Endurancelife CTS Sussex Ultra - Fun in the Sun

The Endurancelife sun-god mojo is back, and the weekend it was back with a vengeance!  Sun, sea, and trails make for an amazing combination, and Saturday's CTS Sussex ultra had it all.  I had been approaching the race with regular alternation between a nervous tick and smug calmness.  As the weather report continued to show sunshine and warmth, I couldn't wait to tackle the hills without needing to worry about staying warm.

Being me, though, I took three choices of top and two choices of long-sleeve windproof (mandatory kit), and mentally changed between short-sleeves and vest repeatedly in the pre-race lounging period.  In the end, Nic (in her 2nd marathon) and I both opted for to replace sleeves with sunscreen as the temperatures edged into the teens (>50F).  Thankfully, I was in the early start, so I didn't have time to vacillate further.  Unfortunately, I was still a bit vacant and neglected a few pre-race plans that would come back to get me a little later.

I lined up with the other ultra runners for the first time with a bit of trepidation and a clear race plan.  I'd only run over 30 miles once before, in last summer's Trailblaze on the Cotswold Way.  Then, it was a rather lonely start line.  This time, there were a few familiar faces from other CTS events, so it didn't feel too much like a new experience.  The only difference between this and the other races would be that, upon reaching the finish line of the marathon, I would keep going and take in the "10K" route (more like 8 miles than 6.2).  With an extra 7 miles and around 2000ft of extra ascent compared to last month's effort in Devon, I'd already decided to run the ultra at around 40 seconds per mile slower than I had the marathon.  I figured that would see me comfortably through the first 26 and leave me a fairly manageable task to get around again to the finish line.

Don't look back, those hills are for much later! (Pics by Nic)

We set off, dibbing in at the start rather than as a bunch.  This meant that we would be ranked in chip-time order. With a staggered start, there were no pinchpoints on the path and I started off fairly steadily, easing along the flattish start before the attack on the Seven Sisters.  As usual, my plan was to speed-hike the steep ascents (or slowly walk, depending on the distance into the race).  This tactic resulted in a fairly rhythmless first 10K as the course took us up and down the hills like some sort of demented fairground ride.  The highlight of this first section, aside from the excellent views, was when I cracked open the larder for my first bite of the run - a yummy, garlicky hummous (hummus to the North Americans) wrap.  I've grown tired of only sweet foods, and have been playing about with savouries for a little while.  It was quite pleasant to hike up a hill in the sunshine eating food that reminded me of the beaches of Zakynthos.

See hills, run hills.

With all the ups and downs, I managed to keep an average of around 10:40min/mi until we hit the largest climb of the day, starting just after 7 miles and climbing a mere 680 feet over the next three miles.  It wasn't the hardest climb, but it took us to the highest point.  It also provided me with a chance to open my first aid kit and get out some micropore to tape my nipples.  I generally do this as a matter of routine before the race, but somehow forgot.  Wearing a vest meant that I had a bit more flapping fabric on my chest than normal, and so I noticed at about 10K that I would have a problem in a few hours if I didn't protect myself.  That's the great thing about uphill hiking - your hands can work on running repairs if necessary.

The bad thing about going up hills is that your feet move slightly differently in your shoes to when you are running.  In my case, this exposed that I'd also forgotten to put a blister plaster on my heel.  I'd planned the prophylactic plaster to avoid any issues with the hole I'd put into the shoe liner a few weeks previously.  Oops.  It's not particularly efficient to make running repairs to your feet.  So, upon reaching the top of the hill I promptly sat on the grass to tape the vulnerable heel and just as promptly lost about eight places.  A couple of runners kindly offered help if needed, which eased the annoyance of dropping so many places.  Normally, I don't bother too much with placings in the early part of a race.  However, when you've been keeping people at bay for miles, only to see them trotting off in the distance ahead of you, it's pretty galling.

Over the next eight miles, which were mostly down even though they included five short, steep hills, I concentrated on keeping my pace up and trying not to get lost.  A few near misses where signs had kindly been "adjusted" by passers-by only added a few hundred yards. There were a couple of handy water stops that slowed me down as I re-filled but meant I never had to struggle to stay hydrated.  By now, it was lunch time and there were plenty of hikers and picnickers offering support as we passed.  Then came "the hard part".

The eighteen-mile point in a marathon is traditionally where things start to get properly hard.  At this stage, you've worked through the excitement of the start, the "easy" 2nd 10K where your body is flowing well and you (hopefully) feel like there's plenty in the tank to get you through.  The 3rd 10K is where you realize you are actually running quite a distance.  Typically, from around 18 miles, you're into the realms of your longer training runs and your mind and body are subconsciously preparing to wind down for a meal and celebratory beer.

Tired legs love this sort of stuff!

So, how better to celebrate reaching 19 miles than to climb some hills?  It's only 500 feet, and it's only half a mile.  What's the problem?  To be honest, not much.  The run down to the foot of Beachy Head was not unduly uncomfortable.  Then comes the 350ft climb over a mile up Beachy Head.  Again, it's not that bad. The half-marathoners were running up full of huff and puff.  But, with 19 miles in the legs and at least 15 to go, I just watched them speed away into the distance.  As I found last year in the marathon, this section just draws the life out of the legs.  Steeply up, steeply down.  Repeat.

Running in a rhythm didn't really happen again until around mile 22, when a nice long downhill gave me a chance to get the legs moving for a while in a normal running motion.  I carried on merrily towards the finish line, knowing that I had less than a half marathon left to go.  As I neared the finish line (first pass), I noticed I was still in the 11 minute/mile range I'd set myself as a target, and that I was also faster than when I only had the 26 to do the previous year.  I stopped to refill my water again, and then carried on past the finishers heading towards their cars.  The extra 10K loop was looking pretty lonely, with only 2 runners in view.

Once more into the breach!

Back onto the Sisters I went, struggling to gather myself into a good rhythm.  I kept the nearest runner in my sights, but couldn't seem to reel him in fast enough.  He provided a good target, but with the penultimate check point at 28 miles, I lost more time as I refilled again. In hindsight, I'm not entirely sure why I stopped here.  I'm pretty sure I had plenty of water.  I can only think that the closer I got to running further than I ever had before, the less sure I was about my decisions.  However, from this point, I was back into the course I'd already run, and immediately felt more confident about what lay ahead.  I started to get it back together and tried to steadily get back some time.

By now, I knew it really was only around 10K left to go, and all I had to do was get through it.  The downhills didn't feel great, but I was able to run them.  I pushed hard again to hike up the hills (only a few left now), and turned around quite happy at the final check point near the top of Beachy Head (again!).  From here it was basically down hill and with the breeze.  I also noted that my target had made one last bio break, which had him within catching distance.  So, I sped up to catch him.  After about a minute, my head went quite light and fuzzy and I realized that a full-speed 800 to finish and catch up would be more likely to result in a spectacular fall than gaining a place (due to the chip-timed placing system).  So, I eased back just enough to not feel like I would pass out and carried on to finish about 100 yards behind  him (1:37 in chip times, though) in a solid 17th place.

Oh, so very happy to get to stop at the finish line this time!

All told, it was a pretty good experience for my first time over 33 miles.  Certainly there were some good learning points for next month's Exmoor race.  Who knows, I might even keep it together long enough to do some racing after 18 miles.

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!