Tom’s Bransdale Fell Race, North York Moors, Tuesday, July 9, 2019
Heading for the last bit now, late in the day; head down, knees hurting, breathing heavy, heart pounding; arms sore from swinging back and forth; someone coming up behind me, give it one last push into the final straight, and yes, – that’s the granddaughter off the swing and into the arms of her dad after another day of child-minding is over!
Now, where was I?
Oh yes; Tom’s Bransdale Fell Race: – cursory glance at the FRA calendar a few days earlier and I saw this race coming up soon; not been there before; opportunity to explore another part of the NYM; no previous reports on the Strider’s website; let’s have a go at it; sensible to car-share, any takers? Mike B and Simon D respond so I take a glance at the map and see that Bransdale is only a little east of, but at the same latitude as, Chop Gate with which I am familiar and have run a number of Dave Parry’s NYM races from: so, that’s 1hr 20 mins travel from mine; factor in extra minutes for Mike to get to me after work and then collect Simon down the road; add 15 min to get across into the Bransdale valley, and if we leave at 5.30pm we’ll get there for 7pm with 15mins in hand for traffic/parking/registering contingencies. That’s the plan then, all agreed by email, albeit at relatively short notice for those intending to take part.
Scroll on to Thursday, the day of the event: now I would normally do a bit of extra research into entry requirements, race routes, navigation issues, travel problems, etc, but I’m definitely time-poor in the run-up to this race; anyone with a work or care commitment will recognise the situation, and, as I breathe a sigh of relief when grand-daughter disappears 10 mins before Mike B is due to arrive, I realise I have not properly checked the route to Bransdale where parking may be a problem so I have a quick Google and am suddenly faced with the stark realisation that yes, the head of Bransdale valley where the race begins is ‘near’ Chop Gate, but the only way to get to it by car is by a long journey south to the limit of the NYMs, straight through Chop Gate and on to Helmsley, east to Kirbymoorside, and north on very minor roads along the full length of Bransdale itself. 75miles or so, and a minimum of 2 hrs if we are lucky!
Rapid re-appraisal; unless I drive like a maniac/idiot, this event is not going to happen for us tonight; no way could we get there with enough time sensibly to park up, register, race prep’, etc (even if I don’t do warm ups!) and stop vomiting from the drive up narrow country lanes. Oh yes, the A19 south is also closed due to a collision between a lorry and a car! Nothing about a running event is worth driving like a maniac/idiot to get to and so- that’s it – cancellation!
Quick email to Simon who has only just realised the enormity of the journey for himself and is happy to let it go, but too late for Mike who arrives and, not entirely disheartened, we have a cup of tea and a chat.
Moral of the story? –
Do your homework – not just about the race route, but how are you going to get there (and back: – for example, personal experience suggests that motorbikes do not combine well with leg cramp after a stiff fell race – can still be fun though!) – Health and Safety lecture over
And so, Tom’s Bransdale Fell Race remains untouched by Elvet Striders – anyone available in the early afternoon for a trip out next July?
Old Crown Round, Hesket Newmarket, Lake District, Saturday, July 20, 2019
I had been really excited about this race for a couple of weeks. The race is organised by Northern Fells Running Club, starting and finishing at the Old Crown pub in Hesket Newmarket, with five checkpoints – the summits of some of the fells after which the brewery (based at the pub) has named its beers.
I’d done one recce a few weeks ago, and found some route choices I was happy with, and some that needed improving. A second planned recce was thwarted by my post-Skiddaw Fell Race feet (now healed) but I was still relatively confident with my chosen route. After my disagreement with eating in the Old County Tops, I’d also carefully planned my snacks, and had them stashed where I could grab them easily. I was aiming on getting round (in 6hrs perhaps) and having a good day out.
I saw Geoff at the start, who rolled his eyes at the fact I’d put my number on my bag (rather than my chest…not enough room with rucksack straps). Anyway, you think that’s bad, wait till you read about my compass.
Kit check and registration complete, 43 runners gathered on the green outside the pub for the pre-race briefing. The sun was shining, and it was fairly warm, though there were a smattering of raindrops as we set off.
There is a mile of road, then from Wood Hall set/flagged routes over fields and then out on to the open fell. A fair amount of running, then a hands on knees climb to CP1 – Carrock Fell. I was quite near the back, but happy to watch a stream of runners ascend ahead of me. Weather still good.
From Carrock the organisers had strongly suggested a route heading towards Round Knott before dropping down to the stream, to avoid the gorse. I’d recced this and knew my way, though the shoulder high bracken near the stream made things fun! Weather and visibility good.
There were three stream crossings to choose from; I had already decided on the first (with a rope) as I wanted to head straight up Bowscale here, rather than nearer Blackhazel Beck (where I had not enjoyed my recce…too tussocky, contoured ground). Again, hands on knees on the steep section, then trudge up, up, up. Check the time – first snack – flapjack.
And then the clouds start to blow over, cutting the visibility to maybe 50yds, and the rain starts. Jacket straight on as I don’t want to get wet and cold. I know I am most of the way up Bowscale, but it’s pathless here so I check the map and do a swift bearing check (compass seemed fine here…. read on). I’d been following a guy in a blue jacket, and now caught him, and we ran together over the pathless ground. We hit the trod coming off Bowscale, and its flatter here, so we both started running towards Blencathra.
Then the steep stony path up to Blencathra. I want to run when I start coming off the top, so I eat again here on the way up – snack two, mini cheese sausage roll. Drink water to help it down. The rain is coming and going, it’s pretty windy, and the clag is thick. I focus on the path in front. Blue jacket is just behind me.
CP2 Blencathra – the marshalls huddled in a tent, and Susan is there too! It’s wonderful to see her, and we have a quick hug and then I’m off, back down to the little pool which for me indicates a left turn down to Cloven Stone. I’ve taken a bearing, and have my compass out to follow….and this is where it goes wrong. My compass needle is swinging around, despite me tapping it, shaking it, and using some rather unladylike harsh language. Every now and then it would settle, and I would confidently start running down the common, and then off it would go again and I’d be reduced to a walk while trying to get it to ‘work’. Blue is still near me in the mist. My compass has become my trusted friend on runs like this – always there, reliable, never lying. I felt lost (emotionally) and let down. What had I done for it to desert me like this, just when I need it? Anyway, I lost track of how long I thought I’d been running downhill, and ended up descending down the valley too early, to the end of Sinen Gill rather than a kilometre or so further north.
So I hit the main track towards Skiddaw House, angry with myself. Blue was with me again, and I explained my error, trying not to sound cross or like I was blaming my tools. Clearly time for snack three – more flapjack.
From Skiddaw House (water available) an easy-to-follow track up Sale How and then Skiddaw. I started to feel pretty weary up here, sick of the mist, and the wind, and my aching legs. I want some proper downhill! It could be hunger. On the final stony climb up to Skiddaw I tucked into snack four – another cheesy sausage roll. It sticks in my throat, but I force it down, knowing how bad I will feel if I don’t eat.
CP3 – Skiddaw. Marshalls sheltering again (it’s pretty wild), pat the trig, and stick with the route I’ve chosen, heading north, and over Bakestall, and follow the fence line to Dash falls. Blue is with me again and I tell him my plan. One alternative (and recommended) route is to follow the BG route over Hare Crag and then up Great Calva, but from my recce I know the path up Little Calva so had already decided to go that way. I tell Blue he’s fine to follow, but not to blame if anything goes wrong, like my descent off Blencathra.
It was pretty good running down here, and then it happened – we dropped out of the cloud, and our whole view ahead was perfectly clear. I love that moment, going from that slightly unpleasant, (but kinda fun), restricted world where visibility is a few yards and sometimes confidence wavers, to suddenly, in a few seconds, having everything visible, the sun shining on the hills ahead, and your route perfectly clear in front. So I shout my wonder and joy to Blue, and filled with energy and confidence I bound down to Dash falls, leaving Blue behind.
From there, a steep and rough trudge up a fence line to Little Calva, then to a pool just north of this, then it’s a good trod up to Knott. My solid food used up (as planned) I have a caffeine gel (it is already past my afternoon coffee time). I’m feeling pretty good.
CP4 – Knott. The going is good from here, runnable grassy trods and a section along the Cumbrian Way. I even manage a slow jog on the uphill’s and pass a couple of guys, stripping my jacket off – it’s warm again. I check behind but I can’t see Blue. On the final climb to High Pike it’s the moment I’ve been waiting for all day – cracking open the tangy, sour, sugar-covered jelly sweets (non-branded today). I eat a handful, smiling at the memory of them saving me on the OCT race, feeling good. I will carry my compass back home, I will apologise to it for swearing, and somehow we will sort out our issues and be besties again.
CP5 – High Pike. Pleased that all of the ‘up’ is behind me, I set off back downhill to Wood Hall, through the intake wall, across a cow-filled field (I shout at a few when they start to look vaguely interested). From Wood Hall I retrace the first mile on the road, but this time it’s all downhill and I race along, and back to the finish on the green at Hesket Newmarket. Brilliant support again from Susan (who had managed to drive to Threlkeld, get up and down Blencathra, and drive back).
The winner finished in an eye-watering sub-4hrs. Geoff had another strong performance finishing in 5.27 (despite a fall – I know, mountain goat Geoff! – and a bout of cramp). I just missed the target 6hr mark (a minute and a half over) but happy with that. I had a cracking day out. I’d like to try this one again, perhaps taking some different (probably faster) lines.
This was a tough race that needs experience and navigation skills (even when clear), and certainly benefits from knowing these hills or a thorough recce. The organisers provided some suggested routes, and cake and tea I think at the end (though I didn’t partake, not up for it…. I just needed cool liquids in the immediate aftermath). I would definitely recommend this one.
Anyway….cut to the evening. Sitting at home, clean and warm, with a glass of wine and access to the internet. Searching for ‘compass not working’. And there it is – compass deflection. I think I’ve heard of this. Underwired bra? Errrrrr……no. I wrack my brains. And then I read ‘magnets that fix a water bladder tube to your rucksack’. What an idiot! I’ve only used the bladder a few times, and only when I haven’t had to use my compass. Compass is stored in a pocket, a few inches away from the end of my bladder tube and that pesky magnet. What have I done?? I can only imagine the tutting and shaking of heads of fellow fell-runners. How I have made it this far??
I will, therefore, bow my head in shame, revert to drinking from muddy puddles, and also share my stupidity with you all if it means that someone else benefits…and can find their way when the clag descends. My compass and I are on good terms again, and I’ve promised to look after it well in the future.
Click here for results.
Endure 24 Leeds, Bramham Park, Saturday, June 29, 2019
So what is Endure24 you ask?
Simples really, you have 24 hours to cover as many miles as you can, run, walk, crawl or just endure till you can’t give any more and the time expires. The person who covers the greatest distance is declared the winner. You start at midday Saturday and end 24 hours later. The course is a mixed terrain 5 Mile loop, chip timed and quite challenging in places. You can stop/start whenever you like within reason, eat, sleep, change clothes, shower, whatever you need. Your battle is against yourself, the ticking clock and your desire to achieve a distance you never thought possible.
I ran this event in 2018 as my first ever proper ultra and it went really well to say the least. I won with 125 miles, breaking the course record with a personal distance PB of 90 miles. It remained my absolute top running highlight of all time, something I believed deep down I would never be able to top, so I was quite happy to move on to other challenges. It was with mixed feelings then, that I ended up entering Leeds endure24 2019.
How did this happen? As the Leeds champion, the organisers asked if I would like to run their larger sister event at Reading. Quite a big honour, so felt like I had to give it a go and said yes. I later checked the dates and realised to do Reading my traditional spring marathon would have to be sacrificed, a definite no from me. So I decided to switch my place to Leeds, allowing me to enter Blackpool and Windermere marathons, hopefully it would all work out for the best.
The build-up this year was very different, I was in good shape for my goal marathon at Blackpool, but unfortunately the wind destroyed my sub 2:45 goal. On the day I still went out hard chasing my dream time but suffered towards the end placing a good 3rd which I was still happy with. A bearded lad from a northwest running club caught and passing me in those last few miles. I’d aimed high and had fallen short again, as it turned out I’d see this runner again at endure24 for a rematch. Windermere marathon was only 4 weeks later, a quick recovery and turnaround. I ended up running it even faster than Blackpool proving to myself I’d been in shape to achieve that day if conditions had been kinder. I was happy with my training and had been in great shape, but unfortunately it will have to wait for another day, endure24 was fast approaching.
I had 6 weeks of good training leading up to endure24, the highlight being parkrunathon on the 1st of June organised perfectly by Catherine Smith. We helped raise approximately £6000 for IUCS and was a massive success on many levels. It was a privilege to play my part and running 8.5 parkruns with breaks between them was great Endure24 training too. In the build-up I also managed to win a 50k race on the Manchester canal ways holding a good sub 7 min mile pace. Training miles peaked with a 70-mile week (high for me but still quite low for ultra training) but in the end I opted for a longer taper this year. Not perfect but with so many variables in ultras, it’s better to be fresh and ready to go at the start than over train and tired.
We arrived early on Friday to get a good camping spot in the solo area, the event had grown again from last year, now with 4000+ runners in total taking part. We wanted to be next to the course if possible to make things easier. Me, Catherine, Kerry, Anna and Rob all got a great spot and started making the place feel like home. We had a 3 tent pitches with a good cooking/gathering area next to the course rope. The Strider solo team area plus Rob (borrowed from TBH) was done, First goal achieved.
The event was definitely bigger than last year, but the festival for runners feel was still present as we walked to the registration area. The Beer tent, pizza stall, hot drinks, a full canteen area, and a big fire pit in the middle. I started to get those familiar pre-race nerves and excitement coupled with doubts about the task ahead. I kept thinking, no way was I ready, last year was a fluke, all the ultra-pros will be out this time, you’re a short distance road runner…. what are you doing Mr Pritchard? I tried hard to ignore these negative thoughts, putting that pressure on myself is always a bad idea. Catherine in her normal easy way brings me back to reality and we enjoyed a relaxing pre-race night of camping. Good food/chat with friends and catching up with people from last year. Relaxed and ready, we tucked ourselves up in our tents for the night ready for the 24 hours of endurance ahead.
Catherine decided to run endure24 solo with Kerry, both hoping to achieve their distance goals together and enjoy the experience. Anna once again attacked her dream 100-mile target, and I was the other strider solo taking part. We also had some Durham Mums on the run here as relay team members (a total god send in the end for their awesome support) which also included Striders and other local runners we knew. Having taken part last year, we already knew a lot of the people taking part along with others from different events. This was quite normal, the running world is a small community and it’s one of the reasons I love it so much. I walked to the start line feeling relaxed and ready, kit/food sorted in the tent/solo area, I did my best to hide in the crowd on the start line. It was almost perfect till the PA announcement happened, “ the course record holder and winner from last year, Gareth Pritchard, is taking part” I felt like the whole place was looking at me and a very big target had just been painted on my back. I shrugged it off best I could, and off we went. The relay teams charged off, and I settled in around mid-field.
I went straight into my run/walk plan as per my training plan. It’s a tricky thing to do, walking so early into a race when you feel fresh and strong. But 24 hours is a long time and I wanted to keep going, this means I had to walk the hills to conserve as much energy as possible. Run clever and stick to my plan, I ran/walked from the very first to my very last lap. I knew I’d lose little in time from my training, and it really does help keeping things under control.
The plan went perfectly apart from one small problem, that Saturday turned out to be the hottest day of the year. The temperatures climbed to 30 + degrees from the start and we poor runners got slowly cooked. An unfortunate side effect is that your heart rate shoots up under hot conditions, so while I was prepared for the sun with hat, high factor cream, etc. I still suffered massively in those early hours and it required a bigger effort than normal to keep the miles ticking over at the pace I wanted. I somehow managed to stick to my plan for 50 miles, 10 full laps without too much issues. Then something happened, it all went downhill and fast, the wheels started to come off big style. I’m talking the 20-mile marathon hitting the wall hard here, wobbling about, end of the world feeling. The legs were gone, complete lead weights, I could hardly move let alone walk. Somehow I got back to our solo tent area and collapsed on the floor, the game over, I was done. No retaining the title, no 100 miles and no moment of glory, the disappointment felt absolutely crushing.
It was an odd feeling laying on the floor defeated, I didn’t know what to do. My body refused to move and I still had a very long way to go. Rob our support star was doing his best to console me and bring me back to my senses. Flat out on the floor is how I stayed for a good length of time as I got my thoughts together. Foam rolling my legs might help I guessed, hot drink/food, then hopefully try grinding out some more laps if possible. I slowly came round and tried to sound more cheerful as one solo runner after another went past our tent and saw my sorry condition, asking if I was ok. “just not my day, will hopefully still get to 100” this was all I could think of saying. Rob helped put me back together and after a while I decided to set off again, very slowly for another lap, still struggling but at least going again. The trick is to keep moving forward if you can in these situations, one step at a time, relentless forward movement. The next 3 laps were my slowest and most painful. I was just about still in the game.
24 hours is a long time and the great thing about that is it’s possible to have a massive blow up yet still recover and achieve. Through stubbornness and effort, I kept moving forward and found myself on the other side. After some refuelling and time, I managed to get my legs back and started to feel human again. Yes, the win might be long gone, but I believed the 100 miles was still achievable. The joy of the event was back with full force.
I was really looking forward to the sun going in at this point and happily it turned into a perfect night for running. I ran throughout the night in a t shirt with calf compression and shorts, feeling very comfortable. I really got into a nice rhythm and started to count down the laps toward the dream 20 (100-mile point). I still stopped every lap, getting the food and hot drinks down me when I could. This is when your support team is absolutely priceless in keeping you going. I still believed the win was long gone at this point, but I was enjoying the experience, soon the sun was coming up with morning fast approaching. The relay teams were still crashing past me and words of encouragement were being exchanged with everyone on the course. I love this stage of the 24-hour event, the hard work mostly done, sun coming up and only another 6 hours to grind out…….
After about an hour of morning sunlight and some good laps, the big 100 came and went in relative silence as I passed the start line. I cheered inside then slumped off to the solo area for a well-earned break, time out and food. Last year I loved milk chocolate as a treat, but now I’m a vegan and didn’t have this option. Gone were the pork pies, meat pizza and milk, I was now powered by plants and stronger for it. Catherine had found some amazing alternatives which I now gladly tucked into from my box. Greg’s vegan sausage rolls, mountain fuel bars, salted crisps, lots of coffee. Melon was also another god send, out on the course and in solo area. 100 miles done and I could still move, considering the state I’d been in at 50 miles, I was extremely happy and felt surprisingly good.
From Catherine, Rob and my team I started to hear that I might still be leading or at least it was very very close. I was in shock, I still felt good, relatively fresh and apparently still in with a shot of placing well. The idea of doing the double and retaining my title came back with full force, I was back in the game. I knew who the leader was at this point as he had lapped me much earlier. The same lad who had beat me in those last miles at Blackpool marathon. A good runner beyond doubt but the idea of getting my own back now definitely drove me on.
I must have passed him at some point in those last 7 laps but I honestly couldn’t tell you when. Catherine was being amazing with her support and I’d get updates as I lapped. I would give myself targets I’d be happy to achieve by the end of the race to keep me going. Just try to equal 25 laps (my total from last year) surely that would be enough. 125 miles won by a clear 5 miles then, so on I went. I started to realise how close it was, but at no point did I panic or think I couldn’t afford to walk or stop. The 125 mark was a big milestone for me, achieved with a 54 min lap and still running well. I celebrated like I’d just won when I crossed the line.
I was quickly told the lad in 2nd was matching me lap for lap, slowing but still within distance and with race time still left. I’d have to do another; the course record would need to go. He was about 30/40 mins behind me at this point. The problem now was that this event is sort of a 25-hour race not a true 24 hours. If you pass the start/finish line before 23:59:59 then you are allowed to keep going for another lap as long as you’re in by the 25 hours’ point. This had always sat funny with me, I said before the event I wasn’t going to go over 24 hours as it wouldn’t count in my head as endure24. The real possibility now was I could stop before the 24-hour point as planned yet still loose due to the 25-hour rule. I knew deep down that my Blackpool Lad would go out for another lap if time allowed. It was eating me up inside as I set off for another lap, I still had no idea what I would do if it happened, would I have to run over 24 hours for the win? Did I want to? I felt I could if needed as I was still moving well.
I decided in my head I was going to keep running when I passed the line at 130 miles with 26 laps done, I would need 27 laps at the very least regardless of the 25th hour problem. it was too tight and the situation was starting to bug me. I learned later Catherine and the others were desperately trying to think of ways to get me out again for lap 27. They had already worked out that the Blackpool runner might be able to match my 135 miles, but would most likely run out of time completing his 27th lap and would not be allowed to attempt another. He wouldn’t get round within 24 hours and the time on the clock would beat him.
Just 23 hours and 35 mins into the race I crossed the line for my 27th lap and 135th mile for the win to massive cheers, one of the best feelings ever. The Durham mums on the run were cheering loudly but I couldn’t see my solo gang. It turned out I’d ran that last lap quite fast and they weren’t expecting me in yet. I could see them dashing towards me after the cheering and PA announced I was crossing the line. The DJ was asking if I would head back out for another lap? A big no from me, I’d finished within 24 hours and that was all I really wanted. I didn’t quite realise at the time just how close I was to regretting that decision.
Our bearded runner in second apparently ran round that last lap like a mad man, sprinting when he could and chasing the clock. He crossed the line 30 mins after me and importantly 4 minutes after the 24-hour mark, unable to complete another lap. I only found this out later, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. He had 20+ club members cheering him on in that last stretch and unfortunately he didn’t take it very well. At the presentation he refused to shake my hand, despite the achievement of running 135 miles. You can’t always win, but it’s important to know how to loose well too. I’m not perfect at this but I’m getting better, enjoy your achievements when they come but most importantly try to enjoy the experience regardless of the outcome.
So endure24 is over for another year, I won’t be doing it again in 2020. In September I turn 40 so it’s time to concentrate on the short and fast now for a while. I’ve learned I can just about do both, with a 10k PB in the build-up, but that 5k speed has definitely drifted. Well done to The Durham mums relay team who placed first in their category. Catherine and Kerry achieved with good distances on the day, despite challenging conditions which caused blisters throughout. Anna suffered in the heat, yet still achieved an impressive distance. I have no doubt she will go on to get that 100 miles in the near future.
2019 endure24 Leeds champion and course record holder, I still can’t quite believe I did it. Recovery is ongoing weeks later and I’m not quite running again yet, but I have no regrets. I’ll be back up and running soon, fitter faster and just happy to be able to run. Onto the next challenge, ultras are amazing but I’m not quite ready to leave my short stuff behind just yet.
Northumberland Coastal Run, Sunday, July 21, 2019
|Pos||bib||Name||Time||Cat||Cat Pos||Gender||Gen Pos|
|1||200||Tom Charlton (TYNE BRIDGE HARRIERS)||01:16:58||Senior Male||1||Male||1|
|3||611||Stephen Jackson||01:20:23||Veteran 35||2||Male||3|
|12||752||Michael Mason||01:25:14||Veteran 40||3||Male||12|
|21||540||Georgie Hebdon||01:27:59||Senior Male||10||Male||21|
|25||573||Jane Hodgson (MORPETH HARRIERS & AC)||01:28:14||Veteran 35||1||Female||1|
|27||698||Michael Littlewood||01:29:04||Veteran 40||9||Male||26|
|28||1192||Graeme Watt||01:29:51||Veteran 40||10||Male||27|
|69||686||James Lee||01:38:05||Veteran 40||17||Male||65|
|87||954||Allan Renwick||01:39:51||Veteran 50||6||Male||81|
|117||575||David Holcroft||01:42:58||Senior Male||27||Male||107|
|144||244||Nik Corton||01:45:52||Veteran 50||15||Male||129|
|165||1057||Stephen Soulsby||01:47:06||Veteran 55||11||Male||147|
|198||512||Peter Hart||01:49:14||Veteran 40||39||Male||173|
|226||181||Matthew Carr||01:51:08||Veteran 40||43||Male||195|
|230||1066||Jon Steed||01:51:37||Veteran 50||30||Male||199|
|280||59||Anna Basu||01:54:39||Veteran 45||8||Female||43|
|315||1101||Malcolm Sygrove||01:56:45||Veteran 50||44||Male||261|
|329||285||Mandy Dawson||01:57:23||Veteran 50||6||Female||58|
|359||891||Mark Payne||01:58:37||Veteran 35||42||Male||292|
|429||73||Michael Bennett||02:02:51||Veteran 65||5||Male||342|
|454||121||Jean Bradley||02:04:18||Veteran 60||1||Female||100|
|458||201||Trevor Chaytor||02:04:46||Veteran 55||35||Male||358|
|486||945||Andrew Rayner||02:06:37||Senior Male||55||Male||378|
|490||475||Marita Grimwood||02:06:56||Veteran 45||22||Female||111|
|650||196||Letitia Chapman-Ward||02:16:50||Veteran 35||27||Female||192|
|659||986||Jill Rudkin||02:17:30||Veteran 40||42||Female||199|
|662||307||Angela Dixon||02:17:40||Veteran 45||39||Female||202|
|771||925||Ashley Price-Sabate||02:25:35||Veteran 50||48||Female||282|
|802||1042||Alan Smith||02:28:22||Veteran 70||4||Male||499|
|831||989||Jordi Sabate||02:31:24||Veteran 50||87||Male||511|
|881||355||Stephen Ellis||02:38:51||Veteran 65||21||Male||531|
|922||437||Rebecca Gilmore||02:45:45||Senior Female||54||Female||383|
|923||1230||Fiona Wood||02:45:46||Veteran 40||78||Female||384|
|929||699||Wendy Littlewood||02:48:06||Veteran 40||80||Female||389|
|930||415||Carolyn Galula||02:48:07||Veteran 45||80||Female||390|
|946||370||Christine Farnsworth||02:52:07||Veteran 65||8||Female||401|
|956||327||Victoria Downes||02:55:40||Veteran 40||82||Female||408|
|972||1116||Helen Thomas||03:03:10||Veteran 40||84||Female||421|
|974||789||Karen Metters||03:04:35||Veteran 40||85||Female||422|
Viking Chase, Lord Stones Country Park, Carlton Bank, Cleveland, Sunday, July 14, 2019
When is a race not a race? When it isn’t on Strava? That’s one opinion…
Jan Young asked on the Striders Facebook group if anyone wanted a lift in the week before, otherwise I would have missed it. After convincing the family to come down and have a walk while the race was on, I rejigged my weekend’s runs to fit in.
I wasn’t planning to race earlier in the week and as I stood in the starting bunch of 91 runners, I came to the decision I wasn’t going to run it as one. I’d been working on building some consistent aerobic mileage and didn’t want to ruin that with either an injury from an enthusiastic descent or just over-exertion. I would take it relatively easy on the ascents and not over-egg it on the level and downhill.
I set off gently from the back half of the pack and was really chuffed to reach the trig point at the end of the first climb (stone track all the way) without having walked but not pushed into the red either. There’s a first time for everything. The descent back to the start was steeper and paved, which made it tougher, having to keep my eyes on my footing at all times, but at least this is where I’m at my most comfortable. The paving was a theme on a lot of the path along the ridge to the turn at the far end.
That was only the first climb and I knew there were three more to come before the turn. I ended up leap-frogging several other runners, them either being stronger than me on the ascent or descent (or me being stronger on the descent or ascent, whichever you prefer). The views from the top of the ridge were spectacular, when I could lift my eyes off the path to take them in. I decided to pause to take a snap on my phone, that’s how hard I wasn’t racing.
After a “scramble” through the Wainstones and the final ridge section, I came down to the third checkpoint at Clay Bank and turned for home…only to be faced with a fifth steep climb. Minor planning fail, I hadn’t spotted this one on the elevation profile. Once up this shorter climb, the forest track turned more undulating, without any more serious ascents and a net descent of about 50m. An extra bonus was being back on earth rather than rock. I still wasn’t pushing to the max and it was a good job I’d held back on the first half. I was tiring but it seemed most of the other people I’d been swapping places with were struggling more as they fell back.
I say most because as I passed through the final gate off the fell I could hear footsteps behind me and one runner, from NYMAC, was close behind. Rather than slam it in his face, I decided to hold it open and as he passed through I fell in behind him. We turned onto the finishing field (unwelcomely slight uphill) and I already knew I wasn’t going to push him; if I was racing I would have dug in and given it some beans to the line, as it was I was content to follow him home.
Looking over the results, I was astounded to have come in around mid-table. Nina Mason finished second lady and Camilla Lauren-Maatta was Striders’ other finisher, with Jan acting as sweeper for the day.
So when is a race not a race? When you decide it isn’t.
Click here for the results
Skiddaw Fell Race, Sunday, July 7, 2019
This one has been on my list for a few months, and it didn’t disappoint. I stayed over in the Lakes the night before (in my new van J and had a relaxing morning wandering round Keswick and down to the lake. The weather was fabulous, if a little warm for running.
After a proper warm up and mandatory kit check, I bumped into Graeme seconds before the start, and then we were off. The race starts and finishes in Fitz Park, and is as simple as it gets….get up Skiddaw as quick as you can (you must stick to the tourist path), one checkpoint at the summit, then back to the park as fast as possible.
It was run, jog, or trudge on the way up, depending on the incline, and I felt pretty good, catching and passing people most of the way. I’ve started to enjoy these ‘out and backs’ – it’s inspiring and exciting seeing the front runners come hurtling past. The eventual winner had a clear lead as he passed me on the flatter section round Little Man, and a few minutes and runners later Graeme got a massive shout from me – he looked strong on his descent.
After my run across the flat summit to the trig, and a breathless ‘thank you’ to the marshals, I set off on the fantastic descent. I absolutely loved this, trying to hold nothing back even on the steeper sections, running as hard as I could all the way. I got a ‘5th lady well done’ from one of the marshals about half way down, so when I saw the 4th female in front, not going as quick as me on the steep descent, I went for it – running past hard, and then trying to keep it going past the car park near Latrigg and down the final section, determined not to show weakness and look behind.
I was convinced she was right there behind me all the way, as I crossed the A66 over the bridge, and raced toward the park. A sneaky peek back as I entered the park showed me I was well clear (thank goodness, my legs had very little left in them), and then all that was needed was an attempt to sprint finish on the grass.
I really enjoyed this race – well organised, brilliant supportive marshals all the way up (and of course down), and on the day we were thoroughly spoiled by glorious weather and views (though not much time to enjoy them).
Well done to Graeme who had a great race, and seemed to retain healthy feet…see below. I was very pleased with both my time and position, with the added bonus of getting the 3rd women’s prize, as one of the faster women declined her prize as she works for the sponsors.
The only downside…I trashed my feet. I don’t think different shoes would have helped, it must just have been the heat, terrain and my running style. I’ve taken all the skin off the soles of my heels. I even have photos if anyone is interestedJ. I’ve been hobbling around, cross because I can’t run despite feeling great otherwise, walking on tip-toe until they healed (heeled!) enough to weight-bear. I’ll be strapping them up the next time I do this race (which is a strong possibility!).
Click here for results
The Flower Scar Fell Race, Inter County Fell and Hill Championships, Todmorden, Saturday, May 11, 2019
In early April I was contacted by the team manager for the North East Counties, John Tollitt. He wanted to know whether I’d be available, if selected, to represent the North East. My reply was pretty speedy, a short and sweet, most definitely. The last time I’d represented the North East I was in my early teens running the 800m and 1500 m. 30 odd years, a few grey hairs and some frown lines later, just to be asked was pretty special.
A few days later it had been confirmed that I had been successful. I’ve a big race coming up, my training plan was quite specific but for this I adapted massively to optimise a good taper and to get some race specific training in. Unfortunately, it was a little far to recce, that would have been the ideal. I spent a lot of time trawling through old race reports and studying my race map. I’d only run in the area when I had done my fell coaching course so I knew the climbs would be steep and that it should be a challenging race. Fortunately, as it was a championship race, the route was flagged for the day, removing a bit of worry.
Fiona had been selected as well so we travelled down together the car full of nervous energy. We arrived early for kit check and who was to stand behind me but Carl Bell! Then we picked up our numbers and finally our NE vests. Waiting in the toilet queue we were both equally terrified and excited. Fiona had been scouring championship results and kept pointing out previous winners/Salomon/innov8 athletes. It was some line up and to say we were daunted would be an understatement.
We went for a good warm up together across to the start. We had planned to do the first mile or so of the race route but it went straight up a hill, STRAIGHT up….so we decided we’d save our legs and did some laps of the flat grassy field where the race would start. I have never seen so many huge thigh muscles…think of the Hulk (except not green coloured), they must have found it difficult to buy trousers to fit. The warm ups and drills were again something out of a textbook…A skips, B skips, sky high kicks and bounds aplenty, it was quite a sight. These were definitely serious athletes.
The race was open to everyone on the day at a princely fee of £7, but the majority were county teams. I was over the moon to spot a couple of older ladies not wearing county vests who I thought I might be able to beat!
We grouped together with the rest of the North East team. As Fiona chatted to Dawn and Katherine, I quietly took myself away so that I could gather my thoughts, calm my nerves and to make sure I raced my race and wasn’t distracted by people I knew. I kept repeating please don’t be last, please don’t be last in my head…. It was a beautiful sunny warm day, clouds flitting across the sky. The race start was in a leisure centre field, very well sheltered, not that there was any wind. Lush green grass, shady old trees and well-tended flower beds surrounded us. The steep valley sides, rising sharply out of the valley floor, were covered in trees.
The gun fired and we were off at last, thankful release from the stress of waiting, onwards and upwards. It was an unsurprisingly fast start, I didn’t want to get swept up and dropped after a few miles, so I kept to my pace. It narrowed quickly up some steps where there was the first bottleneck and then it twisted up a small road for a few metres before it turned onto an extremely muddy stepped path climbing up the hillside through a wood. I was desperate to push a bit faster, I’m strong at climbing, but I couldn’t get past on the narrow track. Finally, it turned into a little lane past a few cottages and I could pick up speed again as it dropped slightly downhill across a field and then yet another wait to cross a stile. A few spritely young men vaulted the fence much to a fierce woman’s disapproval who had been waiting in line (she will return later in the tale!)
Then it was up a stony uneven track flanked by crumbly stone walls and up onto the moors. Still climbing up for the first ascent, every time I thought we’d neared the top another summit appeared just beyond reach. My lovely blond ponytailed running companion stayed firmly in sight. I was always a few paces from her and determined to try to maintain this throughout, on the flats she’d pull away, on the hills, I’d pull her back again.
The first summit eventually was reached across a muddy grassy hillside. There were highland cows with their young grazing on the top which we had been warned about. I’m not fond of cows so I tucked in neatly next to a much bigger male target! The fierce lady was up to no good again as her man gave her a shove over a boggy section then handed her some gels…Fiona berated her for her naughtiness. I’m glad to say we both passed her soon afterwards as she fell in a bog. We then dropped down the other side through a nice squidgy section and onto a wide gravel track. It wasn’t long before it turned a bend and dropped down onto a lovely technical descent by a stream…I passed a lot of runners who floundered on the rocks. We crossed over a stile and had to duck under some trees as the track led us into a dark forest.
It was really good fun, I loved the varied terrain, each section only lasted a few hundred metres and then it would change again. Finally, the small awkward trod turned onto a main forest track dropping steeply through the wood. I’ve really become fond of ‘falling down hills’ it’s taken a while to switch my brain off enough and much concerted effort, mainly to keep Geoff in reach, but I now love it. This descent quickly turned into another grassy track strewn with stones that skirted round the hill and dropped down onto the valley floor. A short section of tarmac before it quickly rose and merged into a muddy stony track, then over a stile and onto a tiny grassy trod climbing sharply up onto the fell. Off the fell and then too quickly we were retracing our steps back to the finish.
It was pretty much all downhill from now, the absolute perfect race finish. I felt like I shot down the hill only to pass Carl Bell looking as fresh as a daisy doing his cool down up the hill! Onto the grassy field round the circumference and into the finish. Fiona hadn’t finished too far in front and I ran across to congratulate her and to bounce around merrily as we both rejoiced. We were as high as kites realising that we were first and second counters for the North East female team and certainly not last. We had also both beaten the previous female course record…it’s a shame all those other county runners were there!
It’s fair to say that we both absolutely loved it, the amazing opportunity and the race itself. It had it all, £5 entry fee with EOD, really pretty, varied terrain, some lovely steep ascents and matching descents and not much tarmac to bother with, I only wish it had been longer!
Click here to view results
It’s a quiet Friday afternoon here at work, and after some reflection I feel recovered enough to compile a run report. I’m not joking, this was a tough one and I’m still feeling it.
I’ll start at the Finish, When we finished fellow Strider Aaron Gourley was sat on the steps with his head in his hands having finished around 35 minutes before us. “That was one of the toughest races I’ve ever done” I recall him saying. It sticks with me because, Yes Aaron, It was a tough day on the course, and if someone like Aaron is saying that just imagine how I was feeling!
I ran this race in 2018 with friends and we finished around 3am, it was a real hot day last year and two of the five of us that started dropped out en-route. 2019’s event was to be even tougher, at least for me anyway. It was hot, but not blazing blue skies hot, there was plenty of cloud cover. It was the humidity that was to cause the pain and suffering in 2019.
Starting in Wooler and finishing in Melrose this was the shorter of two Trail Outlaws St Cuthbert’s Way events taking place on the day. The longer event, 100KM had started two hours earlier on Holy Island. Both events follow the St Cuthbert’s Way national trail. Now St Cuthbert might have been a good monk, but his sense of direction is terrible. Its only 35 miles by road to Melrose from Wooler and all pretty flat. The route his trail takes is anything but!
The first 20 miles to the checkpoint at Morebattle are tough. The vast majority of the courses 6700 foot (ish) of climb takes pace in these first 20 miles. The second half of the run (no chance of racing!) is much nicer for running with the exception of the last 2/3 miles which take you over the Eldon hills and in to Melrose. This year though for me there seemed to be far more up than down.
I’d agreed to run this race with my good friend and fellow Strider Dave Toth, agreeing to stay together from the start no matter how they day was progressing. Something I’d be thankful for in the later stages, as Dave pretty much dragged me round (more on this later).
From the start at Wooler you take in some of the fantastic views that the Cheviot Hills have to offer, heading towards the first CP at Hethpool at around 8.5 ish miles. This first part of the run was great fun, fresh legs, nice views, and some cloud cover to protect from the burning sun. We met up with our support crew for the first time just before the CP, ironically as I was walking up a hill eating.
Just after CP1 starts the real challenge, the battle to Morebattle. CP2 is at Morebattle and all I can remember of this section is it goes up, up a bit more, you think you’re at the top, then you swear a bit as it’s a false summit and you’re still going up. Eventually you do come down, but then there’s another climb before finally getting to CP2. During this section we caught up with fellow Strider Eric Green who was not having a good day Eric was with us for a while before dropping back. We found out later that Eric had stopped at Morebattle. This wasn’t his target event and in the days conditions probably the wise choice.
Our amazing support crew not only were on hand at CP2, but had ran out to meet us shortly after the delights of Wideopen Hill. The sight of full bottles of water was one I will remember.
Fresh t-shirt and socks at CP2 were the order of the day and that’s what I got. Now I normally always run in a compression top (to keep the bouncy bits in place), but today as luck would happen I had forgotten my second short sleeve one and had to go for t-shirt alone. I may have passed out with a compression top on as the humidity was so intense it was sapping the energy out of me like never before.
Not wasting any time we were off again towards CP3 at Bonjedward eating sandwiches as we left, at least I was. Elaine Bisson who was running the 100K event came into the checkpoint as we were leaving. She had ran about 19 miles more than us and was looking strong.
Around about midpoint between Morebattle and Bonjedward there is a newly built house next to a road, I have no idea where this place is, but it’s around 25 miles into the route. It was here that our support crew were about to become life savers, not just to us, but other runners too!
The heat and humidity were by now really starting to get to me, and I was struggling to cool myself down, even walking and pouring water over my cap and buff wasn’t having the desired effect I was over heating and knew it. Knowing where the next place our crew could get to I called Jill up, the shock of the phone call from me probably sent fear through her, and asked them to meet us by the new house.
Elaine Bisson had not long passed us on her phenomenal run when we again caught up with her, she was in need of sugar to keep her going and Dave suggested that she meet our support and have his jam doughnut. I believe the crew offered gin, but the doughnut and water was enough. When we reached the crew I had ice packs placed on my shoulders, and water doused over me, this along with some cola seemed to do the job and get my body temperature down. Dave, as always, was fine or at least he wasn’t letting on if he was struggling. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen him struggle.
Onward we pressed, 5 ish more miles to the next official CP at Bonjedward, seemingly all uphill from memory apart from the descent into the CP itself. Straight through this CP with a quick stop for melon, Red Kola (a constant on Trail Outlaws events) and a water refill.
The route to CP4 at Maxton Church is pretty much a blur. I can recall rivers, crossing a suspension bridge, making a navigation error, some fields, a speed camera (navigation error). Essentially fatigue was really starting to kick in now and the main aim was to just keep moving, and in the right direction.
Just before CP4 at Maxton we once again met up with our support crew who had ran / walked out to meet us, they accompanied us into the CP and set about doing their things. water refills, food stocks, etc. They really were amazing. I was ready for another change of shirt and socks before the final push into Melrose, and it was here that the cramp kicked in…
As I sat on the passenger seat of Jill’s car attempting to remove my socks my left calf went into cramp, I started screaming, Jill started shouting. “I’m in cramp” I said in agony, “Well there is nothing I can do about it is there”, Jill replied. ” Stand up” she said firmly.
Eventually, socks on, shoes on, salt tablet taken we headed back out onto the course.
The final 8/9 miles, again are a bit of a blur, until the Eildon hills anyway. There’s lots of wooded sections, a village with a nice smelling Chinese takeaway, a river, a golf course and the constant throbbing that was the cramp in my left calf, that bit I can vividly remember. The thunder storm and ensuing down pour I can also remember. I had been wanting this all day! Wetness, freshness, coolness! We were leaving the golf course when this happened if anyone cares (or knows where I’m on about).
As we entered the final section and ascended the Eildon Hills the day’s heat and humidity followed by the thunder storm brought with it fog and mist in the woods, making visibility a real challenge. Fortunately, there was only one trail to follow. Dave, leading us up the hill as he had done all day, had the brightest light ever seen attached to the back of his race pack and I was able to ’follow the light’ up the hill, out of the woods and to the glorious sight that was Melrose town beneath us. We only had to descend and we were finished.
The earlier thunderstorm whilst being kind enough at the time to cool me off had also decided it would turn the trail descending in to Melrose into mud; adding extra weight to already tired legs. Descending carefully we entered Melrose to be greeted by the welcoming committee, our support crew and 11th placed Mark Dalton who was staying with us. From where we met the days ‘heroes’ to the finish is only around 300 metres up the high street past, our accommodation, and in to the rugby club. These were to be the fastest 300 metres of the day.
A fellow runner who we’d been running with, navigating on and off during the last section had over taken us whist we’d been enjoying our victories with friends. We weren’t going to be beaten by him, so a sprint ensued. It was probably more like a gentle jog, but felt like a sprint to beat this guy into the finish. We did it, and since Dave had lead all day he lead us home.
It had taken us until just before midnight to complete this epic challenge, but we made it. Starting and finishing on the same day. I was handed a ‘Gin in a Tin’ and sat down on the steps opposite Aaron Gourley. I was grey. I was exhausted. I felt sick. I was drinking that gin.
What have I learnt?
Well, firstly I couldn’t do anything like this without the support of my fantastic other half Jill and the rest of the day’s support crew. They were amazing. I would have DNF’d without them. Secondly I have realised that I don’t have the mental capacity to do an event of this nature on my own. Without Dave setting the pace and pushing on up the hills allowing me to give chase I would have slowed and just walked a lot more than I did. I would have ensured that I finished, but it would have been hours later. Lastly I have learnt that I can’t do events like this without having two recovery days after the event. This event took place on the Saturday, finishing just before Midnight. I was back at work on the Monday, lets just say it was a struggle and leave it there.
Official results click here.
Ironman, Austria-Kärnten, Sunday, July 7, 2019
Swim: 3.8km - Bike 180km - Run 42.1km
Writing from the comfort of a DFDS Ferry after transiting mainland Europe in one day, here’s my account of the Iron Man branded Long Distance Triathlon based at Klagenfurt , Austria 07 July 2019. The run bit’s toward the end, but I had to swim and bike to warm up for it, hope it’s of interest.
Jeez that was a bit of a stress head experience – the weather in the weeks leading up to the event was ringing all the wrong bells – record temps in Europe – severe warnings of danger to life – In 21 years of IM Austria there has only ever been one non wet suit swim before but all the warning signs were there that this was going to be another.
For context there are water temperature thresholds which determine whether a race is deemed either ‘wet suit compulsory’, ‘optional’, or ‘forbidden’. I’m a weak swimmer, and wet suits help some people like me (mainly blokes with heavy, sinky legs) to be more efficient and confident in the water. For me a non-wet suit swim is a big deal, without wearing one there’d be a very likely chance that I’d not make the 2h20m cut off time.
I didn’t follow any web forum threads (I never do – a recipe for headspace disaster imo) – but as I suspected that there’d be a good chance of a non wet suit swim I bought a SwimSkin from Wiggle – It’s an uber tight hydrophobic garment which is some sort of cross between a swimming costume and an industrial strength condom. Still I watched the weather forecast from three different web sites AND logged the reported water temperature – it never exceeded 23C and was forecast to go down – that would be OK, just….. except that the break in the weather as forecast kept slipping back, and the temp stayed high. Not till I got to the race venue in Klagenfurt did i start to get unsolicited info about water temp being >26C (24.5C is the non wet suit threshold for age group athletes), & even then one didn’t know whether or not that was competitor hyperbole, or swim wear vendors plying for sales.
I was really miserable – I know how hard it is to navigate this particular swim course – instead of being 3.8k it’s previously been up to 4.2k at worst – the chances of me DNF’ing the swim were huge.
OK so I’ve been doing loads of fresh water swim training recently – but even so the maths are very close sans wetsuit…… and without one I’m even more nervous and afraid of, getting breathless in, open water – it all serves to slow things down. I even thought about shaving my legs!! I mean WTF – is that even a thing????
I also bought some neoprene shorts – I tried them over the Swim Skin (or as it has become known in some quarters: my ‘Body Sheath’! it felt worse than just the Body Sheath (BS) and It really was too warm to swim in the wet suit (a bit like being boiled in a bag) whereas wearing only the BS felt cool and easy BUT the timing – I’m so slow at swimming ….. aargh.
In the race briefing on Saturday when they confirmed it would be a non wet suit swim it was a relief tbh, at least I knew what to prepare for – the organisers made an error and said calf guards were OK but nothing else was to be worn below the knee or elbow.
There was a cheer from a small part of the crowd which I thought was pretty shit – they (the cheerers) were never going to be obliged to wear wet suits themselves, so what was the point of the cheering other than to make already nervous people even more so. Loads of hubbub in the crowded race briefing – so much so that the official intervened and said something like ‘stop – its disrespectful talking over me while I’m trying to do a briefing’.
Questions were invited and I asked them to clarify the ‘calf guard / nothing below the knee’ thing – which they did for those who’d gone to the front to ask, and also for the German briefing which followed. No rubber, no neoprene and nothing below the knee or elbow.
Nevertheless there was a massive rush on neoprene shorts in the expo – the vendors were having a field day!
A guy (a German guy) came up to me in the hotel later that day (after the English and German briefings that he clearly hadn’t attended) and asked me “is wet suit forbidden?” My chance had come – after years and years of ‘entertaining’ folk (!) with my ‘flair for languages’ ! (I reckon to be fluent in any language within an hour of arriving in a country – this usually equates to speaking very poor french at people no matter where I am, and shrugging and mumbling a lot) I was FINALLY able to use my one and only true German phrase (“for you ze var is over” doesn’t count) – and I delivered it with flair and passion……. “Wetsuit ….:.ES IST VERBOTEN” I said.
Perhaps it was the same bloke, who knows, but shortly afterwards someone was observed removing their bike and both transition bags from the transition area. I haven’t looked at the DNS / DNF lists yet – but I’ll bet there was more than one DNS (see epilogue).
Anyhow – once it was confirmed, it was what it was, a Non Wetsuit Swim! – I ignored the chit chat and did my thing – controlled what I could, left the rest to fate and got the bike and run stuff ready and put it in transition. Then I returned to the digs – had dinner and three rounds of pudding and went to bed at 20:00 for a 03:00 alarm (I’d been going to bed and getting up a little earlier each day for a week to try and adjust my body clock, so this was an hour earlier than I’d moved it to).
PRE RACE PLAN:
• Alarm Denial Ritual
• Ablutions (very important – another one week of pre race body clock conditioning)
• Smother self in Butt’rrrr
• Get into all Tri Suit / swim gear except ‘Body Sheath’, swim hat, and goggles.
• Breakfast – to be completed no later than 2.5 hours before swim start – needs to be digested before 07:30 swim start
• Go back to Transition – put food, energy drinks and Garmin on bike.
• Blow up the tyres.
• Switch on the lights and Garmin
• Back to Hotel
• Double Espresso
• Walk to race start
• Get into Body Sheath!
OK here we go. I’m wearing white hotel slippers – a Body Sheath – a rubber hat and a pair of tinted goggles – it’s not a good look. I’ve self seeded (yes it’s a thing) into a predicted swim speed pen with 3000 or so other similarly clad peeps, many of whom (at my end of the pen) also look scared witless – non wet suit swims are not a popular pastime.
There’s a bunch of marshals looking out for folk wearing illegal kit and a big pile of confiscated neoprene shorts, socks and calf guards. As I approach the start gate I guesstimate about 5 minutes to go before I get to the front and have an energy gel – any sooner and if I wasn’t active my body would think I didn’t need it and initiate an insulin response which would lower my blood sugar and be counter productive.
We were released into the beautiful turquoise water of Lake Wörthersee in groups of 4 every 5 seconds.
So there I was, where I thought I’d never be, at the start of a NON WET SUIT IM-Triathlon swim!!
So now it really matters – ever since my dad tried to teach me to swim (age 5) by getting me to jump into a pool and then NOT catching me I’ve never liked swimming (!) – Even now, despite the best efforts and advice of many well meaning but occasionally conflicting coaches – I’m pretty sh@t at it. UNLESS I’m absolutely calm, and in total control, swimming to me is a bit like being waterboarded in a hypoxic sensory depravation chamber. To get through a race I have to stay calm, stay aerobic, sight to way-markers one by one, not lose my cool when swam over, kicked in the head or my vision is blocked by a paddle board mounted swim marshal. In this, my first IM distance race without the safety aid of a wet suit, the first section is crowded – I’m getting punched and kicked and swam into – but the sun is behind me and I can see my way – I tick off one yellow route marker buoy at a time – breaking it into manageable chunks. Sooner than expected I (think I) see what the race brief said would be a red triangular 90 degree direction change buoy – it wasn’t – it was a marshal on a paddle board in a red t shirt and he/she was moving – so I’d been heading to a moving object and was off course – CALM – BREATHE – finish every stroke – smile sweetly at the marshals – say “thank you marshal”.
When I eventually reach the YELLOW (not red at all) triangular 1st 90 degree direction change buoy I turn left – I breath to the left – the sun is rising above the mountains to my left – I’m totally blinded to my breathing side; so I close my eyes and only open them every 10 strokes when I want to peek forward to keep on course to the next buoy.
Left again at the next Triangular buoy – this time straight into the rising sun – I can’t see a bl@@dy thing foreword – just occasional silhouettes – this is the worst bit, I’m supposed to be finding the entrance to a canal from the expanse of a lake – I can see the occasional silhouette of a paddle board and some yacht masts – I know there’s a marina near to the canal entrance – blind logic – breath – finish every stroke – stay calm – repeat.
Into the canal – another 1200m or so, there are people lining the side – looking at their watches – looking behind me – I mustn’t be last if they are looking behind me – but I have no idea at all what time it is. I keep on keeping on – reach – stroke – finish it – breath – reach stroke finish it – breath ….. the bank side is moving slowly by – I collide with a tree root – then a patch of lily pads – there are boats moored to the side, their outboard motor oil stinks in the water – I can see the marshals at the swim exit – 100m or so to go – crowds and marshals are screaming at me – I reach the ramp and what seems like a thousand arms descend and drag me out of the water COME ON … What time is it? – It doesn’t matter GO GO GO – FFS I’ve made it with FIVE minutes to spare!!!! I later learn that someone behind me made it with TWO SECONDS to spare!
TRANSITION 1 – SWIM to BIKE
A light touch is required – I’ve got a v short time to get in and through before it too is closed – I strip off the Body Sheath, grab my bike bag, run into the ladies area of the changing tent – nobody cares – there’s no body there – they’re all miles ahead – Slap on some more Butt’rrrr and get my bike kit on – bike shoes – helmet – a quick waz – grab the bike and GO GO GO.
This is my best bit, this is where it all comes together for me, it’s like skiing on freshly groomed motorway width pistes & I LOVE IT. The course had been modified since I last did this race two years ago – I’d driven the (new for this year) Northern Loop in the VW Fun Bus a few days earlier – it seemed to be gently sloping up and down and with largely smooth surfaces (from the comfort of Das Bus that is) – I was really looking forward to it. I came out of transition, got up on the pedals, and off.
Everyone I go past on the bike course in triathlons has been quicker than me in the swim – it’s great for the ego. First one, then another; I need to keep a check here, and not get carried away…then they started coming thick and fast. Rules are ‘no drafting on the bike’ you can’t get close to another rider without then getting past them in a very short time – or you get a five minute time penalty – DQ for repeat offenders. That’s created a problem – it meant that on what had appeared to be gentle, smooth steady paced climbs from Das Bus I kept having to put in bursts of power to get quickly past each successive one time fast swimmer (now slow cyclist) competitors; and the motorcycle mounted draft buster marshals were being a bit zealous in their mission. I got one informal talking to, so after that I was more careful. The effect was that I wasn’t as consistent in the bike as I might have been – much more on and off – a bit of holding back till I got a decent descent and could take a few bikes out at a time. But once the field had thinned out a bit I was off again.
There’s different schools of thought on cycling in Triathlon (Quelle Surprise!) One endorses slow cadence, high torque, low HR – the other fast cadence, low torque, higher HR. Both give you the same net power, but they each rely on different energy systems and related predominant fuel. I’m a fan of the latter, shredding your leg muscles and bruising joints by overloading them for 180k is really bad way to warm up for a marathon. So I get my HR into Zone 4, drink near constant glucose & fructose mix for fuel and hydration, eat Nak’d Bars and Banana and spin it out – flying.
As you approach the end of the new Northern Loop and start to drop back down toward the Wörthersee you can see over the lake to the far side of the Southern Loop and the mountain ranges that form the border with Slovenia – fantastic..that’s where I’m heading now. But first back past the transition area – through the screaming fan zone – up on the pedals to get the carbon wheels singing – and off again … off along the Southern shore of the Wörthersee towards Velden – but what’s this – strange, feels a bit like hard work, feels a bit WINDY, it cant be .. surely …
BOOM – CRASH – KARUMBA – KRACKLE – A bit like the storm that broke the summer of 2018 on the same weekend as The Lakeland 100 and the Outlaw Triathlon – A HYOWJ thunderstorm hit the Karentan area of Austria just as I was mid way between Klagenfurt and Velden on the shore of the Wörthersee. There was washed out soil and tree debris everywhere – The wind was catching my wheels and throwing me about, the rain at lake level (hail in the mountains) soaked the roads and riders. Folk didn’t seem to know what to do. I passed cyclists sheltering under bridges and in barns. I saw at least three who had taken their helmets off (I’ve no idea why) and were heading back toward the race HQ. WTF, I thought, surely to hell they haven’t black flagged the race for a bit of WEATHER – jeez, it was little more than Sunny Sunday TriClub Cycle to Sedgefield. When I arrived at the next aid station it was clear that they’d had a bit of a panic at race HQ, but NO Black Flag (phew) – the storm passed and I shot off West then looped back to the South then East – up over the infamous Rupetisburg Hill Climb – I didn’t even notice it. There were no cow bell dingling spectators on that part of the course this year (no brollies or wellies I guess) which was a shame, but it’s amazing how much harder a hill climb is when there’s shed loads of graffiti on the road and crowds lining the route shouting HOPHOPHOP to tell you that it is one.
The last 20k of the Southern Loop, is mainly downhill and smooth – a guy cycles up beside me (no draft buster marshals survived the thunder storm) and tells me about his recent puncture.
‘Have you got a spare tube?’
‘Yes sure’ I say.
‘What about CO2?’
‘That too’, my retort.
So he drops back – and I wonder what he’s thinking. Then he cycles up again,
‘I’ll just slip in behind you then’ he says.
I’m wondering if he’s expecting me stop and give him a tube, or perhaps even the full Convoi Exceptionalle / National Breakdown service so – I reach for my easy access CO2 and hand him the canister.
‘Look mate, happy to help but if you want the tube you’ll have to stay ahead of me’.
He slips in behind but despite the massive assistance afforded by slip streaming me he drops back…. and I’m off again.
I know the course, it feels fast – this bike is a joy to ride – mountains turn to pasture, trees to deciduous, I can smell the lake again, hear the hum of the city and then the transition zone, the Pros and young folk with brand new bodies are on the run course – some have even FINISHED it (b@stards). I fly through the suburbs, past the sports stadium, waved through red lights by the police and into T2.
TRANSITION 2 – BIKE to RUN
7 hours for 180k for the bike is slower than envisaged by about 45 mins. Add that to the 45 min excess swim time and I’m running out of contingency time for the run! Another light touch required – no brewing up or making sarnies. Why do I do this again? .. oh well COME ON…. rack the bike, grab my run bag, towel out on the floor, change socks and shoes (all pre prepped with Johnson’s finest baby powder). Helmet, gloves, shoes all in the bag, turn the race number belt around and off, but something doesn’t quite feel right…
…. Something wasn’t right – there was a distinct mass in the undercarriage department – had I followed through with one of those post gel farts ??? Thankfully not, I’d forgotten to take my bike shorts off – the rain and sweat sodden chamois swinging about like a well hung baboon and knocking me off my stride. No worries , I give the crowd a laugh, took them off with a burlesque flourish and flung them to the baying crowd – hilarious.
And off we go, round three, a 42.2k run. It’s so important to get this right and not blow up. We’ve all heard about hitting WALLS in marathons, but that’s really just running out of fuel, esp the carbs / glycogen fuel needed to run in HR zone 4 and above – it’s hard if not impossible to replenish glycogen at the rate it’s consumed over the course of a marathon distance, so we get that WALL thing at c.30k when there’s nothing left. So here I am I’ve just swam for 2h15m and cycled for 7h in a purposeful HR Z4, and despite constant fuelling on the bike I’m already glycogen deficient and now it’s time to do the marathon.
After blowing up early at both Paris and The Northumberland Coastal Marathons earlier in the year due to fuelling anomalies, my strategy for this race was to start and stay well sub threshold for the whole distance – I wanted to start and keep my HR in the Low Zone 3 region and be more reliant on Fats than Glucose for fuel. I’d already stacked up on ham and cheese croissants during the latter part of the bike course and I set out to start each run section slowly allowing my pace to steadilly and sustainably increase so that I never went into an oxygen debt – and if my HR crept up toward Z4 I’d back off. Note: training for that sort of run strategy is best done alone – it’s embarrassing – but it works.
So I shuffled off – past an already busy finish line grandstand – and toward the town of Krumpendorf. Feed stations are every 3k or so, and at each I walked though, swigged flat coke, iso, and a splash of water; ate a slice of melon, a lump of banana and two pretzels – then I’d get on my tip toes, walk tall, reach my hands up high, stretch out and slowly get back to an exaggerated easy shuffle which then morphs into a sustainable easy run.
From Krumpendorf it was back to the Grandstand, collect lap band #1 then out to Klagenfurt City Centre. In Klagenfurt it’s all so very café culture – the bars and restaurants do a great trade while the competitors run through the cobbled streets dinging a charity bell. Back along the canal tow path to the Grandstand and out toward Krumpendorf again.
So by now the Grandstand is in full swing and I’ve still got another half marathon to run. As I left the hum of the Grandstand behind it tended toward dusk, the aid stations were running out of stuff, it’s a quiet part of the course and frankly a little bit mentally taxing to ‘keep on keeping on’ when out Krumpendorf way. It’s time to start to count – 1 & 2 & 3 & 4, fiver, sixer, seven, eight, all the way to 100, then repeat, then repeat, then repeat ….. eventually back to the Grandstand area and collect lap band #2.
By now it’s properly dark, and remember that avoiding the 30k wall thing ? Well this is where it pays off – I keep it going, walk the aid stations, fuel, fluid and caffeine – restart…… But it’s starting to hurt now – I’m still keeping the intended pace and HR zone but my quads are complaining, my hamstrings are tight, and I get a bit of a wobble on when the ground goes uneven. I walk the subway descents and ascents so as not to pull a calf.
As I approach Klagenfurt for the final time I actually begin to wonder if I’m going to make the time cut off – I’ve stopped being able to do basic maths and I can’t work out how long I have left to finish or how far it is – but I take comfort (of sorts) in the fact that there’s no broom waggon in sight and there are still loads of other folk on the course.
Back to the park near the finish line & grandstand – the distance signs say different things (as they do on any multi laps course – Kielder is the worst!) and I can’t recall which signs are relevant and whether they mean distance ‘completed’ or ‘to go’ – I get to one that says 3k – surely it can’t be – and then Boom there’s the ‘turn here to finish sign’.
I turn the corner and it comes upon me a bit quicker than I’d expected – didn’t have time to lose my rabbit caught in the headlights expression …. but the Grandstand is BOUNCING– the finishing shoot resplendent – dancing girls in full swing – cheesey tunes mixed into the best apres ski sound track you’ve ever heard – It’s fantastic. IM is one of the few event companies (of my experience) that know how to do a finish line properly (the other being ‘Challenge’), and this one is no exception – it’s fantastic.
The support for the last finisher is unreal – then when the final cut off of 17 hours ticks over and there’s Fireworks over the Wörthersee.
What a Day – a non wet suit IM Triathlon in the bag – and #5 of 10 (or so!) done.
The results include 8 (web) pages of folk who have dns or dnf against there names and a few dq’s. I don’t know how this compares to previous years but It feels like a lot. As well as the normal collection of finishers in their 60’s and 70’s (occasionally 80’s) who are an absolute inspiration – there was one guy there who at close of play Sunday had completed 252 (two hundred and fifty two) IM distance triathlons – I’m still trying to work that one out!