The Wizard 5. 14/07/2011.

My recovery from the weekend has been rapid. The short cycle commutes since my return to work on Tuesday have been speedy and energetic and my legs have felt very strong. The knee was already fully recovered.

A work colleague told me yesterday about the Wizard 5 race. I jumped at the chance for a short sharp shock, which I haven't had for a good while. It was going to be the second 5k Sale Sizzler but I did not mind passing that one up, since I'd missed the first one and cannot do the full series. Anyway this sounded much more fun. We drove to the National Trust carpark on Macclesfield Road, Alderley Edge to register and check out the route map - a small loop and a big loop with an out-and-back between them. There would be rocky rooty trails, fields, tracks, narrow enclosed paths, stiles, gates and some country lanes. There would also be some ups and downs but nothing extreme, not like a serious fell race. My Stockport Harriers vest was getting its first airing for a few months. I counted four others.

There was a big turn-out of nearly 200. I chatted with Julian Brown from Macclesfield Harriers on the start line before easing my way a little further back to a more appropriate and discreet starting position. The obligatory inaudible utterances were said and we were set off by the pea-modulated screech of the Acme Thunderer. The first mini anticlockwise loop undulated through the wooded old copper mine spoil heaps and workings. The trail was hard and dry. I wasn't used to the speed but I knew it would be doing me some good. We soon returned to the start point and rejoined the rocky initial outward path before turning right onto the much longer anticlockwise loop.
Once out into the warm evening sunshine and exposed tracks, the dust was getting kicked up.
There were plenty of stiles that provided a welcome few seconds to catch our breath.
Single person width paths between wire fences ensured no overtaking for a brief spell (a bit more recovery).
I found myself automatically in polite LDWA mode and held the hand gates open for the next runner. It would have been rude to do otherwise.
Some short sections of country lane allowed as much 'easy' speed as our wracked cardiovascular systems allowed.
The evening sunshine and lack of wind made it rather warm when a heart rate in the mid 180s suggested that a high intensity workout was underway.
I unclenched my fists and let the sweat evaporate from my relaxed hands to aid cooling.
My breathing rasped through my open mouth and my spittle had thickened. I swallowed. The moisture would do more good staying inside me than in the dust.
A runner close behind had been breathing down my neck rather noisily for some time but he hadn't overtaken. I was trying my hardest to not let it happen. Perhaps he was weakening as well.
Well into the return leg a marshal offered comforting words that we'd soon be back into the woods where it would be cooler. No it wasn't. There was no breeze in the open so certainly none in there. There was no cooling moisture or evaporation to reduce enthalpy. It was just the same.
This was a short race so I could afford not to walk up the final climb with the foot steps trodden into the hillside. My tongue was hanging out and my lungs burning as I gasped for air, but the run had to be sustained. The breathing down my neck had receded but I could not ease off. Sprints to the line are common but they are never from me. I could still get caught.
The final climb delivered us to the homeward stretch with its left turn and gentle downhill to the finish. Be careful, don't trip over the rocks in your weakened state.
Around the right hand bend and there's the timekeeper. Across the line. No-one close behind. I'd pulled away!
0:38:36, 7.77mph, 7:43/mi pace, 80th place. By my standards, not bad. Well chuffed.
Average heart rate 179bpm, max heart rate 187bpm - for a 47yo? Yes, it was a good workout alright. I should do it more often.

Manchester-to-Blackpool 100km bike ride. 10/07/2011.



Thousands of cyclists gathered and departed from the world-famous Manchester United football club on a rolling start for several hours from 06:30 onwards. The 100km ride would take us on a winding route in a north-westerly direction on average, but in practice varying between northerly and southerly via Leigh, Atherton, Standish, Chorley, Leyland, Preston, Kirkham, Warton and Lytham St Anne’s.

There was a big assortment of charities being represented by the cyclists, a principal one being Manchester’s Christie cancer hospital. This event is an excellent vehicle for raising funds for many good causes and I was proud to be a part of it.

I work for NXP Semiconductors and our company was once again enabling a large “NXP4C” team (NXP 4 Christie) to raise some valuable funds for that charity upon which so many depend. 87 of us, dressed in our easily recognised, specially printed fluorescent green technical T-shirts, set off at 07:30 to ‘do our own thing’. Speeds and steeds varied greatly but we all had one aim – to complete the journey and do our sponsors proud, which I know we achieved. Whenever the going got tough, our bottoms tenderised or undercarriage chafed, hill too steep, head wind too strong or energy levels low, we could think about the big carrot that was pulling us to the finish. That carrot was the barbecue and drinks on the finishing straight that the company had laid on for us. We were treated like royalty.

In the early stages of our ride we were threatened by a couple of showers, but fortunately they did not last very long. The sun soon came out and the day turned out pleasantly warm for a bike ride. I had done zero cycling practice for many years, the last proper ride being this very event two years previously. However, things seemed to be going relatively effortlessly and before I knew it I was passing Horwich. I had glanced to my right and spotted the communication masts on Winter Hill in the distance, while much closer between the houses I spotted the characteristic shape of the Reebok stadium. Wow, that’s normally an appreciable journey in the car.

From the outset I was surprised by the number of emergency puncture repairs that had to be carried out at the side of the road. I felt sorry for the victims and felt thankful for the tough tyres on my trusty Kona hybrid bike, which although not light or streamlined like a racing bike, feels very comfortable and is a pleasure to ride.

Altogether I had three brief stops, the final one being within a few miles of the finish. Each one was because I could feel my energy levels dropping, causing a slowdown. Having a bite to eat each time soon brought energy back to the legs. It’s just like in ultra running. I had a 2-litre bladder of water in my rucksack so I was able to drink on the go. The rucksack's bulging proportions were helped by extra clothing in case it got cold while we waiting for our return transport. It was never needed.

I spoke to a fellow rider afterwards who complained about how he slowed down and could no longer keep up with me. He told me he didn’t eat anything for the whole journey. He got a lecture from me on the importance of regular fuelling to avoid slowing to a crawl and feeling sorry for oneself. Like many I’ve learned this the hard way in the ultras.

For the most part I had been overtaking earlier-starting cyclists. Some of their machines looked or sounded in no fit state to be doing any distance, let alone 100km. Tyres were partially flat, rusty chains were squealing, gears were grinding and brakes were binding. After we had finished we saw some BMX riders finish. How they managed 100km on their super-low-geared single speeds with ground-level seats and their knees around their ears if they weren’t standing on the pedals, I shall never know. Quad burn probably featured quite highly on their day.

We experienced some long uphill grinds but they rewarded us with some long speedy downhills, which were the only times I used my top gear. I must have exceeded 30mph. I really wanted to activate the 30mph speed limit warning sign on one downhill but it didn’t work. Next time I’ll have to wear a metal jacket and try again.

As I neared the end, increasing numbers of racers, usually in packs, ‘buzzed’ their way past at effortless speed. (Why do expensive road bikes make more noise in their transmission? Surely, more noise equals more wasted energy.) I began to realise that brightness of clothing and machines was proportional to speed; the flashier the faster (usually).

The final 10 miles of this event are the worst. It’s a slog on the flat into a head wind. This is when my knees are getting sore and I slow down and get overtaken the most. However, unlike in 2009 when two sore knees prevented me from cycling for a week, only my left knee was a little sore this time. I crossed the line in 4:02 for an average speed of over 15mph including stops. My time in 2009 was 4:51. How strange that my first PB of 2011 turns out to be a cycling event.



I had 6 hours to kill before we and our bikes got transported back to work. This was spent eating, drinking, chatting and cheering our fellow riders, and others too, to sunny Blackpool promenade. The whole place was buzzing with activity. Among the attractions near the finish line was the Stockport Pantonic steel band – very accomplished, entertaining and amazingly loud (no amplification needed). I watched them for a good while before our 17:30 return coach brought to a close an epic sunny weekend. A big thank-you to all who have sponsored NXP4C this year.

Unlike in 2009 when I had no knee strength and had to wheel my bike home, this time I was able to cycle home relatively energetically on 1.5 leg power. 2 leg power returned within a day. There are no after-effects. Today I spoke to a regular cyclist who mentioned how tough he finds it on the legs to get back to walking or running after not doing it for a while. In contrast, my ultra runner's legs did not suffer at all from a long bike ride on zero practice. Does this mean that trail/hill/fell/mountain running affords better all-round leg fitness and is better for cycling than cycling is for running? Any thoughts from seasoned cyclists out there would be gratefully received.

White Peak Walk 26mi. 09/07/2011.

The White Peak Walk is low-key and never advertised, but it fills to capacity months in advance.

A sub-5hr and two minutes off a PB. Now there's a pleasant surprise. I'll take that. :-) Heart rate this time averaged at 173bpm and peaked at 185bpm. I'm not there yet but fitness seems to be returning already, otherwise I could not have pulled off this time, even at 173bpm.

It was another beautiful warm sunny day with a cooling breeze at times, and it didn't rain. It goes without saying that the views were gorgeous. How could they not be gorgeous? This is Britain. We are so lucky.

I took pictures but you'll have to be patient. I have no time to upload them now as I have a 04:30 alarm call tomorrow. The 100km Manchester-to-Blackpool bike ride awaits, in aid of The Christie cancer hospital (our sponsor page).
I spoke to yet another person today who is having to make use of The Christie's treatment services.
If it were not for The Christie you would not be enjoying my ramblings and race pictures. :-)

Pictures now uploaded. We had the novelty this year of going through the Headstone Tunnel under Monsal Head now that it's been opened. It allows uninterrupted travel along that part of the Monsal Trail. They'd even laid a road for us.

This picture shows a quintissential English scene, in this case Youlgrave. Spot the increasingly rare red telephone box hiding in the shadows:

Thought for today.

I think I must use Stuart Mills' theory of positive mental attitude while pushing the body to its limits, but there is an important proviso. As long as we accept that everyone is not born equal and that one man's (or woman's) ancestral inheritance may confer vastly different inate PBs, dissatisfaction, frustration, envy, jealousy, bitterness or giving up trying should not arise. We will continue to do our own thing and enjoy the (personal) challenge every time. If you have a competitive streak but you are not blessed with ultimate speed, you can only compete with yourself (and perhaps one or two others whose race times might suggest that they are similarly 'blessed' to you).
For the privileged few with good ancestry (good training is assumed), running an ultra at 70% of their maximum effort will get them a podium finish. For the slightly less blessed it may get them a top 10 placing. For many of us, just to finish within the cutoff time is a major achievement. Make the best of what you've got.

The Western States 100 was run at the end of June. The winning time was 15:34:24 by Kilian Jornet of Spain. He was the first non-US runner ever to win that race. Our very own Jez Bragg finished 4th in 15:55:08. My PB in that event (also a Hundred PB as it happens, and I've run a few) is 27:18. No amount of training could ever have forced a sub-16 out of me.

Nick.

Osmotherley Phoenix 33mi. 02/07/2011.



Race 8 of 12 in the 2011 Runfurther series.

Immediately after Shires and Spires I departed on a business trip to visit customers in South Korea, Singapore, Malaysia, Hong Kong and China. Fortunately the Chilean volcano dust cloud saved me from a further excursion to New Zealand, which might have proved to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. I returned home just in time for another customer visit in SE England and only made it back to work on Thursday 30th June. I needed to undo the damage of 4 weeks of sitting on aeroplanes, in taxis, stations, trains, offices and at customers. I had planned to run the first 5k Sale Sizzler on Thursday but I still had far too much to do and could not spare the time. I had the entry form filled in and everything. So, come Saturday 2nd July I found myself at the start line of my 4th Osmotherley Phoenix, super rested and racing-snake fit for the best PB of my life. (Who sniggered? No? Must have been me.)

I drove up on Friday for two nights' accommodation in the Queen Catherine Hotel. I like relaxed race weekends so I can chill and not be rushed. I like to think it will eke out the best athletic performance but I remain to be convinced. Living on the edge and last minute rushes seem to get the adrenalin pumping more to give better results, from what I can recall.

The weather was superb yet again and I looked forward to yet another warm, sunny event with dry conditions underfoot. My first priority was to hand over the Runfurther sponsors’ flags to Simon, for which I had to wait to be let out of the pub at 07:30. (The poor landlord only got to bed at 02:30.) The flags had been in my possession since the Brecon Beacons 40 because I was in charge of them at Shires and Spires. Then it was time to get registered and bend some ears. It’s one of my favourite pastimes, bending ears. You may have noticed. I was spoilt for choice with such a big reunion – Runfurther Si, Garry from Hardmoors 55, Ian from Calderdale 2009, Henry from Calderdale 2011, Richard from years of LDWA events, Chris, Geoff (a right speed merchant though he’ll always deny it), Mark (who achieved even scarier speed on that day), Rick from most events I’ve done this year, Dave from Shires and Spires, Dave with ‘Charlie’ the Border Collie with the race-ready haircut, the list goes on. I joked with Charlie (the human) over his turn of speed in last year’s YouTube video as he clawed his way across the finish line to gain one over his mate. Pat gave me a slap on the bum on the stage in the village hall by way of greeting. ‘ow do to you too, Mr Mullen ;-)

An announcement went out that we did not need to take waterproof trousers, so I offloaded mine into my bag on the stage and went outside to wait for the start. The instructions had been said (audible only to 10% of the throng; the organisers really do need to get some amplification) and the church clock was about to strike 9 to send us on our way when I suddenly realised I no longer had my route description and printed maps in my hand. I ran back to the village hall to scan tables, floor, my bag and the stage, during which the clock struck. A lady in the hall helpfully informed me that they had started.

I sometimes get disturbing dreams of still faffing around to get ready for a race after it's started. This was one dream I never wanted to live but here it was, happening for real. I still feel mentally scarred ;-)

I could not find my route notes so I ran back outside to ask for another route description sheet from the organisers. I reckoned I would need it for the fiddly navigation across the fields and through the woods and derelict farms between checkpoints 6 and 7. As I set off up the road out of the village to chase the rear of the pack I looked at the sheet of A4 and thought: “That'll never last long”. It didn't. Within an hour it was turning to mush and had acquired several ragged rips in my sweaty hand, aided a little by the odd drip from my hand-held bottle. To avoid any further damage I stuffed it into a waist pouch of my backpack until I really needed it, to let it dry out and recover a bit of strength in its fibres.

In pre-race conversations I had been telling people that I'd probably blow up by 15 miles due to lack of training. Oh how naively optimistic that proved to be. On the initial climb out of the village as I weaved my way slowly through the pack, I sensed a bit of a personal struggle developing. A glance at my heart rate monitor showed 180bpm plus. I don’t know about "blow up at 15 miles", I was already combusted before I'd started! That set the tone for the rest of the day. A jog for more than 5 minutes or a walk up a steep hill had me red-lining. The end result of my best efforts was a Personal Worst by over half an hour. 2011 is turning out to be a good year for PWs. I have yet to gain a PB.

The effect of prolonged rest (call it enforced slothfulness) is not a big surprise for me. I've been here before. This was yet more proof that rest is counterproductive (even two weeks has a negative effect) and results in a rapid decline in fitness. Conversely, serious weekly ultra-marathons reap dividends in improved speed and cardiovascular fitness (look at my performances up to the beginning of June at the end of some serious consecutive Ultras). To illustrate further, compare my 2007 and 2011 Osmotherleys and lead-ups:

2007
26-27 May. LDWA Cant Canolbarth Cymru. 100 miles. 31:23. (FIT)
16 June. White Bear Way. 21 miles. 3:39. PB. (FIT)
23-24 June. Western States. 100 miles. 27:18. PB. (FIT)
28 June. Sale Sizzler No 1. 5k. 22:48. No noticeable effect of Western States in the legs. (FIT)
07 July. Osmotherley Phoenix.33 miles. 6:45. PB. Ave heart rate 165bpm, max heart rate 178bpm. (FIT).
This will probably be my all-time best at Osmotherley. A heart rate of 165 is my optimum for speed with endurance.

2011
28-29 May. LDWA Housman 100. 100 miles. 28:52. (FIT)
05 June. Shires and Spires Northants Ultra. 35 miles. 6:23. (FIT)

--A NICE REST TO RECHARGE THE BATTERIES--

02 July. Osmotherley Phoenix.33 miles. 7:24. PW. Ave heart rate 170bpm, max heart rate 185bpm. (UNFIT).
According to this heart rate, as far as my body was concerned I put in far more effort than I did in 2007.

The fuel's going in but nothing's happening.

I know I can only run (or walk) as I feel able, so I did just that. I was struggling but the day was gorgeous, so the worst that would happen would be a bit more sun tan. As I pushed my personal limits, too far gone to bother about the swarms of flies buzzing around my head, I found my pace to be well matched with Gavin Stewart's. He was a great companion and the conversation flowed freely until the last manned checkpoint, when I shuffled ahead onto the final moor, on the way catching up with Mike Dobson-Hornett. He was suffering from nausea and had a right personal battle going on, but he was persevering to the finish, and finish he did, not far behind me as it happens. I had no idea he was suffering so much until I read his blog report last night. Well done Mike for finishing what you started no matter how bad it felt. You display the true qualities of an ultra runner with that never-give-up attitude.

The sunshine and temperature were showing no signs of abating. At the first self clip and final water station I was roasting (roast ham) so I removed my top to complete the final 5 miles across Black Hambleton and down into Osmotherley 'nekid', save for the bare essentials of shorts, footwear, backpack and Buff as a sweat band to keep the salt out of my eyes. The ventilation felt good. There was a down side to this freedom, though. I felt obliged to run whenever I passed walkers on the trail to avoid appearing a fraud. I even had to resort to creeping up on them before breaking out into a jog to pass. This deceitful practice was necessary because I could not sustain even a downhill jog for many minutes before internal warning sirens started to wail. Just 4 weeks and it’s come to this....

Gavin gives me the thumbs up at the last manned checkpoint.

I was happy to finally cross the finish line and put another one to bed to keep the Grand Slam alive with no harm done. I had enjoyed another brilliant day out in beautiful country with like-minded people. The Osmotherley Phoenix is organised to perfection. Big thanks to Gerry, Julie and all the helpers. It’s also a fast race. I always finish in the bottom half but this was the first time I’d finished in the bottom 20% of finishers. The Ultraplodder has been relegated to Ultrawannabe. In the next 4 weeks I hope to regain all the fitness I’ve lost so dramatically in the previous 4 in time for the next biggie, the Lakeland 100. Eek!

Post-race ear-bending continued where I’d left off with those who were still hanging around. The evening was completed with merriment on the village green until nightfall, where the locals consumed many yards of ale. I'd already had my fill so I just watched and laughed.

Nearly 10pm and Matthew drinks a whole Yard.

Pictures are here.

8 down, 4 to go.......


Addendum

I'm in no fit state to pull it off, but after the 26-mile White Peak Walk this coming Saturday (where no doubt another PW awaits), on Sunday I will do the 100km Manchester-to-Blackpool bike ride in aid of The Christie hospital. I will be part of a team from work called NXP4C. Because I do no cycling these days I fear a big suffer-fest. In light of my undoubted personal sacrifice and because I have The Christie to thank for being here now (they treated me for testicular cancer in 2003), I and my team mates would truly appreciate any sponsorship you feel able to give. Our JustGiving page is here. Thank you, and many thanks to you generous souls who have already donated.

Nick.

Shires and Spires Northants Ultra 35. 05/06/2011.



Race 7 of 12 in the Runfurther series.

This was my first 'Go Beyond' event and my first visit to Northamptonshire. It's always nice to discover new parts of the country. New running events make it possible and Go Beyond added a different slant to what I'm used to. The experience was rather good.

The 35-mile route was flat to undulating with plenty of road, track, trail and fields and the occasional stile. It goes without saying that the countryside was gorgeous - not difficult to achieve in this country. We are truly blessed. It was more runnable and much faster than I'm used to, and tough to achieve the expected speed after last week's Hundred. Once again the ground was dry and rock hard. The shrinkage cracks in the fields of rapeseed and wheat we crossed looked as though an earthquake had struck. We had to run carefully across the 'knobbly crevassed concrete' to avoid twisting an ankle.
 



 

For 35 miles in my usual events I would expect to finish in 7 hours plus. This time I managed 6:23, such was the runnability - not bad a week after a surprise Hundred performance. Without the Hundred in my legs (which I must say I did not feel) I might have been 10 minutes faster, but I'm not complaining. In fact I'm pretty chuffed to be feeling so fit and well at the end of quite an intense month of weekly Ultras. The Grand slam is well on track. I hope it doesn't get undone by the three weeks of business globetrotting I'm about to embark on. We are talking South Korea, Singapore, Malaysia, New Zealand, Hong Kong, Shenzhen and Shanghai, starting tomorrow.
 



The winner was Stuart Mills with a time of 4:20. I was amazed to see him still there when I dragged in (he even cheered me in). Stuart's a right chatterbox, a bit like me really. When he'd finished wearing others' ears out we chatted for ages about anything and everything related to ultrarunnimg. What a great bloke.
 

The finish welcome.



I'll be back in time for Race number 8 - Osmotherley Phoenix. Until then there will be a news blackout.
 
Pictures are here.

Housman 100. 28-29/05/2011.



The annual LDWA 100 is the Long Distance Walkers Association’s flagship event of the year, with organisation and support to blow your socks off with its comprehensiveness. You will never feel better cared for. It takes place in a different part of the country every year. This year the Housman 100 was based at Moor Park School, in the countryside three miles from Ludlow. We would be enjoying the delights of the Shropshire countryside – Stiperstones, The Long Mynd – poet A. E. Housman’s country. We would spend our time mostly on the Mortimer Trail, Offa’s Dyke Path and Shropshire Way Path.

My preparation for this was less than ideal. I only returned from business travel in France on Friday evening (fortunately the volcanic ash cloud allowed me back). After 4 hours sleep and a 4am alarm call I was on the 06:39 train speeding towards Ludlow, feeling a little delicate and thinking to myself: “This is no way to build up to a Hundred”. Geoff Holburt was very kind in picking me up at the station to ease the load on the provided free minibus.

With 523 starters (is this a record?) the hall was heaving and the registration queues merged into one another. Since this constitutes the annual gathering of walking friends from all over the country, many friendly faces of old were met, but there was not enough time for a chat. Time was of the essence and the pressure was on. I hope I didn’t come across as too rude.

With registration paraphernalia in hand it was now time to sort out the bags – breakfast bag, red label; finish bag, black label. Then the most important job – get my bed set up so the thought of it waiting for me in that quiet, dark corner of the sleeping hall could draw me to the finish in the latter stages if things got a bit tough. Anyway it’s always a good idea to get the mattress blown up while I’m still able. The barn sports hall was spacious but rudimentary. Still, at least it would be dry (or perhaps not!). The school fees must be cheap.

There had been no breakfast on the train. I was feeling hungry and had to eat something before we started. The smell of the bacon butties from the café bus drew me. There were only two or three people waiting inside so I joined the queue and waited, and waited, and fumed, and nearly expired, and waited for the most inefficient butty preparation known to man. When I eventually got it there were barely 15 minutes left to get my bags handed in and take the long slow walk to the starting area in Mortimer Forest. I have never seen such a crowd on a Hundred. Walkers were still arriving at 10:00 when Julian and Jo, Welsh and English flags aloft, led us on a rolling start up the single footpath. Easygoing and no pressure, relaxed conversation flowing freely with whoever was close by; I soon forgot my hassled preparation.

We soon came upon a look-out tower. This must be the Welsh border then, but so soon? Where’s the armed guard? Where’s the searchlight? They’re letting us in unchecked??



It started to rain but it was only a drizzle shower and it was not long before the sun started to make an appearance. The ground was bone dry for the most part. The going could best be described as ‘firm to concrete’. The dampness from above made no impact, and in any case the strong wind was doing a good job of drying out any moisture that might have been present.

I caught up with a lady I knew I recognised and found her pace to be just right – she walking, me jogging. Boy could she walk fast. It turned out to be Harley Davidson biker girl Tara Williams, top ‘Strider’ columnist (‘Strider’ is the thrice-yearly LDWA magazine). Her read is very entertaining and her conversation equally so. ‘Full of life’ best describes Tara. She was walking with Wendy Thurrell. We made a happy threesome for a while as the miles floated under our feet and the ever-beautiful views of the countryside flooded our senses. My camera was always at the ready to capture that special scene.

Tara and Wendy at Self Clip 1.

We joined the Offa’s Dyke Path, then on the final approach to Evenjobb we crossed into Wales (we really did this time, and there was no lookout tower to be seen). The view across the rapeseed field at this point was spectacular against the blue sky (see top picture). Evenjobb had Marmite and lettuce sandwiches. What luxury. The checkpoints kept us so well cared for. As I left a Marmite fan approached. I broke the good news to him.



This good fuelling was doing me good and I was feeling strong. I had bid farewell to Tara and Julie. On the way I had caught up with others – Colin, Jacqueline, Lindsey, John, Lesley, Alwyn, Vaughan, Anne, Marla, Jeff, Mark, Simon; great, more opportunities for a chin-wag. Once I had overtaken them I was alone, with only the wind, sheep, cows, bulls and horses to keep me company and the route description as my lifeline to lead me towards the finish. As the evening wore on, the strong wind on the high, exposed sections of Offa’s Dyke was very cooling but I was moving well enough to keep myself warm. The horses looked windswept with their manes blown sideways. They were wary of the noise my plastic tally was making as it oscillated wildly in the wind.



The section from Newcastle-on-Clun (CP5) to Mainstone (CP6) was mercifully short, at 4.7miles, because it was probably one of the toughest sections, crossing as it did the grain of the land on successive steep ups and downs as it followed the Offa’s Dyke Path. The glowsticks were already out in readiness for night time. With 2km to go to CP6, after crossing the driveway to Middle Knuck Hostel, the next simple instruction in the route description glossed over quite complicated route finding with plenty of opportunity to go wrong. On the next steep climb I became convinced I’d gone off route. There were fewer than ten people in front of me so the path was not yet well trodden or easy to make out. I backtracked towards the hostel driveway with the intention of having another go, when I was caught up by others who knew where they were going. I wasn’t off track after all. Their timing was perfect to save me from undue anguish and wasted time.

CP6 had a sudden rush on just after I arrived, which was quite a contrast to the earlier checkpoints. The first later starter caught me up there – none other than 2pm starter Andy Davies. He was amazingly relaxed and unrushed, and chatted for a bit while eating to keep the engine fuelled. He was running on his home turf and would go on to win by over 3 hours in 22:09. (Bear in mind that any talk of 'winning' and finishing positions is most unsavoury and to be frowned upon in LDWA events.) Just after Andy, 12pm starting group Gary Attewell, Colin Travis, Geoff Holburt, Ian Hodge and Chris Pritchett arrived. More perfect timing. I would tag along with them into the night and out into the following dawn. Gary had a GPS and knew how to use it. I made quick efficient progress on their coat tails until Bridges (CP9), by which time the pace was just beginning to get to me. I had to let them go, reluctantly. They would finish equal second in 25:18.

I sat for a while at Bridges in the holey army tent with three-light chandelier, feeling mildly depleted. (Keep it up on the chandelier front, Beds and Bucks, but three Compact Fluorescent Lamps is a bit downmarket I thought. Bring back the 10-lamp crystal jobbies you had at Cant Canolbarth Cymru. We need to feel the luxury ;-)

I knew I had to slow down to survive. I carried on at my own pace, alone again. The weather was closing in and my camera was now safe and dry inside my rucksack. The wind had risen again after a relatively calm early night period, the cloud base had dropped and rain was beginning to blow on the wind. Fortunately it did not come to anything. By the time I was on the ridge in the cloud and heading towards Pole Bank, there was just the head-on gale to contend with. Progress was somewhat slow and not very enjoyable along that long exposed section past Pole Cottage (memories of Long Mynd Hike), but once onto Starboard Way around the gliding club, things began to look up. Chris, who had just been able to hold on through the night and had stopped for longer at Bridges to recover and refuel, came sailing past me as if he were a new man. He was soon out of sight on the descent into the sunshine after Black Knoll. He would finish 9th in 26:02.

I should have mentioned by this point that Mick Cooper was a familiar sight along the way, either waiting or walking in the opposite direction. He was supporting his wife Jacqueline, who was doing amazingly well in the aftermath of a chest infection. She could hardly speak. The sight of Mick provided reassurance on an otherwise lonely journey (checkpoints excepted) that I was on the right path.

I continued at my own pace, taking it one stage at a time (the only way to do these Ultras) and keeping the food / water / Coke / electrolyte trickling in as needed. I was convinced that some of those I had left behind through to daybreak would start to overtake me again now that I was ‘doing my own thing’, but it wasn’t happening so far. If anything the opposite was happening; I was catching one or two others. I felt compelled to push on like hunted prey. I enjoyed the feeling while the going was good.

A group I had seen leave Bridges (CP9) was at Edgton (CP10) when I arrived. It seems I was chasing them down but could not quite catch them because they left shortly after I arrived, leaving the checkpoint looking familiarly empty. I had sensed by their demeanour at Bridges that some suffering was occurring. This did not change at Edgton. I began to feel like the hunter but continued to do my own thing, feeling utterly thankful for how well I was feeling compared to in most previous Hundreds. My feet were in perfect condition, with no issues whatsoever, not even a hint of a hot spot. It makes such a difference.

The next stage to Whittytree Farm (CP11) had me revelling in the Sunday sunshine and admiring the views (despite the wind). The out and back in the valley prior to CP11 might have looked contrived on the map but I’m sure it was necessary and it certainly brought some gorgeous views of green English countryside. The path was narrow and not yet well bashed. The overhanging stinging nettles had a field day on my legs.



At the tented CP11 with just ten miles to go, I indulged in a whisky liqueur chocolate (among other comestibles). I was well fuelled for the penultimate section, which was the shortest, flattest and easiest. It was the rest before the final ‘sting in the tail’.

Bromfield (CP12) heralded the final, tougher, 5.6-mile section. I could not ease off on the fuelling. I’ve made that mistake before and finished feeling wretched, but not this time. I may have overtaken a couple more here. I don't think it was the group I was pursuing, which must have had second wind and pulled away.

Fully refuelled once again I set off on the climb to the final high point in the forest, using the arrow waymarks as confirmation that I was on route. The climb might have been tough but it was worth it because it brought into view the Mary Knoll Valley set out below, and the lovely descent into it down the rocky path. I was in my element again. I let gravity pull me down, pausing on the way to take some essential pictures. At the bottom came the right turn onto the wide forestry track to the road, but hang on, there’s another junction. This isn’t in the route description. Surely I must keep right and descending. Turning left would mean going uphill again. I made the sensible choice.



I met Mick once again walking up in the opposite direction. “You’ll ‘ave them before the finish”, he said. What? I looked ahead and just around the bend was the group I’d been chasing down since Bridges. They were walking and still seemed to be suffering. I passed them on the road at the bottom of the school drive, pausing just long enough to exchange mutual respect and congratulations on a job (almost) well done. I could not believe that, at this late stage I actually had the energy still to run all the way from the top and continue in the same vein up the school drive and across the field to the finish. The hand bell was rung and the applause rose as I entered the door in 28:52. The same reception was awarded to all finishers from the first to the last. That’s the LDWA for you and the LDWA 100 in particular: fantastic, encouraging, warm camaraderie.

Seconds from finishing and a round of applause.

Earlier on Sunday a supporter at a road crossing had asked me what time I was hoping for. “Oh, sub-30 would be nice” I replied. As soon as I’d said it I thought: “Why did I say that? That’s wishful thinking, a pipe dream. There’s no chance.” So, sub 29 comes as a very pleasant surprise over what was considered to be a challenging route. The conditions were good, though. If it wasn’t for the sheep poo I would have finished with clean shoes.


I owe my success to many things, but chief among them will be the weekly Ultra marathons leading up to this to build up strength and endurance, a slow and easy start, optimum fuelling and hydration little and often throughout (critical and most difficult to achieve), going just slowly enough to allow the fuelling and hydration to work effectively, and zero foot issues, not even a first hint of a hot spot. My La Sportiva Crosslite shoes may be falling apart. My feet may have been falling out of them before I started and the studs may have been well worn, but they are the only shoes to fit my feet snugly without movement, rubbing or pinching. The rents are even bigger now but I can’t bring myself to throw them away, not just yet.

I chatted and cheered other finishers back while supping on some Shropshire Lad ale, two barrels of which had been provided free by Wood's, the generous local brewery. Ale really does go down well and help with refuelling and rehydration after serious physical activity. I think our bodies have earned it. After a clean-up, some bread and cheese (no dinner just yet; I had been eating well all the way round) I retired for a few hours’ kip, which is always difficult soon after finishing. Nevertheless it is an essential start to the recovery process.

Later on in the evening when it was nearly dark I rose to the sound of rain. The sports hall roof was leaking all over. I was truly thankful I wasn’t still out there on the event. I returned to the main hall to cheer more finishers back, chat some more and get some dinner and pudding. Those steak pies were simply awesome. Apparently they were made by a local butcher. That set me up for a proper night’s sleep back in the cold shed.

On Monday morning the volunteers were still beavering away on our behalf and looking a little frayed around the edges after so long on duty, while the walkers were still trickling in after going through a second night. That takes some guts and determination. The last finisher in 47:59 had an involuntary sit-down with the relief of finally being finished. What an amazing effort. In total, 375 out of the 523 starters finished. Well done to all finishers, commiserations to those who were unable to do so and heartfelt thanks to the organisers, volunteers and marshals. It was a massive undertaking that turned out very well. Bring on next year’s The Games 100 in London. That will be my tenth. I’ve been working up to it for a few years.

I took well over 200 pictures this time. The best of the crop is here.