This weekend, I had lots of non-running stuff to do, which could have meant that I got through the whole weekend with no specific UTMB training. Not good, with less than 8 weeks to go, so I did my usual and made the most of an opportunity.

After hosting a small dinner party on Friday night, I kicked the guests out a little early, found my head torch and headed out into the night. I followed the route of the South Downs way, which starts about a mile from my house, is well sign posted, but i’m not too familiar with the route.

I ran into my first panic shortly after I left my house. Bang! A shot rang out. As is my usual responce to gunfire, I froze. My brain raced in circles – this was Winchester, not Cape Town, there is no gun crime round here. I hoped that it was just an exercise on the local military training area. Bang! again, then Flash! It was a fireworks display. My heart slowed a little and I ran on.

It was a lovely warm night, the lights from nearby towns, added a greyish tinge to the night sky, and there were lazer lights from a music festival, “somewhere in a field in hampshire”. But that didn’t really reasure me. Thoughts kept entering my mind of crazed axe murderers that might be hiding out in the woods waiting for me. Or rabid dogs that would jump out of the bushes. I did well at rationalising these paranoia’s but I was still scared as I ran.

I was relieved to get home safely after 12 miles and 2 hours of running. But however much I practice that, I will still be scared. I think that the answer is to find someone to run with in the dark in Mont blanc, and maybe buy a brighter torch

 After my panic from yesterday I decided to hunt the internet for some blogs from other normal runners about how they found the race. Not easy! Lots of people failed on their first few attempts. I hope that I can learn from them. I think my updated training plan has me in the right direction  

http://www.life-is-an-ultramarathon.org/dotclear2/index.php?category/Utmb

http://www.mensfitness.co.uk/exercise/running_races/2182/team_mens_fitness_blog_290509.html

http://mountainnomad.co.uk/blog/2007/09/04/the-north-face-ultra-trail-ccc-2007/

http://mountainnomad.co.uk/blog/2007/08/20/running-with-poles/

The best for tips for the average runner:

http://marathons.ahotu.com/archives/533-within_the_utmb_-_part_i_before_the_race

Yesterday I ran the Classic Quarter, a lovely trail race from the most Southerly point of theUK– Lizard point – for 45miles along the South Western Coastal path, mostly very rugged cliff paths with steep decents and ascents from many beaches and rivers finishing at Lands End, the most Westerly point of theUK.

I ran this race 2 years ago:

http://longwindingtrail.wordpress.com/2009/08/01/the-classic-quarter/

and had very fond memories of it. It has grown in numbers since I last ran it, but I was hoping to improve my time.

I ran with my poles, which attracted several comments. This was the first time using them for years, and I had no problems, except a minor area of chaffing on my right wrist – I will make sure to put tape on both wrists for the UTMB, and a bit of aching in my shoulders, I will start doing some pressups. This reassures me that I don’t have to do all my training with them for the next 8 weeks.

The poles definitely helped for the descents; 2 years ago I was at the end of a 2 year phase of training which had involved lots of off road running, with numerous tough trail marathons and ultras. But since then I’ve done almost no off road training, and only a very small number of trail races, where I’ve noticed that I’ve been struggling on the downs. This will have to change, I think that 8 weeks should be long enough to retrain my descent muscles if I work on it daily, and do some focussed downhill intervals.

I wanted to focus on my nutrition, I was aiming to drink 500ml of energy drink, alternating coke/cytomax and 500ml perpetuem. With some regular gels and jelly babies. I kept to that well for the first 10 miles. Then I was spooked, I overtook a lady, who then stuck on my heels, overtaking again if I slowed at all. So instead of letting myself slow a little more on the ascents and drinking, I focussed on the running. I got away with it this race, but I wont over 36+ hours. I have to remember that UTMB is only a race against myself. Stick to my plans.

There was a point I want to remember though. With about an hour of running to go I hit a real low. Another lady was trying to overtake, I’d picked up the pace a bit to keep in front of her. Then suddenly as I reached the top of a hill I just felt awful. So I stopped for 2 minutes and ate a bag of Jelly babies, a gel and some water. Then restarted at a slowed pace, as the lady had disappeared into the distance, and I was fine through to the end.

Another thing to remember is that although my legs hurt from about half way due to the pounding of the descents, I was still able to keep going. I could run all the flat bits slowly, which meant that I overtook several people who were walking. And although for the last 10 miles I was thinking to myself “this is horrible, how can I run 100miles if I can hardly run 45?” the moment I was finished I felt fine, most of the pain just went, and I was able to get straight into my car and drive 4 ½ hours home (with several stops).

First lady in stage one of the Welsh Castles Relay

One of the highlights of my running club social calendar is the Welsh Castles Relay Race; an epic race that starts in Caernarfon, North Wales and finishes atCardiffCastle, the following afternoon after 20x approximately 10 mile legs, in what has always been beautiful weather. I was determined to be involved with this extravaganza, but thought it would be an ideal excuse to get some more training in the mountains once I was inNorth Wales. So I opted to run the first leg on Saturday morning.

I managed to convince a non running friend, David, to keep me company for the mountain stage of my weekend, so destroying my legs by running a max effort 10miles was a good idea, and also ended up benefiting the club, as I was the first lady in my stage.

The race moved on down the country with heavy rain forecast, while I sat in the sun at a bus stop waiting to be picked up for my stage 2.

Diseptively chilly on top of Snowdon

As I wasn’t sure how much distance David would be able to cover, I thought the best option for me was to use the weekend which was still within 2 weeks of the comrades as an opportunity to focus on my specific weaknesses so I wanted to practice using my walking poles, taking protein drink while I walked up the steep bits, and get some night training in.

Unfortunately, from that point of view the weekend was a complete disaster. In terms of the walking poles, I forgot my gloves and my hands were just too cold to use the poles. While generously trying to share my Perpetuem endurance energy drink, David decided to call it “prion Juice” and remind me that it tastes of rotten eggs – which has somewhat put me off drinking it. And we had the great idea of waking up very early and walking up Snowden in the dark just in time to see the sun rise at the top. Unfortunately, my Garmin seemed to miscalculate the time of Sunrise in Sunny north Wales by an hour, so by the time we left the B&B at 4:30am it was already light enough to see, and the sun actually peeped above the horizon an hour earlier than we were expecting.

 

Despite all these setbacks in my training, the weekend did have one huge plus point. I managed to convince David that it would be a great opportunity for him to give up his bank holiday weekend at the end of August, and take the night shifts as my seconder (my parents have already volunteered to help, but I think they are a bit too frail to keep up with me through the night). So at least even if the perpetuem is totally grim, I’ll have plenty of it mixed for me!

OK so things have been rudely delayed by 12 months, due to my non acceptance for last years race. But how lucky was I? I can’t imagine how pissed off I would be to travel all that way with all the training, and have the race cancelled on me. Restarting at half way is just not the same. And because I was cancelled last time I have had the privaledge of a guaranteed entry this year.

So having completed the Comrades up run last week it is now time to refocus my training. I’m taking it easy for a bit, but the pace I have managed so far on the mountains would barely get me through the UTMB cut offs -  I’ve got lots of training to go. So what’s the plan?

I think my big weaknesses are eating while racing and running in the dark. So I’m going to focus on these two aspects. At every free weekend I’m going to find some mountains to train on, although there aren’t too many near to where I live in Winchester. I’m also including a trip to the Alps to walk the route in 3 days. Then when I can I will do some off road run’s through the night, hopefully with company, but running on my own will be good practice too.

I will drop my milage during the week, making sure it’s all off road, and my speed work will be the RR10 off road series of 4-5mile races on Wednesday evenings. 

Less than three months to go, that’s not long to convert me from a road to a mountain runner. But I will complete this race. Failure’s not an option! I don’t want to have to come back again next year

This is a speciality I’ve never heard of in the UK, but several people I met in my year in SA told me that this was their occupation. It took me a while to work out what exactly it meant. Something along the lines of a personal trainer, who knows about how specific exercises can be used to cure injuries. I had seen a friend who was a Biokineticist last year when I was suffering with ITB issues. And when I found that I had Jelly for legs when it came to climbing down mountains, I hoped that just maybe she could sort me out again.

She seemed keen to help and I arrived with my somewhat shaken legs for an hour’s session. She quickly identified my weaknesses. My quads were lazy, the left was stiffer than the right, and my hamstrings/glutes seemed to have no power either. Amazingly none of this seemed to phase her. She has put together a training programme for me to complete twice a week in the gym and in just 13weeks I should be bounding over those mountains.

I really hope so!

I arrived in Cape Town 5 days after completing the Comrades, so officially I was still recovering. But it was only 13 weeks till UTMB and I have done no trail running in the last 8 months and access to mountains in Winchester is a bit limited, so Carpe Diem.

On Saturday morning it was raining, and no Capetonian would even consider going out in the rain, let alone climbing a mountain in

Above the clouds on Lion's head with Eth

slightly inclement weather – how do they survive, it’s always raining or horrendously windy – but anyway I wasn’t too keen to go on my own as I’ve heard of viscious attacks on the mountains. But by the afternoon there was enough Blue sky to make a pair of sailors trousers. So I convinced the daughter of my former housemaid to join me on the smallest of Cape Town’s 3 Peaks – lions head. We were just walking, no race, and I was slowing for her, but the 300m of ascent took a long time, and only 5 minutes less to get back down. There were lots of people on the route, and we met someone from the National Park’s Authority who was very encouraging and dispelled the myths of any attacks during the winter.

Trig point on the top of Table Mountain

So Sunday morning as the sun rose, I started alone up Platterkloof – the easiest route to the top of Table mountain. I tried to run the flatter bits, but most of the path was very rocky so despite that the 600m of ascent took as long on the way up as my Jellied legs took on the way down.

I was in no state to carry on with the next Peak so I stopped for a chilled lunch in the sun with some friends, and only hit the slopes of Devils peak

View from the top of Devils Peak

with exactly enough time to get up and down before the sun set.Devils Peak is my favourite peak in Cape Town, both looking up from the bottom at it’s imposing shadow over the city, as well as the 360degree vistas from the top. Either way, despite running as much as the much friendlier trail down from the top, it still took me 5 minutes longer than the 550m climb to the top. My legs really do need to sort themselves out if I have any chance of even making the cut-offs for UTMB

The day arrived. 6 months of focussed training was going to be put to the test. I was back in my beloved South Africa at the greatest race ever. I was staying with Lauren, another runner who I’d met through the British running website, Fetcheveryone. She lives just next to the 61km to go mark on the route. We woke at 3am for final pre race preparations before her husband dropped us near the start line for the 5:30am kickoff. In the dark we made our way to our start pens. We were both in B, based on our marathon time, just behind the front. On the way I bumped into some friends I knew from last year, including an English guy living in Cape Town, Richard, who quite confidently told me he would finish faster than me – I wasn’t so confident but I didn’t tell him that. After the traditional three build up songs, including the South African anthem, we realised we were so close to the start line we could even see the man with the start gun.

Bang, the noise thundered across Durban, and we were off. I quickly lost Lacal, as was our plan, and concentrated on maintaining my pace, knowing that my Garmin wouldn’t last the 8 hours of the race, I had bought a foot pod which was giving me accurate readings of my pace. It was quite eerie running through the city in the dark, but there were plenty of supporters cheering along the route. After only 1 km we hit the first hill, but before I could start to worry about losing pace a guy I had met running 2 oceans last year came up behind me and I was able to stop thinking about me legs and concentrate on catching up with his news.

I reached the first water station at 3km, while it was still dark, and I worried a little as my coordination wasn’t up to grabbing drinks I could barely see at the pace I was running. But before the next water stop, the sun was peaking golden over the horizon. Running conditions were perfect, about 12degrees at the start, but the temperature rise of the Winter African sun was counteracted by the steady climb up the whopping Fields hill. Reaching the top we found a lovely cooling gentle breeze, so I was never really too hot (and I like to run in the heat).

The support along the route was great as usual, I think even better for me as I seemed to know so many of the supporters. There were loads of people who had got up at the crack of dawn to beat the road closures and were enjoying a Braii on the pavements often shouting out “go on Lady”, probably related to the fact that there weren’t too many ladies where I was running. There were also the cutest little African kids waiting optimistically for high 5’s. But my favourite point was as I ran through the Valley of 1000 hills. There was a community of traditional African style mud huts, yet blaring from one of them was a huge Ghetto Blaster playing local Kwaito music that couldn’t fail to get the legs moving.

There was as much food and drink along the route as anyone could possibly need, Energade and water in the traditional South African sachet’s that I love so much. The big controversy of the last week – Pepsi instead of Coke. I worried I wouldn’t like the new taste, but taste ended up the least of my worries, the real problem was that the Pepsi was served in cups. I needed the pepsi to settle my stomach while giving me energy, but it meant I had to stop to drink it. There was also chocolate, biscuits, potatoes and bananas, but I couldn’t face eating any of that. I don’t think I had any less energy for not eating the solids though.

I passed through half way in 3 hours 52, perfect timing for my optomistic 7 hours 45 predicted finish.

The Valley of 1000 hills, fortunately we didn't have to run over all of them

And by that time I had comfortably run up 3 of the 5 named hills – Cowies, Fields and Botha’s.I just had to run my signature negative split.

 

But somehow my pace just didn’t quite go right from there. I think in my mind I’d done the biggest hills and I wasn’t prepared to keep climbing. But Comrades doesn’t stop at just 5 hills, there are countless other unnamed hills which were just as big. So I let myself walk up all of these. Every time I walked I was losing time and giving up in my mind. But even running the down hills was hard work. There were fewer supporters by this stage as we were running through the countryside, and they were mostly concentrated in pockets around the road junctions. I did however see Richard again – the arrogant guy I’d met at the start. I couldn’t help but pick up the pace to pass him. I offered encouragement as I passed to see if he wanted to run with me, but he had acquired some injury which I later saw elaborately strapped up by the physio’s on the route. At that stage I was the first runner from Varsity Old Boys, the biggest club in Cape Town. But the boost of passing Richard didn’t last long, and I started to suffer with the Gingerbread men – unusual for me. With 21km to go I tried to convince myself that’s only a half marathon, but I’ve not actually run any halves this year, so I couldn’t even remember what that really means. I was hoping it would involve passing the highest point on the route, at Umlas Road, but I think I must have forgotten the detail of the map, as the sign didn’t seem to come. This was my lowest point in the race, when I wondered why I was putting myself through this, when I realised I wasn’t even going to break 8 hours, and I was 100% positive I’d never run the comrades ever again. Another guy from my club caught up with me and passed straight by. He was probably thinking of me just as I’d thought of Richard – silly girl started to quickly. The end didn’t even seem to get any closer. And even once I passed the highest point, there still seemed to be more and more up hills. Then a second guy from my club approached, he said hello and we started to run together, he introduced himself as Charyl. He eventually asked why I was wearing his club vest, yet he’d never seen me training. I admitted that I didn’t actually live in Cape Town anymore but this was just a cheaper entry into the race. Before long I realised that while we were running together we were making slightly quicker progress than either of us had on our own, and we were even walking less of the ups. He also admitted that he had been feeling terrible so was glad to have my company. However the gingerbread men struck again after a few k’s and I was forced to leave him and take refuge behind a bush. But within a few hundred metres I found Charyl again walking. He said that he found it just too hard to keep running without me, and he hoped we’d be able to run together again for a bit. I was so happy to hear this and we pushed on together. As I’d driven the route the day before I was able to describe the hills we had left to conquer. At 15km’s to go there was only “little Polly’s” which isn’t actually one of the named hills, Polly Shorts, the final really tough hill and then 2 tiny bumps going into Pietermaritzburg. We “adopted a run walk strategy” on little Polly’s so were quite proud of ourselves for the small amounts we did run. But then we hit the 2km long Polly Shorts, it looked almost perpendicular, so we very quickly slowed to a walk, which still left our quads burning. I was in total awe of the small number of people who were able to continue running past us. Reaching the top of Polly Shorts was an amazing feeling – just 8km to go, and almost all down hill, and not just that but having walked for the previous 20mins, we were actually relatively rested. So it was time to push. I was just counting down the minutes. 8k at 5mins per k makes 40 mins, ok still quite a long time, but manageable. We ran all the way up the first little hill, well it looked huge as we approached it, but it had been pointed out to me that the only reason it looked huge was because we were running down hill towards it. But by the second one, Charyl was desperate to walk, and I was easily convinced. We let ourselves walk about 100m, but after about 50m a young girl from the crowd started to walk next to me. “Come on Lady” she said. And I realised that I just couldn’t keep walking with her watching. As soon as I started to run she seemed so happy and cheered as she let me go on. There was a drinks station at the 3km to go mark, just 15mins left, I figured I could get through this without any extra sustenance that may well just make me sick. But the next km seemed to go on forever and I was beginning to regret that decision. The crowds were getting thicker and I could here a voice over a loudspeaker in the distance. All things suggesting the approach of the finishing line. But I wasn’t going to let myself get over optimistic, we hadn’t passed 2km or 1km to go. The worst thing would be to think I was nearly finished when there was still another 10mins running. But suddenly there was a sharp right turn and we were in the finish stadium. I hardly had an opportunity to get excited about finishing before we had crossed the line. The first thing we did was give each other a big hug. But the previous 40 minutes of hard running had got to me, and I had an overwhelming wave of nausea and had to push him away to be sick. Yuk! And the worst thing about it was that when we looked back over the TV footage of the race – they showed us live on TV, with a comment about how emotional it was to finish the race, before quickly cutting away as the vomiting started. The medals were the tiniest little things I’ve ever seen, how can that be just reward for all those k’s and hills and sweat and tears. But we were both ushered through to a second queue for people on their second race awarded the “back to back” medal. So I suppose I can’t complain for a race with 2 medals.

Miserable 16k trail run
Today was meant to be a “Christmas party” for the running group I train with in the mornings. It started at 6.15am and involved a 16k run up a steep trail in Table mountain national park, a swim at the top then back down again, followed by a big brunch. However it didn’t quite work out as planned. Last night the spell of glorious weather we’ve been having in Cape Town broke. Suddenly storm force winds broke out which tore through the city overnight, keeping me awake, and even breaking windows in my apartment block.
We met at the start point in Constancia Nek and had to huddle together just to keep warm. The first 2k, although steep were lovely with great views into the Constancia Valley. Then we passed the cloud line and it was just white, damp and windy. We had to keep running however steep the route, just to maintain our warmth. Nearing the top our route turned so the wind was behind and for a few moments it was like being a ship at sea, effortless despite the steep ascent. The swim at the top was swiftly curtailed as the dam was choppier than the ocean, and visibility was less than a few yards.
It was on the way down that I had the problem. The trail became a little more irregular and I found myself stuck behind some girls who were just walking. My body temperature must have plummeted, especially as I’ve been accustomed to running in the midday sun recently. It didn’t occur to me to put my layer back on again, as I was just feeling so miserable, I didn’t want to stop I just wanted to get to the bottom. I think I was unaware how cold I was, I misinterpreted the feeling as hypoglycaemia, but I didn’t have any food with me. Suddenly all the slower runners in the group were flying passed me and I couldn’t even maintain the pace. All I could think was that if the weather was like this in UTMB I would undoubtably quit. I lost all my mental strength and just wanted to stop and have some hot chocolate.
Fortunately after another k everyone stopped at a water tap to regroup. I took the opportunity to put my jacket back on. Within moments of doing that I had regained my strength and I was back at the front of the group enjoying the speed that you can get on a steep descent.
I learnt a useful lesson. While running UTMB, it is vital that I maintain my temperature. After 24+hours of running, it will be very easy to stop thinking about it and that will be the end of my race, especially with the labile weather in the Alps in summer. Also I think the important lesson is not to give up. If I feel dreadful, put on an extra layer, eat some jelly babies or some soup, hopefully find someone nice to run with, it’s amazing how quickly a low can turn into a high. Just don’t give up.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/oct/13/toughest-race-in-the-world

http://www.haroldpinchbeck.co.uk/#/mont-blanc-2009/4535518480