2015 Rocky Raccoon 100 - Running Happy

The great thing about running long is that no matter what you plan for, or how well you think you know your body, the course, the weather, or your gear, something unexpected always turns up to make you think.  At this year's Rocky Raccoon 100, I got to enjoy a lot of my plans going right, and a few going ever so awry.  The key word there is "enjoy," and in spite of my newly super-sized big toes, I really did enjoy pretty much every minute of my race.

To say that this year's event has been a key goal ever since last year's disappointing DNF would be an understatement.  Most of my gear reviewing has been based around fixing weaknesses identified last year.  The races I have run have had little to do with this year's attempt, but the many races I chose not to run were almost all about making sure I had the legs to go the distance.  What can I say?  That DNF hurt a lot, and I wasn't in the mood to let it happen again.


So, what went right?  The pre-race build up was the first thing I got right.  The goal was to arrive in Huntsville in a positive frame of mind.  The next improvement on last year was to have my own food for the entire race, so the aid stations were top-up and back-up, rather than the mainstay of my nutrition.  I geared my choices early on to things that I would want to eat even when not feeling hungry, because I've found that I feel hungry about 5 minutes before I bonk.  The final plan that worked out better than 2014 was to use a very light bottle belt instead of a race vest - I'd tested the Ultimate Direction Scott Jurek Endure Belt repeatedly and knew it would do the job and give me the chance to dissipate heat more efficiently than a vest would.  With those pieces in place, together with a better training block in the Fall, I started and ran the whole race with no concern about whether I'd finish, and with a lot of confidence that a PB was completely achievable.

However, something always goes wrong in an ultra - you're out there too long for it not to.  I had some particularly exciting lighting problems, and did a bit of a number on my big toes with a few of the roots along the way.  But, because I felt positive throughout, I never really got down about the problems - I just set about finding solutions or carried on regardless.  I think a lot of that positivity was helped by calorie-loading early on and maintaining a manageable pace - so I didn't have a major energy dip until quite close to the end.

Overall, I ran happy - and running happy makes everything else that much easier to put into perspective.  For the details & pics, keep reading!

Pre-race

The plan was to relax and catch up with family while we took an extra couple of days to acclimate to the local weather.  Since Nic is doing the 50 (one week after the 100), and had the joy of a winter cold in mid-January, the plan also included a few good runs on local trails in Austin & Round Rock to make sure we were building up to the race well.

Great weather for the build-up runs - Lady Bird Lake looking beautiful in the warm sun.

Taking my EVRC club vest out for a spin in 20C temps - High Summer in January!!

It's always important to include recovery and enjoyment into any training schedule, and the fine weather in the week before race day certainly encouraged some relaxing time outdoors.

Sunshine and warmth begets the occasional afternoon libation.

If you've never been here, you've missed out on some of the most amazing donuts in the land.  Eat more than one, though, and you may have to take up ultras to keep the weight off.

All told, the week leading up to the race was perfect.  We arrived on Friday in Huntsville with me excited and ready to run, and Nic delighted to take a few hours recce-ing the 50 route alone (ie without me yapping incessantly).

Raven Lake looking good in the sun on Nic's run

Nic capturing the evening light on the boardwalk.

While Nic enjoyed some well-earned peace, I meandered over to packet pickup, enjoyed the race briefing, and caught up with some fellow runners.  I managed to catch up with Stephen Rodgers, who was kilted up for the event, and we reminisced over the 2014 humidity trial (he passed the test, finishing in the freezing rain after the sweltering Saturday).  I also had the joy of meeting Tony Nguyen, who takes running happy to a whole new level of big smiles and super enthusiasm.  I dropped my DamNation drop-bag, started panicking over where I'd packed my rain jackets (eventually found in time for the final sort-out), and then picked up Nic for an early dinner.

Like so many of the runners, we were up at stupid-o'clock (3:45am) to allow plenty of time to get through the queues into Huntsville State Park.  While I got set up at Dogwood, Nic headed off to the Nature Center station, which would be her base with Dad for the day.  Pre-race, I caught up with Brits Chris Mills and James Elson.  James would be shooting for a high placing, while Chris and I were both aiming for sub-24.  Time flew quickly, and before I had time to get properly nervous, we were off and running.

Wrapped up in the chilly wee hours.

I set myself towards the back half of the 367-strong field, knowing that a gentle walk-jog for the first 5km would be a good way to ease through the early (dark) miles without blowing a lot of energy and hopefully without catching too many roots. I was looking for a 3:50-4:00 first lap, with plenty of food and drink along the way.  Nic was supplying me with rather tasty BLT wraps for the first few hours, and I looked forward to each of my snack-break uphills.  With yummy snacks, easy running, and friendly faces around, I thoroughly enjoyed my 20mi warm-up.  That first lap went pretty much perfectly (3:52).  By starting in the back, I was constantly passing people rather than running with them.  While not the most sociable way to spend the morning, it meant that I could exchange pleasantries but avoided accidentally tapping into someone else's pace - a mistake I made repeatedly in 2014.  It also gave me the opportunity to play a little chatty leapfrog with Brandon Holloway (25:50) and Roy Pirrung (26:44) as our run/walk strategies overlapped.

Feeling fresh after the first lap

Much like the first lap, the second was full of gentle running, eating (now with a couple of hummus wraps thrown into the mix), walking up hills, and a bit of chit-chat with runners as we passed and re-passed with our various run/walk strategies.  Nic and Dad continued to look after me like pros at the 3 accessible aid stations.  Nic and I had already agreed that her job was to be bossy, and my job was to do what I was told - never easy, but it worked beautifully on the day.  The roots started to get a bit bigger and easier to trip over, and the hills seemed slightly longer and steeper than on lap one, but I was still in a happy place, bimbling along through the peaceful woods.  By now, the out-and-back segments were a bit trickier, since runners were running in both directions on the narrow trail.  It was a chance to exchange encouraging words (leading to me thinking of them as the "Good job!" sections) and also see how others were getting on.  By the time I'd reached 30 miles, I started to feel a hot spot on my right heel, so stopped and patched it before it became a problem.  Messing about with the sock, I noticed a stinging feeling on my big toe, so had a look, and sure enough found some blisters starting up.  I hadn't felt anything at all, so counted myself lucky, applied a couple of blister plasters, and got moving again.  The few minutes lost tipped me a little outside schedule for the lap (4:01), but it was time very well spent.  The heat started to get a bit much, so I reverted to my youth and bared my pasty torso on the run for the first time in decades, and felt much better for all the extra air.

Picture? I was topless, and the glare was just too much for the camera.

The goal for lap 3 was to avoid over-heating and over-working, so that I'd still have something in the tank for the final 40.  Really, it's best not to think too hard in the middle section about things like "next time I'm here, it's only 40 miles left to go!".  So, I kept concentrating on the time it would take to the next aid station, whether I was eating enough, drinking enough, or getting my feet high enough.  Food and drink were fine.  My feet, however, were not always getting over the roots, and I started to kick the whatsit out of my big toes.  Plenty of times I just glanced off the little hazards, but every so often I would catch one flush on the big toe and feel a sharp pain shoot through my whole foot.  I guess the upside was that I was still moving fast enough to hit the roots hard.  Somehow (probably due to reasonable training and plenty of early calories), I maintained a cheery mood and shrugged off the blows as "well, who needs toenails anyway?".  In about a week, I expect I'll be looking at my nail-less toes and wishing I had done a better job of getting my feet up.  I finished the lap in good time for Nic and Dad to get me set up for the night before they headed off for some well-earned rest (4:39).  The heat was slowing me down, but not taking a long-term toll like it had the year before.

Still topless - apparently people were turned to stone by the sight.

Lap 4 took the race into proper problem-solving mode.  It was dark by the time I left Dogwood for the penultimate time, and I forgot to pick up my spare batteries.  I knew the dark laps would be slower than the light ones, if only because I'd be tired and having to take a bit more care on the roots.  Early in the loop, I had a brief chance to chat with Scott Dunlap (new PR of 17:06, age-group win) - a big boost for me since he was a big inspiration for me to set up on my own.  At DamNation, before heading out for 10km of dark single-track, a volunteer asked if I had my spare batteries.  I thought briefly and realized that they were still at Dogwood.  Hoping that my new LED Lenser SEO7R would still have plenty of charge on it from the morning, I set off into the darkness.  A mile later, the light switched to low power.  Compound errors:  I hadn't really learned to use the SEO functionality or the battery-saving function, and had been running fairly high-powered to make sure I didn't catch too many roots.  So, I walked up the hill in very dim light, hoping that a passing runner might have spare AAA batteries I could use.  After a few AA carriers, Ace Gallegos offered me his spare light - which was back at DamNation.  Ace was shooting for a 22hr finish and was motoring through a painful ITB, so I stuck to him like glue.  I kept my light on the lowest power and widest angle to give some ambient light, and Ace had his spot on quite bright, picking out the major trip hazards.  Every now and then, I missed one with the eyes and found it with the toes, and I hit the ground at least twice on that section (I was more focused on sticking to Ace than anything else, so I really don't know how many times I tripped, fell, or turned an ankle).  We got back to the aid station still in good time for a 22hr, and Ace very kindly sorted me out with a light before taking some time to work on his leg.  I finished the lap with an opportunity to grab a 22hr, and ample time to get the sub-24.  After sorting out my light with fresh batteries, returning Ace's with some fresh batteries, and grabbing my backup H7R for some secondary lighting, I grabbed my lap-5 gels and set out aiming for a 4am finish.

Lap 5 was a tale of two halves.  With the SEO7R on my head providing a mid-power wide angle, and my H7R on high-power spot focus any time I was running, I was able to keep moving at a pretty good pace.  Nature Center came and went, with my pace near enough to 14min/mi.  DamNation arrived in similar fashion.   I was starting to properly tire by the time I got to the half way point, but was still looking at a 4:00-4:15 finish time, if I could maintain my effort level.  I knew the second half of the loop was potentially faster, but I also had 90 miles in my legs and was definitely feeling it.  The final visit to DamNation came at around 1:50, and I'd been working hard on that loop to keep the potential for that 4am finish.  Once I got off the Dam Road and back onto the single track, though, the effort of staying on plan A+ bit back, and I knew it was time for a longish walk.  I also realised I needed to put in some new batteries to keep the bright light (maybe next time I'll get some new ones instead of picking up a few 2-year old ones.  Thus far, I'd managed to avoid walking on the flats for anything other than comfort break, aid station, or some of the really rooty sections where a 10s walk is better than a face-plant.  Now, I knew I was bonking a bit, so I put on a fastish walk, popped my last 2 gels, aiming for 30-40 minutes of walking.  I figured the difference between 2 20-minute miles and 2 15-minute miles was pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.  The 22hr finish was gone, so the next goal was a PB (previous 23:17, on a much easier course).  After 20 minutes, I was on some good running track and got back to running - I couldn't bring myself to miss out on flat fire road.  It wasn't fast, and it wasn't pretty, but it was kind of like running.  My lights started dimming a bit (or possibly it was my brain), so I got a bit paranoid that I was going to end up in the dark again and started to push harder on the easy footing and eased off on the trippy bits.  I dropped nearly 40 minutes over that last 8 miles, but ended with a strong run on the nice, flat final straight to cheers from Nic and Dad, who'd crawled out of bed at way-too-early to see me finish.

Hurrah - finished with time for a nap before breakfast!

We enjoyed the euphoria of the finish (22:41), and headed to the car, and just about then the happy fell away as my battered toes started to say hello.  Sunday was a bit rough, but it was all made better by a little anesthetic in the evening.

Ice treatment made everything better!

Gear:

Salomon Fellraisers  (Run Stuff)
Injinji Performance 2.0 Trail Socks (ULTRAmarathonRunningStore)
Dirty Girl Gaiters (UMRS)
Ancient Brooks shorts
Cotswold Running Singlet (Run Stuff)
2x Cotswold Running Short-sleeved T-Shirts (Run Stuff)
dhb Arm Warmers
Cotswold Running Buff
Ultimate Direction Scott Jurek Endure Belt (UMRS)
LED Lenser H7R and SEO7R head torches (UMRS)

Food (as best as I remember):

4.5 BLT wraps (2 rashers of bacon, a bit of mayo, lettuce, tomato in a small tortilla)
2 hummus wraps
9 Oreo cookies
3 TORQ pineapple & ginger energy bars
1 large Clif Chocolate Mint Builders Bars
~5 small Clif Chocolate Mint Builders Bars
~15 Hammer salt tablets
4 TORQ Energy gels
4 TORQ Energy caffeinated gels
4 Gu isotonic tablets

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Dad just scanned in a picture of my first "race" (it was a fun run, really) and sent it to me.  It was back in the early days of the Austin Running Club.  The nation was celebrating its bicentennial, which meant the ARC hosted a 1 mile fun run, Mom fired up the sewing machine and made us all matching Stars & Stripes tops, and I got to do my first race at the ripe old age of 3.  I can't recollect how long it took, but I know it was a PB!

Nearly 4 decades later, the hike & bike trail at Town Lake (now Ladybird Johnson Lake) is still one of my favourite places in the world. Every twist, turn, bridge, and hill seems to hold a memory of one run or another.  When I was very little, Dad would do his run, and Mom was stuck walking with us as we ran/walked/sat.  I can still point out the scar on my right knee from when I fell running downhill (sound familiar?), chasing my older siblings near the gazebo over by the Congress Street bridge.  When I was in high school, racing duathlons, Dad & I would head to the lake once or twice a week after work in the summer to put in some sunny miles.  The little wooden bridge over Barton Creek always meant I was near the water fountain, if I was on the anti-clockwise loop.  Little things, important things.

Nearly 38 years ago, I wasn't quite so tall. Even then, I liked to look at the scenery.

This weekend, I joined our local Sports Relief Mile in Pershore.  Ostensibly, I was out drumming up support for EVRC's local 10K on July 13th, but in the end I just couldn't pass up the chance to run around a park surrounded by runners, walkers, and pram pushers/passengers.  As a race director, I frequently have to set out age limits and rules, fill in risk assessments, and play with bits of red tape. But as I was jogging about the park, chatting with a local teacher who received great support from his primary school students, watching parents sheltering their little ones under trees when the hail became corn-kernel-sized, I was on the other side, enjoying one of the best things in the world - people out running around having fun (once the hail stopped).

Hopefully, in a few decades, some of those little kids I saw on Saturday will look back at pictures of them with their first medal and see the start of a lifetime of happy running memories.  Running comes naturally to most of us, or it did once, and so does laughing and smiling while we do it.

Now, it's time to turn off the PC, get out, have fun, and make some new memories.

Running Diaries - you keep one, but do you use it?

Judging by the volume of Facebook and Twitter chat, most runners do keep (and share) records of their runs.  Whether it's Strave, Runkeeper, Garmin Connect, vast home-made spreadsheets (yes, that's me), a blog, or good old handwriting, we keep a log of anything from number of miles run to the number of jellybabies consumed.  It's a great way to give ourselves a pat on the back, a little gold star, just for going out and doing what we want to.

But how many of us actually use the running diary for anything other than annoying our non-running friends & families or for ammo in the "I kicked your butt on that segment last Tuesday" conversations with our running buddies?  When was the last time you went back and actually analyzed your diary for something more subtle than "how fast did I do my 800m reps last month?"

What brings this to mind?  Well, this week I managed to complete a (not very) whopping 42.5 training miles, including some good trail runs and a full speed session.  It's the first good quality week I've had in ages, and I wanted to know just how long "ages" really was.

So, I dragged out the spreadsheet and hunted for weekly mileage over 40 that didn't actually include an ultra.  After all, weekly mileage that's 90-100% on one day doesn't really count as a quality week.  A quality day, yes, but that's only 1/7th of a week.

Having exhausted the rather short 2014 diary, I changed to the 2013 page and was pleased to see a couple of 40+ weeks in December, one in November, and then ... May.  OK, so I knew the second half of the year was patchy, so I wasn't expecting much.  But, it got me thinking: was it just a figment of my imagination that I was quite happily doing 35-45 miles per week before I made a mess of my ankle over the Summer?

The training diary trawl continued, not looking for specific totals, but trends; little (or big) stretches of the consistency that turns running into training, patterns of good and bad.  To say I was a little amazed at what I found would be a gross understatement.  I was shocked to learn that before my little blip in December, which ended with a total bonk 32mi into a 45mi training run, I hadn't logged 2 40+ mi weeks in a row for a year.  Consistency? Not here...  I knew 2013 had been a bit unplanned, but the erratic up & down was, on reflection, quite easy to spot.  I think I may need a weekly mileage graph on this year's sheet (if in doubt, add more graphs...).

I then started to ask myself a new question:  if I had such a crap training year (and I did, let's be honest), how did I manage to pull off the races I did?  Dig deeper, look at 2012, and there's the answer.  It would seem that the first half of 2013 was built on the laurels of 2012.  One third of my 2012 weeks had 40+ miles. I got through the next 6 months based on that foundation.

I'm not going to further bore you with the rest of what I found on that trawl.  I will, however, say that it's helped to build a picture of what I've done right before, and how I can build on that for the next year.

So, next time you're looking at your latest Strava segment stats, or posting that picture of your Garmin on Facebook, take a step back and look at the bigger picture.  You might see more than you expected.

The River Ayr Way Challenge 2012 - some like it RAW

When I entered this race, I briefly anticipated writing a reflection filled with discomfort, fighting through extreme lows, and the glory of pushing my body harder than I ever dreamed possible.  Then, I shuddered, put all anticipation of anything other than a smiley start and a relieved finish out of my head and pretended that everything would be fine.  After all, I kept saying, the race starts at the head of a river and ends at the mouth - it's all down hill, right?

The day started cool and grey, as forecast, with moderate winds (a big improvement on the gales and driving rain of the previous day).  Nic's parents kindly agreed to be crew for the day - their first ever such assignment, which saw Jeff cruelly taken from the clutches of his bed far too early for his day off.  We arrived at the start at 8AM, to find RD Anneke preparing to receive runners.  Many would register on the bus from the finish.  Those of us lucky enough to have crew (and/or like me, likely to lose their breakfast on a bus) picked up our numbers in the tiny car park above Glenbuck.

As usual, our target was to arrive early, relax, and have a bite to eat while waiting for the start.  So, when we got out of the car and I looked at the delightful woodlands surrounding us, I noticed that there were no facilities other than the boxes waiting to receive our drop bags.  I realised this really was going to be a pretty relaxed atmosphere.

Jeff, Maggie, and Nic posing for a pre-race picture in front of the ample toilet facilities.

The registration area began to fill as the buses arrived, while Nic and I realised that we weren't particularly nervous.  Considering this would be my first time over 40 miles, and her first time over 28, the chilled vibe was obviously rubbing off on us.  With about 15 minutes to spare, I had a short jog to make sure my shoes were well tied, took some pics, and was ready to go.

Race crew hard at work (behind the race crew hard at chat).

You know it's Scotland when you see red tartan lycra shorts...

The race started with a great descent to get us all up to speed and quickly took us to into the open moorland that made up the first 10 miles of the route.  Good, steady descents, a few short hills to break up the rhythm a little, and before I knew it, I was sheltering behind a few runners at about 45 seconds per mile faster than my preferred early pace.  With the steady headwinds, the firm footing, and the lack of any notable hills, I decided to stick with it for a while, to see how things went.  After all, I've not really been used to running for any length of trail without some enforced walking breaks, so I wasn't really sure how I would react to 8:45 minute miles.  Had it been a flattish road race, I would have been quite happy with the conservative speed, but for the trails, sense said I was going to have to slow down at some point.

Narrow but firm footing just alongside the River Ayr

For those not familiar with the race or the route, The River Ayr Way Challenge is organised by the East Ayrshire County Council - in particular the Countryside Services team.  It's pretty low key, well supported with regular water/feed/chat stations, and runs along the length of the River Ayr Way.  The rangers had to put in some extra hard work this year, recovering/re-routing some sections of the RAW where it had disappeared after this winter's ice floes and heavy rains.  In many places, they had even been out strimming in the days before the race.  Compared to what I normally run on, the path felt practically manicured!  We were truly spoiled in that respect.

Nic looks back on the open moorland, our first hill top for nearly 7 miles

Nice day to do a bit of fishing

The early stages of the route set the tone for the whole of the RAW.  There are pretty views in all directions, but few "wow!" moments.  Early on, we enjoyed miles of open moors, misty light on the distant hills, and plenty of slippery little wooden bridges to test the coordination.  After 11 miles, my right calf (this month's muscular liability) started to tug, so I eased back a bit.  I didn't fancy running another 30 miles on a cramping leg, and hoped that putting less strain on the leg would do the trick.  By the time I hit the first check-in point with Jeff and Maggie, the leg was doing OK and I was running fairly freely.  I was also 15 minutes ahead of schedule after only 17 miles, and wondering how bad the payback would be.  The early moorland was giving way to wooded slopes as the river carved through the low hills.  Easy running was about to take a back seat.

Catching up with the in-laws at 17 miles

The tough patch came, a bit later than expected, at around 25 miles.  We had finally had some hills - all short, all sharp, with plenty of steps to make running difficult.  Climbing up and down through the riverside woods had killed the pace and my legs.  My right quad and ITB started to object, colouring my language nicely with each new staircase.

Alas, no train to distract from the sore legs

The difficult patch carried on into the new addition for this year's running, a diversion near Stair where the old path unfortunately has now joined with the river itself.  We slogged up a short hill through a nice, soupy pasture where the "mud" had a nice oily sheen to it.  Best not to think about it all, really, but I did laugh that I had finally reached some trail that was like what I've been enjoying throughout this rather moist summer.  The cattle at the top of the hill looked on bemused, and I was happy to reach them with both shoes still on my feet.

A couple of miles later, though, we ran through ankle deep water for long enough to wash the shoes.  I splashed along, enjoying the cold water on my feet and keeping my hands above my head so I would still be happy to eat with them later.  Unfortunately, I also managed to wash some large bits of grit into the shoes, in spite of my gaiters.  By this time, I was 30 miles in, a little cranky, and more than just a little confused by anything that required much thought.  At the 32-mile check point, luckily, the in-laws were waiting with some extra brain cells for me to use.

I stopped for a drink and a little chat, forgetting about my gritty feet.  After a minute or two, I suddenly remembered that my shoes were full of ick.  So, I sat down to empty my shoes and found that the grit had helped me to mangle my socks.  With toes poking through the end, I knew another 10 miles would be manageable, but possibly a bit irritating, and stared blankly at my feet.  Maggie asked if I had any socks in my end-of-race bag (in the car boot).  It took far too long for my brain to kick into gear, but I did have a spare pair for after the run, so was able to change socks.  I ditched the gaiters while I was shoeless, and suddenly felt a lot lighter without the extra layer of wet fabric.

Getting up wasn't easy.  The rest while I tended my feet did me some good, but it also cooled me off.  So, as I walked up the next hill, I changed into my spare t-shirt.  The clouds were firmly in place, so I didn't need to worry about getting too warm as the afternoon continued.  At 34 miles, I grabbed a drink and a bag of jelly worms from my drop bag, and carried on.  With only 7 miles left, I knew I would be able to get it together and finish, even though I had lost any hope of a 7-hour time.

I always carry a phone for emergencies on a long run, and feared the worst when mine rang as I left the check point - surely Nic had fallen, broken her arms and legs, and was being rushed to hospital.  Clearly, rational thought was taking a nap.  Thankfully, the only problem was that, as tired as I was, I was still running better than the car.  Jeff was calling to let me know that my bag might make it to the line before my crew.

Gradually, I gathered myself and started to push on, trying to catch one person at a time in a battle of "who can slow down the least".  The underfoot conditions eased again as we neared the finish.  With firm paths, tracks, and road, I was able to get back into a consistent running rhythm, getting back to 10-minute miles for the final few.  It's easy to get down about working so hard to run so much slower than my normal pace, but I had already figured that I would be straining hard to even run.  I just kept concentrating on getting each mile as close to that 10:00 as I could, until I finally started to see the 9 on my watch.  As long as I didn't have to go up or turn a corner, I was moving well.

As I approached the finish, I heard someone say "there's only about 100 yards left" and put on a "sprint" for the line.  At nearly 7:15, I finished 20 minutes slower than my "good day" or "plan A" time, but inside of my "plan B" - pretty good for my first foray over 40 miles.  If I had only managed a few minutes faster, I would even have beaten the car back to the finish - the issues had been dealt with and our ace crew had made it just in time.

After getting cleaned up and refuelling a bit, I headed back up the course to cheer Nic into the finishing straight.  Luckily for her, I had about half a mile of the route in view, and could pick her out in time to position myself for a good bellow of encouragement followed by a picture.  Her plan B was "don't finish last", and her plan A was "sub 10:00".  A 9:05 time showed that running conservatively for the first ultra was probably a good idea, and that there's definitely more ability there than she gave herself credit for.

Still smiling at 40 miles.

It looks so much further when you look at it afterwards...

One of the bucolic views along the river (courtesy of Jeff)

Much like the route itself, there were no outstanding high or low points to my race.  I had expected to hit the wall, struggle to carry on, battle with my usually temperamental digestion, feel elated when I finished, etc. etc.      The reality was that everything just kind of ticked along.  The weather was moderate.  The marshals, supporters, and passers-by were all very friendly. As the race went on, I felt mostly in control (as much as one ever is), never particularly strong, nor overly weak.  I got tired, cranky, cheery, chatty, and quiet, much as I do over the course of any full day.  Overall, it was just a normal, nice day out on some scenic trails among like-minded runners, with the added bonus of great support - what better way to spend a Saturday?

Making Cotswold Running Real - my greatest running adventure

Running is addictive.  It gets under our skin.  Muscles, tendons, nerves all suffer when we run.  On the best days, running transforms us.  On the worst days, it is our final action.  Every day in between is a day when we are running, could be running, should be running, dream about running, or prepare to run again.  Many runners struggle to find time for running, and yet the time is somehow found.  Many runners struggle to keep running from taking over their lives, and kid themselves that they have succeeded.  This Spring, I finally stopped kidding myself.  Running has taken over my life.  This Spring, Cotswold Running stopped just being the name of a blog, it became a dream.  In June, Cotswold Running became a company.  In July, we opened entries into our first races, the Broadway Tower Marathon and Half Marathon.  On August 1st, Cotswold Running became my full-time occupation.

The part of my day that used to be dedicated to the automotive industry is dedicated to putting together the races that I've dreamt of running - races ranging from 10 kilometres to 100+ miles on trails and hills that always call out to me, "Come run here, you'll leave with a grin!".  Success is measured not just in the number of runners at the starting line, but the smiles at the finish, the number of runners coming back for more, the number of towns, villages, and landowners welcoming us back to share their landscape for a few hours.  Running is addictive.  It's gotten under my skin.  Let the adventure begin!

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?"

A Run of Two Halves

Today was scheduled to be a real strain of a day - with the Not the Roman IX 12km road race followed by an easy trail half to get home.  The sun shone bright, the day was calm, cold, and crisp.  We got out early to have plenty of time for picking up chips & numbers, with a lift to the race from fellow EVRC runner Adam.  Planning to have a fairly quick race, Nic and I set out for a steady warm-up with 30 minutes to go before the start.

The race started fairly steadily, as I eased through the many runners who kindly started far too close to the front for their pace.  The first two miles are essentially flat with a few nice wobbles to keep it interesting.  Then comes the 1.5 mile steady climb, where those who overcooked the start generally pay for their mistake.  Two and a half miles of mostly downhill give plenty of time to pick up time.  Today, I enjoyed the speed, but seem to have aggravated my hip.  No problem during the race, but it certainly wasn't going to make for an easy jog home.  The final 2km are basically one-up-one-down.  Another chance to pick up places as legs began to tire. At about 1km to go, I realised that I had a small chance to break 50 minutes, so pushed a little harder than I'd planned.  After all, I'd be a bit annoyed if I didn't at least give it a shot in the final stages.  In the end, I was a few seconds too slow, but the finish was exhilarating from the effort.  It turns out that this was the fastest average pace I'd ever managed in anything over 5km.  It felt pretty fluid, so I'm over the moon with the result.

Once Nic had finished, Adam and I retrieved the kit from the car, including birthday cake (this race is the closest to my birthday, so it's nice to celebrate with friends).  Luckily, this year I avoided the sing-song and we dug straight into Nic's chocolate cake - delicious!

A quick change into dry tops and trail shoes and Nic and I started walking back home.  Once we felt a bit looser, we eased into a slow jog.  My hip didn't really feel like loosening up, so I decided to enjoy the sunshine and hope for the best.  The trail south from Stratford-upon-Avon covers some excellent scenery, and was generally quite good to run on.  But, after 9 miles, as we sat to change into road shoes in the hope of getting home faster (due to my dodgy hip - is it the ageing?), I decided to call it a day.  I'd been limping for miles, and I decided that at best, I was only going to end up properly injured with a series of marathons & ultras on the way.  Luckily, our fabulous neighbour Mark had arrived home just in time to come and rescue us.

Certainly, a run of two halves - first a surprising course PB for me (and a huge course PB for Nic).  Then, the body gave up the ghost before we finished our long, slow "cool-down".  Given the surprise of the morning, I think I'll just try to forget about the afternoon and carry on!

Recovery has now become boring

I'm recovering, and I'm bored.  Normally during the past 18 months, I've enjoyed my little spells of recovery.  A bit more sleep, a bit more food, and maybe even a bit less pain all combine to make for a relaxing few days. But, when I finished Abingdon, I knew I needed a proper recovery - the kind you read about in running magazines.  A week of no running at all, a week of shortish runs, and then build back up to fitness.  I finished tired, jaded, and ready for a break.  The good news is that work is busy enough to make sure I don't really have much time for running.  The bad news is that long hours don't leave much time for the extra rest needed to accelerate my recovery.

The first week, with no running, wasn't too difficult.  I was limping for 2-3 days while my left ITB and associated small muscles refused to unknot.  Even a good beating from Sara only got me to a gentler imbalance.  By Thursday, we tried out a new Japanese restaurant in town (excellent!) that only takes cash at the moment (oops!).  So, I had to run a few hundred yards to and from the cash machine.  It felt amazing to be running even just a little bit again.  Friday I woke up a bit sore from my little dash, but I didn't care, because I knew I'd be running again soon.

The second recovery week has been the tough one.  I'm tired pretty early into a run (3-5 miles is tiring - how dull!).  The legs are doing OK, although I do wish my left knee would make less noise when I'm on the stairs.  The breathing muscles - core and intercostals - are still pretty shattered.  As a result, when I got a bit bored after a slow mile and a half on Friday night and decided to spice it up with some 800m repeats, I had to give in after 3 1/2 reps because I couldn't get enough air into my lungs:  dull.

Today, the sun is shining and I've got the time to enjoy a bit of Autumn colour.  I'm looking forward to my first trip onto the trails for a month - I just hope my body feels the same!

Hilly Hundred - Award-winning Adendum

OK, so we entered the race this year for the personal challenges, the fun, and because it's a good time of year to do some challenging hill work as part of a wider training regime.  Based on the previous 2 years' times, and our predicted finish time, we were a solid bet for 7th place in the mixed-team race.  We didn't care.  We weren't out for any awards.  No pressure, just run.  As it turned out: no pressure, just win! 

Most of the winning team: Me, Sara Turner (10mi pb by 9 minutes), Tim Heslop, John Peacock, non-running captain Robert Hale, Julian Gillece (first time to run this far), Marie Lord, Johann Importante (previous longest race was 10k); missing runners are Phil Parsons, Caroline Kent, David Hughes

A victory of any type is incredible and worth savouring.  For our team, this result was unbelievable.  Our club has won prizes, individual and team.  But these have been overall race prizes - the best of the best in the race or in each age category.  Today's team was in the "B" mixed-team challenge, and shouldn't have been competitive there on paper.  Only one of the team would have made our "A" team, had it entered.  Otherwise, we ranged from top 10%-30% in our local races to a couple of guys who had never even run 10 miles before.

So, what happened?

When you're racing, it's important to remember that you can only run your race. The other guy will beat you if he's better.  For the Hilly, the temperature jumped into the 30s for the first time since July last year.  Our challenge was against the course and the weather, more than the other teams.  So, we held our form as the sun beat down and accepted that in the heat you have to walk or slow down on occasion.  One of our runners even kept cool on her leg by putting ice cubes in her sports bra - tough lady!  Some runners had tried their legs out in easy training runs two weeks prior, and had run them 10 or more minutes faster than in the race.  The early runners kept close to target times, but it was a struggle.  The goal for the last few runners was simple - finish the leg.  In the end, this goal was the difference between winning and failing to finish.  At 70 miles, we were 45 minutes behind the leaders.  They were racing against the potential of the teams that traditionally finish in the top three.  As the heat mounted, their runner collapsed and was unable to complete the leg (thankfully, with no long-term damage!).  The time pressure accounted for the perennial favourites.

Aside from a very nice trophy, I'm left with the reminder that if you want to compete at anything, you have to be there at the end.



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