ultra running

The 2020 Stour Valley Path 50K Ultra Marathon.

At some point during every ultra marathon I have completed, I have thought to myself, ‘that’s it now, focus on your 5K times’, but, it keeps happening:  I found myself at the 2020 Stour Valley Path 50K.  I heard a few others were up for it, so I signed up – again!  We are still in the Covid-19 pandemic, so this race had to be planned very carefully; and it was.

I heard that fellow Ely Runner, Shaun, had signed up, and we agreed to complete it together, and during the event I confided in him that I have a bit of a fear of running ultras alone.  I told him that one day I must combat this fear and go out without a buddy, but it will have to be one I have completed before, and most likely this one or Peddars Way.

The Stour Valley Path is a stunning 100km (62 mile) long footpath, which starts in Newmarket (Suffolk) and ends in Cattawade (Essex).  Parts of the rolling countryside are associated with the art of Constable and Gainsborough.  Small, closed-in woodland tracks open up to sudden, wide, sweeping views of fields, woodland, rivers, and distant villages with unusual Churches.  It’s a demanding course, which I have ran before, but wow, do I have some respect for the 100K runners, as they covered that distance whilst contending with the rolling trail, but also with considerable warmth and bonkers humidity!

With Shaun, Charlotte and Adrian.

Shaun and I had the logistics of transport to think of, as we had to get to the start, and then get home from the finish;  luckily, running nutter and fellow Ely Runner Charlotte offered to help.  Charlotte is one of those people who, even if she can’t run an event, will get involved one way or another, even if it is to rock up and shout insults/ support her mates. Charlotte and her other half, Adrian (who ran the 50K), made sure Shaun and I got to the start line once I had dumped my car at the finish. Naturally, Charlotte made sure we had the obligatory dose of inappropriate observations and humour throughout our car journey.

At the start we were expected to leave in waves of six, with circles painted in the grass to ensure were all stood well-distanced from one another.  Our temperatures were taken and we were sent on our way.  Throughout the event we were struck by the mutual respect between runners when it came to overtaking and maintaining that safe distance.  The aid stations were well organised, with penned off areas that runners were expected to funnel through in order to apply gel and to don face coverings.  Wearing a face covering in the warm, humid conditions was no fun, but a sensible precaution in order to protect volunteers and fellow runners until we were able to spread out again.

Shaun and I completed the first ten miles to aid station one way too quickly: Charlotte was waiting for us, and warned that we might like to slow it down: wise words, as after this brief respite, things started to get tough.  The sun was threatening to break through the clouds, and the temperature and humidity was increasing:  it was the humidity that was causing the problem for us and many other runners as heart rates were rising, respiration was speeding up, but the sweat wasn’t evaporating!  We were alarmed at how out of breath were were getting just power walking the more serious hills (and there were a few of those).  I was also struggling with my own familiar battle around hydration and nutrition.  I don’t do well with solutions that help with maintaining the electrolyte balance, so I carry water along with some sweet and salty foods.  To date I have never got this quite right and I always get quite dehydrated and hungry: I still can’t eat much when I am completing an ultra.  I ate and hydrated well the day before, but yet again it caught me out.

Part of the trail sweeping downhill.

Shaun and I kept checking in on each other and our niggles and issues; Shaun suffered mainly with a painful back and sore legs, whilst my only issue was waves of nausea and the dark places that feeling that way sends me mentally.  Despite this we pressed on, and we were really quite disciplined with making use of the flats and downhills (running) and power-walking the hills.  All the while we were speculating about how far back our Ely Runners buddies Andy, Caroline and Lisa were:  they had started in a later wave, but we knew they would be covering ground a bit quicker than us, and we calculated that they would all cross the finish line very close to our finish time.

A couple of fellow racers ahead of us, taking in a view, which is not done justice by this photo.

On the way to the next, bigger aid station we noted a number of marshals helping with points where the navigation was less obvious, and this was appreciated.  Shaun and I realised that the navigation on my new Suunto 9 watch was only as good as the attention span of the wearer!  During this part of the race we encountered hills;  horrible ones that then rewarded you with amazing views:  it was confusing.  We kept going, one foot in front of the other, reminding each other that moving forward is all that mattered, that and not dropping down with heat stroke.  We agreed that dropping out was out of the question.

Socially distanced snacks and runners. I am binge-drinking flattened coke.

There was another aid station to reach, and things got tougher. We were soaked with sweat, totally out of breath, exhausted, with Shaun’s back playing up and me feeling like I wanted to vomit (but couldn’t). We were both alarmed at how infrequently we had needed to urinate, and distressed at what happened when we did (let’s not get into it).

Shaun turned out to be an especially calming running buddy when it got tough:  he’s a pretty laid back chap at the best of times, and even his complaints seemed calm;  he has a great sense of humour too, which helped!  The final station was a blur to me:  I couldn’t see for sweat, my mask was broken (luckily the marshals provided me with a new one and also sprayed my face with cold water), and I felt even more sick.  Shaun looked a bit all over the place trying to keep away from people, fill his water bottles and grab snacks whilst looking like a had had enough.  We had zipped through the aid stations up to this final one, but we perhaps left this one a little later than we should, because we felt that familiar stiffness that comes from huge effort followed by stopping for too long.

At some point Shaun was injured by a turnip.  Not at all funny, apparently.

The field where Shaun was injured by a turnip! Who gets injured by a turnip? Look at his injured by a turnip face!

The fact that it was just a few miles to the end lifted our spirits, a bit;  but now the nausea was really kicking in, so feeling terrible and yet knowing the end was near was messing with my head.  The old ‘not talking much but being there for each other’ routine kicked in.  Fast forward to the final 300 meters or so: it was only just getting dark, and the course was marked with glow sticks. I announced to Shaun that the time had come and I went to the bushes to vomit, loudly and spectacularly.  Shaun pressed on, I thought because he wanted to give me privacy whilst I puked, but no; later it transpired he didn’t want me to make him feel sick!

Two more episodes of quickly darting to the edge and then the finale: vomiting in such a way that made me think I would faint as there was nothing left.  Shaun called over to say that we were close and we could walk the last bit if I liked.  I just recall wiping my mouth and saying, ‘no, let’s go’, and we ran.  As we turned onto the field with the finish line ahead I said to Shaun, ‘don’t let those fellas behind overtake us’, at which point we increased the pace, with Shaun actually executing a sprint finish, and me running just slightly faster whilst looking like sweaty Casper the Ghost.

Medals were given to us and we saw that Adrian and Charlotte were watching from the side. Adrian had finished ahead of us, having joined us for a short while to share that he too felt terrible.  Impressive stuff.

We got the news that fellow Ely Runner, Rob was having a hard time, but was pressing on (he finished with an impressive time despite the struggle), and we learned that just a short while later, Andy, Lisa and Caroline had crossed the line, closing in on us with a faster time despite the wave they left in. Amazing.

All that remains to be said is that Shaun is a great running buddy, Charlotte and Adrian are stars for helping us out, the Stour Valley Path Ultra lays on a great race, and a safe one given the situation we all find ourselves in at the time of writing; and finally, I am not signing up for more ultras.  Probably.

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trail running, ultra running

Peddars Way 48 Mile Ultra Marathon revisited!

A year has passed since I ran The Peddars Way 48 Mile Trail for the first time.  A lot has happened on the running front since January 2019, a year in which I got 6 ultras under my belt.  The number of ultras in 2019, excessive sounding to some, might be part of the reason why the 2020 Peddars Way felt a little easier to me.  Don’t get me wrong, it was tough, but this year I crossed the line in better condition:  I felt generally happier and more relaxed throughout.

This time I had prepared fish paste and tomato sandwiches with white bread; two bottles of flattened Lucozade; a huge bag of dry roasted peanuts; Fruit Pastils and a banana.  Breakfast was porridge, some berries and a pint of tea.

Once again I ran the race with the amazing Lisa, and we were joined by fellow Ely Runner, Martin, who has now ran a couple of ultras: Peddars was about to be his furthest distance to date. We and some other Ely Runners gathered nice and early at Knettishall Heath.

Ely Runners at Knettishall Heath.

Among our group were speedy types, and people who just wanted to do their own thing, which is of course fine.  Martin, Lisa and I decided to stick together.

After Kevin (Positive Steps) had delivered the race brief, we were sent on our way.  It would be fair to say that we did not adopt as much of a run/ walk/ run strategy as we could have before the first checkpoint; but we were more disciplined than last year in that we had the odd 1 minute walk so that we could eat, and power walk up the slopes.  As I said earlier, I felt generally more confident from the outset:  the great company and gorgeous countryside definitely helped.

The Peddars Way Trail is stunning.

It was during the run after the first checkpoint that our Peddars Instant Messenger chat pinged on our phones, and we got news from fellow Ely Runner, Charlotte that she had felt the need to pull out of the race.  Charlotte is an amazing distance runner, who is training for a 100 miler!  Peddars was for her, a training run, but, when things go and feel wrong, it takes courage and discipline to know when to cut your losses.  I have always found Charlotte to be the voice of common sense; she can clearly apply her calm and logical approach to herself when necessary. We were gutted for her, but she did the right thing.

The checkpoint at Castle Acre is a confidence booster for me.  At this stage you have put about 27 miles behind you: it feels good!  There is soup at this stage!  We decided we would not spend too much time at any of the checkpoints: we agreed that we would enter, refill water bottles, grab food, say thank you and power-walk out before resuming running.  It is hard to leave the Castle Acre checkpoint, but we really didn’t hang about!  The soup was amazing!

It was on leaving this checkpoint that we took stock of how we were all feeling.  As we ran, Lisa told me that an old ankle issue had resurfaced. I asked her how painful it was on a scale of 1 to 10.  Lisa said it was about an 8!  This says all you need to know about Lisa!  Ever smiling, she will not allow something like serious pain to stop her running a further 21 miles having already ran over the marathon distance on muddy, uneven trail!  Martin had little to report on the problems front other than some stiffness in his legs.  My problems were to make themselves known at around mile 32, at which point we found ourselves at the bottom of a long hill.  I had eaten and hydrated very well the day before, and, having recalled the issues I had experienced last year, I snacked well in the early stages of this race.  At the checkpoint we had just left, I took full advantage of the amazing soup on offer, I dipped a jam sandwich into mine!  It was OK!  For whatever reason , as we climbed the hill, I developed tunnel vision, and broke into a serious sweat that seemed unrelated to the effort at hand.  I had to eat some fish paste sarnies (don’t judge me), as well as some dry roasted peanuts, and I necked some flat Lucozade.  It is hard to tell which of these medicines sorted me out: maybe it was all three, but I recovered swiftly and soon we were on our way again.

Lisa. One of the most calm and positive people to run a long way with!

It would be fair to to say that after 30 miles, things start to get a bit tougher!  My feet started to hurt and I had those tell tale bruised and aching feelings under several toenails.  My right hamstring started to tighten, no doubt compensating for a very old injury in my left leg.  Lisa’s ankle issue persisted, and Martin, still ailment-free until this point, reported feeling some pain in his feet.  We pressed on.

Things got a bit trickier here and there from about mile 32 onwards, with the running getting more technical, the tracks muddier and more uneven, and the gloom of the fading daylight making it a bit more of a challenge.  The three of us just kept pressing on.  We got chatting to several runners, mainly due to the odd thing that happens whereby you keep passing people, only for them to catch you up, and for this to be constantly repeated.  One chap we were passing overheard me talking about how much I would love a Snickers Bar (Marathon to those of us old enough to resent the change in name), he went on to produce a bag of chocolate from his pack, which he happily shared with us!  Among the selection was the chocolate I wanted! Never has a Snickers/ Marathon tasted better!  This chap was anxious about the cut off time; we reassured him that he would make it (he did).  Not sure if you will ever read this, Brian, but thank you.

With Martin, a tough and relaxed distance runner.

Checkpoint 3 is at about 34.25 miles in.  It is hosted by Bungay Black Dog Running Club.  As we approached this point I remembered with fondness the tea, coffee and hot sausage rolls the group of volunteers provides.  Enough said – they are amazing!  Talking of the Black Dog Crew, we encountered two of them again having not seen them since the June 2019 Norfolk 100K ultra.  Jules and Rachel!  It was great to see them again!

Great to bump into Jules and Rachel from Bungay Black Dog Runners.

So, the final approximate 14 miles from checkpoint 3: this is where things got tough.  Martin, Lisa and I made quite a team by giving each other loads of encouragement.  Poor light to pitch black set in very quickly, and with head torches, we pressed on with the tough bit.  In order to make sure we kept covering ground, and given the muddy, unstable trail and pitch black conditions, we agreed to bursts of 90 seconds of running, punctuated with power-walks.  This worked well.  About 5 miles from the coast we hooked up with a lady who was running alone, who decided to stick with our regime until about a mile from the coast.

Before we knew it, we were running the familiar downhill trail with hedges claustrophobically hemming us in from both sides.  At this stage you can easily touch the hedges on other side by raising your outstretched arms.  Lisa shouted out that she had seen a pair of orange eyes peering back at her through a gap in the hedge; whatever the creature was, if it had given chase, we could not have ran any faster!

When we finished the long narrow path towards Holme-next-the-Sea, we were greeted by glow sticks throughout the village, guiding us to the part of the the race we had been longing for: the run up to the beach.

There was a lovely moment as we headed towards the sea.  Martin’s young son, Thomas was running alongside us:  his family had travelled via train and bus to be there.  It was clear that Martin was elated by this, as it was unexpected!  Suddenly we hit sand, and just like last year, we could hear the roar of the sea, and feels its spray, but we couldn’t see it.  We all ripped a page each from the book hanging from the post, and took a selfie.  It is necessary in this race to remove a page from a book, hanging from a post on the beach; this is presented to race officials back at the Village Hall as proof that you have completed Peddars!

Pages from ripped from the book!  We were joined by Martin’s son, Thomas!

The run back to the Village Hall seemed to take forever!  We were all hurting, but adrenaline and pure joy had kicked in, blocking out anything that might have stopped us from running.

Eventually we could see the Village Hall ahead and on our left.  It was quite a moment when we ran inside and over the chip timing mat on the floor.  Just like last year, we were greeted with cheers from the volunteers, and from the runners who had already finished.  My mate, Steve was there with our change of clothes, and Ely Runner, Allistair Berry was there volunteering!  Steve commented that I was in a much better state than I was at the end of the race last year!  I was really pleased to hear this!  Medals were presented to us, and then we attacked the beans on toast!  The hot mug of tea was amazing.  I didn’t care about modesty at this point, I just changed into my track suit there and then (poor people).

At the time of writing, it is the Monday after Peddars.  My legs hurt more than they did the day after the race, and my feet and toenails are in a sorry state!  I have eaten tons and the hunger is only just easing off!  It has all been worth it!  See you in 2021, Peddars Way!