountain off in the distance

Our first proper climb of the day

Looking back down the climb up South Stack

 
Within the first few miles, we had already taken in some breathtaking views and enjoyed what I thought was the highest point of the race.  Since I was enjoying myself as we gamboled over the slippery, rocky paths, I didn't check my Garmin for the elevation at the top.

Rocky paths along the cliffs

If I had, I'd have realized we were about 100 feet short of the official profile.  But, I continued on, blissful in my ignorance, content that my duff calf was keeping quiet.

The first half included many gentle stretchs of scenic clifftop trails.

The trip down the West coast took in a variety of little beaches, hidden coves, and some nice moorland.  Where the path joined the road, we unfortunately joined as well.  The increase in speed was nice, but I don't particularly enjoy road running in my trail shoes.  It's not uncomfortable, but it isn't great for the soft rubber studs that help me grip on slippery rocks.  The miles passed by without much excitement.

One of several hidden inlets.

The trail was gently undulating, but without many serious obstacles.  I was pleased to be looking down onto the beaches instead of running on them.  The mental scars of the Gower's long sandy sections aren't quite healed yet!

The Western coast of Holyhead Island

 
For one  short section we had the choice of gingerly picking our way over seaweed-covered rocks or running through the surf - the tide was in.  I seriously considered taking the wet option, but it looked to be about a foot deep, which would have been quite energy-sapping.  So, I picked my way along the rocks and then enjoyed the firm, wet sand of our only beach at Rhoscolyn Bay.  By this stage of the run, my stomach decided it was a bit annoyed about something.  Eating was uncomfortable, but drinking was OK.

I took the chance at the 14-mile check point on the beach to make an isotonic drink.  Because the long training runs have turned into races, I've had to break my golden rule of never trying anything new in a race.  Yes, I've run with this particular drink before - but never in conjunction with the various gels and energy bars that serve as my lunch on the move.  I downed about 200ml and then put the bottle back into my new backpack (excellent Christmas present from the in-laws).  In truth, I'd seriously broken the rule for this run.  The backpack had been with me on a few 10-15 mile runs, but nothing properly long.  I had a new jacket and a new merino wool base layer in the pack in case my leg gave out and meant I would need some warm layers for the long drag to a check point.  I also had on some new compression tights (thanks, Dad!) and a new light long-sleeved top (January sales).  Everything had been out at least once, but there were a lot of unknowns to consider.  So, as I bloated up like a blow fish over the second half of the race, I considered all of these novelties, the pre-race food, and let the analytical side of my brain mull over my ever-increasing waistband.

Lots of new kit!

While my mind wandered around all the potential causes for my discomfort (I narrowed it to too much ice cream or too much compression around my midriff), my legs wandered over boardwalks across a nicely thawing bog.  It's nice to enjoy the empty peace of the moors and wetlands without having to splash through them.  Of course, the boardwalks eventually ended at solid footing, and I continued along the path only to find that the thaw had turned it into an icy pond.  Still, as I've found before, it can be surprisingly pleasant to ice your feet mid-race.  At some point through this section, I decided that the half-way point had been passed, and I still felt OK.

There's something special about the second half of a marathon.  It's quite easy to think, "I've still got 13 miles to go!"  But, with a bit of mental training, it's also not too hard to tell yourself, "OK, the warm-up is over, but you have less than an easy Sunday run ahead of you!"  As with much in life, suspension of disbelief becomes the key to happiness.  The fatigue set in.  Each stile became harder to climb. The miles drifted past.  "Only around 10 to go!" became "it's down to single figures, now!" followed by "You can stay with him/her/them!" We started to climb again, as I knew we must.  Then, I could see Holyhead off to the right.  The hill loomed large in the distance, and we turned back towards the Western coastline.  Disbelief briefly dropped out of suspension.

Wait, why are we going left????

My map skills are often the source of humour, but even I know that going West when expecting to go North means something's not quite right.  I had spent a lot of time looking at the course map to make sure I understood what type of terrain we would encounter, and I knew that the course should start to head up the hill towards the finish.  But, sure enough, the markers clearly took us down the road (yes, road, again!) and away from our destination.  Apparently, there had been a course change, and I'd missed whatever notification there had been (if there had been one).

I trudged along the road at maximum speed (now very, very slow!), hoping to at least take advantage of the fast surface.  Finally, we turned back towards the hill and started the final ascent.  With nearly 26 miles done, I estimated another 28 miler and plodded upward.  When we moved off the road, the trail became a little steeper (1:5 increasing to 1:3).  At times, I had to use my hands to help haul myself over the rocks. 

26 miles down, but what a view!

 
On the way, I clocked 5:03 for the marathon distance, which wasn't too far away from my expectation at 13 miles. The final half mile of scrambling had taken 15 minutes, and I wasn't hopeful of picking up any pace on the descent, given the crumbly nature of the goat track we were following.  

The mist was settling in as we reached the top.

 The first half mile down still took 10 minutes.  My knees refused to work properly on the equally steep scramble to the final trail.  As the rough track evened out, I was able to move from a hobble to a fast plod.  My body had had enough, and I couldn't even break into a proper run as I approached the line. 

I had finished, I wasn't last, and my leg hadn't bothered me at all.  Considering the state I'd been in before the race, I chalked it up as a success and went hunting for Nic.  She'd finished well in her "half marathon" (15.5 miles for her), and was at the car about half a mile away getting warm gear together for me. 

How did the Travel Lodge know I'd need this to get in and out of the shower?

 
In a break with tradition, we had Chinese take-out for our celebratory dinner (Holyhead doesn't seem to do restaurants).  I found out later that there had been a last-minute problem with access rights to one of the paths, thereby causing the extra road sections to find our way to the trailhead up the hill.  I'm not sure I would rank this as one of the most spectacular of runs.  Some of the scenery was amazing, to be sure, but there was an awful lot of road on this course.  As courses go, I'd say it was the least challenging I've done yet.  As races go, it was easily the most difficult.  I spent most of the time feeling the extra recovery time and extra Christmas goodies.  Hopefully, I'll be able to get some more quality training in before the next one in February.  Oh, and another lesson learned: when Gary asks us if we have any questions at the briefing, always double-check to find out just how many last-minute deviations they've added!

Sunday night and Monday morning, we enjoyed the luxuries of a mini spa break!

Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series: Gower Marathon

One of the highlights of the Autumn was scheduled to be Endurancelife's Gower Marathon.  I had planned to run it last year, but had a calf injury and down-graded to the half.  It was difficult, but in the way that makes one think it's worth trying again.  The full distance takes in a vast array of coastal views, so I really wanted to get the total experience.

By taking the Friday off, we were able to arrive at the Wyndgarth House B&B at around 3:30 - having learned previously that it's better to drive through the winding roads in the Gower peninsular during daylight hours.  As it happened, daylight was dark grey, as opposed to the black of night, but it was still better than the driving rain on a moonless night that we had for last year's trip.  As ever, Lynda and John's warm welcome was an immediate tonic to the dreary drive.  We made our way to The King Arthur Hotel for an early dinner.  I had chicken, rice, and peas while Nic enjoyed a perfect steak.  It was just the sort of light and lean meal I wanted. Later on, I realized this is pretty much the ingredients list of the dried cat nibbles - maybe I should just keep it easy and have cat food!  After dinner, we drove out to Rhossili to register and get race number, chip, etc. to allow more time in the morning - thank goodness for that!  We headed to bed early, hopeful that the forecasters would be right and the wind and rain would blow through by dawn.

Getting ready the night before - it paid off!

Indeed, the day dawned with clear blue skies and little wind.  We were set fair for a warmish run, bathed in sunshine.  After the experience of the last two marathons, I had been eating double portions for the past few days, to avoid completely cracking.  So, first breakfast was porridge and isotonic drink at 6am.  Second breakfast of more porridge, toast, and juice came at 7:45 with Nic.  We headed to the race HQ, ready for the race briefing and the 9:30 start.  We parked in the soon-to-be muddy field, hoped we would be able to get out again, and wandered in to find the briefing underway.  It soon became obvious that something wasn't quite as expected, so I checked with the registration desk that the marathon would start at 9:30, which they confirmed.  About 10 minutes later, it was even more obvious that the person I asked was as clueless as me - leaving me about 5 minutes to get my shoes on, my warm clothes off, and be on my way!  At some point in the run up to the event, the start time had been moved 30 minutes earlier.  Still, I was given the opportunity to learn a few valuable lessons.  First, read the e-mail carefully - it clearly shows the schedule (which had probably changed a good 2 months ago...).  Second, if I'm not expecting to run at 90% heart rate, I can eat quite near to the start of a race.  Finally, if you ever have a choice between getting everything ready the night before a race and the morning of, choose the night before!  I arrived with very little left to do, and that saved me a lot of panic given the lack of learning for the first lesson.  In the end, I set off in 91st position - out of 104 runners.

The sun enjoyed a day at the beach!

We set off through a field of cars and into a field of cattle - the cattle make for a much more hazardous footing.  Not wanting to start my day ankle deep in muck, I kept a beady eye out as we made our way onto the coastal trail.  The first real hill of the day was up, along, and down Rhossili Down.  After a couple of gentle miles to warm up, we re-entered Rhossili to be cheered by a few onlookers.  Nic was there to take my picture and give me a shout.

Worms Head in the distance as we head into Rhossili Village

Feeling great - but then we hadn't hit a hill yet.

Then, we hit the 1:4 climb. The path we take is great for hiking.  Running it requires a level of strength and fitness I have yet to achieve.  It's only half a mile worth of climbing, but the gradient in the first half ranges from 1:5 to 1:2.  So, I climbed at a walk like everyone else near me.  Long steep hills are at least sociable.  I exchanged pleasantries with a few people and enjoyed the sound of a non-stop chat from a group of friends who had obviously not had a chance to catch up for a while.  I also noticed that one of the group was wearing road shoes, or possibly light-traction trail shoes.  At this, I made a mental note to keep away from her on the equally steep descent.

Heading up Rhossili Down

 Last year, the grassy hillside had been quite slippery as the previous night's rain left an inch of water working its way down in a slow-moving puddle.  Sure enough, as I quickly skipped through the bracken and among the rocks, I heard squeals of "oh my God!" from those who ignored my shout to avoid the middle section.  Once you're into the slippery grass, it's very difficult to get out except by sliding or stopping and gingerly picking your way down.  I was long gone by the time they made it down, so I assume that I was the only one of my pace group who took the hill at a run.  I only saw 2 of them again during the race.

Rhossili Bay & Beach

 The fifth mile took in the beautiful Rhossili Beach, part behind the sand dunes in the soft sand, and part along the beach on firm, wet sand.  We took a gentle climb off the beach and along a boardwalk generally used by the local surfers to move around the worst of the dunes.  Our next climb, not much better than a muddy sheep track, was a lonely slip-slide up Llanmadoc Hill.  The sun was warm and I shed my buff, gloves, and windproof.  Happily, I had chosen a top with a zipper, so I could unzip in the sun and zip when the clouds came through. There were a few runners in the distance fore and aft, but none close enough to share the dark humour of hiking ankle deep in mud and peat.  It was a bit of fun, followed by a slightly more sure-footed descent to around 11.5 miles.  At this stage, I consoled myself with the knowledge that there was only one more big hill, and then a fairly flat second half.

For races like these, I take the view that ignorance is bliss.  I know roughly where we're going, approximately how many hills there are, and generally have a good idea of how long it should take.  But, I avoid knowing precisely how long each hill will be, or how many minutes before the next steep drop.  The main reason for this is that I can't keep it all in my head, and I get confused when I try.  The other reason is that it's often best to just look ahead and keep plugging away - thinking too far ahead can make it harder to deal with the task at hand.  Consequently, I hadn't really noticed that this "last big hill" would be two miles long.

As I ran/hiked/shuffled up the hill, I noted that the hill was actually pretty runnable - if one wasn't already suffering from the previous 12 miles of silliness.  It turns out that most of the ascent is at less than 10% gradient, so my feeling was correct.  Towards the top, the path was littered with large "puddles" of varying sizes.  Being rather peaty, the water was rather dark, making it difficult to judge how deep they were until it was too late.  Still, by the time I'd passed half way, I was happy to dip into these convenient "foot spas" for some refreshment.  After all, my feet had already been wet for over 2 hours, so keeping dry wasn't a priority.  Finally, at approximately 15 miles we topped out and headed back for the beaches.

The run down through the moorland was a good chance to stretch out and properly run for the first time in miles. We hit a short stretch on the road, which helped to knock some mud off the shoes, and gave a chance for some supporters to join the course.  I came on Richard Baker as his family surprised him by joining in for a few hundred yards, racing ahead to take a picture, then racing ahead again.  It was great to see his grandaughter chasing after him and cheering.  Finally, we left the road for the beach - and then turned onto a steep staircase strewn with soggy leaves.  The Autumn colours looked amazing, but having them wet and underfoot presented a serious hazard for a tired runner with a bit of a reputation for nose-diving.  So, I swore profusely as I concentrated hard to get off the stairs in good order.  Honestly, I don't know which hurt more, my quads or my head!

At the bottom, it was another trip into the loose footing of the sand dunes.  Whatever energy I had left was quickly ebbing away.  Three hours into the run, with an expected 2-2.5 hours left, and I felt just as bad as I had at Amsterdam.  My hip flexors weren't flexing, and various muscles whined at the continued effort.  After what felt like ages, but was only a little over a mile, the course took me back onto firm sand at Oxwich Beach.  The sun was low, and the beach long.  I gave in and took a short walking break on the premise that it couldn't possibly be much slower than the shuffle I was adopting.  The rest worked, and when I finally got off the beach, I was able to drag myself up through the woods and back onto the cliff paths at Oxwich Point.

Oxwich Beach - the footprints heading for some firmer sand

A couple of gently rolling miles of cliff path ended abruptly at Horton and our last water stop.  At Horton, we headed back to the beach for the last time.  The beach was only about half a mile, but I'd finally had enough of sand!  I shuffled along, thankful that I had sunglasses to help against the now very low sun.  As I neared the end of the beach, one of the very chatty group I'd left behind 17 miles previously passed by like I was standing still (I wasn't far from it, to be fair).  She had obviously grown tired of waiting for her ill-shod friend and was running quite easily among the mossy rocks.

Finally, with around 6 miles to go, I climbed up back onto the cliff paths.  One small sign said "Rhossili, 7 mi".  I saw this and said something akin to "7 miles?!  It had better not *#@#*& be!!"  For the next mile or two, I shuffled along narrow cliff tracks, encountering more runners than I had seen in miles.  Some I passed, some passed me back as we each struggled through the sharply varying terrain as best we could.   I spent some time running with Noel Cheseldine, who is training for a second attempt at the Marathon des Sables.  It was, for me, the most sociable part of the event - and we all kept looking at our watches with a confused look.  I even started to check the map screen on my Garmin, to make sure I hadn't passed the turn off and accidentally taken the Ultra course.  No, still on course, 26 miles long past, and still at least a mile from the finish!  I am sure the organizers' ears were red, because the coastal air was starting to turn blue as we vented our frustration at not having finished yet.

Are we there yet?

 Finally, the sign pointing to the finish arrived, and we knew it was less than a mile to go.  The cattle, bored with the wait, had not lingered to wait for the end of the race.  I continued to shuffle up the hill to the finish, turned the corner, and was greeted by Nic cheering and shouting at me to run.  I smiled, raised my arms for the picture, and tried to move less slowly towards the flags.  In the end, my Garmin says the course was roughly 28.5 miles long with a time of 5:55:48.  I'd managed the expected 27 miles in just over 5:30, which was near expectation.  The extra mile and a half were tough, but by that stage I was actually moving fairly smoothly (if very slowly!).  I politely thanked the organizers for the extra distance (no really, I did - I hope the sarcasm wasn't lost on them...), collected my goodies and headed for the car to get changed.  There was no way that anything I was wearing was going into the B&B - Lynda and John are far too nice for me to bring such filth into the house!

Yippee!  Here comes the finish line!

 

Looking fresh as a daisy but smelling like a camel

Of the marathons I've done, this was by far the toughest.  It was the furthest I've ever run, and the longest time I've ever been running (walking/trudging/shuffling).  Strangely, it is also the one that has caused the least pain.  I finished feeling OK, if very tired and stiff.  My traditional recovery meal of fish and chips with 2 pints of real ale felt great (especially the beer - the King Arthur knows how to treat its ale!).  So, although I am a bit trepidatious about the Portland stage of the series in less than 3 weeks, I am pretty sure I'll survive it.

The Three Forts Challenge

The big event for the first half of this year was the Three Forts Marathon.  So, my wife Nicola (running the 1/2 marathon) and I took the opportunity to spend a long sunny weekend on the coast.  We headed to Shoreham-by-Sea for a 3-day, 2-night break from the real world.  Putting a big race into the middle of it just added to the potential fun of the trip.

We found a B&B full of character and charm in Harpers Ferry.  Rick, the proprieter, built it as a tribute to the American way of life.  The house is beautiful, and Rick is incredibly friendly.  He also makes a fabulous omlette!  On arrival, we sat on the covered front porch with a mug of tea and relaxed.  It reminded me of my grandma's old place in Louisiana when I was a kid - a fabulous start to the weekend. 

On Rick's recommendation, we headed to La Galleria for the requisite pasta fest.  When we saw the menu, we knew we were in trouble.  The selection had too many nice options to go for the ultra-sensible balance of carbs, lean protein, and veg.  Nic opted for a creamy and delicious carbonara. I a chose a spicy and stupendous veal/tomato sauce.  The meal was a delight - simple, tasty, and just a little more than we needed.  So, we left all smiles and headed back for an early night.

So, back to the race, and race planning.
I'd been planning for this race ever since a calf injury caused me to downgrade my December trail race from marathon to half.  Week in and week out, I ran up and down and along the hills near our home in Evesham.  Three weeks before, I decided that, having done all the training I could in the time I had, I should probably figure out precisely how I was going to run the race.  I took my longest run (20 miles) and figured out the average pace on hills (up, then down).  Then, I compared the hills I usually run to each section of the 3 Forts.  To me, it makes no sense to assume an average pace for a race like this.  I am decidedly slower than I want to be on the ups, and much faster than many of my peers on the downs.  So, I made a plan based on how long it should take me to get to the top and bottom of each section.  I figured I'd be doing a sluggish 12:00/mile on the first ups, and probably around 8:00 on the downs, which might be fairly technical.  I knew the steepest and longest climbs were in the second half, so I figured I would be slowing down to 15:00 and then 18:00 for the last 2 climbs (~6 miles in total).  That planning narrowed my expectations from the 4:30:00-5:30:00 I had in my head when I entered to a 4:35:00-4:50:00 range.  I left home confident that I would be, at worst, able to come in under 5 hours.

This race is dubbed "The Tough One".  I don't know when it received that moniker, or from whom.  I'm not entirely certain it would be deserved every year.  The South Downs around Worthing are a potentially stunning location for enjoying a challenging course.  This year looked set to be a stunner.  Three weeks of beautiful sunshine in the lead up to the race.  Any run in those hills in such weather would be a joy for the soul.  Then, the weather turned, and all of the rain Mother Nature had been storing began to find its way down from the sky.  Result: this year, for sure, the race earned its nickname!

The race director called us to the line for a prompt 10am start.  The rain had abated to a heavy drizzle with the temperature hovering at around 10C.  I've never before seen a race where the runners trudge to the start.  On Sunday, it was almost as though everyone felt, "do I have to?"

 

 (Runners' response to the call to the start.  Any moving legs here?)

When the car horn sounded to send us on our way, most of us eased into the steady 2 mile climb with an air of resigned amusement - how could we already be so wet?  The rain began to ease and turn into a light mist, so I took off my rain jacket as we passed Cissbury Ring (Fort 1).  We turned the corner, headed down hill, and the heavens opened with renewed force.  So, throwing the jacket back on at a 6:35/mile pace down the hill meant there was plenty of water inside and out.  But, I hit the bottom of the hill ahead of schedule and feeling good.

Knowing that I still had 20+ miles of running to go, I eased through the next couple of rolling miles.  At 8 miles or so, I got chatting with local Trevor Nash, who pulled me up the long slow drag towards 10 miles with an enjoyable conversation about how nice the Downs are to run in when it's not tipping down with rain.  A nice chat can be a great way to pass the miles, and sure enough I hit the turnaround at Devils Dyke (Fort 2) a good 5 minutes ahead of schedule.

 (Trevor about to catch me up for a chat while I hike a steep section)

  (The long and winding road...)

I lost Trevor on the trip back down the hill thanks to a troublesome shoe and a quick comfort break - I never did catch him....  At half way, I was in line for a 4-hour finish assuming an even pace.  I wasn't, even for an instant, assuming an even pace. I took it easy down the more technical bits of the hill, and saved energy where I could. I knew I didn't have enough to run up the final 2 hills, but I was still keeping within my schedule and enjoying the run.  The weather, however, was becoming a bit tiresome.  The return crossing of the Adur River saw me dead on schedule, with nearly 2.5 hours to get through the final 12-13 miles.

The next challenge was the 4 miles or so of climb to the highest point on the route at Chanctonbury Ring (Fort 3).  At times, the hill was unpleasantly steep.  At others, it was just rolling and tough.  A mix of walking, shuffling, and occasionally swearing got me to the top.  Along the way, I passed a collection of dry casters on a hill top having a competition (fishing without water?). I wonder what they caught, besides a cold.  The bemusement from 50 or so men casting a line off a hillside with the wind and rain driving up and over helped to alleviate the burning sensation up the back of my legs.  At the top, the marshalls practically needed lifelines to keep to their checkpoint station.  The mist was coming through, and I started to worry about losing sight of the runners in front.  Fortunately(?), the wind became strong enough to keep the mist rolling on to hills where I wasn't trying to run.

 (Here come the clouds again - and away goes the camera!)

Up and over the top and then down the penultimate hill, I was still running with something that looked like a running motion.  I kept up a 7:30 pace down and then managed as best I could along the rolling terrain to the bottom of the last climb.  I new when I got there that any pretence of running was gone, and the last 5 miles were all about finishing any way I could.  I was cold, wet, tired, and verging on grumpy.  The long walk/shuffle back to Cissbury Ring (Fort 1 again, from the steep side), was unpleasant.  By then I couldn't run fast enough to keep properly warm, so I was wearing my windproof gillet over my waterproof and hiking as fast as I could to keep from getting truly cold.  The cheery lads at the top (how were they still smiling?) confirmed that I only had 2 and a bit miles of downhill to go, and then I could stop.  At this point, I was still well ahead of schedule, but it felt like every part of my body was calling out for me to stop.

 (Is that a wall I see before me?  Or is it two?)

I take pride in my ability/willingness to steam down a hill at speeds that make many faster runners balk.  For this hill, it was a struggle to move my legs at all.  I'd hit a mini wall.  By 25 miles, I started to weave a bit.  Thanks to Tim Noakes for the reminder when I was dipping into "The Lore of Running" a couple of weeks ago, that, although the muscles can only take so much sugar in at a time, a little sugar hit can quickly get to the brain.  This thought popped into my head as I tried not to fall over.  So, I slowed to a walk down the hill and dug into my pack for the "break packet in case of emergency" gel.  Within a minute or so, possibly as much due to the walk as the gel, I had my head and legs back under some control.  I dragged my sorry body down that last mile and a half of hill at a dismal 10:30 pace, knowing that to keep going was to exceed my expectations.  It was also the only way to get warm.

I saw Nic cheering me on from the finish, after waiting 2 hours since she finished the half marathon.  Normally, I would have put on a "sprint" to finish.  Here, I put on a "less slow shuffle" to finish in just under 4:30 - 11 minutes faster than plan.  According to Nic, my words upon crossing the line were "Thank God that's over!".

Epilogue:
Recovery is an essential part of every run.  Equally important is a celebration of achievement.  So, as I stuffed a few sweets into my shivering mouth and put on dry clothes for the short drive back to the B&B and warmth, I considered the recovery plans.  Some food - I like granola bars and a cup of milky tea after a frozen run - check.  Hobble to the shower - check.  Post-run massage?  The masseurs stationed at the end of the race had abandoned all hope of anyone lying still in their tent long enough for a massage, given the conditions.  The tent stood empty.  But, Nic kindly provided a gentle rubdown to get the blood flowing through my legs again.  Then on with the compression socks & tights and out for a gentle stroll through Shoreham-by-Sea.  After all, it was time to celebrate the achievement!  We followed our noses to the Crown and Anchor. A fabulous plate of fish & chips accompanied by a fine ale (or glass of red for Nic) was just what I needed.  It's my favourite meal, and one that I rarely enjoy on account of its incredibly high fat and salt content.  After burning nearly 4000 calories, I figured I needed plenty of both!  I added a little ice cream after just for fun, and we gently meandered back to base with a stop for some frozen peas to ease the soreness a bit further.  A good night's sleep and a long slow walk the next day completed the weekend's excitement.  The race was fantastically challenging, the town of Shoreham provided a great base, and the weekend was one of the most enjoyable I've had in a long time.  So, weather permitting, I'm pretty sure I'll be seeing those three forts again!