Conquest of Paradise UTMB - 01/09/2017

And now I’ll just go; and only worry about the events that lie ahead of me. Day by day, one by one. It is the here and now that counts. What comes next is uncertain in any case.

Learn from Yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. - Ueli Steck

2,537 runners and supporters cram themselves shoulder to shoulder into the square outside the iconic Eglise Saint Michele in Chamonix.  A rainbow of mountain runners in brightly coloured outfits, hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of kit and bundles of nerves.  Flags from a dozen different countries flutter above the masses as we wait under cloudy skies wondering what lies ahead for us.

The MC whips up the thousands of spectators lining the streets into a noise which seems to echo off the mountainsides which surround us.  Huge screens show the focused faces of the elites down at the front, the finest collection of trail runners ever assembled for this fifteenth edition of the most prestigious trail race in the world. 

My stomach churns, I stand for a view of the start, and realise I am stood next to Nicky Spinks one of my trail running heroes.  The first strains of Vangelis' Conquest of Paradise are heard, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end and we all know there are only seconds to go.  I think of the physical and emotional investment I've made to get to this start line and it all seems condensed in this one moment.  My eyes water and I try to keep it all under control but it's overwhelming.  The helicopter buzzes into view and then at last we're off under the arch as the anthem rings from the PA.  I have dreamed about this moment for a long time. 

Walking at first and then finally running through Chamonix as the field thins a little, the noise of cowbells and shouts of 'allez', 'bon courage' and 'good luck' in so many languages rings in our ears.  I look desperately to catch the faces of my family and finally I spot them and they spot me, one of many special moments.  This is it, I'm doing it, the greatest start at the greatest trail race in the world, what a rush! 

Seeya back here in three countries time!

Prelude

The forecast had been poor all week with the first sign of trouble being a diversion of the PTL route (the longest of the races which make up the UTMB festival) during the week.  The days before race day spent in my rented chalet looking out the window at stairrods hoping for a glimpse of Mont Blanc, checking kit, drinking tea, passing time and refreshing the browser for a forecast.  I had been worried about the heat in this race and now it looked like it could be cancelled or curtailed for snow which would be gutting to say the least. 

The uncertainty did nothing for my headspace and my family (Bobby, Mum, Dad and Rach) and friends (Dave, Pip and Connie) showed amazing patience with me as I wasn't great company whilst I waited for news.  A ride to Chamonix for kit check was a welcome diversion and it was amazing to see the big race operation in full swing and rub shoulders with Jeff Browning one of the elites.

Kit checked and ready to roll!

It wasn't until the morning of the race that the news came that the route was to be changed only slightly to miss out two specific points at Pyramides Calcaires and Tete aux Vents, what a relief!  The UTMB is a mountain race after all and the route is often changed dependant on conditions and has been severely curtailed before (to only around half distance in 2010).  It was good that the challenge would be undiminished.  After the change, the route would be 104 miles (around 3 miles shorter than expected) with over 31,000 feet of ascent.   Relief then turning to a reality check, the weather forecast was -10C, wind and snow above 2,000 metres, that's cold!  An extra baselayer was added to my kit for the race.  

Chamonix to Courmayeur

First stop Les Houches and the first climb.  As everyone filed upwards I realised how far back in the field I was.  No matter, plenty of time to catch up and besides its more fun running past people than the other way round.  Pip, Dave and Connie were waiting for me in their custom fan shirts here (nice touch Rach) a quick stop for a hug and onwards to St Gervais loving every moment.

We arrived in the dark and drizzle in St Gervais after three hours or so on the forest trail to an incredible welcome with crowds out in the rain drinking and soaking up the atmosphere of the race.  I arrived with masses of others and it was pretty chaotic as people made their first proper pit stop ahead of a long climb.  The station was a scrum and I had to elbow my way in to refill my bottles and wolf down my first of many bowls of salty noodle broth before heading off into the night.

Head down now climbing, climbing for hours.  Through Contamines and La Balme climbing higher and higher focused on the first major summit at Col du Bonhomme.  As we climbed, the temperature dropped, rain turned to snow which the wind blew into clumps on our legs.  No spectators or clunking cowbells high on the mountain, just an endless snake of thousands of headtorches marching upwards. 

Taking a drink close to the summit, the altitude combined with my effervescent salt tabs and blew the top clean off my flask emptying half the contents straight into my eye!  The flask was now completely unusable as the valve was lost in the process and I was glad I had a spare waiting for me in my bag at Courmayeur.  

Soon after I reached the Refuge at 2.30 am, through my one good eye I saw two hardy souls in down jackets who scanned our bar codes and shouted at us against the wind not to rest and to keep moving down off the exposed col.  I'd climbed well to here, gaining over 800 places from the first checkpoint.

It was a relief to then drop down briefly to Chapieux before another climb back up to altitude at Col de la Seigne and the border with Italy. This had been a spectacular highlight on our hike of the TMB last year and it was a relief that the weather relented enough for the first signs of daybreak to appear over the mountains approaching 6am. 

Here for the first time the spectacular Italian flanks of Mont Blanc revealed themselves, glaciers tumbling down to us at the Lac Combal aid station in Val Veny.  Despite the cold of the morning it was a great place to rest briefly in such a peaceful, beautiful spot to enjoy more noodles and some coffee.  Over a third into the race now legs feeling good and still climbing the rankings after my slow start.  I reflected on a cold night with a fellow runner who turned out to be James Noble, a fellow Scunthonian and my cousin's chiropractor!

Spectaular as it was, it was still cold in the shadow of the mountain so I left James there as much to warm up as anything.  I could sense Courmayeur and half way where I knew Bobby and Rach would be waiting.  A hot meal, friendly faces and a change of clothes was all the motivation needed to high tail it down one of the most mind blowing trails in the world under the shadow of snow capped spires and glaciers via Mont Favre and Col Checruit to the valley floor.

Courmayeur to Champex Lac

I arrived at breakfast time in gorgeous sunshine, Bobby, Rach and hordes of families and supporters had had a very early start after a restless night to get there on the supporters buses.  I was now a little weary after the long night but the warm sunshine and friendly faces gave a big lift.  Bobby helped me change into a whole new set of clothes, lube up (oo-er!) and replace the useless bottle.  I decided to take a proper break here, take stock and get some calories in, pasta and coffee hitting the spot.  I was ahead of my 40 hour schedule and could spare a few extra minutes, in the end perhaps too long a stop at 37 minutes.

Next obstacle to head for Switzerland, starting with a climb to Refuge Bertone and down to Arnouvaz where I would see the girls again.  Feeling refreshed I headed through Courmayeur town and attacked the next climb well passing lots of runners, but trouble was looming overhead.  Dark grey clouds were building along with the wind as we headed for the famous Bonatti Hut and it was here that I broke out my overtrousers just in time for the rain.  I ran for a while with my Strava buddy Alex Cooke before eventually he left me looking strong.

The atmosphere at the aid stations was changing now as the race entered its second phase.  Excitement and anticipation had been turned for some now to gloom as the burden of weather, fatigue and discomfort combined with the knowledge of just how far there was still to go.  I was still feeling pretty good though (despite increasingly sore feet) so in some respects this helped as I moved through the stations more quickly so as not to get pulled down by other people.

All wrapped up at Arnouvaz

As the weather worsened up high, the glaciers disappeared behind the cloud and the trail became increasingly churned up and slippy. These wet conditions would continue for the rest of the race adding even more spice to the challenge.  Underneath the mud were sharks, unseen boulders which you would occasionally clip or kick giving the toes a painful battering which over time would take an excruciating toll.  Whilst we'd not been high for that long, it was a relief to descend again from Bonatti out of the cloud to Arnouvaz for another short break and to see Bobby and Rach again.

Leaving Arnouvaz and heading for the storm

It felt like they'd only just arrived but I had to say goodbye again after a quick break, this was the end of the road for them as the TMB heads high from here up to the pass at Grand Col Ferret and on into Switzerland.  You could see the clouds were clearly leaving snow on the side of the mountain and looking up at the climb it made an imposing sight.  The conditions were worsening and I wondered whether the race was at risk as exhausted runners headed into a snowstorm in one of the most remote places on the route.  I could do nothing about it but batten down the hatches, wrap up warm and head upwards into the storm.  Spectators coming from the opposite direction looking very cold shouted Forza! as we passed. Still gaining places although the climbs were biting now as the legs were feeling increasingly stiff, I eventually reached the Col in a freezing whiteout at 3.15 pm.

Then a long descent in the clag to La Fouly catching and passing Alex en route who was feeling cold. At the station I received a surprise message from one of my trail buddies Paul Brown on the big screen as I slurped down a welcome warm coffee and cookies, thanks mate what a class touch. The video and calories gave me a seventh (or was it seventeenth) wind for the next section to Champex Lac, a big milestone on this epic route and the point I truly started too believe that I might just be able to pull this off.

Crewing is hard work! The queue for spectator buses at Courmayeur...

Rachel and Bobby were having an epic of their own, fighting hard to reach me at Champex but trouble at Mont Blanc tunnel and with the buses had thrown several spanners in their works.  I was flying now and they were crawling.  The Livetrail app showed they were on schedule to miss me by 15 minutes so they text that I would see them at Trient instead.

At Champex Lac there was a great turnout of support again and we were treated to more clonking cowbells and shouts of 'Bon Courage Matthieu'. 

The aid station resembled a military field hospital, thousand yard stares abound as we all contemplated our second night out.  I always thought that this would be an important marker and the place I would be most likely to withdraw.  I now had a big objective though to get out of there and bag the next climb, to reach Bobby and Rach at Trient and surely there would be no DNF from there with less than 20 miles to go...?  I left Champex feeling tired but determined in the failing light with the next climb soon underway.

A little confidence starting to grow for the first time but that was all about to change.

Champex Lac to Chamonix
I've never been out two nights before and I had no idea how my body and mind would react in the hours to come.  As soon as it got dark I immediately felt very tired as if it was the middle of the night even though it was only eight or nine o'clock.  My memory of the section to Trient is blurry as I fought the urge to stop and sleep in the forest. 

I had a few wild hallucinations in the woods as the torchlight and shadows played tricks on my now battered mind.  Strange shaped rocks turned into animals, an old lady with a stall on the side of the trail turned out to be just a runner adjusting his pack and poles and my blood ran cold when a two legged beast straight out of a nightmare came bounding towards me which turned out to be just a runner with his headtorch round his waist so as not to blind the racers.  I remember passing through the barn at La Giete and a never ending descent to Trient but outside of that not much else.  It was a relief to get there at close to midnight, but I was in pretty poor shape, babbling at Rachel like I'd been on an all day booze session.
   

Bobby and Rach did a great job of patching me up here despite being exhausted themselves.  They were concerned about my state but never let it show.  I took my second long break here to try to get back on track, piling down some of Pippa's home made brownie and even more coffee. 

My feet were now quite painful and when I changed my socks I half expected to find a gore fest but was surprised to see they looked in pretty good shape despite clipping every tree root and rock since Champex.  I left feeling much better and thankfully the sleep monsters were left there too.

Climbing, climbing again still passing the odd runner but spending more time alone now as the field had thinned.  A trail zombie putting one foot in front of the other making relentless forward progress no matter how slow, but I knew only an injury would stop me now.  If there were 20 more climbs to go it wouldn't have made any difference.  Fortunately there were only two. 

Vallorcine came and went where Bobby and Rach piled more calories into me before heading off to Chamonix to sit out the remainder of the freezing night.  Despite the cold, Rach was tired enough to manage 40 winks on a park bench after both being turfed out of the only open café in Chamonix.  For me it was another climb to Col du Montets before finally descending back into the Chamonix valley after leaving what seemed like an age ago. 

Despite being so close there was still space to squeeze in a cruel final climb up to Flegere through the woods and ski runs where my second sunrise of the race revealed a spectacular inversion.  For the first time, that incredible view of Mont Blanc and the spectacular Aiguilles revealed itself.  Only a descent through the clouds remained and I paused to savour the moment and took my only photograph of the race.

The finish line is down there somewhere!

I was proud to push all the way down to Chamonix.  The closer we got, the more people appeared on the trail out supporting the race before breakfast.  Every one of them giving words of respect and encouragement.  It was an amazing feeling to run these last few miles knowing I was going to achieve my goal.

In my mind I had envisaged finishing in bright sunshine with crowds three deep cheering me home.  But I had arrived too early for that!  No matter, the most important people were there as Pippa (pushing Connie) and Dave ran the last few hundred metres with me whooping me home.  Then the church came into view and the arch where this epic adventure would end.  Mum, Dad, Rach and Bobby were all there shouting for me and so was Sally Shelton another friend who had set her alarm early for my arrival.

Pride happiness sadness pain fatigue and pretty much everything else in that face!

I tried to drink it all in and savour those precious final few yards but after being out so long it was then all over so quickly.  It was the most incredible feeling to cross that finish line in a shade under 37 and a half hours and one of the proudest moments of my life.  It feels like every emotion possible experienced all at the same time and turned up to eleven as you round that final corner.  Experiencing these feelings is one of the reasons people run hundred milers.

After a brief pause for some piccies all that remained was to pick up my coveted finishers gilet (nearly worn out already) and sleep.  

Not another step, not even to the bed!

Thanks again for all the love and support during the race and over the last few years from so many family and friends.  It's an incredible feeling to get this done and its still sinking in.  Its been a long road from my first marathon four years ago.  I admit to feeling a little lost now with my goal no longer staring me down from the distance.  I don't know what's next right now but I'm sure another adventure will capture my heart in time.  Until then, 'bon courage' to you all whatever your challenge is....

I can just about watch this film without blubbing now...

This is my mountain - UTMB

So this is it, there is no turning back now.  The training is done and the flights are booked. Three years on from the finish line of my first ultra at The Race to the Stones, next week I take on the challenge of a lifetime at the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc, the most iconic foot race on the planet.

When I first heard about this race I was more inspired than by anything I can remember. The more I learned from the Youtube films I watched and blogposts I read, the more fascinated I became. Awesome in the truest sense of the word. I was amazed by the race, the challenge, the landscape, and the stories of the champions.  It was easy to see why along with the original legendary 100 miler at Western States, the UTMB is a race which seemed to be on more serious trail runner's bucket lists than any other.  Last year, Bobby and I walked the route and were there to cheer on the runners, I was inspired and moved even more having seen it first hand.

Back in 2014, having just bonked to the finish of my first 100km, the UTMB seemed to be so mighty, that the runners were almost superhuman to me.  To run 108 miles through three countries, to climb 10,000 metres, to tour the highest Mountain in Western Europe all in one push was mind boggling to me.  Just qualifying looked hard enough, every single runner who starts the UTMB has to show dedication and grit to get there by running three tough races over two years.  Even then, you have to enter the ballot for a race bib unless you are seriously quick and then maintain your qualifying if unlucky in the draw (which I was the first time round).

Yet from the RTTS I had my first qualifying points and with them a chink of light at the end of a very long tunnel was beckoning.  Perhaps one day, even I could stand in the footsteps of the legends by toeing the line in Chamonix.  I even wrote a little post about it at the time here.

Since that memorable day on the Ridgeway I have had some incredible adventures on what has been a long road to Chamonix.  In the process I have taken on some of the UK's toughest races which I've written about here.  I have run almost 6,000 miles, nursed injuries, experienced some big highs and crushing lows.  There's been some long, lonely mornings in the North York Moors and shared epic adventures with good friends old and new.

Me and my heroic pacers at the Hardmoors 110 - May 2017

So now the big dance approaches, I still can't quite believe this is going to happen.  Wish me luck and "Bon Courage".  Of the 2,300 starters, over half of us won't make it to the finish.  Two things are for certain, its going to hurt me bad but I'll leave it all out there.  This race is my reward for three years of commitment after all.

If you'd like to follow the race, the UTMB website will host a live broadcast during the weekend.  To follow my personal progress your best bet is to use the Livetrail website.  I'm bib no.1956. There's also a free livetrail app found easily in the app store which slices and dices all the data on your phone.

I don't really have a time in mind, I'd take just finishing in one piece right now.

At the sharp end of the race, its set to be the most competitive UTMB ever with the King of Mountain running Kilian Jornet returning to competition in force this summer.  The best of the best are coming to test themselves against him and the mountains (and me obviously!).  You can find a nice preview of this year's race here.  

You won't have heard of the runners mentioned, but dig a little into their stories and you will see why I believe they are amongst the finest athletes on the planet.  There are people out there doing incredible things before most of us have had our cornflakes, often just for the challenge and going largely unheard of.  In a world where there seems to be so many question marks over athletic performance, there is something very special about that to me.

Maybe you'll be inspired like me to set a big hairy ass goal and see just what you are capable of.  Trust me, from experience, I can tell you it is probably more than you think.

See you on the other side....

The Vegan Welsh 3000s - 24/06/2017

Do the thing you fear most and the death of fear is instant - Mark Twain

My epic challenge looms large on the horizon and I confess there is some fear there.  I guess its the butterflies that tell me that the challenge is such a worthy one which I've already worked so hard for.  

I'm running further in training than ever before as I now enter the meat of my training for UTMB. Unfortunately I don't live in the Alps so I've been travelling a little further than my local trails in the North York Moors in search of bigger hills to condition my legs for the assault they will take on Mont Blanc.

This is where the V3K Skyrace comes in.  Skyrunning is all about racing in the mountains on very technical terrain and Snowdonia is the perfect place for this.  To walk the Welsh 15 Snowdonian peaks above 3000 feet is a classic hiking challenge to be covered in 24 hours summit to summit.  This race covers the same route with the addition of a climb of Snowdon and the descent to race HQ at Hendre Hall at the foot of the Carneddau range.  Over 4,000m of ascent packed in to only 55km makes this an ultra distance challenge to be reckoned with. 

Race entrants are vetted carefully and must be able to evidence sufficient mountain experience to convince the organisers that they are capable of finishing.  Whilst this would be the most technical running event I have taken on and my first Skyrace, I have quite a lot of experience hiking scrambling and climbing in the mountains which did the trick.  I also joined some fellow competitors for a recce weekend prior to the race which helped prepare the mind and the legs for what was to come.

In addition to being a brilliant celebration of running in some of the best mountain terrain the UK has to offer this event also has the added twist of the Vegan element.  All competitors promised to remain Vegan for the duration of race day. 

Nail biting! - Yeah those scrambly bits do look a bit gnarly...

Arriving in a bit of a flap 5 minutes before the race briefing on Friday evening I found a brilliantly buzzing race headquarters and a welcome plate of pasta and delicious cake after a long drive.  Following this was kit check and tracker fitting and after that there wasn't much else to do other than try to get my head down in my tent next door ready for a 4 am bus and 5 am race start.

After a fitful few hours the alarm was sounding too soon at 3.20 am. I scoffed some almond milk and cereal and deposited my groggy self on the bus hoping to catch a few more minutes snooze on the hour or so ride to the start at the foot of Snowdon's South Ridge.

After being stood for long enough to be savaged by the waiting midgies it was a relief to be setting off on the climb up Snowdon.  In my mind this race was to be a training event first and foremost so I resolved to start slowly and work my way into it.  That way I hoped to pass a few other runners and potentially work my way through the field a little. 

Doing battle with Crib Goch

This truly is a stunning route but there wouldn't be much of it on view today.  The clag had descended in force and left a lovely greasy film of moisture on the polished rock of Crib Goch and Tryfan.  This is my fourth time on Crib Goch in the last couple of years and this was definitely the spiciest encounter as I slipped and squirmed over the ridge in my squeaky yellow daps.

Crib Goch used to be a place which held an element of fear for me as it took me so long to get round to actually doing it.  It is a true knife edge arête with sustained exposure and some stomach churning drops.  It is a rite of passage for people who love the British mountains and a classic day out in its own right.  I would say if you can pick a dry day and not too windy for your first attempt (unlike the photo above!) take your time and can keep your head its not so bad and can actually be lots of scrambly fun!

It goes to show how things have changed as I have gained experience and pushed my comfort zone these last few years.  The fear has gone with familiarity, but the respect remains.  I am in awe of those mountain goats who can bury their vertigo and skip along the crest without a care in the world.  It definitely remains a strictly hands on affair for me with the occasional bum slide!  

Other 'runners' on Crib Goch

Thankfully I made it over the ridge in one piece although it took a little longer than I might have liked and it was on to the descent of the red screes where I took a few falls and picked up the first of what would become a collection of bumps and bruises for the day.

The Welsh 3000s are broken up into three perfect stages, Snowdon, Glyders and Carneddau, each distinct in nature with the latter being easily the least technical.  I hoped to have enough gas left after all the climbing to be able to put together some actual proper running for the grassy Carneddau plateau.

After grabbing a few Vegan snacks and topping up the water bottles at Nant Peris it was soon onto what I knew would be one of the worst climbs of the day onto Elidir Fawr.  I got my head down and found I was climbing strong and starting to catch a few people which made my confidence grow. 

The trail was well marked with little red flags every 50 metres or so.  Unfortunately the visibility on the tops was well below this at times which left you feeling on edge for a few moments after passing each one before the next one came into view.  It can be a maze up there but I didn't need to break out my gps or map once even in the clag.

After negotiating the Glyders and the horrible descent down the Bristly screes Tryfan was scaled quickly and descended and I found myself amongst a group of runners at the aid station in the Ogwen valley.  A festival of Vegan food was waiting for us and I was now ravenous.  I gorged on sandwiches, soup fruit and fizzy pop which fuelled me to the summit of Pen yr Ole Wen, the last valley to summit climb of the day. 

High on the Carneddau the clouds finally broke and we were able to run in the sunshine a little.  As I reached the final summit of Foel Grach I had started to feel a little ropey, I couldn't quite believe that I needed to eat again after stuffing myself back down in the valley.  Neverthless the poor old marshal fished out a now pureed banana from my race vest which I wolfed down and immediately started to feel better. 

Time to hot tail it home and I found my legs were good to trot all the way back to Hendre Hall for more yummy Vegan treats.  Not sure whether this was a running event with amazing food or a food event with some amazing running thrown in!

I came home in 11 hours and 33 minutes a time I was satisfied with given where I am at with my training right now.  My summit to summit time for the 15 peaks was 8 hours and 51 minutes. 

This is a definite step up in technicality to trail running with hands on rock scrambling and so much hands on knees climbing!  The Vegan element and the fact it is already a classic mountain challenge makes it a unique race.  I'd love to come back for another crack to see how fast I can go with a bit of a taper, hopefully with some views next time! 

Thanks to the organisers and the plucky marshals stood for hours in the dreich conditions high in the hills.  Thanks too to Scott Seefeldt for the amazing pictures more of which you can find here.

In other news a ten mile pb at the Otley 10 road race the other day.  You don't get many ten milers to the pound and this is a local classic.

I am always wondering whether this long trail stuff will be at the expense of speed but volume of training still seems to be doing the trick.  I was chuffed to complete this hilly race on a Wednesday evening in 1.04.48 without any recent speed work.  I wonder if there will be time for one or two more pbs before the year is out...?

Hardmoors 110 - 06/05/2017

Fortitudine Vincimus "By Endurance we conquer" - Sir Ernest Shackleton's family motto.

The Cleveland Way is a 110 mile national trail skirting the North York Moors National Park from Filey Brigg on the Coast to Helmsley in the heart of the Moors.  It takes in an incredibly varying trail, from tiny fishing villages nestled at the bottom of cliffs home to thousands of nesting seabirds through to huge panoramas across wild and remote heather moors home to ancient abbeys and castles.

That is a looooooong way. 

My legs are going to hate me.

The whole route typically takes 7 to 12 days to walk and ascends cumulatively over 6,000 metres.  The challenge of the Hardmoors 110 is to complete this monster of a trail in no less than 36 hours.  It would be my hardest run to date, only my second hundred miler and a key element of my preparations for UTMB this summer.  My goals were simple, to finish with a smile and hopefully with enough time to pack my bag for a morning flight to Tenerife the following day!

Some typical Hardmoors encouragement.

I arrived at the start line feeling good having had an excellent preceding month of training however there were a few nerves due to the scale of the challenge and lingering memories of a painful experience at the Hardmoors 55 in March.  I had my best crew yet in my corner with Bobby and Rachel on support and friends Ben and Paul on pacing duties from half way.

It hadn't rained for weeks and the trails were bone dry

so I opted for my roads shoes from the start.

As Jon the race director delivered his race briefing up at the race start at Filey Brigg, a runner from the special ten year anniversary 200 mile distance came through and everyone applauded him.  He'd been out since the previous morning and had already covered much of the Yorkshire Wolds before now starting along the Cleveland Way.  We would be passing him along with many more hardcore 200 athletes on the route.  Our race was to be merely the "fun-run" in comparison! 

And they're off! At Filey Brigg

Nervous chat at the start but how many would finish?

I started the race cautiously ensuring that my watch never ticked beyond ten minutes per mile (or at least I thought I did).  I was feeling good and gradually moving through the field.  So much so that my crew struggled to catch me, meaning I didn't see them for a little while.  Every time they parked up, my tracker showed I had been through only moments earlier.  When they did appear on the trail it was a brief high five before we could have a proper catch up at Ravenscar.

My crew finally caught up with me! - Yes they had a car...

Here Bobby and Rach had checked in as it was one of the official crew checkpoints and were waiting for me in the village hall where they had cheese and ham butties ready for me.  I restocked my electrolytes, smashed a sandwich and got moving quickly again.  Legs moving well and feeling good, next stop Robin Hoods Bay in only four miles time.

All smiles approaching Ravenscar at mile 22

Good to compare this with the last photo on this page :-(

By now the coastal trail was showing its full glory, hills and cliffs rising above the booming ocean below.  The miles were being eaten up and I found myself alone on the trail.  No matter though, as there was so much to occupy the mind with such a beautiful landscape.

Soon descending again to Robin Hoods Bay before climbing the steep hill to the checkpoint.  I expected the guys to be there with more sandwiches but they had missed me again.  It was a bit unnerving this time as I knew it would now be after Whitby until I saw them over ten miles away so I was in for a little longer without fuel than I had anticipated.  A quick call to check everything was ok and we agreed to rendezvous at Sandsend at mile 36.

Moving well and feeling strong, only 88 miles to go!

Just as Whitby appeared on the horizon a couple of friendly faces came into view.  Sue and Terry my Aunt and Uncle had been sat waiting for me (for two hours apparently - a little premature but I love the enthusiasm).  It was a real boost to see them at a stage when I sometimes suffer around 34 miles or so.  They agreed to drive to Sandsend to meet up with me again and my crew. 

Now the race was really on, could I negotiate the tourist hordes in Whitby and get to my crew before Aunty Sue demolished all my Jaffa Cakes! 

Jaffa power - who needs protein shakes?

Whitby was rammed and it was frustrating having to weave between the crowds but soon enough I was past the Abbey, down the 199 steps and back up to the whalebone arch.  Soon I would be back with my crew which was a relief as I was now ready for a pit stop to refuel and regather, one third of the way in.

Legends at Sandsend! - Thanks for turning out guys.

Sorry I made you miss the jumble sale Terry...

I was eating and drinking really well so far and it kept me feeling strong and my mood high.  I  was having a really good run and I said to Rachel that "today was a good day."  Onwards to Runswick Bay on 41 miles.

Cool and grey at Sandsend - Not a jellied eel in sight.

Runswick Bay is one of my favourite beaches in the UK, perfect sands, nesting fulmars and a perfect fishing village nestled beneath the cliffs.  Here the route traversed the  beach and I caught two younger guys who I ran with for a while, grilling them about running in the alps as they had last summer both finished the tour of Monte Rosa (UTMR).

You can just see me and my two fellow runners here after

having run the beach section at Runswick.

Soon we were climbing up to the car park together where my crew would again be waiting for me.  This time I opted for rice pudding which I promptly poured all over my crotch much to the hilarity of my sister Rachel.  For some reason she wasn't keen to help clean cold rice pudding from the crotch of a man who has just run 41 miles.  Dereliction of crewing duty I hear you cry! 

Apparently blood is thicker than water but not quite as thick as rice pudding...

Still feeling good climbing out of Runswick - I love this place!

I was sensing the first proper milestone approaching now at Saltburn which was ten miles away.  Here I would be leaving the coast but picking up my first pacer Ben, and my crew were straight off to bring him to me. 

All I needed to do was get myself there which was easier said than done.  I needed a little help from an angel in a Hoka hat in Staithes after a wrong turn as she ran me back to the bridge where I needed to be having climbed too high too early.

Despite the wrong turn, I had now dropped the two young guys and wasn't seeing other runners at all save for the odd 200 competitor.  The brave 200ers I passed I was always encouraging.  Their thoughts would now be turning to their second night out and to be honest I wondered how many would make it through.  Huge respect to all who toed the line on the 200, an awesome challenge in the true sense of the word.  At least my suffering would be done by Sunday lunchtime all being well...

As I was alone in the countryside south of Saltburn my mind started to wander a little and I began to lose a little focus.  I decided to switch on the phone, and attempt to read a little and run (not recommended). I had had so many messages of support on social media and text it gave me another real lift and helped me get back on track. 

Friends and family were tracking me online and sending support it was really touching.  It gave me energy and the next few miles were done so much more easily.  Before long I was being clapped onto the beachfront at Saltburn where despite my early arrival, my trusty crew had delivered me my pacer right on time!

Saltburn Selfie - where's the chippie?

Ben would be pacing me to the foot of Captain Cooks monument in twelve miles or so.  The section is almost all uphill and would include Roseberry Topping a mini mountain at the Northern Edge of the Moors.  It was now 6pm so I piled down a load of food (sandwiches and crisps) mainly.  I grabbed a banana for the journey and Ben and I were soon headed inland climbing all the way.  Ben had been tracking my progress and was worried about keeping up but now with over fifty miles in my legs the feet were starting to feel a little heavy for the first time.

The miles ticked by well enough though as we chatted and trotted our way towards the hills. We passed the winning lady of the 200 on the climb out of Saltburn, Shelli Gordon who is a seriously impressive athlete.  Ben rejoiced in the fact that he could enjoy running past her for a change! 

I was by now pretty much hiking all the uphills but making steady progress and I had reached as high as twelfth place or so by this point.   Not that it really mattered, I was enjoying the journey and stilfeeling strong.

The cavalry has arrived! - Nice new kicks Benj ya big poser...

Having a pacer really helped keep up the momentum, lift the mojo and keep focus.  At my last and only other 100 at SDW100 I had noticed the advantage others with pacers had over me out on my own and it certainly helped me having a little friendly company along for the ride.  Meanwhile it was time for my crew to snaffle some fish and chips and go ferry my second pacer Paul to me at Captain Cook.

After suffering a brief wobble with my stomach at Fox and Hounds (mile 57) which I staved off with the now battered banana, Ben and I were soon in familiar territory in the woods above Guisborough where we have run together lots.  Now the light had started to fade and a low cloud had rolled in as we reached High Cliff Nab.  I wondered how soon we would see Roseberry Topping in the clag but sure enough it began to loom out of the murk and struck an imposing sight as we started our descent towards the foot of the climb.  The route had to ascend and descend this mini mountain before a final descent to Captain Cook where I would pick up my second pacer Paul.

It was on the climb that we were passed by a runner for the first time in hours.  He was moving much stronger and I have to admit it did get me thinking about what the night might have in store.

Ascending Roseberry Topping

Ascending Roseberry Topping - faster runner coming through behind

As we descended to Gribdale Terrace from Roseberry it was just after nine and almost dark.  Rach was hollering encouragement to us coming off the hill but I was starting to struggle a bit with the steep downhills now.  I had run 65 miles and climbed a lot of hills with the dreaded three sisters still to come. 

I had developed a hotspot on my left foot so I spent some time patching my feet, eating pot noodles, getting a change of clothing and replacing my road shoes for the Hokas which would hopefully provide a bit more protection underfoot.

Job done Ben - Now where are those noodles!?

Soon enough farewells were said and Paul and I fixed headtorches and headed off up to Captain Cooks monument and Kildale.  No sooner had we set off than Ben came running up the trail to say I had forgot to refill my bottles and to remember to refill at Kildale.  A schoolboy error but it shows how the brain gradually loses its sharpness on these long events.  Another benefit of having a supportive crew around you to do your thinking for you! 

Ben was now away home for a late bedtime.  Legs still fresh enough for a respectable time at the North Lincs half marathon the next morning.  Nicely done, I doff my running cap to you sir!

Trail warriors (reflective)

Duly recharged at Kildale (mile 68) Paul and I began our ascent into the remote moors and the desolate Bloworth Crossing.  A place which is bleak in the day nevermind in poor visibility in the middle of the night.  I was paranoid about missing an important turning up here and we almost did save for Paul stopping randomly to put on his hat.  "Oh look there's the path right there!"  Checking the Viewranger app on my phone we were sure we had the right track, a close call as no one wants to get lost up there in the dark with over 70 miles in their legs...

Signs not good for an improvement in this blogpost..

Once up on the moors we had a long tab to Clay Bank where our crew would be waiting again for a refuel before taking on the steep climbs over the three sisters (Cringle Moor, Cold Moor and Wainstones).  Here there was a spectacular show of fairy lights, flumps and inflatable dinosaurs (including a particularly scary T-Rex when least expected) at the check point.  Cheers guys best checkpoint on the whole route! 

Unfortunately the mirth was short lived.  It had become hard. I tried to eat some cereal here as I knew this next few miles could take an age in the cold and dark with such steep ups and downs to come.  Paul was a real hero here helping me through this section as I went into my shell a little, I can't thank you enough buddy it would have been lonely and so much harder out there without you.

If you've managed to read this far you deserve a trophy,  So here it is. 

Haven't you got something better to be doing like descaling the kettle?

Somehow we negotiated the three sisters, the worst of the climbing now behind me.  As we descended through the woods towards Osmotherley I first noticed a scarlet streak across the sky signalling the new day would soon be with us.  All that remained was to climb up to square corner where we would see the crew again and from there its only 20 miles home. 

Cheers Paul, what a star running all night with me!

As we ran through Osmotherley a torchlight came into view moving towards us.  It was Pete, a friend who I had shared a tent with on a hike of the Welsh 3000s a couple of years ago.  He had been crewing a friend who had dropped out. 

Waking in the middle of the night at Osmotherley YHA he had seen from my tracker I was close, got dressed and come out to meet us with cherry tomatoes!  Pete is one of my running heroes having come 3rd in the mighty spine race last year and rendezvousing with us at 3.30 am with tomatoes was typical of what a generous and some might say slightly crackers fellow he is.  Thanks buddy what an ace surprise to see you.  Pete's surprise appearance sparked an upturn in pace and Paul and I closed in strongly on Square Corner with the hoot of a tawny owl in the woods calling out as dawn was now breaking.

Please be warned that the following section contains

mild terror, pus and defecation. 

The squeamish may wish to cut to the end.

At square corner I was surprised to see Bobby with her trainers on and ready to go, to be honest I wasn't complaining, I was done with lonely miles for the weekend.  Paul and I said our goodbyes and we were quickly off on the climb to Black Hambleton. 

Unfortunately my guts were now on the revolt after a day of eating childrens party food and the dreaded squat to relieve myself on legs battered by 90 miles could be resisted no longer.  Fortunately Bobby didn't mind (who said romance was dead) and as I looked back there was no one else around.

After the climb we did well combining the ultra shuffle on flats and downs with hiking uphill.  A rather flat section passed by well as my mood lifted a little with the increasing daylight.  It was nice to run with Bobby for a while rather than relying on her being my patient waitress and nurse all weekend.  The journey to Sutton Bank passed quite nicely, I was well on track to get this done by lunchtime at the latest.

Unfortunately it was as we got to Sutton Bank that things changed for the worse.  Rachel swapped with Bobby and joined me on the painful descent to the last checkpoint at White Horse.  It seemed to take an age and despite the amazing encouragement offered at the checkpoint, my mojo hit an all time low.  My feet were now blistered and complaining badly.  It had been a long night and it seemed so long ago that I was happily ticking off the miles along the coast.

After hauling myself back up the dreaded steps and back along Sutton Bank I passed three or four runners coming the other way.  They seemed close and looked so much stronger than I felt although they were in fact over a mile behind me at this point. 

Rachel brought the car round as I decided to attend to my feet for the last ten miles at the roadside.  I had run so far and so well, I was doing reasonably well in the rankings having not been passed all night and had proved to myself I can still be running after 100 miles.  In the act of sitting down, removing my socks and seeing the blisters though my desire to race evaporated in that moment. 

I knew I would get it done, but for some reason my desire to keep pushing hard simply evaporated.  I drained two painful blisters which erupted what seemed like gallons of fluid onto my spanking new running jacket and I frankly didn't care. 

If I see another damned Acorn!!!

After patching up with zinc tape I was hobbling away up the road in a rather strange mood.  I confess from here I didn't once get into a shuffle never mind a canter.  It was like a switch had been turned off.  Rather than a march, the last ten miles to the finish turned into a saunter in the sunshine.  Past beautiful Rievaulx Abbey and finally into Helmsley for the finish. 

A few runners streamed past me and I didn't even blink never mind up the tempo.  The race had taken its toll on my body but it was my mind which had faded, despite being amongst the first finishers I was one of the slowest over the last section.

Finally I was picking up the yellow signs which led to the finish at the Rugby Club.  I hiked up the hill and did manage that smile at the finish.  I had a great reception, applauded into the room by volunteers and fellow finishers.  I admit my tired smile did turn to tears with a few kind words from Shirley Steele and an offer of some hot crumpets.  It doesn't take much to set me blubbing when I've taken a battering like this one. 

Congratulations to Jon and Shirley on ten years of the Hardmoors 110, what an incredibly special race series and community you have created.  It has been awesome to run at so many of your brilliant events.

Computer says.......YES!!!

My finish position was 19th in 27 hours and 42 minutes, the missing mojo for the final section had cost me around forty minutes and six places.  Of the 121 starters 84 had finished, respect to everyone who stood on the startline for this monster and the 200, tough to kill the lot of you!

Is this the end, what day is it, am I even bovvered?

I need a lie down...

After a week or so my feet have healed well and there are signs of life in my legs again.  I have had a little time to reflect.  On the whole I had a great run for so much of this race, I learned so much and put a few demons to bed.  I can't help but think though that if I just believed in myself a little more I could have turned this run into something a little bit more special by just gritting it out a bit more at the end.  I'm not sure really what happened but if you end up pacing me at a miler, you have my permission to kick my arse ALL the way to the finish line.

But hey its only my second go at the 100 mile distance so I'm going to focus on the positives and learn from the few negatives to be even stronger for my next one.  To be honest I'm going to need all the help I can get because next time it will be at the greatest trail race in the world.  Bring on UTMB!!!!

Love and hugs to my pacers Paul and Ben and especially to my amazing crew Rachel and Bobby who have been with me throughout my ultra running journey these last three years and suffered my boring trail running chat all this time. 

This race feels like a real team effort and I am so grateful for your time, love, encouragement and energy.  It was a monster but we tamed it together.  This medal is shared so if any of you want to borrow it for blinging up a ball gown or a black tie outfit some time just let me know.

Hard earned bling this one...

Can't sign off without thanking Rachel, Paul, Ben, the Chia Charge guys and Ann Brown for the use of the photos in this post.  See you out there!