Stability Through Motion

Result:
40 miles, September 20th at the High Peak 40 race from Buxton, Derbyshire.
Time: 7:06:55
Position: 17th

I had a plan, having printed off the check point split times from two of last year’s contenders, one who finished in 7:07 and one who finished in 8:30. I stuck to the times of the faster runner almost to the T, didn’t really fade much during the race and legs felt fine later that day and the next. I still can’t quite believe it, but I guess the much vaunted training actually works.

Running along the Goyt Valley on a misty morning

The start was a casual affair with around 160 runners gathered in Broad Walk, Buxton on a sunny but cool September morning. Here I met up for the first time with a few of the brilliant forumites who had inspired me to do this challenge. But the quick hellos were cut short by the start, and we crowded through Buxton off into the hills. There were no supporters to speak of, in fact no one in Buxton seemed to have heard of the race which was a bit of a shame.

As with the Swaledale Marathon in June (24 mile fell race), the first ascent was narrow and crowded, so there was a lot of walking, but that was fine as it saved your energy for the later bits. We wound up and up and then down proper off-road terrain to the first checkpoint. Loads of runners seemed to have headed off pretty fast, allowing those of us further back to tut-tut knowingly “ah, they’ll pay for that later on“, ah how I like to sound like I know what I’m doing! Then a couple of miles alongside the sunny reservoirs in the Goyt Valley, chatting to a few people including the guy from the Downlands Challenge that I again seemed to be pretty similar pace to. People were mostly concentrating and running solo however - it’s a long day and everyone had a lot on their mind. Although everyone is incredibly friendly at these ultras as far as I can tell, there’s definitely a sense of doing it alone for most of it. Pacing is important, and if you step into someone else’s pace, you might just blow up later on. Blow up = run out of energy!

I was due to meet F at the third check point at Eccles Pike, where she might join me for a bit of the route. I waited a few minutes, ahead of schedule anyway, and downed water and jaffa cakes, but no sign, so plodded on and phoned her to check. They just couldn’t get out of Buxton in time, so we planned another meeting point. Then it was a steady climb up tarmac then gravel path up to Rushup Edge where the route met the Pennine Way.

View from Rushup Edge westwards

This was glorious running, though sore underfoot with so many boulders and rocks. Miles and miles of hill top running with gorgeous views over Derbyshire. Finally arrived at another checkpoint where P and F were waiting. Had the usual joke with the marshalls, grabbed water and jaffas, re-arranged my rucksack and set off with F to run up to Mam Tor. Unfortunately the terrain was pretty rough and a bit unexpected for F, and I had to keep going, so we weren’t together as long as we’d hoped. But it was such a boost to have company and her smile. Mam Tor - an incredibly thin ridge with the sort of views that inspired me to take up this off-road running lark.

Mam Tor ridge

Encountered quite a few walkers here, so lots of excuse me, runner coming through, and again no one seemed to know what we were up to, so not exactly the Flora London Marathon experience. Also no steel bands, or jelly babies from villagers.

After all this up, it was time for a quad thrashing downhill to Castleton then the long anticipated cruel climb up Cavedale. As with most of the ups, there was limited running, everyone at my end of the race was walking the uphills, maybe shuffling into a jog if we spotted a photographer or a crowd of tourists. You have to show willing! Someone told me I was in 38th position as we descended from Mam Tor.

Cavedale was followed by more climbing slowly up to the more desolate Old Moor, where at least 15 people on the race got badly lost I discovered later in the day, including people who’d raced this before. It’s incredibly hard to resist the instinct to just follow the line of runners in front of you, even if you have your doubts about the direction they’re heading. I was lucky in that I never followed someone who went wrong, but also kept checking my little bits of map. Signage was actually really good, and it was only at one or two points that it could have been confusing. Not a patch on the confusion at Swaledale.

After Old Moor, there was a lot of road before hitting Tideswell, the long strung out village, deserted but for two gangs of Morris dancers. Everyone ignored us again, but by this stage I was beginning to pass people who’d slowed. We reached the marathon point (26.2 miles) at the Tideswell Dale car park, where my folks awaited with jaffas, congratulations and smiles. I knew now that I could make it - I was still feeling wierdly strong and really happy. The river section went on for miles and miles, but was largely flat and very good underfoot. All the time here I was expecting P to turn up - he was due to set off from the final checkpoint and run back towards me. After four more miles I was getting worried that he’d got lost, but still passing slowing runners, then finally, in the horror that was Deepdale, he came running towards me. Fantastic! Deepdale consisted of two miles of uphill in a narrow valley.

Perfectly harmless on a nice day’s walk, but after 28 miles, quite depressingly unending. The top was the penultimate checkpoint, with waiting parents once more and the marmite sandwiches. More chat - there was always time to stop and banter - and I set off on the tarmac section of the route towards Chelmorton and the last 8 miles or so to the end, and more importantly psychologically, the last hour of running. I’d already been out running longer than I ever had before, and almost crossed my 34 mile barrier. Buoyed by these thoughts I set off far too fast on the tarmac for 1/2 mile, before realising what I was doing too late and suffering accordingly. It was just the sight of the walking runners ahead of me and thinking I could pick them off, but I knew I was spot on target for my goal time and that I’d rather finish feeling good than suffer needlessly. Of course I could have pushed, but for what? To be another four minutes quicker and two positions higher? What’s the difference between 15th and 17th really? I was out of reach of a sub 7 hour time, which was the only goal worth speaking about. So, quite smug and content, but also painfully aware of my legs, we ran on to the final checkpoint - a fairly easy plod apart from the deathly gully of Deepdale 2.

Rounding the corner after Cowdale we could see Buxton ahead, the railway viaduct, and there again, the familiar green top of F, sitting waiting! Three of us ran together in on the road to Buxton, then they left me to cruise the final 1/2 mile to the finish and even a final spurt to the non-existant finish line and the rest of my waiting support group. Thanked the organisers, drank endless plain water, and kept my legs moving as much as possible, amazed at the lack of pain, blistering or despair that I’d felt throughout.

At the end of this long journey, thanks are due to the fantastic support from F, P and my parents, who met me and fed me at three separate points on the route, then J and A at the finish line, and the moral support I know I had from others. The training has taken me away from home more than I’d have liked, has occupied far more of my spare time and spare mind than I’d have liked, so thanks are due more to anyone than to F who encouraged me to push myself through this. I hope I’ve proved that running forty miles in one day can be an enjoyable experience for even a forty year old previously non-sporty person, not a body-shattering one.  I’ll always struggle to convey the joy I feel on occasions, up on a hill, running down a hill, walking up a hill, with few possessions, with little need for food, with the knowledge that you can keep going if you wish, almost all day long, that time is meaningless, that distance is meaningless, and you can just be.

Stability in motion.

The race is so close now, I’m beyond nerves, just counting down the hours and compiling endless lists - Tuesday: cut toenails (don’t do it too close to race in case they’re still sore) Wednesday: bake oat biscuits for race etc etc

I’ve created a race map - since the route is mostly off-road and there are few runners it’s going to be very easy to get lost. I scanned in the two huge OS maps, printed out the sections I need, drew the route on with highlighter and stuck them back together and covered them with sticky back plastic so I can run with them in bad weather. It still covers seven A4 sheets!

. . . I’ll be running 40 miles this September to celebrate an appropriate birthday.

The High Peak 40 race is on September 20th this year, in Buxton. This will be the furthest I’ve ever run in a day, and probably the furthest I will run until I’m 50. This madness is inspired by the great fun I had at Swaledale, running on tracks and through fields in beautiful countryside. It may hurt the quads but it’s a lot more enjoyable than running on dual carriageways in Antwerp! Next year, the plan will be to return to road marathons, and get my times down further, but for now it’s ultra madness.

I’ll be seeing a lot of local footpaths in the coming two months, as I increase my long runs up to 33 miles.

Of course, for some purists, a race isn’t officially an ultra unless it’s 50 miles or over (so twice the marathon distance). But as this route is largely off-road and has 5,000ft of climbing, I think we can be forgiven for calling it an ultra. After all, no one outside the small band of loonie runners even knows or cares how far a marathon is, so who’s counting!

Simply fantastic! 24 miles in 4:01. I got lost, about 2 miles from the end, or I would have made it in 3:50 or so. Perfect blustry weather, not wet underfoot, views were out of this world, and all finished off with a pint of Black Sheep at the end, watching runners then walkers coming in for an hour. What an experience!

Antwerp Marathon: 26.2 miles (42k)

3 hours 13 mins 2 seconds

I travelled through some zones of despair I hadn’t seen before on Sunday. It crept up to 21 degrees C with no shade for long stretches - quite nasty, though I know that’s not really hot.

First half was fine and dandy, keeping ahead of the 3:15 pacers and their bright blue balloons, and on course for my optimum time of 3:10. Forgot my handy pace band though so was a little bit lost for some of  the time, and too tempted to chase people - a very stupid mistake. Then after a long lonely seemingly endless section of dual carriageway I was started to slow.

All of sudden, at 26 or 27k I heard the pounding of a pack of runners on my tail, glanced round and it was the pacing group - minus balloons. What a horrible moment, I really thought they’d just pass me and that would be that. I could console myself that I’d still make it to the end with a PB, but I think I would have lost so much spirit if I had let them past that I gritted my teeth and stayed in front of them until 38k.

By that point, several of the pack had fallen by the wayside and we were passing runners all the time. The pacer was level with me shouting encouragement in Dutch. He translated one of his phrases to me as

“Everybody feels pain now, so we must make the pain pass quicker”

True but highly annoying words - and he then sped up for the last 3k - by this time my quads were in agony, something I’ve never had before. Our fastest kms were right at the end. Even after the Snowdonia marathon and the infamous descent to the end, my quads were fine.

Post-race I had the traditional relaxing limp around town for hours desperately looking for UNsweetened water, lunch, and general moseying around town. I still can’t remember a thing about Antwerp though, so I’ll have to return another day to do some sight-seeing.

Not sure quite what the reasons for my pain this time were - quite possibly I didn’t take enough water and fuel on board. I was reluctant to drink more because if I’d stopped for a pee, I just know I would never have caught the pacing group up again.

Next goals (there’s always another one) - a 10k race in Oxford in May - nice and short, but again trying to break my PB and dip under 40 minutes, which should be realistic, then an off-road and hilly marathon in Swaledale in mid-June.

Just a reminder, I’m in taper mode. This means my last long run over 15 miles is done and dusted (18 on Sunday), and the mileage per week drops now for the final two weeks before the big race on April 20th.

It’s a scary time - I feel a bit knackered, so it’s come just at the right time, but doing less running means you end up feeling less confident about your ability to keep going at speed for 26.2 miles. Little niggles emerge too to prey on your mind - stiff calves, sprained ankles. You start being extra careful just getting out of the shower
in case of some domestic accident. After all that’s where most accidents happen. You wonder whether you should eat more food, or less, since you’ll be doing less exercise. You start to worry about forgetting your trainers on the day, or where will you pee during the race, or what if you don’t reach registration in Antwerp in time since you’re relying on others to get you there. Ah, the joy of tapering.

I am really really looking forward to 1.15pm on Sunday 20th April when I should be just beyond the finish line.

Nervous days beginning - last long run done and dusted last Friday, 23 miles at 6am before work in the strong wind and rain. Just three more weeks now. Finally got round to mapping the route - and it’s pretty much dead flat, so the only thing that could go against me is the weather.

Rhayader 20 mile race: 2h40m

That was harder than it should have been. Spent the race trying to recalibrate the garmin footpod, which meant I could see neither the time nor my pace/speed. As a result took it faster than I should have, but not fast enough to count as a race - kind of caught in limbo. Still, it’s a wonderful course through the Elan valley, winding around the reservoirs in this deserted part of the world. Two more long runs now before the big day.

race report time! Last one until April’s marathon.

New toy - playing with the Garmin Forerunner 50 which tracks heart rate and cadence and distance using a footpod thingie, a surprisingly discrete plastic bit that clips onto your shoe laces. Out of the box it was pretty accurate, but I made the mistake of trying to calibrate it by running round a track. Cue my first ever visit to a running track, and there was a football match taking place in the middle! Sheepishly tried a single lap without getting hit by a football or footballer. Now the device is way out, so I think I need to do a bit more than one lap to get it right.

Using the device in conjunction with SportsTrack software though, you can get an incredible amount of info at a glance though.

So, the race: 6:52 average pace = 8.7 mph, 15 miles in 1:42:53. Bang on target for the sub 3:15 marathon attempt - in fact predicts 3:06 but I’m going to be cautious still.

Time: 1h 27m 38s

I’m still in shock! I really thought I’d struggle to achieve the sub 1:30 time that a 3:15 marathon target suggests. But conditions were perfect, as you can see in the crystal blue skies in the photos, but with enough chill in the air to cool off perspiration. Started running hard, but it never felt too hard, and kept it up non stop for 13 miles. That’s the whole story - it’s funny how there’s so much else going on in your head over that hour and a half, but there’s little to describe, or little to make it sound any more interesting than “I ran hard for an hour and a half”. No chats with anybody, no time to take in the odd characters along the Brighton sea front. I did get spat upon by one of the runner-spitters you always encounter, the dirty rats. But wow, you can’t beat that feeling of finishing and knowing you’ve achieved your target and then some. Then collapsing into a chair and drinking hot tea in the sunshine waiting for your buddies to finish so you can bounce off and eat and drink. I hardly dare mention that a 1:27 half marathon time predicts a 3:05 marathon time! I’m sticking with the 3:15 plan this year.