2009 summary: some ups and some downs.

This concludes my first year's running blog. I have Karen MacDonald of Runfurther to thank for persuading me at the Wye Ultra to start it. It has been rewarding and therapeutic, if time-consuming.

For me, 2009 was another great year of pushing personal athletic boundaries and always learning; learning what my body can do, learning some new ways to fail and learning how not to fail against adversity if the carrot is big enough (thoughts of the Runfurther Grand Slam during the Pumlumon Challenge and High Peak 40). It was also another year of meeting old and new running and walking friends and exchanging stories of success and sometimes failure (the latter on my part at least).

2009 started off pretty well. A couple more 10th anniversaries were bagged on the events (Rombald Stride, Anglezarke Amble) and I'm still surprising myself with more PBs, even on a 10th completion. No doubt the frozen and firm conditions early on helped with some results (The Hebden, Two Crosses Circuit, Rombald Stride). Not many weeks later we enjoyed early warmth and sunshine (Wye Ultra, Starkholmes Stagger, Calderdale Hike, and that only brings us up to April).

The first half of the year brought some really good races with satisfying outcomes:
3rd Jan – The Hebden (PB1);
11th Jan – Two Crosses Circuit (PB2);
7th Feb – Rombald Stride (PB fodder but new, slower route);
14th Feb – Anglezarke Amble (10th completion and PB3);
14th Mar – Wuthering Hike / Haworth Hobble (PB4);
21st Mar – Starkholmes Stagger (PB5);
28th Mar – Kipling Kaper (PB6);
18th Apr – Calderdale Hike (big PB7 and highest Runfurther points (805) this year, probably ever);
2nd May – local 5k Parkrun (PB8);
9th - 10th May – The Fellsman (big PB9 by 1hr 34mins);
16th May – Marlborough Downs Challenge (PB10);
6th Jun – Wharfedale Off-Road Marathon (PB11);
13th Jun – Three Rings Of Shap rings 1 and 2 (fastest times on both rings).

This is all getting very boring and repetitive I can hear you say, but fear not. It couldn't possibly continue, especially since I've been at it for just on 14 years and the big ol' five-o isn't far over the horizon now. I must have been on borrowed time for years as it is. Time to come back down to earth. Here are some not-so-good races with less than ideal outcomes:

27th Jun – Western States Endurance Run.
Retired (timed out) at 62 miles after vomiting blood for 34 miles. Nausea was beginning to set in at 19 miles, already forcing me to a walk.
Lesson 1. If you ever do Western States, drink water between the aid stations and only drink GU2O at the aid stations, NOT ALL THE TIME. In other words, do what I always used to do, until this year. Stupid boy :-(
This was my first Hundred DNF. I learned that a Hundred completion is not a given just by slowing down a bit if it gets tough. Sometimes, medical issues can make it impossible, no matter how slowly you go.

25th Jul – local 5k Parkrun (PW).

28th - 29th Aug – Tour du Mont Blanc.
Retired at 77 miles, drained and devoid of leg strength. I was beyond the restorative qualities of food and drink. I had run on empty for too long on the quest for an aid station with food.
Lesson 2. If you ever do the UTMB, do not rely on the aid stations for food when you need it. Be prepared to use your own for regular fuelling. The aid stations sometimes become the back-up, not vice versa as my mind was conditioned towards.
This was my second Hundred DNF. I was beginning to make a habit of this all of a sudden. Now I would not complete a 100-miler in 2009 when originally I had planned to complete three.

12th Sept – Pumlumon Challenge.
I was just recovering from the lurgy and I would not have travelled had this not been a Runfurther event. The Grand Slam was at stake so 'needs must an' all that'. I felt quite perky on the start line but it didn't last long into the race. My finishing time was virtually an hour down on what it should have been. I earned my lowest Runfurther points so far (643). I was too far gone afterwards to face the long journey home. I crashed out in a local hotel to build sufficient strength to return the next morning.

19th Sept – High Peak 40.
Allow me to quote from my running diary: “I have felt tired, lacklustre and disinterested in life all week. It was a chore to even be present at the start. I was only there through Grand Slam obligation.” I love this event and this was to be my 10th completion out of 10 starts. I was shocked at how negative I was feeling. If you read the blog report (linked above) you will realise how close I was to dropping out and shattering the Grand Slam dream. But I didn't. I came back to finish feeling stronger than I felt last week and grab a near-PW for this event and my lowest Runfurther points (606) of the year.

Taking a more positive line again, the second half of the year wasn't all doom and debacle at the events. A few more PBs came my way. The best one, which must rank alongside the Calderdale Hike for the rewarding feeling I felt, was the Round Rotherham on 17th October. The event had been brought forward a couple of months in the hopes of killing off the run of bad weather we had endured for the previous two years. It worked. Abnormally dry months leading up to the event produced perfect conditions for PBs all round. My time of 9hrs 13mins was a PB by 58 minutes. I never imagined being able to run a 50-mile trail race that fast. Needless to say I was 15 minutes down on my Snowdonia Marathon time the following weekend but I couldn't care because I was still on Cloud 9.

My running year ended with an early enforced taper and cancelled events due to a dose of 'flu (not the 'man' variety either; this was real) then a cold. The first winter snows provided beautiful running conditions for a few last-gasp runs to work before the overindulgences of Christmas.


Some statistics for 2009.
Miles completed – 1,797 (excludes training runs because I didn't do any).
Personal Bests – 18 (where there was a previous completion to compare against).
Personal Worsts – 1 (where there was a previous completion to compare against).
Number of Ultras – 17.
Total Ultras since 1996 – 115.

Looking forward to next year:

I received a pair of Vibram fivefingers for Christmas. Being an habitual 'bare-footer' I've hankered after a pair of these since they first came out in the US a year or two ago. I have not run in them yet but they feel very comfortable to walk in. I look forward to trying them on my runs into work. I may report on them early in the New Year.

The stark realities of the Western States Endurance Run lottery were brought home to me this month. I did not get picked so I will not be going to Squaw Valley next June to put right what I messed up this year. My 4-year habit has come to an end. Well done to all those who did get in. Do yourselves proud on that course.

Stockport 10 (miles). 13/12/2009

It’s been a month since I’ve done any running thanks to the flu after Dunnerdale requiring five days off work and my first ever sick note for such an occurrence. That has been followed by weeks of gurgling lungs, a lingering cough and a distinct lack of enthusiasm for running. Even my plan to run a 5k Parkrun on Saturday (to remind my body what running feels like) fell by the wayside. My final preparation for the rude awakening and baptism of fire was the consumption of a bottle of red on Saturday evening while watching the X-Factor (go Joe!). I had turned into a sloth and I was beginning to hate myself.

On Sunday morning I cycled to the Stockport Harriers track in the cool winter sunshine feeling a little more delicate than I should have been feeling just before any run, let alone a 10-mile road race. I knew a Personal Worst was a certainty.

The weather gods were smiling on us like they always do for this event. I joined the general massed migration towards Woodbank Park and the running track, where I was greeted by the usual carnival atmosphere of gazebos, stalls selling sporting wares and crowds of runners, supporters and spectators milling around. Much to my shame, this was my first visit to the track since last year’s Stockport 10, yet it seemed like only yesterday since I was there.

After a meet-and-greet session of club mates and other runners seen weeks or months before on various ultra events, I joined the throng on the track to await the instructions, count-down and “GO”. The race was a sell-out, no doubt helped by the always excellent friendly support and the (in)famous goody bag at the end. I wonder what it would contain this year.

The first mile through the park and out onto the minor roads went quite well for me, after which there may have been a slight drop-off in my pace. Don’t ask me why, but the fact that I was rapidly overheating (my head was beginning to boil so my festive Santa hat had to come off) and the fact that the other runners slowly began to overtake me may have had something to do with it. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable or pleasurable experience, more like a case of just holding on and surviving to the end. I rolled my sleeves up, which helped a little more with the cooling.

As we approached the first single file coned-off section along the edge of the busy A-road without footpath, there was a back-up in the traffic caused by a car waiting to turn left but unable to do so because of the stream of runners crossing the side road. I immediately felt guilty like I always do when car drivers are inconvenienced like that. (I always envisage seething tempers and road rage.) I glanced behind me and noticed a small gap in runners. I slowed down to allow the car to turn. The runners behind me didn’t take my cue, and then Bob Hope from Emmerdale, who was manning the crossing, shouted: “No no, carry on”. I was overruled and we had right of way. My feeling of guilt did not abate as I crossed the road like a sheep.

A descent and brief climb up the other side brought us to the top of Bong’s Road and a merciful departure from the traffic. I was officially hot and had to strip right there, so I spent a minute removing vest and long-sleeved top, replacing vest, stuffing top in tiny bum-bag and reattaching bum-bag to waist before setting off down the hill. The improved cooling invigorated me and I felt better able to run.

I bypassed the drinks station at the bottom end of Bong’s Road at around the 5-mile point; my hand-held water bottle was keeping me well supplied with water. The Santa hat which I was also carrying did not bother me because I am used to carrying water bottles and route descriptions for up to 30 hours at a time while out running. I was beginning to get a lot of joking from the marshals about the hat, and why wasn’t it on my head? If it went back onto my head I would surely explode. It made me smile. What a friendly race this is.

I glanced at my heart rate monitor several times as I ran. It was showing 182 – 183bpm every time I looked. I wasn’t surprised it was so fast. It had been raised for weeks. If I survived to the end I was now anticipating a PW of monumental proportions.

The major climb up the other side from the river valley wasn't as bad as some of the road runners would have you believe. After all, if it's a road which cars have to drive as a matter of course, it can't be that bad. It doesn't compare with proper footpaths and mountain trails where cars cannot pass. Some of those HAVE to be walked. I kept the jog going all the way, electing to run on the rough verge to keep the terrain as close as possible to what I'm used to.

I was now holding my own compared to those around me. The bpm feedback might have looked as though my heart should be beating its way out of my chest, but I couldn't feel it and all systems seemed to be just under control, so I carried on giving of my best, offering friendly retorts to the marshals' continued humorous references to my hat. We wound our way left and right, up and down roads to the bottom of New Zealand Road and the second and final climb. I shuffled my way onwards and upwards, trying to push my pelvis forward and resist the temptation to hunch my back to improve my posture and maximise the speed and efficiency of my running, but it was difficult because I was so tired from all the incessant running.

The left turn at the top of New Zealand Road did not bring relief. Still we climbed to the next bend, where we entered the park and our route finally levelled off. I could soon hear the muffled, clipped tones of the PA system at the Stockport Harriers track. I glanced at my watch and simply COULD NOT BELIEVE that a PB was almost in the bag. I gave it all I had through the park as I sprinted towards the athletics track on the far side. Perhaps I should qualify that. My “sprint” would have looked like a recreational jog to any sedentary bystander who could not possibly understand.

I entered the athletics ground and heard my name announced in the fuzzy, compressed style to maximise volume without overt distortion (any audio buffs reading this?). Imagine a butch kazoo if you will: “Number 67 is Nick Ham”. Another runner overtook me as I entered the track but I couldn't give a toss. It's normal at this stage when I'm going flat out. I can only give my ultimate best and I have long since realised that my ultimate best falls well short of what others can muster. I live with it and work around it.

Half a lap of the track and no more overtakings brought me home in 1hr 19mins, a PB by 1min 45secs over last year! That got me a top half placing. What a pleasant surprise considering my less than ideal build-up and my time-consuming striptease at the top of Bong's Road.

The goody bag did not disappoint. The principal prize was a very useful runner's technical T-shirt in fluorescent yellow (for the dark nights) by 'more mile'. I've worn it already on my Monday run to work. It's worth the entry fee alone. In order of increasing quirkiness, further goodies included:
A handful of flyers;
A lolly (“Who loves ya pussy cat?”);
A Penguin biscuit;
A Cadbury STARBAR;
A Stockport 10 sticker;
A mini aerosol of Sanex anti-perspirant;
A sachet of Flexitol deep cooling gel for the feet;
A sachet of Flexitol heel balm (“visible results in 3 days”);
A balloon (brand new, never inflated);
The LoSalt challenge with 5 sachets of the stuff (they forgot that serious sweating from serious exercise needs sodium);
A Robinsons Brewery key ring;
A plastic pouch from Leo Fixings containing two plasterboard fixings;
And finally, 'da piece of resistance', a plastic disposable glove with a pinch of dead meal worms and a pair of eyes (in small, paper sticker form) in one of the fingers.
All of the above was delivered in a Sweatshop carrier bag.

I challenge other races to top this. No wonder the race fills up.

Here are some statistics to amuse and entertain:
Distance – 10 miles on road (undulating – hilly);
Time – 1:19:00 (PB in 4 races since 2004);
Average heart rate – 178bpm;
Maximum heart rate – 190bpm.
Compared to Dunnerdale in the last report, which was bad enough, that heart rate is shocking. Call me an athlete? I laugh in polite derision at such an absurd notion. Ultraplodder by name, ultraplodder by design, ultraplodder by nature.

I took a few pictures, but not during the race, you'll understand.

Dunnerdale Fell Race + Vasque Runfurther end-of-year party. 14/11/2009

I’m now back after a good dose of flu, probably caught as I mixed and mingled at Broughton Mills, LakesRunner in Ambleside and Wilf’s Café in Staveley. It was a busy day and this is my belated report all about it.

Dunnerdale Fell Race / 5mi. / 1,554'.

The rain had poured and the wind had blown well into Saturday as I drove northwards through flooded roads to my first ever short, sharp and furious fell race. Dunnerdale had been suggested as the ideal precursor to an evening’s drinking and entertainment. I seized the opportunity and dusted off my ancient Adidas Swoop Mk1s with their worn down studs.

Situated in the far south west of the Lake District, Broughton Mills Village Hall, circa 1927, ancient, wooden and dimly lit by 40W bulbs, was soon heaving to the largest ever turn-out for the Dunnerdale Fell Race as runners sheltered inside to await the cessation of the rain and the 12:00 race start. The rain did stop, and we were sufficiently close to the centre of the storm system for winds to be calm.

As midday approached, we gathered outside on the lane. We were edged back up the road outside the pub, further up from the village hall. There would be no route shortening. The unprecedented crowd meant that we were slightly late setting off. I was in my rightful place towards the back, so the first I knew that the 276 runners were on their way was when the people in front started to move. We had a sedate walking start. I never imagined that on a fell race.

The field soon thinned out and I was overtaking other runners on the brief stretch of downhill road before it became uphill road, then track, then fell. I knew that I could force my pace throughout, since it was only 5 miles and I did not have to worry about the inevitable blow-up and slow-down that would normally be an issue. And so it was that I actually found myself running uphill as well as down. Only the steepest ups forced the shuffle briefly down to a walk.

The anticlockwise route took us via 4 peaks and through 1,554 feet of ascent/descent through its 5 miles. I had my 1:12,500 map print-out with me but it remained in my bumbag for two reasons:
1. I had virtually memorised the route as I had reviewed it over and over again in nervous excitement during the previous week.
2. There were so many people out in front, the views were so clear and the route through the mud was that well trodden, it would have been impossible to get lost anyway.

I pushed up and down the hills and put in as much effort as I have ever done. My steep and slippery descents were less confident than I would have liked as my worn fell shoe studs tore perilously at the soggy ground and I descended, barely in control, with the sound of other runners close behind. I didn’t want to get in the way and hold them up. On the verge of wiping out I was wishing for new fell shoes.

I got overtaken a little, but not too much, on the steep descents. Once onto the final road stretch I pushed as hard as my body allowed as we climbed back up to the finish in the farmer’s field, where I queued for a minute before the timekeepers were ready to register my arrival. I had taken one hour by my watch to do the 5 miles. My flat-out effort got me the expected bottom half finish and resulted in an average heart rate of 176bpm and a peak of 191bpm. The winning time was an unbelievable 39:36. I wonder how fast his heart rate was.

The meat and potato pie, tea and biscuits went down a real treat as I chatted with other runners in the hall afterwards. The queue for the food ended up stretching the length of the hall. I was glad I got in there early.

Fed, watered and warmed, I drove via Coniston (memories of the Lakeland 100) round to Ambleside, where a visit to Ian Barnes’ LakesRunner shop was long overdue. It was popular with the Runfurther crowd – Andy Rankin and Paul Dickens were there, so more chinwagging took place; oh, and try on a pair of La Sportiva Crosslight shoes. Such unaccustomed comfort in a shoe, but they didn’t quite have my size so I placed an order.

A new café is in creation upstairs, which should be really good. Proprietor and rather capable fell runner Ben Abdelnoor will have his work cut out keeping the appetites of all those climbers and runners satiated. He and Ian have already had their work cut out building it, by all accounts.

Here are some statistics to demonstrate the intensity of short fell races:
Distance - 5 miles.
Time - 1 hour.
Average heart rate - 176bpm.
Maximum heart rate - 191bpm.

Vasque Runfurther party.

I drove further round to Staveley and my B & B on the hillside overlooking the village, where I had plenty of time to get cleaned up for the main event – the Vasque Runfurther end-of-year celebration. It was conveniently located a short walk away in Wilf’s Café at the Hawkshead Brewery. A hotpot supper and dessert, a well-stocked bar and a MASSIVE Vasque Runfurther cake kept us well fuelled until past midnight.

Two talks with slideshows were put on.

The first by Stuart Walker described his British Isles Challenge, a daunting solo, 1,400-mile human-powered journey from one end of the British Isles to the other (including sea crossings and 3-peaks climbing). He only had 4 weeks to complete it and he was greatly challenged along the way. What he achieved against adversity was little short of heroic. He did it for charity and, most unfairly, he is still quite a way short of his £10,000 target. So please, anyone reading this, if you are so minded, please consider making a donation. His chosen charities surely deserve it after he sacrificed so much.

The second talk was a hot and cold talk given by Amanda and Andy Heading. For the hot talk, Amanda described her Marathon des Sables experience, while for the cold talk, Andy described his Yukon Arctic Ultra experience – 430 miles in north west Canada in the frozen depths of winter.

The evening was topped off with the prize-giving and spot prize draw, and cake. There was lots of swag to give away from our sponsors. Andy Rankin and Rachael Lawrance won the prizes for the most series points out of their four best races, while Tim Whittaker and Julie Gardner won the prizes for the most points overall. There were four Grand Slammers – runners who completed all twelve races. In order of points they were Tim Whittaker, Paul Dickens, Julie Gardner and me. The final results can be found here.

I washed down a large slab of cake with a large brandy, the clock struck 12 and the evening drew to a close. With several wrong turns I eventually found my way by torch light back up the hill to the B & B, where I dreamed of a most enjoyable running year and a Grand Slam that most nearly wasn’t.

I took some pictures of the evening’s proceedings. That cake must have weighed a ton.

Roaches Fell Race 15mi. 08/11/2009

This provided a rare opportunity for me for a 'short' blast in the hills. I almost got my lungs burning! It's a serious runners' event that's based from Meerbrook Village Hall and very well organised by Macclesfield Harriers. The out-and-back route climbs via a filthy, slurry-infested dairy farm near the beginning and end (I bet their milk goes off quickly, and KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT as you slosh through to keep the splashes out), up along the Roaches ridge, down the other end, across the river, up and down a lot more before climbing Shutlingsoe (a mini Ingleborough?), where we go around the trig point at the top before retracing our steps. We enjoyed a brief respite in the weather and the sun shone upon us, but it was nippy and the mud was voluminous (especially around that farm). At its worst it reminded me of a mini Tough Guy. Trying to run across that on the return leg risked inducing crippling cramps.

This must be the only fell race that puts out red carpets for us. In the early stages, as we queued at a stile near a farm residence, we caught the unbelievable sight of red carpet covering the grassy bank on the other side up to the gravel track! It was there to protect the grass from the worst of all those fell shoe studs. By the time I returned, it was rucked up and folded and serving no useful purpose. SACK THE CARPET FITTER I say!

The out-and-back format allowed a glimpse of the speedy ones on their return leg as the slower ones, destined to finish well down in the bottom half, continued towards the climb up Shutlingsloe to the trig point turnaround. They ran just within their capability that they could sustain until the end. So did I. The difference was exactly 1 hour at the end of 15 miles. They must be a different species to me.

I have no business here in such racing snakes', speed merchants' races, so despite my best, lung-busting efforts I still finished well down in the bottom half of the field. Nonetheless I was pleased to beat my previous time of 3:21 (in 2007) by 13 minutes. 3:08 - only 9 minutes to knock off to get a sub-3, then I might get into the top half. Perhaps next year? But that would require less quantity and more quality, like, lay off the ultras and do speed sessions every week. No chance! I run for fun, not for obligation.

I did not take my camera because I would have tripped up in the river and wetted it, and as we know it wilts even at the smell of dampness (although on hindsight a complete dunking might teach it a good lesson on what real dampness is). However, 'finniganjones' took some amazing action shots here, which just have to be linked. The descent to the river on the return leg was steep.

Next week is a 5-mile fell race (Dunnerdale). I have never turned out for such a short jaunt in the hills. Dare I say it's hardly worth getting out of bed for, but it precedes the Vasque Runfurther party in the evening which I must attend, so in for a penny.....
I expect to be humbled even more comprehensively. I might be last and I might kill myself in the process.

Halloween Bottoms Up 23mi. 31/10/2009

This event, most ably organised by West Lancashire Long Distance Walkers Association, marked a long overdue return to the type of event I know and love, the ones I cut my running teeth on after I took up walking thirteen years ago. It was a grand reunion of walking friends of many years’ standing whom I hadn’t seen in months. It was refreshing to return to the low-key, informal, no-pressure atmosphere after so many larger running and grand slamming events. That isn’t to say I didn’t still run this one, mind you. If there’s a chance for another PB I’ll always try as long as I’m not injured. I wasn’t injured, so I tried. My legs had already felt recovered straight after Snowdonia (unlike Round Rotherham) so I felt ready.

My last participation in ‘Bottoms Up’ was in 2005, but since 2006 I have always run the Snowdonia Marathon and the two events have clashed. However, a delay by one week this year due to a wedding booking at Hoghton Village Hall, where it is based, allowed me to take part again. In view of the 4-year gap and considering how well I was feeling after Snowdonia, I was only envisaging a PB. Anything less just wasn’t on the agenda. Such confidence was rather dangerous considering my previous finishing time of 4:05. (There weren’t many runners back then, so that time earned me an unaccustomed equal first place.) Nevertheless I felt a sub-4 could be on the cards this year, while a first place finish was absolutely out of the question in view of the larger and more capable field taking part.

After seeing the walkers off at 8am, we runners returned inside the Village Hall for a chat, a cup of tea and to await the arrival of the remaining runners while we waited for our 9am send-off. There had been some overnight rain to ensure the traditionally muddy course would live up to its reputation. However, the sun was shining again for us and the temperature was still unseasonably warm – mid to high teens Centigrade. Another brilliant day was in prospect.

Before we knew it we were outside and with “It’s about time, I suppose you’d better be on your way”, or words to that effect, we ambled out onto the A6061 and turned right up the hill towards the long straight approach drive to Hoghton Tower. With a left turn and another left off the drive at the gatehouse, we were out into fields. Within the first 3 miles or so we visited Samlesbury Bottoms and Hoghton Bottoms (hence the event name). I was running with Chris Brown and Geoff Holburt. I would use them as my pacers for as long as I could. They are faster than I am and I knew I would not be able to hold onto then until the end. We were soon overtaken by Ian Hill, who’s even faster and most definitely uncatchable by the likes of me.

We mopped our brows as we ran over Butler’s Delf and across the fields to the first food stop at 6.6 miles (the temperature and humidity were causing the perspiration to flow). The broken up lumps of caramel crumble might not have looked very appetising but they certainly hit the spot. With the fuel beginning to course through our veins we followed our noses through the woods to the top of the hill and the first tally clip. After that came a long, downhill run through the woods, across fields and through more woods to the playing fields of Witton Park. I love down-hills. I was in my element.

After a short canal stretch (I hate flat running; I was not in my element) we three arrived at Checkpoint 2 (9.9 miles). I had been noticing the sensation of something lightly touching the inside of my right ankle and it felt as though my right sock might be rucked up around my toes. I didn’t pay too much attention. I assumed the ankle sensation was a muscle twitch, but when I finally looked down I noticed the insole to my shoe was trying to escape up the side of my leg. A quick readjustment soon put that right and I ran in comfort again to catch up to Chris and Geoff. As we ran we caught up with and overtook the walkers, one-by-one. It was often a case of ‘long time no see’ and many brief but animated conversations took place.

I always remembered that uphill lane to Checkpoint 3 (11.9 miles) at Tockholes Village Hall to be a slog. It was no different this year. I struggled to keep up with Chris and Geoff as I shuffled my way up the hill. I had run virtually every step of the way so far and I felt a sub-4-hour time was almost in the bag. An egg sandwich went down very well at the checkpoint. I couldn’t quite stomach the hot dog like Geoff had.

On the descent from Winter Hill (not ‘THE’ Winter Hill), the track took us down past Darwen Golf Course. There were quite a lot of of walkers and runners on the track at that point. I noticed a group of golfers at the tee to the left. One was lining up and going through the motions of driving his projectile through the pedestrians, before petulantly throwing his club down onto the green, flailing his arms sideways and shouting at us to “Get out of the f…..g way”. We were appalled by the rude, self-centred outburst.

I just about clung onto my pacers' coat tales as the miles continued to pass. I was surprised at how little of the route I had remembered. Perhaps I'd pushed so hard in previous years I had not taken much in. Perhaps a sub-4 finish wasn't such a done deal after all. Not much was sinking in this year either. I was just trying to survive and keep my targets in sight, pouring all my energy into the running that was becoming a shuffle as I began to slow down. I desperately wanted to walk but I couldn't afford to. I closed my mind to everything apart from the essential activity of putting one foot in front of the other at a pace that was as far advanced from walking pace as I could muster. I felt myself rapidly failing in that endeavour, but I'd been here before, literally thousands of times.

I was bringing up the rear as I arrived at Checkpoint 4 (18 miles) in Brinscall. There was no time to get food or drink because Chris and Geoff were already on the way out and I had to give chase, with barely 5 miles left to go. It was a good thing I had enough drink left and more than enough food to keep me going for longer than I would ever need today.

Now was the time when I needed a boost. I took my first few slurps of Coke as I gave chase up the road to the right turn at the post office. The sugar-caffeine infusion just kept me in the game for a few more miles and I kept my targets in sight until the right turn onto the towpath of the Leeds & Liverpool Canal. With just two miles to go I caught the last glimpse of Chris' fluorescent yellow-green top disappear around a bend. He was just too strong for me and we were back onto flat running and I don't do flat, especially when the legs are screaming for me to stop. However, Geoff was not keeping up either. Chris was too strong for him too.

I finally hauled Geoff in just after leaving the canal as he was taking a short walking break and my pained shuffle had been just sufficient to close the gap. I checked my watch and couldn't believe how much time had passed. We had been running for nearly 4 hours and a sub-4-hour finish was now impossible. Now all I could do was aim for a PB. Geoff provided great encouragement. “Come on, I'll pull you home to a PB”. The final climb across the fields was not steep but required supreme effort to countermand the screaming legs that were commanding me to stop, or at least WALK. “Not just yet” I kept telling them.

“Come on!”, Geoff kept calling back, as if I were his pet dog. I didn't mind. I was happy for any encouragement I could get. The four-hour mark passed as we descended to the long drive to Hoghton Tower. “Come on!” I chased Geoff down the drive and back out onto the A6061. He could so easily have raced ahead to a sprint finish (he always has more in reserve than I have), but he didn't this time. With only a minute left to get a PB, that village hall seemed too far away. “Come on!!” “OK, I'm trying. I'm very trying.” I ran down that road as fast as I could go, turning left carefully onto the footpath to the Hall to avoid slipping on the piles of fallen leaves, to finish in 4:04. I could not believe I had run so fast in 2005 to only be able to beat my PB by one minute this year, after forcing out all that running. Perhaps a little of the Snowdonia marathon (and the Round Rotherham) was still in my legs after all.

Many thanks to Geoff for his selfless encouragement to pull me to a 'sprint' finish.

Chris was able to make up around ten minutes in the final 2 miles to get a comfortable sub-4-hour finish.

Like the Snowdonia Marathon last week, this was an eyeballs out race with no opportunity for taking pictures on the way. I only took two at the beginning. Sorry for the boring show this time.

Snowdonia Marathon 26.2mi. 24/10/2009

Pre-race fuelling - one of the by-pleasures of all this exercise.

Snowdonia Marathon
We're seeing a familiar pattern for the Snowdonia Marathon - wind and rain for three consecutive years now, so this had to be the weekend to end the long run of amazing weather just to keep the 'SNOD' weather tradition alive. I certainly didn't envy the people doing the OMM in mid Wales at the same time.

After last weekend's 'pleasures' my legs were feeling heavy and laboured on the runs into work, so much so that I cycled in on Thursday instead. By Friday my legs felt just about normal and 'ready to do their thing' again at the weekend.

The driving rain before the start didn't bother me too much because I walked from Llanberis up to the start, which just about kept me warm. I figured that would be much better than joining the LONG queue for one of the free buses. I met a couple of people from the Runner's World forum (the SNOD thread has to be the best and most lively thread going), including one who was going to act as sub-4-hour pacer. I intended to run with the sub-4hr group. Once in the starting pack there was just enough shelter and warmth from the surrounding bodies to keep the worst of the shivers at bay until the start. Also, the very mild temperature in the low teens Centigrade (mid to high 50s F) eased the chill factor. We were about 20 minutes late setting off because of the delayed buses.

As soon as we had set off and before we had reached the road proper, I had already lost the pacer - he was behind somewhere - so I just decided to run my own race like I always do. He overtook me some way down the first descent. I asked him how his 4hr pacing was going. I always like to look on the positive side and fondly imagined he might have been 5 minutes ahead of schedule, but when he said he was 1 minute down I knew a 4hr finish was beyond me. My hip flexors had already stiffened and I was pushing hard through the discomfort, so I told him a 4hr finish was beyond me this year as he slowly pulled away.

I passed the halfway point in 2:02. "I wonder if I can run a negative split and still get close to 4 hours?" I thought to myself. "Not unless a miracle happens" came the quick subconscious answer. "I've never run negative splits in my life, but considering I set off slower, I'll give it a damn good try." I amused myself watching the aerodynamic antics of, and trying to race, the polystyrene cups that were getting blown at high speed away from the drink stations. The wind was very strong and the cups always won. What a hideous litter problem.

I ran more of the race than I have ever run before, including most (but not quite all) of the final climb at Waunfawr, but my time of 4:15 turned out to be a personal worst for this event (4:13 in 2006, 4:06 in 2007 and 4:00 in 2008). I'm not at all disappointed with this result. It's hardly surprising under the circumstances. I know I pushed myself to my limits at the time, I had a fantastic day and I met some fantastic people.

It was a shame about the lack of electricity at the sports hall at the finish. A lack of warm restorative drinks meant an early exit to the car to get changed and warm before going to Pete's Eats for a few pints of tea, an enormous carrot soup + bread roll and a gigantic chilli-con-carne. Later on I joined other RW forumites, knocking back the drinks until midnight. I was very tempted by the Karaoke when it started up but I just resisted the urge to get up and warble.

I WILL be back next year, if not to run the marathon, to get up on that stage in the Padarn Lake Hotel bar and show them how it's done. I think a Neil Diamond number might be in order ;-)

I didn't take any pictures on the run because this is an eyeballs out road race and there was no time, and my camera remained sealed in a waterproof bag anyway. There are just a few before and after pictures.