Foot Problems?

My foot post Northern Traverse

I have learnt many things over my years of running and I am a firm believer that the best learnings come from experience rather than reading someone else's experience. However from my first 100 miler I have suffered with foot issues which have resulted in many a ruined race. I have learned so much that it is time I shared my thoughts on the subject. These are only my views on it and what works for me. I'm sure many will disagree but if you've worked out the answer for your self then read my thoughts and disregard at will.

Blisters and foot maceration can really be a race ender. I ran the Northern Traverse in 2016 and ran for 150 miles with ok feet. The skies opened and my feet got soaked and over the next 40 miles I developed the worst maceration I have ever had leaving me barely able to put one foot in front of the other. The pain is often described as like walking on broken glass and I concur. It is also often confused with blisters. Fact is maceration is nothing to do with blistering, they are totally different. How often do you raise the subject of maceration to someone before they say "Little bit of Vaseline, never had a blister". Doh!

A blood blister

Right I'm no medic so don't hold me to this but a blister on your foot is caused by heat resulting from friction. That friction could come from a number of things like your shoe rubbing your foot or toes rubbing together or even some foreign object in your shoe rubbing your foot. This causes the skin to separate and a bubble of liquid to appear which is sore and when it bursts is really sore.  Now maceration is caused by your foot coming in to contact with moisture for a prolonged period of time which in turn causes the actually make up of the skin to break down. Your foot resembles a giant wrinkly prune.  This causes extreme pain and sensitivity. I'll keep it that simple as that because all I'm trying to say is they are very different. Out of the two give me a blister any day. A blister can be tolerated and dealt with as the problem arises whereas maceration needs to be prevented or you will gradually enter a whole world of pain.

These are nice to run on.

I'll start with blisters because this is pretty simple. This info is really based around you having a dry race. You can use all the lotions and potions you wish which will indeed help with Anti-friction but you have to reduce the friction first. Whatever you put on your feet will rub off or disappear in to your sock in a few hours anyway. So firstly I use nothing on my feet for blister prevention maybe a bit of powder but that has another purpose that I'll come onto in a bit. So just nice clean feet and trimmed toenails. It wouldn't hurt to give them a wipe especially between your toes before putting your socks on. As for socks the best quality wicking socks you can afford I personally use Bridgedale that are specific to trail running they are relatively thick with some padding in high rub areas. They also come with a three year guarantee which I have successfully claimed on. Don't be fooled by thickness thinking your feet will be too hot. I've used thick socks in extreme heat and it hasn't been an issue. The thickness also helps with the wicking. The better quality socks have real attention to detail on the seams too again reducing friction. Ok they are £15 a pair but this is important. Also keep in mind that high quality sock manufacturers will recommend you don't put anything on your feet because it will affect the performance of the sock. Next is shoes, your shoes should fit ever so slightly on the large size so plus a half shoe size.  I do this because during a race your feet will spread and swell and fill that shoe very quickly. If you have narrow feet get a narrow fitting shoe or vice versa don't buy on brand alone. Use your laces too for finer adjustments to get that perfect fit. Obviously you are going to get any rubbish out your shoes as and when it occurs but if you are going over 50 miles a sock change is good idea. Pull up a chair, wipe your feet clean and lightly powder them, fresh socks and off you go. Finally consider wearing gaiters to keep any bits from going in your shoes. Cleanliness is everything. This is all I do and it works better than any thing else I've tried.

Maceration drying out and a Verucca

If you do get a blister you have options which are either leave it or pop it. If its small and the race isn't too long I tend to leave it which is ok until it bursts then its going to sting like mad but you'll get through. If it bursts or you have to pop it and its on a toe just wrap it in kinesio tape and crack on. Worry about getting the tape off later. In a long race you have time to pop, drain and tape blisters. The time taken will soon be made up, so take the time and deal with it. The worst place to get a blister is on the sole of your foot because it is almost impossible to tape but there is an answer. It really is a last resort and is not what the product is for but it works. Pop and drain the blister, clean the area with an alcohol wipe then whack a compeed over the blister. This is a real last resort but will get you to the end of your race the only problem is getting the damn thing off after. I had this done to me at Spartathlon and it got me to the end but it took me a week to get the thing off, every time I pulled it, it just ripped the skin underneath.

Trying to remove compeed

post Spartathlon

Now some of the previous info is transferable for maceration but you have to make a judgment call on race day. I estimate my feet can hold out in wet conditions for about 8 hours, much beyond that and they are going to really deteriorate. So if my feet are going to be wet for a prolonged period I am going to be thinking about maceration rather than blisters as my main problem. I'm talking a wet course because of a storm, heavy rain, stream crossings and one of the most important but most overlooked wet grass on a dewy morning. Firstly let me say and you'll know this if you are a sufferer, none of the creams work. I have tried everything on the market and the only product that came close was Hydropel but they don't make it anymore. Anyway this is my routine now. I make my decision on race morning and firstly I get a good foot powder like two toms and smother my feet especially the soles. Really get it on there. Then I wear Injinji liner socks. The lighter the better. Then I wear the lightest waterproof sock I can find. My personal choice is Seal skinz because they are always on sale and I can get a really good pair for about £15. Then just wear your normal shoes and gaiters, yes they will be snug but just adjust your laces. I know you will think your feet will get too hot and the sweat will be worse still. Fact is this is part of your call on race morning. Yes it does give you warm feet but this will be counteracted by the moisture you come into contact with. I proved this at Western states where it was extremely wet under foot for 20 miles but near 100 degrees. I wore waterproof socks for the 20 then changed into normal for the rest of the race. Worked perfect and no feet problems. Now if your feet are going to be wet all day you need to change. So at half way get your shoes and socks off straight away, have a towel in your drop bag, clean and dry your feet and leave them to air for a few minutes while you eat etc. Now just start again, powder, fresh liners, fresh seal skinz, fresh shoes. Off you go. Ideally if you had a crew you could do this at 30 mile intervals but that's not always practical. I did this routine at the Lakeland 100 on a sodden course, my feet were in contact with water for 29 hours and I had no issues at all. Baring in mind using my old routine it may well have ended my race but instead I ran into Coniston with sore quads not sore feet. The only thing you really have to watch is water getting in the top of the sock which is possible to avoid if you are careful but if you are wading through rivers up to your thighs and you are susceptible to maceration you are knackered. You would definitely need to look at your feet every 30 miles.

Maceration left

The thing with maceration is once you've got it, it is too late! It is all about prevention. As soon as you feel that needle sharp pain coming on you need to act! If you are multi daying at say Dragons back you have chance to repair your feet with fresh air and time the only cure for maceration. Just let them air for as long as possible each evening and use the techniques above and everything will be just fine.

Maceration Right

Right as I've said this works for me and a thousand other runners will disagree well that's cool and I'm so glad you've found your answer. This is mine.

Arc of Attrition 2017

After Sparta I decided I needed to hit the trails again, 6 months of road running had took its toll. My plan for 2017 is to do 4 x 100s and all of them are to be (1) Trail (2) Difficult and (3) Hilly. I might switch it a bit and try for a 100 mile pb later in the year but I'll see how it goes. I had received an invite off the Spine waitlist but I wasn't feeling it. I really like to think I could run a whole event and the Spine I most definitely could not. I've been aware of the Arc for a while and was on the waitlist in 2016 but it certainly ticked my boxes for 2017.  Trail, yes, Difficult, definitely, Hilly,  17000ft of hilly. That was it, The Arc of Attrition 2017, I was in.
Training went well during the build up. I was feeling good, maybe a tad over weight, well half a stone of Christmas cheer still hanging in there. Then with exactly a week to go till kick off I developed a chesty cough. It left me unable to run, I took the time and rested up instead. Come race morning I felt loads better.

Just  before the off

Registration was in Porthtowan at the finish line. After my kit check I spent the time chatting with old friends and before I knew it the briefing was upon us. We headed to the buses straight after the brief which were to ship us all to the start. I sat at the back of the fun bus with Richard Stillion, the hour journey was soon done and we pulled into Coverack. I was raring to go and really looking forward to the journey ahead plus it was bloody freezing. I began to worry I was underdressed, I had three tops on and a balaclava maybe it was the nerves.
We were off, I stayed near the front as Richard had said the trail narrows up very quickly for several miles. I had no real game plan just to enjoy it. I do however like to get some early miles racked up without too much pissing about. The lead group pulled ahead within the first mile, there was maybe 10 of them but the pace was too quick for me so I just let them go. I was in a gap between the leaders and the following pack so I pretty much had the trail to myself. Very soon the trail was up and down, through mud, over rocks, pretty much exactly what I'd signed up for.

Only 99.7 miles to go

The coast line was  absolutely stunning I just wanted to stop and take pictures. It really was picture postcard stuff, what a joy to be out there. I arrived in Cadgwith and the first supporters. No need for a stop, I just wanted to press on and cover as much ground as possible before darkness. The first unofficial check point was at Lizard point about 10 miles in. I couldn't believe how many people were out, the support was fantastic. I almost felt guilty running straight through but time management was all important.
The terrain was relentless and the decision to wear my Hokas was still up in the air, what I gained in cushioning I certainly lost in grip and stability. So much so that soon after Lizard I was bumbling along and turned my ankle right over, I sprung back it felt like my foot had been run over! Always nice. I dropped into Mullion cove and grabbed some water off a random guy. I was quite warm and the tailwind in my bottles accentuated my thirst. I climbed the hill out the cove and found my crew (wife). No hard and fast meeting places had been set with my crew as we were going to wing it and see how I was feeling on the day. I fully restocked on gels and chews, I was a few hours in and had been necking my prescribed 200 cals an hour. It's an amount through trial and error I've worked out I need so I don't bonk. Easy to do early on but it gets tougher as the race goes on. I still have a rough patch at 18 mile ish but its just trying to manage that. I was moving well around 20 mile but already felt tired, all variants of terrain were energy sapping this was going to be a real test.

Still looking fresh

I was carrying my Etrex gps but still really had to have my wits about me, it is so easy to go off course. There are so many unsigned turns and splits in the path that getting lost would be a distinct possibility for anyone without a GPS. The path was easy to lose as I ran alongside the Porthleven sands it lead to a massive sand bar so a bit of beach running before picking the path on the other side. I jogged into Porthleven and the first official checkpoint. My plan was not to enter any checkpoints, they were all indoors and I really didn't want to get too hot. I find it takes forever to get a comfortable body temperature, I'd rather stay outside to maintain it. Otherwise it's wasted time keep changing layers. Also it's a good opportunity to leap frog a few other runners. So I had a quick cup of soup, a bottle change and I was off again. It was only a jog and progress wasn't fast but the 4kg pack was heavy so a jog it was.
The sun was descending fast and the light was fading fast. It wouldn't be long before the head torch would be out. I can't remember the name of it but I dropped down onto a tiny pebble beach, this really didn't seem right? I could see some sort of steps leading up the rocks on the other side so this must be the way. Only thing is you have to dodge the tide, so the waves crash into the rocks then leg it across before the next lot came crashing in. I climbed out of the cove on the other side and carried on my way. This was certainly turning into a diverse race. I'd managed to get my feet wet in the previous miles, I suffer badly if I get wet feet. They become macerated which in turn becomes eye wateringly painful. I was just getting the first signs of maceration which manifests itself as a needling pain in the balls of my feet. So I was relieved at the end of Praa Sands to see my crew again. I'd given my feet a light slather of Gurney Goo at the start but it's not water repellent enough. So I tried something new to me which was to cover my feet in talc and change to dry socks. Seems to work a treat. While I was there I loaded my pack with calories, ate some rice pudding and had a nice cup of tea.
As I left Sydney Cove my thoughts turned to how long a night was ahead. By my reckoning it would be 14hours of darkness. The trail is certainly unrelenting. My right hip, right ITB and right shin were all very sore, some of which could be attributed to my Hokas not giving me a solid base. I was certainly in pain I think the shoes combined with the terrain were causing me grief.
Darkness fell just before Marizion and after some pretty tough trail I hit the tarmac section, this was actually a relief. My crew was waiting again just up the road with a coffee, I downed it and ran straight onto Penzance. I'd started coughing as the cold air had set in. No major drama, I was just feeling a bit chesty. I stopped at the CP in Penzance and was ushered in, I really didn't want to go in but rolled with it. The soup at the previous CP had been excellent so I stood and ordered some from here. Tailwind Mick brought over some mushroom soup for me, I took a sip and did an internal gag, it was bloody awful!!  No disrespect to the chef but I was retching and nearly puked it straight up.
I'm not sure why, but I downed it and vacated the pub, I was in and out of this CP within a few minutes. As I jogged up the road my stomach gurgled as the mud like soup did its rounds. That soup will scar me for life!
The other side of Newlyn my crew was waiting with an omelette from the chippy, a fucking mushroom omelette! I took a couple of big mouthfuls but the mushrooms turned my stomach again. No more!!
It was a relief to join the trail again after Mousehole. There was some good running to be had and with the stunning moon I kept switching my light off to run by the moonlight. Had the trail been less rough I would of run by moonlight alone. I was stopping quite often now to cough, big chesty coughing fits. In and out of little coves the hills were not stopping anytime soon. As soon as I rounded another headland that would lead to another cove, this beast was living up to it's name. My right knee was really grumbling now and was starting to bug me. As I went to jump across some rocks my footing slipped and I went crashing down smashing me knee. The blood ran down my shin from my knee but strangely as I tried to jog off the pain of the freshly cut skin it had taken my mind off of the ITB pain. I'd take that, good compromise.
I jogged into Lands End about 1am. 13 hours in and roughly 55miles were covered. My crew was there waiting with and knew I wouldn't be going inside the CP so had vegetable chilli and rice ready alongside a cup of tea. We stood at back of car and chatted whilst I ate, my crew needed some rest so I loaded right up with gels in my pack, put an extra layer on, talced my feet and changed my socks. All in all I was done in about 10minutes. I'd prepared mentally for the tough night ahead. It was 1am, roughly 25miles to St Ives, I should be there by daybreak. Time to crack on. How hard could it be?
My chest was now really playing up I was coughing up solid lumps and my breathing was labouring a bit. I had changed my batteries on my headlamp to lithiums so hopefully they would see me through the night. The coast here is littered with mineshafts and gorse. So if anyone should decide to cut across they would either get shredded or eaten by a mineshaft. Stick to the paths! The going up to Pendeen was okay, tough but manageable. I don't remember running too much, every time I got a few strides together it was broken by some sort of obstacle. I bumped into a few Arc Angels en route to Pendeen and topped up on Coke and water. The coughing was now full on and I'd developed a pain right through my leg. I convinced myself that all the uneven terrain had broke my leg. I was at a bit of a low, energy levels had remained good so far but the terrain was taking it's toll. The next 13miles was some of the most brutal I have experienced. Hills, rocks, mud and near impossible to follow trails. At some point on this section 2 runners came from behind. They weren't hanging about. "Don't mind us we're not in the race, we are delivering a banana." then every 100metres or so I'd catch them up with then frantically checking their map. The path was so hard to follow I was grateful for my GPS. We switched places and I put the banana deliverers on track a few times. Until we dropped into a cove one more time, they decided not to follow me anymore. I never saw them again and am still questioning whether it had actually happened??


Leaving the Dunes

This section broke me. The first morning light arrived and the last of the night was behind me. It was a massive relief, so was hitting the stepping stones outside St Ives because I knew I only had a bout a mile till I hit town. It must of been 10am as I stumbled into St Ives totally shattered. My leg was killing me and I was wheezing like a chain smoker. The coughing fits were painful now. I was broken.
I hobbled off the trail and my crew was waiting with tea, porridge and fresh supplies. I couldn't believe what I'd just been through. Another sock change and fresh layer of talc. Just those few minutes with a bit of hot food and pampered feet were enough to re-motivate me. I was still convinced my leg was broke so I kind of expected I'd be power walking the last 20 miles but I'd come this far backing out wasn't an option. Time to push on. I still hadn't really bonked but had some real fatigue issues going on. Yes the terrain was tough but my shortness of breath really wasn't helping. I'd come into this event wanting to go sub 30 because that seemed a pretty good target but deep down I knew I was capable of 24 hours. 24 was certainly gone now but I still had 8 hours to do the last 20ish miles for sub 30 so that was my motivation now.
I marched into town and went the long way round missing the obvious cut through, soon enough though I arrived at the CP and was met by Fergy who kindly offered to lead me inside. I declined explaining that if I was going to have to march it in I'd better get going. It was also a good opportunity to get a head start on the other competitors who were able to run! I left town and was soon faced with an estuary which we had to go round. This was very counter intuitive and despite my gps and the sign posts leading the way I was convinced I was going the wrong way. After a couple of miles of head scratching I eventually came back on myself and was the other side of the estuary and about to embark ng on the Dunes of doom!


Thank God that's over

The pain had subsided in my leg by now which I think had a lot to do with the terrain being somewhat flatter. The coughing however was much worse and I was hacking up solid lumps, I really thought parts of my windpipe were coming up. Yes I am a hypochondriac. As I entered the sands I saw a big black cloud heading our way and decided it was rain so started to sort my waterproof coat out. I seemed to take forever to get the coat on and get comfy. As I zipped it up the heavens opened, nothing too severe but there was some hail and wind in the mix. The dunes went on for some time and I was grateful this part of the course was marked. There was lots of different paths and I can imagine without the markers runners would be all over the place. As I left the dunes I was greeted by my crew once more. More tea, more porridge certainly enough to raise my spirits anyway. I was probably in 5th place right here with about 9miles to go but I could do nothing to hold this position and was aware of at least three runners right behind me. I picked up a walking pole from my crew to help with my failing right leg and plodded forward.
Rounding Godrevy point the coast was typically Cornish and rugged again. The path wasn't too bad and I was able to switch from power walking to jogging to shuffling but mainly shuffling. Over the this section the following 3 runners became the followed as they eased past me. They looked so fresh and I felt so shit. I entered Portreath with a bit of newly found vigour  the thought of nearly finishing was spuring me on. I grabbed my other stick off my crew and headed up the hill out of the village, my vigour ebbed away and was quickly replaced with the fatigue, my breathing was really laboured and my quads were jelly. This was a battle. I hiked the steep path and rejoined the coastal path. I was passed again and again even on this short section. There was a couple of really steep descents and ascents and my quads were a wobbly mess but I was making the best of it. It occurred to me at this point that I hadn't spent any of the race with anyone else. From mile 1 I had been alone for the whole race. Apart from being passed and passing others it had been a very lonely event. I was now in 11th place and thinking back I probably entered the trailhead in about 11th place.


Not my best look

I rounded the final bend and could see the finish from the top of the hill, I broke into a jog, all the way down the hill round the cove and up to the finish. The relief was immense. I nearly cried as I ground to a halt. I was handed my gold buckle and had finished in 27hrs 44. With that I had a massive coughing fit and was ushered in for a check over by the medics. I felt incredibly silly with a blanket over my shoulders and a monitor on my finger, everyone else looked fine! I wasn't, I was busted, it ha certainly been an Arc of Attrition!

Nice bit of bling

Almost two weeks later and having had time to reflect. Physically I'm fine although the last of my chest infection is hanging in there. That race was a beast, an absolute monster. You really need to be on top of your game to do well. I do believe I could go 24hrs on that course but it just hadn't worked out on the day. That is probably enough of a draw to get me back again for another shot. Just need to make sure when I do toe the line again I'm in tip top shape. I had entered because I want to run tough races and I really got what I paid for. We were blessed with the weather though so I'm sure I won't be so lucky next time. I didn't really use the CPs but the level of support was fantastic, everyone from the RD down had been a credit to the Ultra running community. You guys were great.
Next up for me is Western States, after all these years of trying I'm finally getting my shot. Training starts early March and I will be in the shape of my life. There is a silver buckle with my name on it!

Spartathlon 2016

Our destination

My first attempt at this epic race in 2015 ended in failure, my build up and training had not been the best, my quads totally failed me on the day after a very short distance, the heat ruined me and I ended up a broken mess at 75 miles. That dnf knocked my confidence massively, I couldn't even speak about the race for a month afterwards. I was in the gym a week later working on my still sore quads, a regime I kept up for the whole year. I knew right away I needed to return, to restore my faith in my ability. I entered using a 20hr 100 miler as a qualifier luckily I got in, Spartathlon 2016 was on.

Team GB

My training coming up to this event was impeccable, I spent the whole year working on various things. Trialing kit, tarmac running and quad workouts were ongoing but I also had a specific training period of twelve weeks with a proper taper and heat acclimatization. Every aspect had been covered and by the end of September I was fitter than I'd ever been. My kit had been perfected, my drop bags calculated, every detail had been considered. I was ready.
I didn't sleep much on the night before the race, I had my eyes closed and let my brain rest. It felt like forever as I scrutinized every last detail of my race prep. I was going through the smallest things that given the enormity of the race shouldn't have even been in my head. This should be chill out time, not a chance my brain was doing over time. Before I knew it 4.50am came and my alarm was firing off in my ear. I donned my gear, ate my breakfast and headed for the start.

Probably the most exciting
start line in the world

The start was only a few hundred metres from my hotel and I arrived just before the wave of buses. I stood in the middle of the paved area directly in front of the Theatre of Herodes Atticus, My nerve endings tingled as I visualized the journey ahead. Runners were now streaming in and the place was buzzing. Cameras flashing, group hugs, everyone readying for the countdown. A rather muted megaphone was mumbling in the background and we could just pick out the countdown, we were off. We surged forward filtering down the cobbled pathway and onwards toward the city.
Eight and a half minute miles had been my default pace for months, we were a little fast to start with but I soon hit my pace. I felt so full of beans it felt sluggish almost too slow but it's pointless having a plan and not executing it. We ran through the city streets and all traffic had been halted while we passed through much to the drivers annoyance. I can't imagine London traffic being halted just before rush hour on a Friday morning just to let a load of runners through. As we left the city we hit the long steady first climb. Myself, Barry Miller and James Poole chatted away barely noticing the climb. I was however very conscious of running my own race and the pace was picking up slightly. James pulled away slightly and I had no problem in letting him go. I continued for a further mile or so with Barry along a rather unpleasant main road. I was moderately faster than my 8.30s and told Barry to pull away, he did and that was the last I saw of him.
Everyone settled into their respective paces and the passing seemed to stop. I reached CP 4 and my first drop bag I had eaten a pack of shot blocks up till this point. I  grabbed my bag containing more shot blocks, gu gel, high five gel and 500ml of Tailwind. I downed half the drink and half a mile later downed the other half. Immediately feeling bloated. The feeling passed but wasn't pleasant.

Soaking my sleeves at
the marathon point

I soon joined the coast road and the miles ticked by. The running was easy and I felt so strong. The sun was up but the heat hadn't hit me. Every aid station I dipped my arms in a bucket of water and the feeling through my arm cooling sleeves was great. They were working! I reached the marathon distance and my first crew stop. I felt great and was all smiles I decided five minutes wouldn't hurt here. I was 15 mins up on my plan and 3hrs 55 had passed but I wasn't stressing because I felt good. My right quad was showing the first signs of fatigue as it had at this point last year. I trusted my training and put it to the back of head. I got a massive slice of watermelon from my crew and stuffed it in my face, It was heaven. I loaded up with shot blocks and gels and moved off. I ran back to the main road and headed up the hill, I had felt rough here the previous year but not this year, I felt great. I drank my tailwind as I jogged up the busy road, my stomach wavered again and I felt bloated. Again it passed. I carried on jogging along passing through small villages on the coastal road. I was really enjoying myself although sometimes you turn a corner and can see half a mile of straight tarmac ahead a very common site in this race.
The heat was at its most angry during this section probably about 30 degrees but plenty hot enough. I really wasn't bothering me though the heat acclimatization had worked so had my idea of total body coverage. The only problem I was having was slightly burning cheeks, my face not my arse. The ice pocket on my hat was working a treat. There was enough fabric between my head and the ice so I didn't get brain freeze but still the cooling effect on my head was amazing and as the ice melted the water trickled down my back. The ice was lasting plenty long enough too. I was very conscious of not drinking too much fluid. I was having my 500ml of tailwind every couple of hours,at each aid station I was having one cup of coke and one of water whilst keeping my bottle topped up and just sipping it as and when needed.
I passed Terry Zengerink on this section. It was hard but I was sticking to my very strict game plan which involved not running with anyone else. I passed, said 'Hi' and carried on. My quads were quite sore and every 10 mile or so I was doing four squats to try and stay loose and it seems to work for me even though I get some funny looks. I was soon approaching the Corinth canal and the high bridge. I ran over keeping my eyes fixed forward, I bloody hate heights. On the other side I caught Martin Bacon and we ran up the busy road to the 51 mile checkpoint together, I broke my golden rule but I was happy to have a major stop coming up and was in a chatty mood.

Raring to go in the heat of the day.
Hat stuffed full of ice.

I reached the CP in around 7hrs 55min and slightly ahead of my time target but still I felt good and took it as a bonus so I decided on a good 10min stop. I ran straight in and my quads were sore so I got on the massage table. The guys did a fantastic job on my legs and I ate an ice cream supplied by my crew. All was good in my world and I moved over to a chair to get some calories in. The pasta wouldn't go down so I settled for my ice cream and coke. Martin was beckoning me to go with him but I was reminded of my race plan by my crew and told him to crack on. 5 minutes later I was on the road again. The previous year I had felt like death at this point this year I felt good, what a relief!
After the busy roads it was nice to run on some quieter roads for a while. My mind drifted as I jogged along, I had written some splits down but had no real plan for any more of the race. I was so wrapped up in getting the first 50 done that I hadn't put a lot of thought in to the next section. No dramas just keep going the way I am and everything would be fine. Crossing the magical 53 miles was great only 100 to go, yay!.  Around this time I bumped into Paul Beechey and James we all chatted and exchanged positions. James was having a rough time with his stomach as was I. It was no good the energy I was getting from my tailwind was great but I was being left with a dry mouth and a bloated stomach. I had just been putting up with it but I could no more so as I ran ahead of James I stuck my fingers down my throat and projectile vomited across the road barely breaking stride. I did so a further two times. The relief was amazing, right there and then I decided tailwind wasn't working and I'd be drinking no more during this race. I've been sick 4 times during ultras and three had been in that two minute period. I actually felt great but was well aware my hydration and nutrition for the race had just taken a major blow. I quickly forced a couple of Gu down with water and an Scap. Time to focus. Martin appeared again from an adjacent field he'd got stomach issues but his were from a different exit. As much as I didn't want to run with anyone Martin was exactly my pace so we ran 4 or 5 miles into Ancient Corinth.
As we entered the village there was a pack of dogs fighting in the main centre which was an unnerving distraction also my quads hurt and my butt was sore, ring of fire type thing. I chatted with Jacque (my wife/crew) and told her I was ditching the tailwind she in turn insisted that I didn't run with Martin. He is a lovely guy but I had a strict plan and if I was to complete this race I had to stick to my plan. Again I let him go ahead as I tried to find my sudocreme, I didn't though, all I found was Gurney Goo so I slapped that round the offending area. Soon after leaving the check point I realized that the Gurney Goo was having the opposite intended effect and I was on fire. It certainly took my mind off the pain in my legs.

That was a painful massage

I'd left my headtorch in my bag at CP29 this was too early and as I passed through I handed it to my crew it would be pointless carrying for another couple of hours. About this time I started feeling rough, I was 60 something mile in, my feeding plan had gone to pot and I was tired. Not good. I was getting paranoid of the cut offs even though I had a two hour buffer and I was slowing. I bumbled through the lanes to CP32 and collected my head torch I was trying to get the gels down but in hind sight I wasn't getting enough calories. I had puked everything up and not re energized I was paying for it now. This really was head down, arse up and get on with it. I passed CP33 without stopping, I dropped here last year and I was happy to pass through, pretty much half way. I jogged slowly into CP35 Ancient Nemea and decided to have another massage, the girl really kneeded my quads and was checking my reaction constantly I couldn't help feeling like she was checking if I was ok to continue. I got up shook off the pain in my legs and ran on.
I can't remember exactly where but it was about the 85 mile mark I told Jacque that she had better drive to Sparta and check in and get some sleep. Chris Mills who was crewing John Volanthen said he would take over and Jacque could meet me in the morning with some fresh kit. I grabbed some Red Bull off her, Sudocremed my butt and jogged my way into the warm night. I had picked up a long sleeve top but certainly didn't need it yet. I started moving up hill and this was actually the start of the mountain all be it 13 miles out. I was still struggling and John caught up to me, he certainly had a similar game plan and was not in a talking mood. We spoke for a matter of seconds before he ran off. This was a bit of a kick in the balls as I'd been so strong but now I felt so weak. I could see the mountains up ahead but couldn't work out what way we were heading, either way it was a long way up. I walked and ran as best I could at one point getting stopped by an official asking if I was ok. I smiled and said of course I am, I'm 100% fine. Inside I was broken though.

Not sure where this was taken
but one of my fave pics ever

We followed an age of dirt tracks and tarmac switchbacks heading for the mountain, all the time I was getting passed by other Brits and there was nothing I could do about it. I managed to remain constant though and some of the brits that passed me would be messing about at CPs where I would pass straight through so there was a lot of criss crossing. I reached the mountain base in about 20 hours so it was now 3am, my Red Bull hadn't been going down too well but I'd taken a couple of ProPlus which really took the edge off the mental tiredness. John was still in the mountain base as he'd had a 10 minute nap. I decided to have a seat and a cup of soup, a well earned break after all that climbing, John pressed on ahead. .
I put my jacket on and hiked on to the rough track up and over the mountain this bit made a nice change up from all that tarmac, the rocky switchbacks were more to my liking. I passed straight through the mountain top CP and started the decent the other side. I was expecting a treacherous downhill with life threatening drops on all sides. What I found was a scree type track that was level but steep. Not a real issue apart from the fact I was slipping, I had stiff legs and tarmac shoes on. Others were sprinting past but I just walked down the steep bits until I reached the runnable stuff.
The run into Nestani was very much a blur. I was dealing with the lack of sleep ok but energy levels were still low and I was dragging my feet but I was getting it done. I was getting increasingly paranoid of the cut offs even though I'd pretty much maintained a constant two hour buffer. Everything I'd read had told me that the cut offs get easier as the race gets into the second day also that if you cross the mountain it's done. Both statements were not ringing true with me and that was bugging me. I was expecting to gain time on the cut offs and that is most certainly not the norm. With these thoughts some serious doubt had entered my head about actually finishing. 50 miles to go, not gaining time, feeling knackered, being passed by so many Brits, I nearly cried at the thought of failing again. This was a real mental low. There is little rationale at this stage in a race I was pushing forward but belief had left me.

I couldn't stop smiling. John always looks like that. 

It was in Nestani that a minor miracle happened, an epiphany you might say. I was feeling like my race was almost dead and I asked Chris what my lead on the cut off was, expecting him to say 2 hours, he said 1hr 40. This was awful, the worst margin I'd had the whole race. I looked him in the eyes and thought to myself 'You don't think I'm going to finish!' for fuck sake I didn't even think I would finish. Right there and then I decided this was it, do or die! There was enough time I just needed to get the hell on with it. I got up out my chair and ran in fact I ran with conviction, like someone who wanted to finish. The first signs of light filled the sky, I was on a very flat section and it was bloody cold. I was glad I had my jacket and spare top, the misty morning felt just above freezing. It was around 6am and 23 hours in, 40 something miles to go. A perfect time to get some good miles under my belt. I felt energized by the light. I was actually running, I passed Stu Wilkie and asked if he was ok, he was fine but mentioned his tiredness, he didn't look fine but he was moving so that was a positive. I ran into CP55 and started drinking coke and water. "Hi Dill" came from behind the table. I couldn't compute or focus but after a few seconds I realized it was John Volanthen siting there drinking soup. John and I both failed the previous year and both vowed to come back stronger. If there was one other runner I wanted to finish it was John. He looked shit and like a man about to give up. I said come on, little point sitting here and started to run. This was Johns epiphany and he jumped up knowing he had to move on. He couldn't run, he was spent but he ran/walked keeping me in sight. Eventually he caught me and we discussed our realization that this could and would be done but we had to keep on. We passed Duncan Cornish and egged him on. We were on a mission.
I ran into CP57 it was 7.30 am and 115 miles in, 38 miles to go in 11 and half hours. Jacque had arrived with my day gear,  I ditched my head torch and coat. She complemented me on how well I was doing but I wasn't feeling fluffy. No I said now's the time to knuckle down and get this done. John left but I had a pot of porridge which I watered down to a drink and promptly downed. I soon caught John. About a mile up the road the call of nature came on all of a sudden and I had to sacrifice a GB buff because I'd used my toilet roll elsewhere. A little gift for the farmer.

Carl and I at the finish

After the long flat lanes we joined a main carriageway and the start of a long uphill section. The road was like a British A road and the cars were not hanging about. I started to have another rough patch and I really had to get my head down and just follow John, if he walked I walked if he ran, I ran. It was tough going. He would pull away then I would catch him up and repeat although we were determined to run our own races we bounced off each other very well. We were just going up and up and I was noticing how painful my feet were. Blisters had just decided to rear their heads and the bottom of my left foot was blistered and all between my toes on the right side was heavily blistered. This pain got horrendously bad very quickly and I decided I would have to stop to burst them. I stopped and flipped off my shoe but I couldn't bend down to sort them out. It took all my effort to get my shoe back on. I jogged into CP65 with about 23 miles to go decided unless I sorted my feet I was going to struggle to get this done. The officials would have no problems pulling me out had they known how troubled I was so I smiled, grabbed and drink and went to hide behind some cars. I summoned Jacque to sort my feet. Russ Tullett was there too and volunteered his services. They removed my shoes and socks and Russ quickly burst the massive blister between my toes which fired its contents into the air and did so for a good 10 seconds. The blister on my left foot had ripped and was raw, Russ suggested covering the raw flesh with a Compeed. We all knew this was a big no no, but it was an emergency repair. He glued it on with some Tincture of Benzoin and I was good to go. John had gone way ahead but I did what I'd done the whole race and clawed him back. The pain in my feet wasn't quite as mind bending just manageable so jogging was ok.
 We eventually crested the hill and I bumped into some Brit supporters at a CP who explained that it was down hill from here and roughly thirteen miles to go. I was pulling away from John slightly and feeling good so I decided to just roll with it and try and run it in. It was 1.45pm I had about 12 miles to go and 5hrs 15 mins to do it. It was hot but the heat wasn't troubling me. As I continued down the road every car was honking their horns and Sparta soon came into view it was at that moment I knew I was going to do it. My lip quivered and a tear came to my eye it was almost done.
I had managed to jog right the way to the outskirts of town, I was shuffling but sort of running. A car swerved to a halt in front of me and a race official jumped out. 'Are you ok?' she asked. I was busted, in pain, incoherent, seizing legs but I smiled and enthusiastically said 'Of course I am!' You are not pulling me now I thought. I continued to jog along and bumped into Carl Howells I stopped briefly and spoke, as I went to run off my body said no, it was revolting, there would be no more running today.

Yes I am.

We walked and chatted there was only a couple of miles to go and I walked into the last CP and picked up my flag and team shirt. I was enjoying the walk in, everyone was cheering from their windows and spuring us on. We walked into the main street and I could see the flags at the end. This was the moment I'd waited 2 years for, I was lapping it up. The closer we got the louder the crowds got, all the Brit supporters were great and made us feel on top of the world. A Greek runner came up behind us a we let him go first to the statue. We followed him and took turns in kissing the foot. I thought I would cry at this point but I just felt relieved. Massive relief. I drank the river water from the bowl and stood for our photos. I'd actually dreamt of this moment and it was gone in a flash. I was so happy. 33hrs 57minutes 35 seconds. As 90% of the field will tell you though, it isn't about the time.
I was ushered to the medical area and had my blisters drained and drank an ice cold water. At that moment I seized up totally and couldn't get out the chair. After much negotiation I managed to get a wheel chair and was pushed over to the British supporters by a rather drunk Rob Pinnington. As soon as I was there I felt ill and started shaking uncontrollably. I so wanted to sit with the guys and celebrate but I couldn't, I needed to lie down. I got helped to my hotel by John Steele and eventually reached my bed. I crashed out. In pain but happy.

Me and the foot!

Would I do it again? Firstly Spartathlon is really hard if anyone tells you otherwise don't let it fool you.  I trained for a year with this race in mind and had spent most of the previous year thinking about my first attempt. So two years of my running life dedicated to this finish. Apart from a few minor details my race went exactly to plan and I finished well within the 36 hour limit. James Ellis asked me at the end what I attributed my finish to this time. I replied 'My heat acclimatization and my kit' but actually it was so much more than that. It was the weeks and weeks of training six days a week mostly on tarmac, back to back long runs, trying loads of different kit and nutrition strategies, 15 consecutive days of saunas pre race, planning every minute detail and every situation. It wasn't luck it was bloody hard work. Part of me wants it again but what would I achieve? Can I beat that time? Can I recreate that perfect race? What if I go back a third time and fail? Then surely I'd need to go back a fourth time. Thing is this race gets hold of you, I'm writing this thinking about the whole experience and what a great thing it was. So would I do it again?
Maybe....

The Northern Traverse 2016

Raring to go!

In 2008 I read a book called "Life on the Run" which was a tale of three guys journey across the UK following the Wainwrights coast to coast route, straight after reading it I bought the Harvey maps and dreamt of one day doing it myself. Well the maps got shoved to the back of the map drawer ready for future use. Fast forward to the last few years and after completing several 100 milers my mind started to wonder whether I could possibly run 200 miles. It's the natural progression, I think anyone with the mentality to run 100 inevitably wants to try 200 miles. My finger has hovered over the enter button a couple of times for the Tahoe Rim 200 but I could never really justify the cost. Then last year an advert flashed up on FB for The Northern Traverse, 190 across the UK following the Wainwrights route from St Bees Head to Robin Hood Bay. This was meant to be! So as soon as I received my annual refusal from the Western States I entered. I was in The Northern Traverse 2016.

All present and correct

After a couple of days of fine weather and R and R at St Bees the day arrived. We collected our number bibs, had trackers attached and walked out onto the grass ready for the 10am start. I was out sufficiently early to go and dip my toes in the water as is the tradition, touch the water on the West coast and the East coast when you finish. Group photo taken, we were called to the line, as usual on long events no one is prepared to step forward which I find a bit strange, as if we are all waiting for a group of elites to step up. Well Eoin Keith had stepped forward so had John Knapp and I tucked in with them no need to be shy. The horn went and we were off, there was a single track bridge 50 mtrs from the start so we sprinted to it, then immediately into a half mile climb out of St Bees. It was heating up already and the skies were crystal clear. We power hiked up and Eoin started edging ahead along with John and a couple of others. Their pace was slightly fast for me so as we rounded the light house at the top I maintained a steady pace and let them go. We turned in land and within the first hour I was on my own.

Happy on Day 1

I was loving running a nice slow pace and soon reached the first climb, Long Barrow, I power hiked through the woods and up the hill soon flying down the other side whilst still thumbing the map. It was red hot and I had made a late decision to carry an extra bottle making 1.5 litres, glad I did really as it was going to be red hot. One of the main hurdles of this event was the self sufficiency, each feed station was between 30 and 46 miles so between those points you are on your own. You either need to carry enough water to get you through, buy it on route or source it from else where. Well just before Ennerdale lake I found a café and stopped for an ice cold water. I ran the alongside Ennerdale water and it was gorgeous, beautiful surroundings, cracking trail, red hot, this was heaven. The trail soon left the water and into the forest, it was roasting and I was getting through my water very quickly. I stopped and filtered some water with my Sawyer Straw, a very time consuming process. I filled a couple of bottles and ran on. I reached the Black Sail hut but passed straight through bearing left up and over the hill. The run down to the slate mine and beyond to Rosthwaite is stunning. I was really on a high, keeping hydrated, well fed and not pushing too hard. I felt great. I passed two of the early leaders on the way down briefly saying 'Hi' but still making the most of this good spell. Leaving Rosthwaite the run took through more cracking trail to Grasmere and Thorney How an unofficial drinks stop. I wandered in and there was a lovely lady stood at a table with jugs of squash, flapjack and the like. No one else around just as though she had been waiting patiently all afternoon for runners to pass through. We chatted about drinking stream water and she said she had drunk straight out the mountain streams all her life and I had no need to filter. I was 50/50 on this, on one hand I had contracted campylobacter just the previous year drinking from a stream and on the other the Sawyer Straw was too time consuming. I left there with a big chunk of flapjack and headed the nine miles through to Patterdale, up and over Grisedale Hause. I arrived at Patterdale before nightfall, bang on schedule and decided to have a good feed up, Joe Faulkner was running the food and I know from previous experience how good his soup is so I had three bowls. John Knapp was in there and we sat and chatted about what a great day it had been.

Trail runners heaven

My feeding plan for the event had been to consume 3000 calories every twelve hours. This was to be made up of Gu, Jelly Babies and Tailwind and then stuff as much real food as I could at the feed stations. Also at each feed station were several tents so you could either sleep at every station or none or indeed sleep on the hill should you need to. My plan was to skip the first sleep, sleep for 2 hours at Kirkby then grab any other sleeps I needed on the hill.

John had got ready and left and I put on my long sleeve top and head torch in preparation for the night ahead. I left Patterdale and we were to head up to Kidsty Pike which was a good couple of hours. Kirkby Stephen was about 36 miles away so it would take me till morning to reach there. This is a cracking section, up past Boredale Hause, Angle Tarn and through to Kidsty Pike. I hiked the majority and ran where I could, we were well over 50 miles in and it was really dark and chilly before I reached the Pike. I had put the map away and was using GPS now. Had I been camping more and moving slower with a clear head I would have tried to nav by map alone but given I was aiming for the fastest time possible I opted for GPS especially during the night. As I headed down to Haweswater my eyes started flickering and the sleep demons were coming on. The previous days mountain running had taken its toll and I was nodding off on my feet. Lack of sleep certainly is a weakness of mine, if you want to do well in a non stop multi day event you have to cope well with no sleep and I don't! I'd made a last minute decision to wear Hokas as it had been so dry which I was happy with but as I bumbled along Haweswaters rocky edge I was tripping and stumbling. I took a Pro Plus as I couldn't shake off the the flickering eyelids. As the trail improved the caffeine kicked in and I felt slightly better, enough so to run with out the fear of falling over. As we reached the end of the water I was passed by two runners. My tiredness had cost me already. I left the road and came across a metal container full of drinks and an honesty box. Very nice, I thought as I choose a drink and choccy bar my head torch shining in the box. As I did a car passed by then quickly spun round and screeched to a stop next to me. "What the hell are you doing!" was shouted at me. I looked up and two massive geezers were sitting in their car looking ready to stove my head in. After a quick explanation the air was cleared and I was able to move on enjoying my can of coke.

I made my way onto Shap, the tiredness had subsided for now and I was able to run. I was getting really frustrated with my bottles, I was worrying that one of my soft flasks was going to fall out of the side pocket of my pack. This minor issue was stressing me out so I decided to put a full bottle in the main part of my pack then I could access it in an emergency. I ran into Shap, it was 2am. There was unmanned drink station located there which I thought would be closed so I pressed on into the night, only later did I find out it had been fully stocked with drinks and sandwiches, Doh! I ran up Shaps main street and soon veered off onto moorland and open fields. It was very dark and the terrain was up and down. I realized one of my bottles was almost empty so reached for my spare bottle, Shit, it had gone! I must have dropped it earlier while fiddling with my pack. I had 300 mls and 18 miles to Kirkby Stephen, this was never going to last. After the previous red hot day I was thirsty and needed to find water fast but as the miles ticked by I realized there was nothing, no streams, no tarns, nothing. I was still running ok but was seriously dehydrated, my mouth was almost stuck shut. I was in daylight now and spotted a tarn ahead and ran towards it with visions of gulping down loads of fresh water. It was not to be though there was a massive barbed wire fence between me and the water. In my shaky state the fence as an obstacle too far. Shortly after as cracks felt like they were appearing in my throat I found a puddle. Admittedly there was sheep shit in the puddle but it was wet so I popped out my Sawyer Straw and drank from the puddle, needs must. Thankfully it was enough to see me through until I found a nice flowing stream and managed to fill my bottles. I lost a few places through this tough stage but it didn't matter I was running my own race and this is all I could do.

Kirkby Stephen

I got in to Kirkby Stephen mid morning roughly 24 hours in and bang on my schedule. My plan now was to grab a few hours kip before cracking on. I ate and drank and headed for one of the tents. As I lay in the hot tent every sound was magnified, the light shone through my closed eyelids and my heart was pumping. I was never going to sleep. I laid there for a further 20 minutes before trudging back indoors for some more food and a mental re-plan. It was 10am and the next section to Richmond was 37 mile or so, I decided I could continue through all day and reach Richmond by nightfall then I could sleep. My mind was made up and after greasing my feet I headed out of the feed station. Soon after leaving I was rising back up again, it was a steady hike up to Nine Standards Rigg, it was gorgeous at the top I would have been quite happy to stop a while and look around but no it was time to push on. After some cracking trail running on the high ground it was time to descend again. I was running well and my quads were holding up. I had a really sore shin on my right leg from the hard descents of day one but this although very painful was a minor issue. The run across Malbecks Moor was lovely but my eyelids were flickering again, the lack of sleep was really taking its toll. It was a lovely sunny afternoon and every so often I would lay on the soft grass for a 5 minute power nap. They can be quite effective and gave me the strength to get through. I was about 20 mile in to this stage and roughly 30 hours without sleep. Just prior to Reeth there was some great technical trail and I was loving the scrambling, I climbed to the top of what seemed like a disused quarry and found a well made path heading down, I was hallucinating really heavily now. I have learnt to embrace hallucinations and they don't phase me, they just make life tricky especially when my eyelids are so heavy. I ran into the village and in my tired state I had it in my head that this was Richmond and I was really boosted by the prospect of sleep and rest. I chatted to a random guy who had been following the tracker and waiting ages to see a runner. He soon informed me this was Reeth not Richmond and my heart sank. There was still another 11 miles to go. I walked into the local shop, sweaty, stinking and incoherent but the shop keeper didn't bat an eyelid as I stocked up on water and chocolate. I trudged through the village eating my chocolate trying to get motivated for the next 11 miles. This was a tough moment in the race, we were around the 100 mile mark 33 hours in and roughly halfway, my feet hurt, I was tired, my shin was killing me, I'd had enough.

The route to Richmond was actually very nice, lots of grassy fields and woodland but not too many hills. I perked up as I ran two thirds of every field and walked one third. The miles ticked by as I dreamt of the lovely sleep I was due to have. I could see Richmond in the distance and everything in the world seemed great again. I was quite high up looking down at the village and it was roughly 9pm, I thought I'd walk down into town but even this seemed to go on for ever. I circled the town centre before doubling back on myself and eventually finding the rugby club, this all felt counter intuitive and I still swear I did an unnecessary lap of the town. Eventually I jogged into the feed station just as it started to rain.

I sat down with a massive sigh of relief, I could rest! I took my shoes off and started to eat some chicken stew. There were two other runners in there preparing to go out. They were discussing the night ahead, preparing their maps, they looked so un flustered and I felt so shit. I couldn't comprehend heading straight back out. I grabbed my kit and limped over to my tent in the now heavy rain. I jumped into my sleeping bag and set the alarm for 3 hours. In what felt like seconds I was gone and a few seconds later the 3 hours had passed and my alarm was bleeping. It was still raining and about 1 am. I donned my headtorch and sorted my kit in the cramped tent. My feet were noticeably swollen and I struggled to get my shoes back on. After 20mins or so I walked back over to the main feed station. I ate some porridge, a fried egg sarnie and a couple of teas, there were two others in here now one guy had just walked in and another was prepping to go back out, although he didn't look too keen. I was mentally preparing for the next stage breaking down the mileage etc. I was told at this point there would be no sleeping at the next aid station, a storm had hit and they were unable to set up the tents. In real terms this meant I had 45 miles to the next feed station, before entering straight into the last 30 mile on no rest. Ok keep calm I'm going to leave here at 2am, walk for 2 hours until daybreak, I should be at the feed station by 3pm, an hours stop then an 11hour 30 miler for a 3 am finish. Simple.

I left at 2am as planned, the rain had stopped and I power hiked into the darkness. My legs were stiff but I soon shook it off and the swelling in my feet subsided. I broke into a run as the first particles of light guided my way. I passed Catterick race course through grassy flat fields. The water on the grass was rolling down my legs and quite quickly my feet were soaked through. This was going to be a hindrance later on. I entered a secluded lane and walked towards a car with full beam bearing on me. This felt weird in my tired state and I half expected the engine to roar before the driver attempt to mow me down. I walked the couple of hundred metres to the car and as I walked along side the window was open. My eyes adjusted to the driver. "What ya doing?" he asked in a gruff voice. "Running the Coast to Coast" I replied. "Sure you are, it's four in the fucking morning". "I Know". "Well you better have some chocolate, keep your spirits up" he said as he cracked me off a few squares of his Aero. He pulled away laughing and shaking his head. A quite surreal experience that I'm positive actually happened. The lanes and fields continued for miles and I had several variants of running on the go, varying from actually running to power hiking to the ultra hobble. I felt happy at this point and was confident about the miles ahead. Through the ever over grown fields I eventually reached the A19. I knew there was a garage there and bought food, a sandwich, coffee, chocolate and maltloaf. I gulped down the coffee and stuffed in the sandwich before running the gauntlet across the now very busy dual carriageway. I walked up the lane eating my maltloaf and my thoughts were on my feet which were now soaked through and badly macerated. The pain was searing up my legs and by my reckoning I was at mile 150, it was about 1pm. 40 miles to go. I was hoping my feet might dry out a bit with a fresh pair of socks. Little did I know what lay ahead.

OMG I felt rough

The trail rose up through the forest and it was stunning, a very different scene to the grassy fields. After a lengthy climb I joined the Cleveland Way, the wind was getting up and coming from the North, whipping the tree tops and driving the now constant rain into my side. The rain was now soaking through my windproof top and there was a definite chill in the wind. I managed some running through this section and the Cleveland Way was very nice, I'm sure it would have been much nicer on a better day. I reached an unofficial feed station at the Lord Stones Café. I opened the door to the café but it was rammed full of people and red hot inside. This wasn't going to help stopping here so I left and pushed on. I started heading higher on the Cleveland Way and decided to tuck in some bushes to change coats. The rain was now driving in on the high wind and the conditions were testing to say the least. I dropped down to a road and again convinced myself that this must have been the feed station but couldn't see any signs. Maybe I was wrong again, I couldn't face getting the map out in the high wind so pressed on. The trail from here was very runnable and wide it also kept going up. The higher I went the stronger the wind blew, it was howling. I was in the clouds and the cold was going right through me. My feet hurt and I was exhausted but I had no choice but to run it was just too cold. The trail just kept rising and it was very exposed. I really started doubting my position, visibility was poor and stopping wasn't an option. I had a nagging feeling that I'd gone wrong. I was so cold and beginning to get worried. I needed shelter to regroup but there was nothing. Eventually I squatted behind a bank long enough to get my trousers on. I was not in a great mental state everything just seemed too hard to compute. I got my emergency phone out to ring in to make sure I was on track still but I couldn't work out how to use it. I realized I only had a few minutes before this got serious. I needed to know where I was on the map now otherwise I would have to get in my bivy then that really could be race over. I got a grid reference off my GPS and got a fix on my map with the compass. Thank god for that I was still on track but about 2 miles outside the feed station. I packed my kit back up and started moving quickly forcing myself to run. I ran all the way to Blackey Ridge and missed the turn. I ran on for several hundred metres before realizing my mistake I turned and headed back. I picked the correct turn and suddenly the pub emerged out of the cloud. What a relief! I nearly cried. I grabbed my kit bag before setting up camp in the disabled toilets of the pub. I completely stripped down and warmed by the radiator. I tried to grease and tape my feet but they were shot. Mile 160 about 57 hours in on 3 hours sleep. Mentally I was finished, I was dog tired, it was 5pm.  The only thing that got me dressed was knowing that I had one stage to go and it was too late to quit. I put multiple layers on and headed back out the pub to the feed station van. For the first time I felt too sick to eat which was not good. I stood in the van while they made me some rolls for the next leg. They were lovely and chatting away to me but my mind was in a daze their voices passed in one ear and out the other. I prepared myself mentally again for the next leg.

Just 30 to go.

30 Miles!! FFS!!

As I shoved the door open of the van I stepped into the gale, it was a head wind as I crossed the carpark, the wind was deafening and I tucked my head down a ploughed forward. My thoughts were, What am I doing? How am I going to finish this? I felt lost. It was actually impossible to run into the wind, I kept my head down and battled the wind the warm pub was now a distant memory. After a mile or so the trail turned off the road and across the rough moorland. It was flooded and thick with heather, the path was indistinguishable and really tough to follow. I followed my GPS to the line, occasionally seeing snapped branches so I knew others had passed through. This was as tough as it gets and not enjoyable, I was praying for some lower ground. Darkness soon set in and I was cold again. The cold didn't fight off the tiredness though and I was falling asleep on my feet. At one point in my frustration I started yelling profanities at the weather. The trail alternated from moor to trail to road but still no descent. The sleep monsters were full on now, I was hallucinating constantly, every rock or bush had a face. I was ignoring the faces but kept stopping and nodding off on my feet. I would suddenly snap out of it before carrying on. For large portions I was convinced I was with someone and would chat with them but the truth is I hadn't run with anyone for 60 hours!

Relief

At last I was starting to descend and the chill eased off. It was late at night as I walked into the village of Glasdale where I came across a phone box, it looks so inviting! That I got into the box and curled up in a ball on the floor. I took a 5 min power nap. My feet were so sore I could no longer step without the feeling of walking on broken glass. I had to shuffle along on the outside of my feet. The hills still seemed to go on for ever and the moorland didn't become any easier. I entered the woods at Little Beck and it was a steady ascent through thick trees, at points I would lose the trail and end up climbing through trees, it was muddy and steep. I eventually emerged out the top of the woodland and knew I wasn't far from the end now. I followed the last bit of moor to a well made trail this was it, I was on the home run. The trail turned into a track which turned into a road and at last I saw a sign for Robin Hood Bay. I left the road and headed down through a camp site to the coastal path. Daylight had arrived an hour previous and this coastal path was definitely a sting in the tail, up and down it went seemingly forever. I was hallucinating heavily still and all the rocks were alive with faces. It really was just a hobble now my as the pain in my feet was just mind bending. At last one final climb to a gate and stood at the gate was John Knapp, my god this is it the final stretch? He congratulated me and let me run off down the main street to the finish. I turned the last couple of corners to be greeted by my wife and James, the two solitary figures at the finish. I collapsed in a heap on the line only lifting my head to receive my medal. I starred into the sea and felt a wave of relief, it was over. 8th place 190 miles in 69hours incorporating 3 complete nights and just 3 hours sleep over some of the country's toughest terrain. I was spent.

Do I have to move?

Macerated foot. That is pain right there. 

I slept for almost 24 hours straight post race and felt completely shattered for days after. I also picked up a nasty stomach bug somewhere on the route which has not helped recovery. This race was always something I wanted to do, the course was harder than expected and it's definitely an itch scratched. Not sure if I'll ever enter a straight 200 mile race, the lack of sleep certainly limits my ability to compete at this distance. My feet slowed me down massively at the end but that is something that can be worked on but the difference between me and the guys above me was ultimately sleep. I just have my limits on sleep. I can easily go one night with out sleep I just struggle to go two. All things a side though I have managed to finish injury free and have a clear race calendar between now and Spartathlon. Let the training commence.