Things to do, things not to do

A lot went well on the NDW50, but there are a few things to change another time.

Do again:

• Training on the terrain
• Recce the route so it becomes familiar
• Eating - peanut butter / jam wraps, salty crisps / pretzels, fruit, jelly babies. Don't eat unfamiliar or chocolate
• High 5 zero - sip frequently
• Pre-emptive imodium
• Carry minimal extra food as eat mainly at aid stations

Do differently:

• Centurion events are very well marked - navigation on watch not needed (although not the same for other events)
• Need gaiters for dry and dusty trails
• Ensure backpack contents have no hard edges facing me - hood of jacket left me feeling bruised
• Reduce the amount of liquid carried - only took in ~500ml every 4-5 hours, ie every two aid stations
• Don't be persuaded to take a bag of food from aid station
• If look at phone, double check on navigation

NDW50 2019 - the one where I chased the cutoffs and missed my running buddy

We planned together, trained together, ran the recces, and obsessively read all the blogs. NDW50 was going to be the first ‘grown up’ ultra with challenging (for us) cutoffs. We knew we probably wouldn’t stay together for the whole day - we were following ‘race rules’ after all. In the event we didn’t even reach the first aid station together.

In the few days before the race Helen came down with a cold. On the day of the event she did everything she could to be in a position to get through and enjoy 50 hilly miles. But the reality was she was not at 100% and it was not too long before it began to show. We started near the back of the field, and quickly got to a comfortable pace, overtaking a few people in the first few miles. Helen commented that her legs felt a little weak, but kept smiling. After a while she nipped behind a bush telling me to carry out. I spent the next few miles expecting her to come up on my shoulder… but it didn’t happen.

After the third aid station and those interminable steps at Box Hill, my phone rang. It was Helen. ‘I’m at the third aid station, I’ve dropped.’ And with that I was on my own. Helen made the right choice - she could perhaps have ‘death marched’ to the finish, but the big hills were yet to come, and that wouldn’t be the best way to recover from a cold. She promised to see me later.

So how about me?

Although I’d love to think I was a strong runner, I knew that my biggest challenge would be getting to the finish line within the 13 hour cutoff. That required an average of 15 minutes per mile (9.75 mins per km)… give or take as the route is actually slightly longer than 50 miles / 80k. So instead of my usual strategy of thinking from aid station to aid station, my focus was on checking my pace at the end of each km, and keeping my mind on the finish line.

The race consists of a 24 mile, relatively runnable, first half (if you don’t mention the climb at St Martha’s Hill). I finished that in 5:07. And my brain kicked into calculation mode...So that’s nearly 50% of the race done in just over a third of the time… Ok, so I’ve banked some time, maybe I could be nearer 12 hours than 13.

The second half (as well as being longer) starts with steps that go up for ever at Box Hill and then gets even hillier. The steps are never easy, but after 24 miles of running, they are hard! After getting to the top and just getting into a recovery speed walk at the top a spectator was cheering me on by saying ’no more steps’. She has clearly not spent much time on the NDW - there are lots more steps!

Some of the highlights of the next few hours include seeing a deer bounding across the path in front of me. A wild wee behind a log - there was no-one in sight when I squatted down, but when I bobbed up a few moments later there were 4 or 5 other runners going past - oops! The wild garlic was intense - huge carpets of wild flowers, and that smell! The views are gorgeous… but I didn’t spend time enjoying them - this race was all about business and I kept a close eye on the trail in front of my feet. No falls, no turned ankles - all good. I had the start of a blister but taped it up so all was well. I should have worn my gaiters - they weren’t needed when the trail was all mud in February, but now it is dry as a bone, and every little twig and seed and stone tried to make it into my shoes.

My race plan was to take the hills easy, push on the downhills and recover on the flats. I love downhills, and managed to make good progress when they weren’t too technical.

Helen and Eileen met me at the Caterham aid station. It was lovely to see familiar faces, although I really wanted to send Helen home for a hot bath and a sleep! 

Ally’s friend Chris was looking after me too - he had been told to treat my like a queen! Although really all the aid station volunteers treat all the runners like they are royalty - the event ethos is fantastic.

I was blown away by the course marking. The North Downs Way national trail is pretty good, but when we have done our recces we always needed the GPX track on my watch, a map, or even a phone to make sure we didn’t get lost. The Centurion organisers position tape at regular intervals so that every time I looked up wondering if I was going the right way there was a reassuring piece of tape in sight. Even more awesome is how this gets cleared away - last year we ran part of the course just a few hours after the race went through - there was no sign that the event had ever happened as the sweeper had already cleared all the tape and signs. A second sweep goes through next day just in case.

I was slowing down in the second half. As time went on there was more walking, and it was taking longer to recover from each climb before I could get back to a run pace. My rule was ‘move with intent’ - don’t stroll, always power walk. I was able to achieve 13 to 14 minute per mile pace with a power walk. But where the terrain got gnarly that wasn’t always possible.

By the time I was at the last aid station I was spent and beginning to feel a little nauseous. I had 15 minutes before the aid station cutoff - I chose to sit down for 2 minutes… and it helped.

7 miles to go. I can’t do the sums - how much is that in km? Low battery alert on my watch, turn off navigation, now it won’t show total elapsed time. Did we start dead on 8 - if I finish by 9 am i under the cutoff? How far is there to go? Ouch my shoulder feels bruised and hurts when I run. My backpack is really heavy. How far is it since I left the aid station? How fast do I need to go? It's getting gloomy, should I get my head torch out? And slightly chilly, do I need to stop and put a top on. Oh - that’s the corner where we had to look at the map on our last recce - that’s near the end, isn’t it? Or was there another 4 miles? I don’t have time for 4 miles! I remember this bit - isn’t the final field just round the corner. No, maybe the next corner. No. Moving with intent. Try to run - ouch my shoulder hurts. How much time? How far to go. Surely it’s the next field? I don’t know if I can run now. Are Helen and Eileen tracking me. Would they call me and tell me to go faster if I was going to miss the cutoff?

I can hear something - that must be it. They are cheering - wow it must be near. Yay - I can see the finish. What did James say in the briefing - about a mile to go? Is that more than a mile or less than a mile? Uphill through the field - move with intent. Through the gate, into the lane. It’s downhill - run! Keep going, you’re so close, run! Turn the corner, its uphill, move with intent. A volunteer telling me its some meters to go (he may have said a number, I blanked it). Turn left at the yellow sign. Oh my life, it’s uphill, that’s cruel. Veer to the right so they can’t see me at the finish line yet - I’ll have to run if they see me. Have I got time? Helen and Eileen appear by my side and urge me on - you’ve got this. People cheering - I love this finish line - raise my arms for a good finish photo, smile, stop. It’s done! 

Get a chair, a hot cup of tea. Why tea? I never drink tea! But it did the job. Medal, photo, t-shirt. Cheer the last few runners.

I beat the cutoffs by 10 minutes. I joined the Centurion army.

Can't run, so how to keep fit?

Cycling


Leg Strength

• Squat - single and double leg

• Lunges

Upper Body Strength

• Pressups

• chair dips

Core Strength

• Plank - front, side

• Mountain climbers

Sun - Leg, Core

Mon - Body, Core

Tue - Leg, Core

Wed - Body, Core

Thu - Leg, Core

Fri - Body, Core

Sat - Cycle

South Coast Challenge - the Hard One

S*** Helen, this is hard!

At 40k I was broken and had already committed to stopping at Hove, but there was still a long way to go. My foot hurt - a lot - and the relentless heat over the relentless hills was seriously eating into my energy reserves. 

Don’t get me wrong, I loved this event - the scenery was gorgeous, the hills a lot of fun, the organisation beautiful as always, and it was a lovely day. But S*** it was hard!

It was the first running of the South Downs Challenge by the Action Challenge team. It started in Eastbourne and finished in Arundel with Hove as the mid-point, incorporating over 2000m of climb (that is more than Snowdon and Scafell Pike combined, apparently). Along the way we take in Beachy Head, Seven Sisters (re-christened Seven Bitches by challenge participants) as well as Devil’s Dyke and every other hill along the South Downs way. 

Training had not been ideal - I had done some runs, but had a ‘dodgy’ ankle, so was not at the level fitness I wanted to be. Oh, and my ankle was still dodgy. I have self diagnosed plantar fasciitis and promise I will get it sorted now the run is over - on the day I had taped it up and was keeping my toes crossed (like fingers crossed, but toes cos they are nearer to the ankle… no? Oh never mind).

It was a beautiful sunny morning, but we were in the middle of a heatwave so were expecting the heat to be brutal later. There was a lot of talk at the start line about keeping well hydrated, taking it easy on the hills, not using all your energy reserves early on, consistent fuelling…. I was nervous, by excited to be off and into the unknown. There were only about 200 ‘runners’ on the event and we got to start first, with walkers following on behind. We had planned to do a lot of walking, but still classed ourselves as runners…..

The course started along a beautiful flat seafront. At 7am a few locals were out for their morning constitutional, and all wished us good luck. By the looks on their faces I think they knew what we were going to face later on. 

Leaving the seafront we very quickly saw how the day was going to go. Oh - those sort of hills!

We walked the hills, and ran gently on the runnable bits. Some of the downhills were too steep to even try to run - instead we edged down side ways. And it was beautiful! There was a bit of a breeze on the hills early on and that kept it comfortable. And the views were spectacular! We chatted to a few others running the event as we passed and re-passed each other. And it was fun!

The ‘schedule’ was to maintain an average 9 minutes per kilometre in the first half - this is a brisk walking pace. There was no intention of actually ‘following’ the schedule. Rather it was a useful way of a assessing how the day was likely to look. 

We pulled into the first aid station at Birling Gap 6 minutes ahead of schedule, and after a quick turn around with fruit to eat, a toilet stop, fill up water bottles and a photo we were on our way again.

A few more hills, then we were at Birling Gap itself, which is a river estuary directing us inland for a few km, along a very hard concrete path with heat bouncing off, and no breeze. And for light relief a huge hill  leaving us breathless followed by a climb over a wall. I think it was at this stage that we began to understand how the day was going to go.

The next aid station was Alfriston, and now we were 15 minutes behind the schedule. We were pretty tired and very hot and took nearly 20 minutes here. We missed the toilets on the way in and had to wander back to the entrance to find them. Then they moved the water table around while we were there so a bit more wandering around. I soaked a buff in water and hung it from the back of my hat to try and keep cool. We also chatted to a girl who told us that she had dropped down to half distance at this point as she had and injury and wanted to limit how much worse she was making it.

We then went uphill…. for 5km… with over 200m of climb. This was the biggest hill in the first half and was relentless. Stoney path with mountain bikes coming down towards us. Concrete path with scorched earth (ok stoney stubble filed) on each side of us. Spectacular views…

My ankle was pretty sore. Helen commented that it looked like it was turning out more than the other, and although it was only at ’11 o’clock’, it felt to me like it was almost at 90 degrees to straight. 

Helen asked if I was thinking of stopping at Hove. Can’t remember how she worded it but not in any way that implied she thought I should. I said I didn’t need to make that decision until I reached Hove. But I was thinking about it.

What goes up must come down, right? And it did, almost as steep going down as going up had been, with much of it on a camber. Left ankle on fire, right quad being eaten by the descents. We could see the aid station in the valley, but it was a long way… And then, just as it was getting close there were those bridges to navigate.

At Southease we were an hour behind schedule (although we weren’t looking at time). Chatting to a girl who had been running with us down the hill, eat 3 or 4 pieces of melon, then deep breath…. ‘Helen I’m going to stop at Hove’. I jammed on my sunglasses so we could all pretend no-one saw my tears, then I quickly went to find someone from Action Challenge to change my status officially.

The next leg was 19.5k - the longest of the event - with only a water station in the middle. Another 200m climb and ascent, just over a lightly longer distance.

My decision gave me extra bounce for a while and Helen had to tell me to slow down. the bounce didn’t last long though.

I told Helen that she should continue and do the full 100k. I would get a train to Arundel and meet her there, whatever time of night it was. I knew she was struggling with indecision about whether she was strong enough to continue.

Me: S*** Helen, this is hard!

Helen: It is B***** hard. I’m going to stop at Hove too.

I felt bad for her. She is a strong person and makes her own decisions, but I didn’t want to be the cause of her failing to achieve her goal. We talked about how 54k (half way) in these hills and this heat was challenge enough. And having made the decision to make it a shorter challenge, we both started to own up about the extent and the worry about the injuries we were each carrying.

Over the hill and into the water station. Helen let the organiser know she was changing her distance. We drank a lot of water and leant on the table… sitting down may have meant I didn’t get up again. It was very, very, very hot!

In our heads it was all downhill from here. And mostly that was true.

As we got close to Brighton Helen pointed out a row of tents that we had seen before (near the end of the London to Brighton run). I was a bit confused as the path underfoot was not how I remembered it. It took a bit of prompting on where we were before I realised we were actually a lot closer to Brighton than I thought. That gave me a great boost!

Maybe now we were a little overconfident as we marched alongside the racecourse. We realised we hadn’t seen a pink direction marker for some while. We couldn’t see a missed turn. Out with google maps… Oops, we were supposed to be on a different path and now we can’t find an exit…. We eventually found our way out, and got back on course.

Here it got a bit bizarre as we were asked to help push a door uphill into a wood. Yes really. We declined.

Into Brighton on a hot bank holiday Saturday. It was seriously busy. Crowds of hot, sweaty tourists to fight our way through. Not what we wanted, and by now we were in ‘death march’ mode, one foot in front of another, head down, no distractions.

Where is Hove Park? Is it on the seafront? No I think it’s slightly inland. We turned right, and started going up again. 40m climb in 2km. Finally we turned into a park…. and out the other side, we still weren’t there! So glad this is going to be over soon.

Finally the end. There were groups of spectators cheering us on as we managed to smile and break into a final run to finish. Medal, t-shirt, fizz. It’s all been worth it! 

That was hard!

It’s been 4 days since then. I’ve been a bit distracted by a mercy dash to Midlands and back to pick up my injured husband. But now I’m thinking…. what’s next? You can’t break an ultra runner :)

A little better, a little worse

Which is worse? The hell of the hot humid forest after 60k of running, or the bitterly cold and windy hilltops 30k later at close to midnight? 

This time we promised ourselves not to sign up to any of these events for at least another year. But after only a couple of days I can feel the memory of the pain fading and I’m wondering, what if…. ?

This is the story of my second London to Brighton 100k run. I had learnt some lessons the first time around and this was going to be better. And in some ways it was. But in other ways I learnt a little about being deceived….

I have no blisters, and although I’m feeling a deep fatigue, nothing hurts. My core was strong, my legs did the job I asked of them, my feet were nimble and I was able to run on the terrain. I knew what to expect, and the training I had done put me in the right shape to do this run (thank you Shirley Hills, Happy Valley and Box Hill).

Eileen picked us up and drove us to the start. In her heart she wanted to be with us, but her sensible head said ‘not this time’. So she waved us off with a smile at 6:30am from Richmond, and tracked us through the day, sending encouraging texts. She joined us briefly at Farthing Downs and ran with us, sharing news of parkrun - the world we had left behind.

We had planned a conservative pace for the first 25k. It starts along the Thames and is pretty flat, then rises to around 120m by the time we hit the second aid station. We were almost exactly on scheduled pace at this point, and were quietly confident that having started off slowly we would still have something in reserve when we needed it later. We met the lovely Lou and dog Jess here - nothing like a waggy tail to inspire happiness.

I wasn’t feeling hungry. I’d had bacon and eggs for breakfast, then half a banana later. I was drinking an electrolyte drink to keep hydrated. Nothing looked appealing to eat so I had a few salted peanuts as it was pretty hot out and I probably needed the salt.

Did I mention how strong I was feeling? I had felt a little ‘under the weather’ the day before, so was pleased that I’d managed to shrug that off. Taking the day off work and having a mid afternoon nap made me feel fully revitalised.

It was pretty hot. I put on my buff so the material hung over my neck to protect me from the sun. I suggested to Helen that this made me look like the cool kids…. her look told me she wasn’t convinced.

Helen was getting a little dehydrated. We shared my drink, then she had some water from some kids sweetly giving away water and biscuits to runners. After that we decided we had better carry two bottles each.

We had agreed that we would mostly run together, but would not hold each other back if we felt strong. In the next few stages I pulled away from Helen for a while, but she pulled back the time and typically arrived into the aid station just a few minutes behind me. The first time she did this I was a little over effusive in my greeting. I think I preferred running with company and was not looking forward to the loneliness of finishing on my own. Helen was worried about holding me back and kept urging me to leave the aid stations ahead of her. Looking back I wonder if she would actually have preferred me to leave her alone!

A couple of youngsters who had just teamed up together encouraged me to run with them. They were great motivation and I helped them keep going for a while too. Even though they had just met I got the feeling that I was a bit of a gooseberry, so I pushed on and left them behind. I saw them a few more times in the event - always together…. I do like a love story.

Spring flowers, blossom, lush green everywhere. Amazing views. It is an amazing route. This is why we do this!

I reached Tulley’s Farm at around 45 minutes behind schedule. It was about 3 in the afternoon and so hot and humid. I’d been doing quite a bit of walking and couldn’t even bring myself to run past the spectators. Not a good sign…. but hey, it would cool down soon. Followed my checklist, checked my feet, changed my socks, re-applied body glide, took my head torch. I checked the weather forecast - it wasn’t going to drop below 12 degrees tonight, so left my extra clothes in my drop bag to minimise what I was carrying. I ate some pasta… wasn’t really feeling it, but gotta eat, right?

I began to think I might have a bot of sun-stroke. Just a little. I drank some more, sat on a bench in the shade for a while and carried on. Around this time the route was through an area of scorched earth - downed trees and churned up earth. The path disappeared and we had to to climb over broken branches to make it through. It kinda matched my mood.

Helen texted me to say ‘I’m walking. Fell free to push on.’ I texted back that I was walking too. My stomach was feeling a little… odd… and I spent the next couple of miles wondering what I could eat or drink to feel better. A cup of tea would be ideal, but I don’t like tea. I know, peppermint tea! That thought gave me great comfort into the aid station. The volunteer there told me I looked really fresh… and somehow that felt wrong. Then Helen arrived and she told me I was looking pale. Having her confirm what I was feeling made me feel better. The peppermint tea was amazing.

From this point (Wivelsfield School) we continued on together. We weren’t doing much running, but we continued to make good progress. We made it to Plumpton College and I thought I really should have something to eat. As my eyes swept over the array of snacks my stomach started to object and I felt an irresistible wave of nausea. I barely made it to the nearest rubbish bin. Helen bought me tissues and water to clean up. We had to sit for a few minutes before I was ready to carry on.

And then my phone buzzed. It was Steve texting to say he was worried we would miss the last train and should he come and get us from the finish? We did agonise about this. We had planned for getting in late and having to wait for the milk train. But on the other hand, I had been sick, and… Ok, yes please! But it will be a good couple of hours.

And then, that hill. After last year I knew what to expect and I really wanted to get up the hill without having to stop. We set out from the aid station in a group as it was dark. I told Helen to go at her own pace and I would see her at the top. And it was so frustrating - I just couldn’t do it - I had to sit and rest, again and again and again! Two chaps from the group stayed with me - I’m not sure if they were ‘trek leaders’, or just fellow travellers, but it was humiliating. People kept pausing as they passed to ask if they could help, offering food and drink. But slowly, eventually, I reached the top of the climb. And then, you know, I was fine! So I need to talk to a doc and tell her that if I stress my heart and lungs for 90k (cos my legs weren’t a problem), then a steep hill is too much… I think I know what the advice would be.

And then it was just the ups and downs of the South Downs to cover. I was feeling strong, so was leading the way. Helen was finding it harder (not least because she had seized up waiting for me). I was trying to keep my pace down slightly and she was pushing hard. But it was a long way and it was so, so, cold….and dark… and went on forever. We talked a bit, and promised each other we wouldn’t sign up for another Action Challenge event next year, and we would change our strategy for the South Coast Challenge in August (cos doing the same thing and expecting a different result is the sign of madness, right?)

And then we were in Brighton. Nausea again. Then home, and more nausea. Remember those salted peanuts? Yep, back again.

So what of that deception?

Not being hungry is the first - burning 7000 calories in a day is not without cost. Next time, have a fueling strategy and stick to it.

Feeling ‘under the weather’ is a more truthful that the adrenalin fuelled feeling good at the start of a run.

Weather forecasts lie. Always take extra clothing for after the sun goes down.

And finally? The pain fades so fast… after only 36 hours I was wondering if I should sign up for a flat 100k….

Yes, I’m an ultra runner.

Again, again!

I loved it so much I'm going to do it again. I've signed up to run London to Brighton again in May 2016. i've also signed up for the new South Coast Challenge 100k in August. So to prepare I need to think about what went right and what was missing last time.

Fitness

Mileage was good. I peaked at just over 100k in a week, but most weeks were anything between 40 and 80k. Lots of back to backs from 15 to 30k. Lots of running with my dogs (aka fartlek). Willingness to walk whenever I needed to as long as I continued to cover the distance.

Although I did some trail running it wasn't nearly enough and I stuck to easy trails. I need to go off the main trails and practice running over roots and ruts and through mud. And hills. Lots of hills.

Strength

I used odd minutes of time - such as when I clean my teeth - to do squats (two and one legged), lunges etc to strengthen calves, quads, glutes and core. My core felt strong throughout and legs held up well. My ankles were not as strong adding to caution on trails and potential injury - so ankle strength and more intensive core and leg training will be needed.

Nutrition

Bacon and scrambled eggs for breakfast. Nuun throughout. Homemade banana and date flapjack. Whatever aid stations have to offer. Worked ok so will do the same again. 

Although I felt nauseous around 88k I don't think there is anything specific that caused that or could have prevented it.

Kit

Need a new head torch - lightweight, non-slip, long battery life, bright. Maybe change from soft flasks to hard so they don't drop out? 

Top with high neck and half zip worked well.

If weather is dry before hand and on the day maybe use road shoes for the first half of L2B.

Why I nearly stopped, and why I carried on

I lot of thoughts went through my head on "that" hill. I've done a lot of pondering since then on what it said about me and what I learned.


I might die
Given the way my heart was beating and my breathing was so heavy, I really thought I might collapse. Some runners do collapse. And I didn't want to be a burden on the emergency services. And it was better to stop and go back rather than have to be carried back.

But then... I've never been really ill or badly injured. And if I was, wouldn't it be worse than this? I'm going to save my dying for when the pain is unbearable!

Others have stopped
Earlier I had convinced myself that Helen and Eileen had stopped. They had since texted me to say they were still moving forward and I knew that. But my imagination is quite a powerful thing, and having played through the 'H & E have dropped out scenario' in my head, it was hard to stop believing it. So if they had dropped out and I had got further, then it didn't matter that I didn't finish.

But then... I do know the difference between imagination an reality - no really I do!

No one would judge me
I've looked at figures for previous years and I know the drop out rate for a 100k is relatively high. So I could just be another statistic. Mot of my friends are impressed that I would even contemplate 100k, so achieving 88k would still be considered quite an achievement. Especially at my age.

But then.... I don't like failure, quitting, good enough. They call it an A type personality....

This is hard
Carrying on was going to hurt. Even if I got beyond this hill it was going to be a 'death march' to the finish. There was still a couple of hours until it was all over and I was already 'beaten up' and tired.

But then... I had wanted to do this run for a long time. I had done all the training and I was ready for this. If I didn't finish, then I would need to do it again, go through the training, spend all that time...

So in summary?
I'm a bit of a drama queen... but ultimately seriously bloody minded!