Norfolk Ultra 2011 - 100km of North Norfolk beaches

The Norfolk Coastal Ultra, is a 62 mile race following the stunning protected coastline of North Norfolk, a world of wild marshes, expansive beaches, huge skies and sleepy fishing villages. There is a long distance walking path along the beaches and marshes, following the line closest to the sea that is navigable on foot.

The route is not going to break any records for height gain (it works out at about 120m for the 100kms!), but there is no shortage of interest and challenge from the terrain the route crosses. A challenge mix of deep shingle beaches, long expanses of soft sand, soft vegetation and mud, duck boards hovering over marshy bogs, and hard pack trails along ancient sea defences.

The race started at 8am 8th October 2011, departing from a forest park near Sheringham, along the coastline West for 50km to Brancaster Beach, then turning around to head back East.

Why oh why?

I set out to do this for the simple reason that I have become convinced it would be a good idea to run the Ultra Trail de Mont Blanc (UTMB). This is really the pinnacle of this kind of sport, taking the 169km circuit of the Mont Blanc massif, attracting 2,500 runners each year. For such a masochistic endeavour it is incredibly competitive even to get to the start line, requiring all prospective runners to accumulate points from running other ultra marathons in the previous couple of years. To apply for UTMB next year I needed to get 2 points more (having 3 from a race in Australia in May), and my only realistic chance in 2011 was Norfolk.

So I entered, just a few weeks ago after being inspired by supporting Andrew Laurie doing battle with the UTMB in Chamonix this summer (it was Andrew that inspired me to get into this whole business, so he has a lot to answer for!). Anyhow, I was convinced that I had a low probability of success given my total absence of preparation, but decided I would go for it at a slow pace, with the aim of enjoying the process as much as I could, and the points may or may not happen.

Since my last big race in May I have averaged 3 hours per week of running, which is not a great deal of preparation for a race of this scale. And there is a limit to what you can achieve in a few weeks last minute preparation, so I didn’t really try to build things up too much. I tried one long run but it coincided with our glorious heatwave so my 50kms ended up being 30, and I had to be rescued by the ever supportive nurse Emily, somewhat overheated and dehydrated. So much for a carefully constructed training plan!

Setting off, and the journey West

Race day came around. We had rolled up at the campsite in the dark of Friday night, got the kids into a hastily erected tent and I had tried and failed to get any sleep with the trepidation for the day ahead. The weather forecasts gradually turned from grizzly to best-forgotten. 20mph winds from the West meant the first 50kms would be into a cold headwind with driving rain to make things just a little more challenging. Despite the overwhelming list of reasons not to get out of bed, the full complement of 82 runners got themselves lined up for an 8am start, and set off to the beach with good humour all round.

My race strategy was to take a ‘run while you can’ approach, so setting off at a reasonable pace, expecting that I would be hard pushed to run at all in the second half as my body started to object to the unaccustomed distance. This worked surprisingly well, hitting 30kms in 3 hours, despite the insane shingle beach.

This is the shingle ridge – almost impossible to run on except where bound together with vegetation. The harder you push, the more stones go flying and the more energy gets expended for no progress. We all seemed to end up flat-footed, running when possible. Lots of concentration though!

Things started to slow for the next 10kms which traversed the soft sands of Holkham, one of Britains more beautiful beaches and an almost impossible running surface. With the sand filled headwind taking its toll, I came quite close to finding a pub and calling for help, but managed to grind it out and get back to the trails.

This is some of the 10km of soft sand along Holkham Beach – others said this would be easy after the shingle, but for me it was shocking! Again, flat feet are key, with small strides, but it seems very energy inefficient. A fair few people using poles to great effect – I would have assumed the soft sand would make poles ineffective, but I have now witnessed the power of the poles and would not leave home without them again!

Feed me!

My eating and drinking was not quite as planned, a lot less technical, making use of the assemblage of treats at the many checkpoints (about 1 per 10kms). For the record I consumed:

·      6 jaffa cakes

·      3 fruit muesli bars

·      A handful of jelly beans

·      1 minestrone soup

·      4 energy gels

·      1 apple

·      1 banana

·      7 cups of strong tea with milk

·      1 pot noodle (chicken and mushroom, lovely, thanks Emily!)

·      2 bottles of powerade

·      About 7 litres of water with elyte electrolytes, provided by the race organisers

So much for the countless gels and protein bars I was carrying around all day, but this combination seemed to work well, and I felt in good shape throughout.

My ‘rules’ were – drink every 20 mins, eat something every 40. I stuck to that from beginning to end, finding some comfort in the rhythm it set for the event, and preventing me having a lot of doubt or eternal calculation to do about what and when to consume.

I think therefore I run

There is quite a lot of talk amongst ultra runners about what they think about when they run, and the various strategies that succeed or fail. I have found it very hard to control what I think about, so for all my ideas about what works or not, I always end up in the same sort of mindset, which is luckily one that seems to work for me. During an event I find anything that is not directly connected with the race to be annoying and upsetting. I can’t listen to an ipod, I can’t think about work, I can’t really take in and enjoy the scenery for significant periods. What I can do is to think alternately about how I am doing: my gait, my breathing, my digestion, my pace, my clothing, my feet etc., then about the challenge: how far to the next checkpoint, average pace per stage, weather conditions etc. Looking at this from the perspective of my armchair this seems extraordinarily dull, but while in the middle of it I find the hours just fall away and I am very happy in this rather zen-like bubble. Perhaps it is this that makes the long runs therapeutic and purging, the enforced exclusion of all other detritus from the mind and a total focus on the moment?

Keeping moving on the way back East

After a superb 52km turnaround, with Pot Noodle courtesy Emily, big smiles from Immy Alice and Ben and some Norfolk dwelling friends of ours, I headed back East to do it all again! 

The support crew!

The second half I had anticipated being very hard. But I was happy to find that I was in better shape than I could perhaps have hoped. I was still not fast – excluding the checkpoint stops averaging 7.5-8km/h, but still with substantially more running than walking. As the rain set in I became quickly soaked from head to toe, and my feet started to feel as though I had left them in the bath for a week (in hindsight I am glad I never checked to look at them, as I would surely have stopped!).

The key though, to keeping up a near constant pace for the return half was a revelation that I think I would only have come across in a flat race like this. The flatness means you end up in the same stride pattern, the same gait for long periods of time. This repetitive action becomes very hard work and the cause of a lot of muscle fatigue. I would start off from a checkpoint with a significant burst of speed, then 20 minutes later would be grinding on at a much reduced pace. By then changing to a fast walk, I could actually go faster than I had ended up running. 10 minutes or so later the walking pace would have become much slower, so I would change back to running, but with renewed vigour. I consciously alternated between my normal front-foot running style, a long flat-footed stride and a fast walk, by doing so getting muscle relief and a boost in speed each time. Maybe this is also a little to do with central nervous system fatigue too – by continually changing the gait it makes the mind wake up and try a bit harder, otherwise it gets lazy and doesn’t keep up the effort level? Anyhow, whatever the reason, I actually picked up the pace a little and passed a few runners in the second half of the race, the last thing I had expected!

Out of the darkness

The final 3 hours of the race, for me, were in the dark. A large expanse of shingle beach looks very similar by headtorch wherever you are! Only able to see the shingle immediately in front, the prospect of missing the beach exit (a slight gap in the shingle) was high and very intimidating. In the end it turned out that the superb event organisers, for whom I have great praise, had snuck out to the end of the race and left a trail of glowsticks for us, so the trek back in to the camp was one of euphoric relief rather than fatigued navigational panic.

Crossing the line after 13hr43 is not going to put me in any record books, but I can’t tell you how glad I was to have kept it going for all that time. As I put a sprint on up the last 500m to the line, the reception given by the Adventurehub team and the assembled supporters was one of the most warming and life affirming couple of minutes I can remember. I would have hung around to thank them all, but the option of noodles and hot showers was just a bit too much temptation!

With adrenaline and goodness knows what else polluting my bloodstream, sleep was hard to come by, not helped by the driving rain on the tent of course. Sunday, up at 7:30, struck the tent, 3 hours drive home, decorated a cake and a hall at a local farm and welcomed 20 kids and many parents for Imogen’s birthday party! It is good to have a challenge.

And finally...

Other than a sleep and calorie deficit I seem quite unscathed. I appeared to have some kind of hideous trench foot, with my feet being largely unrecognisable after so many hours of being pounded while wrapped in soggy wet cloth bags, but the recovery is happening fast so I will not worry for now! Oh, and climbing the stairs is not very elegant to watch, though a potential source of amusement for others I guess.

In summary, I met my objectives and got my UTMB points while enjoying myself(!). I learnt a lot on the way too, about running, Norfolk, wet feet, shingle and sand, and indeed the power of a warm cup of tea at pretty much any stage of the day or night. I would recommend it if you are into this kind of thing, for me it was certainly another great milestone on the quest for challenging and engaging adventures. What next...?

Becoming (half) an Ironman! First triathlon, 70.3 miles of forest fun

Triathlon? Bonkers, not for me. That was my view of the subject a couple of years ago, informed largely and sensibly by the fact that I could only just run, barely went anywhere on my rickety bike and couldn’t swim, so it was not an obvious choice. But as the years wound on, and with the impending 40 year milestone, combined with other masochistic enthusiasts to encourage me, I started my triathlon career in the New Forest on 25th September this year.

Perhaps I was also attracted by the idea of wearing rubber and spending long evenings fixing up bikes, so the challenge had to be an outdoor swim and a long ride at least. Looking for something with scenery and challenge, and knowing nothing about triathlon at all, I found a 70.3 mile or ‘Half Ironman’ race in the New Forest which looked great, and my conspirators seemed to agree. So the commitment was made.

New Forest Middle Distance Triathlon 2011

The new forest, a magical venue for a weekend, even better for a triathlon!

September 24th came around, and at the race briefing I got a huge cheer for being one of the only people about to embark on their first ever triathlon. I think the cheer was part admiration, part amusement for what was ahead of us of which I clearly had little idea. I took the cheer as positive reinforcement and bounded off to go rack my bike and faff with many bags of complicated equipment!

Then, just after sunrise early the following morning, I dived into a rather beautiful lake in the New Forest with 400 otherwise sane people, and splashed for 1.9kms trying not to drown. Having only learnt to swim properly this year, I crawled out the lake after 45 minutes with a huge smile (of relief) on my face. You might think it amusing to hear that my biggest challenge of the race then ensued, as I realised a pressing requirement to go to the loo while not having much idea about how to speedily exit a wetsuit. I was not all that amused!

Disturbing scenes as half naked half rubberised folk wander around a lakeside unhealthily before sunrise...

Ready to go...

 

And in, not feeling so ready any more!

And proof I really did swim - a video, and that’s me with the red arms at the back (the left of the two with red arms that is, with the lazy arms!):

After a complicated transition (yes I should have worked out how to get the suit off beforehand!), the following 90kms were spent on the bike which I have barely touched since last year, so was mostly painful, but quite fast and very exhilarating - first avoiding the wild horses, then the slippery cattlegrids with my skinny tyres, then even more exciting when my handlebars temporarily detached themselves(!). The new aerobars (never touched before) were magic however, and the continual change of posture that they allowed certainly meant I could get off the bike at the other end and still walk, so all good.

Finally, off for a ride!

Snapped by the support team in a dodgy overtaking manouever!

Local hazards! Yes, they are everywhere. And cows, donkeys, pigs, goats - lethal!

All that technical mucking about aside, I was glad to be a bit more in my element for the final 21kms of hilly trail running, an absolutely fantastic fun. The New Forest excelled itself, with all of its mad donkeys, wild boars and amazing scenery. Definitely a place to return to when I have a bit more time to enjoy the view.

Losing precious seconds catching up with the support crew!

Very sweaty! Just 10km left until the eating starts.

I finally crossed the finish line (at the tragically named 'Sandy Balls' holiday park) after 6hr30, which wins no prizes but makes me very happy. Perhaps there are more relaxing ways to spend a morning, but few with such a sense of satisfaction. Great atmosphere, great support from generous spirited locals, friends and fab family, and of course a very welcome pie and chips to follow. A big cheer for Tom Connell who drifted in with a leisurely 5hr55.

Heroes! (Hungry ones)

Best moment, overtaking a £5,000 time trial bike/spaceship (plus aero helmet) with my clunky old steel bike.

Worst moment, realising I needed the loo but not knowing how to get the wetsuit off...

Great fun. Will definitely look for more to do next year.

And return to the New Forest of course, beacuse there is lots more fun to be had there, as demonstrated by the girls...

 

 

North Face 100 - 100kms of the Blue Mountains

100km UltraMarathon in the Blue Mountains, NSW, Australia

Australia's Channel 10 News Report...

I ran this 100km race on 14th May 2011 (and a little bit of the 15th). This was my first long event, and since it took me rather a lot of effort, and many have enquired into my general health and wellbeing after the event, so I thought I would put a summary and a few pics together.

What is it?

The NF100 is a 100km off-road running event through the Blue Mountains, 2 hours drive from Sydney. The Blue Mountains national park is extraordinarily beautiful and wild, and very remote (enough to lose this guy for 12 days…!). The race has rapidly become one of the highest profile Ultramarathons in the Southern Hemisphere, due at least in part to the amazing terrain through which it passes. The quota of 850 runners fills up fast. This may seem curious, given the entrants are signing themselves up to run 100km over day and night, including 5km of vertical ascent and 5km of descent, much on stairs, ladders or bolder strewn hillsides. But popular it certainly is.

For those of a technical disposition, the elevation profile looks like this:

Why did I decide to do it?

I started running with purpose in the spring of 2009. In the summer I read ‘Born to Run’, which I can’t recommend highly enough. It is an amazing book that installed in me the belief, whether well founded or not, that running ‘ultra’ long distances was firstly good fun, and secondly completely achievable by absolutely anyone. So I decided I would work towards a long run to prove the point, and to have an experience in the process. I spent the first 3 months of the 2 years learning how to run, then the rest of the time getting fit, strong and mentally prepared.

The event

I rolled up to the event after a busy week in Sydney, with Roo & Coralie, my wonderful support team, and Andrew Tolley who was running the event as well. Roo had run the event the previous 2 years and was a major source of inspriation to me to enter. Starting from the five star Fairmont Resort, the place was rather a surreal environment, jam packed as it was with wiry athletic types sporting every combination of technical equipment imaginable, all heading for the mandatory 'gear check'. In the ballroom, together with the other 850 competitors, they checked that every one of us was carrying a large list of essential survival equipment, including firelighters, waterproofs, thermals, headtorches, survival blankets, maps, compass, whistle etc. etc. etc. Suffice it to say that this ends up being quite a large encumbrance when stuffed into a pack and carried for 60 miles!

Large quantities of carbohydrate and a far too short sleep later, we headed out at 6am for a race briefing. Apart from the usual aussie warnings about the lethal wildlife, they pointed out that we were about to run in zero degree temperatures, with wind chill on top, so the gloves and hats came out pretty quickly. Gorgeous blue skys and luminescent orange sunrise there might have been, warmth there was not!

And we set off! In waves based on ability and to prevent us all being trampled, we headed into the hills at about 7am. Such a bunch of excited grins is rarely to be seen outside the confines of a 2am dance club, obviously the months of preparation, anticipation and trepidation had left us a very excited mass of runners, and the spirit was tremendous and we took our first strides.

It would be tricky to put into words the scenery we ran through, and how it made the 18 hours fly by, but perhaps some of the pictures in this post give you an idea.

I realise now that I had absolutely no idea at all what was to meet me on the trail ahead, and perhaps the lack of knowledge served me well! The course was made up of large quantities of dirt tracks and rough, rocky single track paths. However the rocky bluffs of the Blue Mountains were not designed for easy running, so many of the paths involved leaping up and down flights of stairs, and even ladders. Many of the hills involved clinging on to boulders and trees, either to haul oneself up the hillside, or prevent an embarassing or terminal descent! In fact to describe this a 100km run rather misses out the fact that a large part of the course is certainly physically demanding, but entirely unrunnable. If anyone can explain how Kilian Jornet managed to average 11kmh for the whole course, I would be interested, but still suspect he must have taken some shortcuts!

The other obstacle thrown in our way was the night of course. Those guys who finished in 10 hours certainly had it easy, as after that we all gradually disappeared into our remote headtorch light bubbles. I ran the final 35kms in the dark, with the surreal vision of a line of tiny lights bobbing around in the trees and hillsides ahead of me. We had a near full moon and a clear night, which made for a cold but beautful environment, and a few hours of dreamlike floating through the mountains that I will never forget. This crazy little world I inhabited for 7 hours was puntuated by the occasional grins of deranged runners - running, picnicing, or horizontal in equal measure - a friendly man tending a fire and offering cheers of encouragement to the wounded, a pot of the world's finest noodles at km 89, and the welcome glow and cheers at the Fairmont Resort as we neared the finish.

In the middle of the night at 80kms - the camera flash nearly made me fall in the river!

My amazing support!

The event was punctuated by 5 checkpoints, the first of which were a perfunctory stop to fill up with water, gels, buns, pears and anything else we could stuff into ourselves before heading on. At kilometer 54, checkpoint 3 (then later at 65 and 89kms) the support teams arrived, and it was with great excitment that I met my team, being encircled in all manner of comforts, blankets, comfy chairs, and even a Jazz band playing along in the background! Tempting though it was to stay, I did manage to tear myself away and head back to the trail.
I would not even consider setting foot on this course without a good support team, in fact without Andrew & Coralie Laurie (and Jack of course) to provide words of encouragement, drinks and pot noodles. Their experience of the event from the past helped, but the no-nonsense refuel him and kick him out approach was exactly what was required. Thank you yet again - I look forward to returning the favour in Chamonix!

The end!

Not much to say, but I was glad to get there! More noodles, beer and sleep - a perfect ending.

It's about not running, it's eating, drinking and not thinking...

Getting to the finish line of an ultra event like this has very little to do with running or even physical fitness, though I guess a bit of that certainly helps! Really it's about food and drink and what goes on in your head.

They say that these long races are really an eating and drinking competition, with which I entirely concur. If what goes in doesn't match what goes out, you will eventually fall over! For the first time I made myself eat and drink as a religion, marking off rigid 15 minute intervals between consumption. I didn't missed a single 15 minutes - I don't think I exactly gained weight during the event, as the legendary Yiannis Kourous is purpotedly able to do, but I don't think it would be possible for me to have eaten any more!

Jack & Roo in awe of my Pot Noodle enthusiasm...

The other key for me was being disiplined about just thinking about what was going on now, rather than what lay ahead. I am sure that this applies for most human endeavours that require a little endurance. Blocking out all thoughts of the event as a whole, of why or where I was, and focusing on running well, on enjoying the moment, on the ever present need to eat and drink.

Recovery...

I was surprisingly OK afterwards. OK, so walking like a constipated duck, and struggling to get in and out of cars, but fundamentally everything working, nothing broken. Prior to the race I was thinking the most difficult part of the whole endeavour would be getting onto a long haul flight back to the UK the following afternoon. Economy too. And without the extra legroom.

Daunting indeed, but in hindsight, what better recovery could one have than 24 hours of enforced lounging in front of movies with beer and food (yes, more noodles!) brought at the press of a button! I perhaps engaged in some of the more peculiar stretching exercises that are seen in the skies, but basically all rather uneventful, even a pleasure!

What next?

The whole process of deciding to do the race, entering, preparing and doing have been a lesson in how easy it is to do things that we otherwise consider impossible. Not so long ago that is exactly what running 100km through the mountains would have been to me. But I decided that I could do it, and decided that it would not be a big deal and got on with it. And I was right. We limit ourselves so much by the assumptions we make about our capabilities, and for me at least, it is rare to find the motivation to genuinely explore those limits. I would love to think this adventure is the start a process that goes way beyond the running and leads to all the more fun and some rich experiences to come.

But to stick to the running for a moment, I am keen to do more, on a quest for things that will continue to add challenge and the total engagement that this race demanded. That doesn't have to mean harder and longer, maybe just different. I want to get into the fell running back in the UK much more - its a lovely 'scene' and with some spectacular places to run - and maybe some of the big races such as UTMB will be a realistic target some day.

More importantly, perhaps I should just go out running and enjoy it.