Job done!

It’s been 2 years in the making, but I’m finally able to say I am officially an ultra runner having completed the 50km Canalathon on Sunday. It’s certainly been an adventure, and I’m glad to report I am both in one piece, and have some tales to tell from the big day itself!

The alarm went off at 5.30am, and for once, I was fairly awake. Surprisingly, I slept pretty well and having laid all my kit out and packed my bags the night before there wasn’t much to do except grab a quick shower and eat some porridge and toast. All competitors were required to carry quite a lot of kit – waterproof jacket and trousers, head torch, whistle, emergency food, not to mention a litre or so of energy drink. So when I picked up my bag as we left the house at 6.30am it was the weight of it that was worrying me the most! After a swift drive across the Pennines in glorious early morning sunshine, we arrived at the Central Retail Park, right in the middle of Manchester. Here we found a slightly unusual set of runners dressed in all kinds of professional looking kit and I began to wonder what I’d let myself in for! Thankfully, as the race start got nearer, a lot of the other competitors arrived on a coach transfer from the finishing point in Sowerby Bridge, and they looked altogether more ‘normal’. I registered and picked up my timing chip wristband and race number and waited nervously with everyone else.

Eventually it was time to start and around 110 runners congregated in the corner of the car park for our race briefing. This basically consisted of useful advice like “it’s a race along the canal – don’t fall in it”. Then, with very little fanfare, we were off with a lap of the car park to spread us out slightly. It was probably the slowest race I’ve ever started, with everyone slowly shuffling forward and getting into some kind of stride before heading onto the canal towpath.

I bowled along with everyone else, chatting to a few other runners, but before too long the gaps between us had stretched and I was running on my own. I settled into a rhythm of running at around 10.5 minute miles, but walking up the locks, which were thankfully quite small. After about 5 miles we started to pass other runners coming the other way. It turned out that they were doing another ultra, only part of which was on the canal. I don’t know how far they’d gone, but they all seemed to be having a good time, and I was impressed by one who ran along giving us all high-fives! Matt had driven out to see us all come past at around 5 miles and then made it to the 9 mile mark too. I was quite glad to see him at that point as I had started to get an excruciating pain in my left foot (possible Mortons neuroma, according to a podiatrist I saw last week), and needed to stop and take some painkillers. After a brief breather, I set off again, trying to get my pace a bit more under control and enjoy the scenery. At the 17.5km point, I came across the first aid station, which was well stocked with pork pies, sausage rolls, peanuts, jelly babies, Jaffa cakes and bananas. It was a real feast! I opted for a handful of peanuts to replace some of the salt I was losing through sweat in the bright sunshine and had a couple of cups of water. One of the race officials was chatting with another couple of runners about a guy who had just passed through who wasn’t carrying any kit – not even any water. We all thought that this was a bit strange, although perhaps not as strange as the fact that he had been seen having a cigarette in the car park before the start! Feeling slightly refreshed, I set off again, running with a couple of guys for half a mile or so before playing hare and tortoise with them for a bit as I ran ahead and then they caught me up as I was walking up the locks. Eventually there were fewer locks so I managed to stay a bit ahead! At around this time we also started to pass the mad fools who were doing the 100km version of the Canalathon. It made my challenge look puny in comparison.

After about 17.5 miles, there was a road crossing and Matt was waiting for me again for a bit of encouragement. I had caught up with and overtaken the guy who wasn’t carrying any kit, and he too had a friend waiting for him. They had obviously caught onto the fact that he should be carrying something with him, and she gave him a plastic drawstring bag which he slung over his shoulder. I heard him explain that he’d been struggling for the last few miles, and before I knew it, he was merrily lighting a cigarette to help him recover! Now I’ve seen some sights in races over the years, but that was definitely one of the strangest… Another few miles on, and there was another aid station. As I stood there having a packet of mini cheddars and making up some energy drink, our smoking friend appeared and this time the race officials decided they had had enough of him flaunting the rules by not carrying the correct kit and disqualified him from the race. I know they didn’t really want to, but I think it was the right move given the fact that he was totally unprepared for the event (and the rest of us were carrying large packs containing kit that we definitely weren’t going to need!)
The other highlight at around this time was passing the highest point on the canal. Of course, Matt was waiting there for me too and since he was pointing a camera at me, I thought I had better try and run up some of the final lock…

And then it was time for the descent. By this point I wasn’t feeling too bad at all, and started to quite enjoy the downhills. The scenery was beautiful, the pain in my foot had settled and I had settled into a steady rhythm. All went well until I was a few miles from Hebden Bridge. A few things happened around that point that I struggled with. First, I was still running on my own and was beginning to find the lack of distracting conversation difficult. Second, as I slowly passed a man walking the opposite direction along the canal, he kindly pointed out to me that ‘Sowerby Bridge is a way off yet…’ And third, my feet, hips, ankles and shoulders were all beginning to hurt. As I came into Hebden Bridge itself, after about 26 miles, it got much busier and there is nothing worse than trying to make your way through crowds of happy ice cream eating families when you’ve run a marathon. It was on a par with the time I did the Windermere marathon and was confronted by crowds of indifferent people at Bowness. “I’m running an ultra marathon!” I wanted to scream at them, but they were all too busy enjoying a nice sunny stroll. So, when I hit the 26 mile mark and saw Matt again, I fell to pieces! “I can’t do it, I’m not going to get under 6 hours, I’ve struggled just to run the marathon distance and loads of people can do that”. I was miserable. Matt gamely jogged with me for a few hundred metres to get me going again, and three other runners caught up with me and encouraged me to just put one foot in front of the other in ‘baby steps’. Thankfully it did the trick and I was soon passing the final aid station on the way out of Hebden Bridge.

The final 5 miles passed in a bit of a blur of pain, frustration and enormous weariness. I set myself a goal of running for a mile and then walking for a bit and eventually this became running for half and then quarter of a mile before a walk break. But the end was very much in sight (in distance terms at least) and I was determined to finish.

I don’t remember too much about the final miles, if I’m honest. I think there were loads of fishermen, who had to move long poles out of the way for me to pass (or perhaps I hallucinated that?!) and as I neared the finish I remember asking a string of people who were walking along the canal how much further it was to go. Even once I got to 31 miles, I still couldn’t see the finish, which turned out to be round a bend in the canal. But finally, I could see it and knew that Matt would be waiting for me. I bravely put on a final jog to make it to the finish in 6hrs and 7 minutes and promptly fell into Matt’s arms in utter exhaustion. There was hardly anyone at the finish line, just two officials and another runners family. So I was amazed to find, once I’d caught my breath, that a friend from my running club, Ian, and his wife Cath had come over to see me finish. I felt truly honoured by this and so very grateful. Thanks again, both of you!
So that’s it, my journey to become an ultra runner is over. Thanks to everyone who has supported me on the journey, and to you, dear reader, for putting up with my wafflings over the last couple of years (and of course to those who have had to put up with it in person!) I finished on Sunday saying ‘never again’ but of course, being a runner, my thoughts have now turned to ‘what next?’ And ‘could I have gone a bit faster?’ But for now, perhaps I should just bask in the glory for a little while and enjoy my newfound status as an ultra runner!

D-Day approaches

Well, it’s nearly here. My first ultra marathon. It’s fair to say I’m an odd mixture of nervous and excited. Excited because I’m looking forward to running with other people having spent 3 months (and all my long runs) running alone. It’s been tough (which explains the total lack of blog posts) and I haven’t enjoyed the training anywhere near as much as last time. So it will be nice to get on with it and meet some other people who are as nuts as me…

And obviously, I’m nervous. I don’t feel like I’ve done enough training (despite having completed 7 runs of over 20 miles), I’m not sure whether I can remember how to run having spent 2 weeks tapering (one of which was accompanied by a horrible chesty cough which stopped me running entirely for 5 days), and the weather now looks set to get a lot warmer than in training which makes me worry about whether I will be too warm/too cold/what to wear/what shoes to run in/how much fluid to take. In short, these last few days look set to be filled with anxiety about all sorts of things!

Thankfully, I have some amazing friends, who have been wonderfully encouraging. Running club friends offered me great advice about how to deal with getting ill last week. “don’t run until friday so your cough/chest doesn’t get any worse. Try a little trot friday/saturday if ok 10 sunday. Don’t stress you’ve done the hard work. Make sure you get plenty of sleep and when at all possible stay off your feet” said one friend while another said “Rest and be thankful, you won’t lose fitness. Bin the big runs, your legs will remember how to do it. If you are free and the sun is shining go for easy walks Try little runs next week.“. For once, I listened. And they were right! Within 5 days I was pretty much right as rain and managed my final off-road 10 mile training run with relative ease. And in the post this week I received the most brilliant card I have ever seen from my friends Verity and Martyn. Whilst the front of the card is undoubtedly brilliant, the quotes inside and on the back are amazing:

“even at twenty-four kilometres per hour, the average man has enough energy stored in his fat cells to run non-stop for three days” (clearly I don’t need to be worried about being able to go the distance, then!)

“running involves twenty-six bones, thirty-three joints and one hundred and twelve ligaments in the feet alone” (must explain why mine keep hurting so much)

and, my favourite “even a very slow runner will burn at least ten calories per minute of running” (bring on the post-race pig out!!)

Now that I’m within spitting distance of the actual event, I’ve finally downloaded all of the instructions for the race. So I now know that I will start at the Central Retail Park in Manchester at 8.30am and run along the Rochdale canal through Rochdale, Littleborough, Todmorden and Hebden Bridge, finishing at Sowerby Bridge leisure centre and pool. There will be food stations with a bewildering array of fuel (including pork pies, sausage rolls, jaffa cakes and bananas), and spectators are being encouraged to watch at various points with canalside pubs (just to make us runners feel really jealous!) For anyone who’s tempted to come out to watch this foolishness, the details can be found here – I’m doing the 50km (31 mile) option and I plan to run at around 12 minute mile, pace, covering 5 miles an hour. Get in touch if you want more details about my expected timings.

So pretty much all that remains now is for me to keep hydrated, eat lots, put my feet up and await the big day. Bring it on! (and I’ll see you on the other side…)

Breezing to the 23 mile mark

Happy New Year! I’m not really one for New Years resolutions, but as the year begins, I have decided to work a bit on my speed with the aim of making my long runs that bit easier. I’ve also been struggling quite a lot with some knee and foot pain, probably caused by a bit of instability, so I thought that some speed work would probably help my technique too. So this week the work started. On Tuesday, it was a hill session at the running club. Running in Leeds means that there are always hills to be tackled, but this session involved trying to find the biggest ones around and running up them multiple times. Nice! Apart from my foot hurting something rotten, I found the session pretty straightforward. All those miles seemed to be coming in handy after all! It was a short off-road run on Wednesday and then down to the running club again on Thursday for one of Marie’s speed sessions. This week the session was 800m reps – basically run 800m as fast as you can, rest for a minute or so, and repeat. Again, apart from the sore foot, the session was ok. But I have to admit I was glad for a rest on Friday!

My long run this week was scheduled to be 24 miles. All that canal running had made me feel a little jaded, so I thought about doing my long run on a more challenging route, perhaps up on Ilkley Moor. Then I looked at the weather forecast! 30mph winds with 50mph gusts. Hmmm, perhaps not. Thankfully a couple of friends had also planned something on t’moors, and had devised an alternative 20 mile off road route in a more sheltered area. So I planned to join them. Unfortunately, the winds hadn’t died down at all and (sensibly) they decided to do their run on the roads instead. Sadly for me, I didn’t think my foot would handle that, so I set out from home on my own for an off road route. Just in case the weather didn’t improve, or got worse, I quickly devised a route which didn’t take me too far from a feasible escape route. Unfortunately, that meant running an out and back route which included 2 laps of the Harewood estate. More than a little repetitive for my liking!

I headed out through the woods and across the fields. The winds weren’t too bad at all, and thankfully there weren’t any trees down across the path – just a few stray branches. And the skies were amazing.

I made my way into the Harewood estate via an incredibly muddy route, churned up by tractors. It was a good job I’d worn my fell shoes… Then I started the first lap of the estate. At the first big hill I really felt the benefit of the wind. I usually struggle at this point, but with the wind at my back I was pushed straight up it! I was struggling a bit as I started my second lap – it’s pretty lonely sometimes doing all this running on your own.

Thankfully, as I passed Harewood village hall for the second time, another runner was just getting out of her car. “Are you just starting a run?” I asked, and was pleased when she said yes. Paula, and her dog Trixie, turned out to be an absolute godsend. We chatted our way through the next couple of miles, and I managed to pick up my pace beyond my usual shuffle! It was just great to have a bit of company. Thanks Paula!

As we parted company, it was time for me to leave the Harewood estate for some more muddy and windy fields. Having had a bit of company for a while, I started to struggle. By now, I’d done 18 miles and whilst my feet were ok and I wasn’t really all that tired, my knee was getting very painful. And I had realised how slow I was, which is never good for my motivation. At 20 miles, I really felt like giving up. But, being me, I soldiered on with my painful knee. I did text my endlessly supportive husband though, to ask him to walk down the road to meet me when I’d finished. I was certainly glad to see him after just over 5 hours having completed 23 miles.

I’m not quite sure what the next week will hold in terms of running, but I am going to try and put myself back together with a sports massage and Physio appointment. I have a chance for a bit of a rest before another 24 mile run in 3 weeks time. Hopefully by then my knee will have settled down and maybe I will even have got a bit quicker. Here’s hoping…

Chasing the Brownlees round the Chevin

Happy Christmas, dear readers! I hope you are enjoying the festive season and haven’t overindulged too much! No such luck for me – the Christmas break has brought with it a fairly heavy training week.

First on the list (and referenced in this entry’s strange title) was the annual Chevin Chase – a 7ish mile off road Boxing Day romp around the Otley Chevin with a few hundred local runners and some famous faces. Jonny Brownlee (he of triathlon fame) always does this race and always wins. This year he was joined by older brother, and gold medal winning champion, Alistair. I’m not quite sure what the afternoon held in the Brownlee house, after a fierce battle at the front of the race saw Ali romp to victory, but I’m sure that Jonny will have got his revenge somehow… You can see a report and some video of the race here. Obviously, I didn’t get to see much at the ‘sharp end’ of the race, and contented myself with plodding around somewhere towards the back of the pack. I promised that I wouldn’t race this one, but unexpectedly managed to run it at a decent pace, finishing in just over 71 minutes. Not bad, considering I walked up most of the killer hills, and was dressed as an elf at the time.

Second on the list was another 22 mile run, taking the same route as the run I completed 2 weeks ago. This time, the pavements were rather more treacherous, after some snow on Boxing Day followed by a hard frost. So, out came the YakTraxs for the first 4-5 miles on the road and pavements down to the canal. I really struggled with this section – the ice was no problem, but I could definitely feel that I’d run a race the day before. Not ideal preparation for a long run, so I’ll try to avoid making that mistake again. Once I hit the canal, the going was much better and I finally got into my stride. Before I knew it, I’d arrived in Esholt and it was time to refuel with some jelly babies. Next stop Saltaire and I popped into a local cafe to use the ‘facilities’. Unfortunately I’d forgotten to put any money in my bag, so had to forgo any of the goodies they were offering. I made do with some energy drink and a few more jelly babies and plodded off towards Silsden. A mile or so further along the canal, I got a now customary glimpse of a kingfisher, flying away from me under a bridge. It was a bridge I had to cross to the other side of the canal, where the towpath continued, and as I got to the top I saw that the kingfisher had rather obligingly sat in a tree just below me. So, for once, I managed to get some pictures of one of these beautiful birds. These are for you, Marc…

Once I reached Five Rise Locks at Bigley, it was time for some more refuelling – this time on mini cheddars, thanks to a tip off from running legend Hilary Wharam at the running club. Yum! After all that refuelling and slower running in the earlier stages, I reached Silsden very much in one piece after 22 miles. I even managed a smile when Matt met me on the canal!

My third run in three days was a relatively sedate (if icy) run with my running club around the local trails before going back to the club for pizza and cake. Christmas headwear was still very much the norm – including a rather fetching Turkey hat. See if you can spot it in the photo below…

After all that running, you may think it’s well and truly time I had a rest. But with another week off work and some beautiful weather forecast, we are planning on taking a few walks in the Yorkshire countryside. Well, with this kind of scenery, it would be rude not to. Until next time, friends…

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Apologies, readers, for the slight hiatus in posts. I was going to write something about my long run of 20 miles two weeks ago, but I’d only just put Ian’s post up, so thought it a bit soon (and anyway, it was wet and not much happened apart from me getting wet feet and very tired). I also started a post last week, which was a 10 miler. Inspired by Ian’s romp across the moors, I took the bus to Otley Chevin and ran home in glorious sunshine in the company of red kites. But I didn’t get time to finish the post. So this week I’m trying again!

Long runs have now tipped over into the realm of 20+ miles. This week’s effort, after 3 shorter runs during the week, was 22 miles. I’m trying to do all the long runs on the canal, so the terrain is the same as the actual event. The only problem with that at the moment is that sections of the Leeds Liverpool canal are closed for resurfacing. So the first 5 miles or so are all on road and involve me finding routes which can bring me down to the canal at a point that it’s actually open. This morning we had the first hard frost of the year (well the first one I actually had to run in). It was a bit slippy underfoot at a couple of points, but nothing to worry about. When I got down to the canal I found that parts of it were frozen, which I always find beautiful.

Unfortunately, it was also VERY COLD! Even though I was running at a reasonable pace (for me) my hands were freezing at various points. I also needed to dance my way round huge icy puddles, particularly when I came off the canal for a detour through Esholt, if I was going to avoid getting cold wet feet! The frosty scenes more than made up for it though.

I passed through Saltaire and then towards Keighley. Running towards Five Rise Locks I noticed that another runner had stopped ahead of me and was looking at a couple of swans in the canal. As I got closer, I realised that he wasn’t just admiring the birds, but was watching them cut a channel through the thin ice on the canal. It created an eerie sound of creaking and cracking as the bird in front lifted its chest up and brought it down on the ice to break it. I did wonder why they didn’t just walk round, as it looked like a lot of effort.

When I got to Five Rise Locks I had done 15 miles and was reasonably pleased with my progress. I’d been merrily bowling along, listening to a selection of advent and Christmas carols and songs. Most notably by Michael Buble. I’d reasoned that with only a week and a half until Christmas, I could probably just about get away with it (we observe advent fairly strictly in my house – the tree goes up around 20th December, although Matt would really like it to be Christmas Eve…) As I made my way into less chartered territory, having not been along that section of the canal for nearly 2 years, I started to struggle. First, I gave myself a good talking to and had some jelly babies. Then I did the fateful thing of starting to look at my watch too often. The time and distance seemed to be literally crawling along and every time I stopped to cross a road my back and legs began to really hurt. Everything was tightening up. By the time I reached 17 miles, I was in bits. So I did the only thing I could think of – I sent a ‘distress flare’ to friends on Facebook (thank goodness for 3G) and changed the music (no, I’m not telling you what to). A couple of miles later I was still struggling so stopped to check for messages of encouragement from friends and let them know I’d now only got 2 miles to go. I was still feeling pretty low and emotional, but all of a sudden I saw a bright flash of blue as a kingfisher darted along the canal. This really cheered me up and I got a really good view of it as it flew from perch to perch on the other bank. As it flew back in the opposite direction I turned my attention back to the canal towpath and saw a man coming towards me on what looked like a rather unstable bike. As he got closer I realised that he was riding a unicycle of all things! Now that really did cheer me up!

I eventually limped into Silsden where Matt was waiting with the car and a change of clothes. 22 miles in 4hrs and 20 minutes. Nothing’s fast at the moment, and I don’t think I’m running anywhere near as comfortably as I was at this point in my training before. Perhaps I need to do some speed or hill work. But at least the long run is over for another fortnight and I got to see some things that few others will have seen today amongst the whirl of Christmas preparations. I guess I’m quite lucky really.

Introducing Ian – guest blogger

I have been indisposed with a nasty cough and bug. So I’ve not done much running (OK, I did manage my planned 8 and 4 miles at the weekend, but I didn’t run for a WHOLE WEEK!) So that means I don’t have much to write about. Thankfully, my friend Ian does (he’s the one in the ridiculous hat)! Enjoy…

Athletes. Fit but not healthy. Something of a paradox, but usually true, runners seem to pick up sniffles, bugs and other sundry illnesses at every possible opportunity. Hence no Vicky blogging this week as she’s picked up something nasty doing the rounds. So she has asked me to give you the benefit of my wisdom from this week’s running (even though her mileage probably still exceeded my own).

Let’s get this straight from the outset. I am not now, nor have I ever been, an ultra runner and I fear it might be too late in the day to start now. (Great, so we have an ageing runner who doesn’t run very long distances banging on about his running experiences. Just what the world needed. I’m overweight too, did I mention? Sue me)

Anyway, it’s the time of year when thoughts turn to February’s Rombalds Stride, the 22 plus mile moorland trek with a cruel and unusal, very uphill, sting in the tail. Vicky blogged about her experiences the other year here. Usually I get roped in for marshalling on this, due to my brother being on the organising committee. This, let me tell you, is harder than running the damn thing as given the time of year and despite layering up to look like the Michelin Man, hypothermia is a distinct possibility and crossing numbers off a sheet on a clipboard, usually in a bracing wind, when you can’t feel your fingers, toes or other extremities is not as much fun as you might think. See photo above.

However, as much of the route is on my doorstep, it does present splendid opportunities to bask in a bit of reflected glory by taking part in ‘reccies’ with club-mates who are planning on doing the event. This Sunday I did just that. The plan was to run the second half of the route, starting in Ilkley and finishing in Guiseley. The two points are connected by local railway, so I met my fellow Horsforth Harriers on the train when it got to the station just up the hill from where I live.

The start of our run was determinedly uphill virtually from the point we tossed our tickets in the station waste bin. We began by striking out through the town, heading for White Wells, a spa which made the town famous as folk came to take the waters. It’s all a bit rudimentary with just a stone trough filled with freezing cold water (see photo). You can, if you feel so inclined, have a dip – I have to say I’ve never been inclined. There’s a cafe too, but, having a run to do, we bypassed the whitewashed landmark and headed for ‘The Rocky Valley’.

The valley, often the preserve of rock climbers, is a cleft in the moor which forms a fairly decent path, which trends uphill to emerge on the open moor. Here the paths, though usually well constructed get thinner and less obvious. And, given the amount of rain we’d had prior to the weekend, extremely wet underfoot. Our route went directly ahead above the famous Cow and Calf rocks, heading for a large cup and ring marked rock almost directly ahead. But between us and it, there was a descent to cross a ‘conduit’, a man made channel carrying streams off the moor. The crossing point was extremely muddy and wet, resulting in wet feet, and a muddy baptism for my brand new, straight-out-of-the-box, trail shoes.

Once across, the going was easier as we’d stopped climbing and we were now heading along the edge of the moor overlooking Wharfedale (always a spectacular view). Across this terrain there’s a distinct advantage in picking your feet up, as one of our number found when making rather too close an acquaintance with the muddy path. On these stretches I can usually maintain closer contact than usual with my faster running chums for several reasons.

First and most obvious, is that I am not in the least concerned by the conditions underfoot and revel in them, being too dim to be scared of them (despite a week in a French hospital with a ruptured quadricep after fall on similar terrain). Second, a previous life of playing rugby, with it’s requirement to chop and change your stride is a positive boon when skipping and sidestepping along these paths. Finally, being possessed of an incredibly short stride and with no discernible backlift to speak of, actually suits this terrain, giving me a distinct advantage over the long-striding pencil necks!

Though I say so myself, I’m not a bad descender either. So I was at the front of the group as we came off the moor (look – there’s even evidence! – credit to James Hingley for the photo). This didn’t last for long and I resumed my accustomed place towards the rear of the group. I was also starting to tire and my left hip was becoming increasingly sore (not entirely healthy, and also not fit either currently, it would seem) and the group were beginning to drop me.

As I’d not planned to go the whole route, for once I wasn’t tempted to bite off more than I could chew. So, on reaching the main road I turned left for home while the group turned right for Otley Chevin and the vicious climb to the finish. Turning off here though was a mistake. I’m nursing a couple of niggles and road running doesn’t really improve them, so going a bit further in pursuit of the group and heading home over the fields would have been the more sensible decision. Unfortunately I only realised this as I struggled down the A65, slowing and stiffening the whole way.

So what’s to be learned? First, I’m lucky to have beautiful, wild, unspoilt open country on my back doorstep. Second, I actually prefer running on uneven and boggy surfaces (although it is more energy sapping) and may, just here and there, have an advantage over some of my chums on it. Third, that I should run off road as often as I can. And there, dear friends, endeth the lesson, and my very first blog post!

Beer festival & running – what could possibly go wrong?

Training this week has been a bit ‘meh’. I’ve only managed to do 2 of my 3 midweek runs due to pressures of work, but reasoned that when the distances missed are so small (about 4 miles) it won’t matter too much. The weekend mileage is a different matter, though, as I’m fairly convinced it’s vital to get the long runs in.
This weekend saw a very important date in our calendar – the annual Otley Beer Festival. We always go to this brilliant event on the Friday evening with a few friends. The evening goes – arrive at beer festival around 6.30, try a few inadvisable sounding beers (see photo below for one of this years), drink lots of nice beers (or in my case, work your way through the cider bar), go for a curry, catch the last bus home. This year the ciders were particularly nice, so I really did wobble my way down to the curry house!

Not wanting to miss my planned long run the following day (18 miles), I came up with a genius idea. We would drive to Otley (about 8 miles away by road), leave the car there with a change of clothes, and then run back to get it on Saturday, via a very circuitous off-road route.
So, I know what you’re thinking – I wake up the next day with a sore head, and have a disastrous run? Not quite! I wake up the next day feeling alright. OK, I have a bit of a headache but it doesn’t feel like a hangover and it’s not enough to stop me running! We set off, first through the woods along the Meanwood Valley Trail and then out to the open fields. By the time we’ve done 5 miles, I am really struggling. I feel like I’m wading through treacle and am very glad indeed that the bull we see in one of the fields isn’t in the mood for a chase (he’s actually a very docile chap and very obliging when it comes to having his photo taken…)

I struggle my way up onto the Chevin behind Otley, feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. We’ve only done a measly 10 miles but it has taken around 2 and a half hours. Of course, I have a bit of a wobble at this point – thinking how rubbish I am, who am I kidding to think I can run an ultra marathon, blah, blah, blah. We stop at surprise view at the top of the Chevin to work out what to do. We don’t admire the view, as there is none – just thick fog!

I decide to press on, and Matt, being the loyal and gallant husband he is, says he will stick with me. Thankfully there is now quite a lot of downhill running on the road, so at least things are a little easier under foot. But I have to practically drag myself into Otley. I’ve cut the run short by a mile, so in the end cover 17 miles in 4 hours and 10 minutes. By now I’m feeling as if I have been hit by several buses. My chest feels tight and everything aches. Things don’t really improve and by the time we get home I have a temperature and feel well and truly wiped out – this is usually the kind of feeling I get when I’ve run 30 miles, not 17! Then I start coughing, and finally it dawns on me – I’m not well! Bizarrely, this cheers me up a bit as it gives me an excuse for my terrible running performance. Unfortunately, it does mean that my second run of the weekend won’t happen, but it’s probably better to be well than struggle through another run. Hopefully I’ll be back in tip top shape in a few days, but until then I think I’ll stay on the sofa…

The ‘plan’

I’d forgotten what it was like – running 16 miles in the pouring rain. Probably a good job, as otherwise I would never have got out of the door. Running for 3 hours in a downpour is no joke. I would have gone faster if a) I wasn’t trying to stick to ‘ultra’ running pace and b) I had been able to go any faster! Still, what it does mean is that week 2 of my training programme is now well and truly done after 3 short runs during the week and then a long run and short run at the weekend.

This is where the difference to last time is really noticeable. Instead of running very long and then medium long 2 weekends out of 3, I’m now only planning on running long (up to 26 miles) and short (6 miles) every other weekend. The weeks in between are ‘rest’ (only 10 and 6 miles). This is important for 2 reasons. First – I get a life that doesn’t only involve and revolve around running, for which my husband Matt is extremely grateful. Second – the risks of injury are less as I’ll be having far more recovery. So here’s what the training programme looks like this time…

The other thing I’ve done this week is sign up to Kinetic Revolutions 30 day challenge. It’s a free 10-15 minute programme of exercises, delivered to your inbox every day, aiming to improve your running style with balance exercises, stretching and so on. I’ve only done 2 days so far, and although the exercises are hard, I can see that they will be really beneficial as I ramp up the mileage. The exercises are also very similar to those which I’ve been given by physios over the years, and then forgotten to do. Hopefully the daily reminder will help with that! And they can always be done in front of the TV…

Shhh – I’m back…

Hello dear readers! Yes, I know, you thought I’d given up this blogging lark (which I had) but I’ve decided to have another little go.
Over the past year I’ve had a go at turning myself into a triathlete. Pretty hard work for someone who couldn’t swim! But thanks to the perseverance of a couple of wonderful swimming teachers at Leeds Uni, I managed to complete my first triathlon on 31st August. Not quite up to Brownlee brothers standards, but I was pretty pleased with myself nonetheless

But with winter approaching and my bike safely stored in the garage, I started to wonder what to do next. First on the list was a LDWA ‘challenge’ event at the end of September – the four Lakeland passes. This was an 18 mile romp in the Lake District starting in Borrowdale and visiting Wasdale, Ennerdale and Buttermere before heading back into Borrowdale. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Well, it was HARD!!! After briefly considering running it, we sensibly opted for the walking option. Thank goodness for that! It was probably one of the hardest things I’ve done and the next day I could barely move because absolutely everything hurt – back, legs, bum – even my hands were blistered from my walking poles. Thank goodness there were amazing views to keep us going.

So, while I was lying in bed nursing my aches and pains the next day, I started thinking again about what challenge to set myself next. Of course you all know that I never managed to complete my original ultra challenge, and it was this that my thoughts turned to. Then, before I knew it, I’d gone and done it – entered another ultra! Hence the return of the blog. It’s shorter than the first one (the ultra that is, not my blog posts) which means that training is lighter, and hopefully I will manage not to break anything this time! So, from now until 22nd March I’m hitting the trails again in earnest while I prepare for the Canalathon 50km ultra. Bring it on!

Learning to be grateful

The last couple of weeks have been defined by one thing and one thing only – mud! It’s been so wet here that the moors and fields have become a veritable quagmire. Last week we opted for an 18 mile run which took in Eccup reservoir and Harewood House. It seemed like a good idea as most of the paths are well surfaced. Our problem was getting there across the sodden fields! But we managed it – albeit very slowly. The mud has meant that this sight has become pretty common over the last couple of weeks…

So this week has been particularly wet. A very wet Tuesday night run with the club started the week off. I was pretty pleased with it, despite the weather, as I managed around 8 miles on road and wasn’t at the back of the group, for once! Unfortunately the rest of the week was plagued by aches and pains. A sore left foot, tight calves and glutes had me moaning and groaning at various points. It didn’t stop me enjoying myself at the running club annual presentation night though. No prizes this year, but I was delighted that fellow club mate and blogger Neal Edmonson was awarded the ‘best effort’ prize in recognition of his mammoth training and racing schedule leading up to the forthcoming Marathon de Sable – hats off! You can read about his challenge here.
This weekends run was to be our last before the Rombalds Stride next week. The plan was to run 20 miles to Ilkley, catching the bus home, on Saturday. Fortunately the weather was much better than expected when we set out, but the evidence of the weeks rain was pretty clear as we ran alongside a usually fairly calm stream…

The first 15 miles or so were ok, but as we climbed up onto the moor, things started to get much tougher. For a start, there was the enormous hill. This slowed me to a virtual crawl. Then came the wind which almost cut us in half. Finally, as we got to within 3 miles of our finishing point, came the rain, interspersed with a bit of hail. Nice! As we ran down the hill into Ilkley, the heavens really opened. It was a bit like being in a shower – a very cold one!
Almost 5 hours after setting out, we limped into the centre of Ilkley, looking for a warm place to change and get dry. Having sorted ourselves out it was time for a well deserved lunch and a chance to reflect on our ‘adventure’ on the moor. I felt pretty despondent as it took much longer than I thought, and I really struggled beyond 15 miles. I really felt that I’d lost my running mojo – probably along the Thames towpath where I broke my foot. But as the rest of the weekend has gone on, I’ve realised that I’ve got a lot to be grateful for. Not least the fact that I can get out and run at all. And walk, and swim and bike. So all in all things aren’t too bad really…