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!
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| 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...?
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