Western States 2019

After Western States 2017 I still felt incomplete. Yes I'd finished, yes I got a buckle but it wasn't the race I had wanted. I had reached Foresthill and completely shut down. This has happened twice now. Once at the Barcelona 24hr track race and at Western States 2017. It is a very strange situation, you are not injured, nutrition is good, well trained yet you can't run. This has played on my mind since WS I have analysed every aspect of that race trying to work out what it was. The conclusion was it was culmination of two key things, altitude and heat. I pushed too hard too soon and the lack of oxygen completely stripped my body of energy. I followed that by hitting the canyons heat and powered on regardless. My body was completely broken come Foresthill and although my brain was still focused on finishing sub 24 my sub conscious was stopping me running. My sub conscious was preventing any more damage to my body by stopping me running. I firmly believe this to be the case and had another very experienced runner concur. This wouldn't happen again bring on Western States 2019.

Team GB

I felt I needed to go back. My dream in limbo. That elusive silver buckle still in Auburn. There is no way I could leave it. I thought I'd just throw my name in the hat with a 5 year plan to get back in. So year 2 and 2 tickets in the hat and for the first time in many years I didn't watch the draw. Then a message pops up on my phone from Jim Kepfer in Auburn. Gordy just pulled your name!! Shit I was in!!!  I took me all of 10 seconds to decide I was going to go and within a few hours my flight was booked, hotel booked and messenger group set up with the fellow Brit runners.

I trained hard for this and under the guidance of Kim Collison got myself in to super shape. I cleared the diary of races and decided to concentrate on learning the Bob Graham route in the lakes. The mountain running and weekly leg session in the gym prepared my legs for what was to come. I planned every step of the race, my nutrition, clothes, strategy, everything ! I was ready.

The build up during race week was fun but I remained focused. I was here to race, I was here for my silver buckle! The only thing that broke my concentration was meeting my running hero Scott Jurek. Total legend and left me speechless. I had so much to say to him, so many questions about his multiple WS wins, Spartathlon wins, Badwater wins, Hardrock win, he's even done a Bob Graham!. So much to say but my tongue tied in a knot and nothing come out apart from "Can you sign my hat".

Fan boy

Shit FFS you meet a running legend and that's what pops out. Funny really.

Race morning arrived and all the Brits congregated to chat but I was zoned in on the race, working all the bits through in my mind. I had to wish everyone good luck and go do my own thing. I stood in the start area and soaked it in. This is it this is my moment. I completely focused on not going off too fast. If I flew up that mountain with my heart rate through the roof and panting like a over heating pug I would have just mimicked 2017. I really didn't want to do that this was key to my race plan. Just concentrate.

Lets do this

The gun boomed and we were off. I ran for about 50 metres before settling into a hike. I had an hour and twenty in my mind to reach the Escarpment. I hiked hard and held back from any running. The urge was there but I knew It was not in the plan. I'd been training to heart rate and was aware spikes in my heart rate were not what I needed. I controlled my breathing and worked hard enough not to lose too many positions. As we strode on I was passed by several Brits. Matt Brand, Keith James, Annabelle Stearns and Ammon Piepgrass all passed me. It was so tough not to get my racing head on.
I reached the top in just over an hour. I was a bit fast but more importantly I hadn't overly exerted myself. It was freezing at the top! I'd decided at the last minute to wear a long sleeve over my pack and I needed it. I also had a spare pair of socks as gloves. Good job too because my hands were numb.

The high country

I started running once over the top and kept it to a steady jog. My timings were simple, Robinson in 7hr, Foresthill in 14hr that would give me 10 hours to cover the last 40 mile. I can average 5 mile an hour in the late stages so if I had the perfect day sub 23 was possible. My first goal though was Robinson. The snow wasn't as bad as 2017 but there were banks of it everywhere over the first 6 mile. Luckily I'd choose a grippy shoe and waterproof sock which served me well. I was running well, slow but well. The air was thin and the altitude was playing its part. Every time my heart rate spiked I backed off and let it settle. That meant holding right back. I got to Lyon Ridge and felt fine I drank some coke and moved on. The snow thinned as we carried on along the ridge, the views were spectacular. I passed the spot where I had fallen in 2017 the trail is pretty rocky on the ridge and I was taking extra care this time. I paused for a few views this time instead of running flat out across rocks while trying to look round. Red Star Ridge came and went I was a little up on schedule but no dramas I was just concentrating on not falling and keeping my heart rate in check. The snow was thinning all the time with minimal snow banks now. There was one particularly steep one so I tried to show off by skiing down it. Epic fail. Crashed onto my backside and skidded down on my knee giving me a nice ice burn to think about.

Duncan Canyon

As the miles ticked by I could feel the air thickening and my lungs filling with oxygen. I ran to feel and I could now step it up. I dropped into Duncan eventually reaching the icy waters at the bottom. The water was thigh deep and very refreshing, I dunked my head and felt revitalized as I marched out the other side. I ran into Robinson feeling good and about 15 mins up on my predicted time of 7 hours. This was a major stop for me. I took my time and changed shoes and socks also powdering my feet. I ate lots of fruit from the aid station to clear the sugary gel taste from my mouth. I repacked with supplies and headed out after a good 10 min stop. I was still under the 7 hours but half hour outside the 24hr pace according to their timings.

I had worked on nutrition this time knowing that it wasn't quite right last time. A high percentage of runners puke at Western States. The heat really doesn't help keep stuff down and puking is not great when chasing a tight time schedule. Once your gut has emptied you are in a world of trouble because you have to get all those calories back in your system or you will bonk but when you try to eat you feel sick again. Vicious circle. I felt sick last time and stopped eating. This time my strategy was to get 200 cals per hour in and top up at checkpoints. I was carrying mountain fuel, gu and hi 5 gels. I was to take 100 cals of either every half hour. Straight away the mountain fuel made me feel sick so I ditched it. The Gu is my rocket fuel but again it was making me feel queasy so I had to just force one down every two hours or so. My main fuel turned out to be the High 5 gels, they are pretty liquid and easy on the stomach. They are around 90 cals but don't pack a punch like a gu. I had brought enough of these to have one every half hour and topped it up with fruit, redbull, coke, mountain dew and the odd cup of soup. This was all I ate but it worked. This gave me the magic 300 cals an hour.

I ran out of Robinson and bumped into Jim my pacer for later. It was good to see him, we chatted briefly and I ran out feeling strong. I was able to run pretty well from here. The trail seems to descend for ages and its a good time to make up on the 24 hr cutoff. I ran into Millers Defeat and loaded up on ice in my hat and backpack but soon after I realized it wasn't really needed and the ice in my pack was actually burning my back so I had to stop and empty it. I kept the bits in my hat and for the rest of the day all I needed was a few cubes in there to keep my head cool. Through Dusty Corners and last chance I was really running well. I seemed to be gaining places with only the occasional  runner passing me.

I reached the top of Deadwood Canyon and ran the switchbacks down. Mt quads were in good shape and the heat wasn't too intense but I descended steadily knowing what lie ahead. At the bottom I took a breath and walked round to the stream that comes down the hillside. I washed my face, dunked my hat and started the hike upto Devils Thumb. It is about 1500ft straight up with about 35 switchbacks. I hiked strong with the thought of the aid station at the top pulling me forward. I had to stop a couple of times feeling faint. I actually thought I was going down but held it together. I reached the top and breathed a sigh of relief. Matt was in there looking pretty ill. I really wanted something cold but was drawn to the soup and ended up having several cups. A nice rest from the sugary stuff. I left straight after Matt and he was doubled up puking on the trail. I so wanted to help but what can you do? A few words of advice and I pressed on almost straight back into running. El Dorado Canyon was next and it passed without incident. I hiked out the top and ran into Michigan Bluff. The reception was incredible. I picked up some supplies from a drop bag and drank a selection of cold drinks and ate some strawberries. Annabelle was in there preparing to leave and it was good to see her looking strong. I walked up the main street and the atmosphere was incredible with almost everyone of the dozens of people giving words of encouragement. My pacers Jim Kepfer and Pete Korn were there and it was great to see them. Not having ever met Pete. I took an ice cold redbull from them and drank it as we walked and chatted. My mind was now getting firmly into 24hr mode. I was feeling great and I told them we would be running for that buckle come Foresthill. As I rejoined the route a supporter said "All flat to Foresthill". Great I thought not remembering the trail.

Well that wasn't true I passed through another canyon through to Foresthill. It wasn't as harsh as the other two but a canyon all the same. I hit the tarmac and hiked up to the main road. It was around this time last time I overheard a conversation where a pacer was saying to his runner how unlikely getting a sub 24hr would be from this point would be. Well those words resonated in my head. It was happening today. I ran into the aid station and time for another main stop. Sock change, foot powder and food. Jim was expressing concerns about the time it was taking but it was 10 minutes well spent. I had reached there bang on my schedule and spent 10 minutes sorting stuff so I was now 25 minutes outside 24hr pace. This was not an issue I was going to get my buckle.

Get me off this boat

I explained to Pete my pacer for this section that I felt good and wanted to run to the river. I explained pace and what I wanted from him and we started running. It was an amazing section and everything felt right. Pete knew I'd be getting a silver and so did I. It was one of them moments when all the stars aligned. It was now or never I was so focused all that mattered was running. Had I succumbed to negative thoughts now I would have never forgiven myself. Pete was incredibly positive and every so often I'd pull up and he would allow me 1 minute before we ran again. Over that next 16 miles we picked up time and places only briefly stopping at aid stations for redbull or coke. At each aid station another few minutes was taken back from my 24 hr hour deficit. Darkness arrived and we donned head torches at about mile 70. We caught up with Annabelle just before the river I stopped and we exchanged positive words but it really was time to run so I wished her well and pushed forward. We were so close I preyed she would maintain her pace and get her buckle too.  By the time we reached the river we were evens on the 24hr cutoff and nothing was going to stop me. We changed pacers at the river and I clambered into the boat. Willing it across as I just wanted to crack on.

Jim my trusted pacer from 2017 took over and we started the long hike up to Green Gate. I was super positive but I could tell Jim was still well aware this was borderline. He had been in this position many times and seen many fail. We ran straight after Green Gate through some undulating trail which I didn't care much for but I was getting through it. We got a good pace going and were picking off other runners. The run was massively undulating and the climb to highway 49 was a real sting in the tail when you feel the trail should be getting easier. I ran into Pointed Rocks aid station mile 94 it was around 3am, Two years previous I had reached here at exactly 5am and 24hrs elapsed. I grabbed some coke and ran through. Jim stopped for a pee but I just ran and left him to catch me up. I ran and ran to No Hands Bridge and didn't enter into the bridge party atmosphere I just pressed on. It was around now that I felt I would do it and started to well up. I pulled it together though as there is still a bloody massive climb to go to Robie Point. My body now started to shut down as it was hitting home I was going to make it. Pains in my legs came followed by fatigue and the lack of will to run. I hiked up as hard as I could.

Job done

I came out the top of Robie Point around 4:10 am and knew it was in the bag. Pete was at the top having decided he couldn't go home knowing something special was going to happen. We ran easy to the track chatting about how things had gone but my mind was elsewhere. The years of training and effort were firmly in the forefront of my mind this was it. We entered the track and Jim said they would meet me at the other side of the line. I said no way join me and cross together. A wave of euphoria hit me as I crossed the line in 23:24:59.

Silver Buckle

I was under no illusion coming into this that sub 24 was right there on the boundaries of my ability. It was no fluke.  All the tiny details meant minutes on the day, that 35 minute buffer could have been lost in the blink of an eye. An extra minute in each aid station, a few too many walking breaks, puking from eating the wrong food. Coupled with a specific 16 week training program. Weekly hill reps, gym sessions, speed work, saunas it all amounted to that 35 minutes saved. I ultimately had the perfect race and hit my target. It doesn't get better than that. No complaints, no excuses.

The big question is would I go back? My philosophy has always been if you have the perfect race don't go back because you can only fall short but I love this race with a passion. It is part of me and under my skin so yes I will go back. I am a silver buckle holder and no one can ever take that away.

I just want to mention some of the other Brit runners, Matt Brand, Ammon Piepgrass, Tim Lambert, Keith James it was lovely to meet you all. Well done to Beth Pascal and Tom Evans for flying the flag for the UKs elite.
Most importantly though Ian Brazier, Richard Leahy, Annabelle Stearns and Sharon Sullivan. You guys really made it a trip to remember.

Anyone in the UK interested in a brand new Ultramarathon for 2020 check out the North Downs Way 153 on my website www.hitthetrailrunning.com it will be a future classic.

Thames Path 2018

When I booked this up for my 6th attempt it was to serve one purpose, that being to provide me with a fast hundred, a pb and if everything fired correctly a Sparta auto. Little did I know that after a manic 2017 race wise what was about to happen to my body in 2018. So really this is a report of two halves as half the battle was just to get to the start line.

There I was happily running round the track at Barcelona in December at the annual 24hr race. This on the back of running the Arc, Western states and Lakeland 100 in the same year. I was nailing it and bang on schedule for a Sparta auto. I hit 75 mile and was ready to push on into the second half. Then it hit me, my hamstrings started to seize up followed by my quads and within an hour I was unable to move my legs it felt like my body was shutting down. I subsequently stopped before the 24hours were up and shuffled back to my hotel.

All smiles now. 

From that day nothing seemed right with me. I rested for two weeks then ran the headtorch marathon which in hindsight was a monumentally bad decision. I couldn't run, my legs just wouldn't have it. Again I rested for a couple of weeks then ran the Tanners, again I felt like death and my legs were completely dead. I didn't run a bad time but I was definitely not right. Then came the difficult decision to ditch this years Arc. I love that race but no way was I able to run it. During January I developed a lump in my throat and in my true stubborn style I totally ignored it. My leg power wasn't improving and I'd now developed breathing problems and chest pain but still I carried on entering stuff and ran the Brecon to Cardiff ultra to take my mind off the Arc. During that race at the top of the massive climb I developed the worst chest pain ever and really thought the worst. I carried on though like an idiot. I finished and the very next day finally carted myself off to the docs. Upshot was a viral infection probably caused by a completely shot immune system this had lead to bronchitis. The lump was a viral cyst.

What I should have done back in December is just took some time off but I'm so hopelessly obsessed with fitness and running that I just carried on regardless. I already work in a physical job which is not dissimilar to 8 hours of heavy cross training every day and being self employed means no time off. So the work load, the constant training, the racing and the lack of recovery had finally caught up. The complete shut down in Barcelona was a warning shot that I ignored so followed my immune system failure. By March I was a complete wreck, I gave myself false hope that I was feeling better and ran the Steyning stinger and back my bronchitis came. So still instead of total rest I decided to reel it in a bit. I put the gym on hold, training runs were only to be 10k, no more and I'd just chuck a couple of longer races in but just jog round if necessary all to get me to the start of the Thames Path. I'm not going to lie the last few months have been hell but things have got slowly better and in the last three weeks I have been without chest pain. I'm still under the doc and am still undergoing some tests but all seems well. The last month made my mind up that although my fitness isn't quite there and a pb was probably a pipe dream I would be able to start the Thames Path 100. I'd made the start line.

Dream team

My plan was very simple, my 100 milers seem to be defined in the first 30 miles and given the hot weather forecast I would run a very conservative but precise first 30 then just see how the race panned out. There would be no pressure on myself just go about your business and be thankful you are out there. As we milled around waiting for the start I could feel the suns piercing rays tingling my skin. It was 9am and today was going to be a scorcher. I know from experience that the best way to deal with direct strong sunlight is to cover up. Hat, sunnies, arm sleeves. In fact the only exposed parts were my face, hands and knees. I felt pretty comfortable on the start line and stood well back from the front. I mustn't go off too fast!

We started and I quickly settled in to 8:30 min miles. Just as planned. My food strategy was a gel every 45 mins and topped up with Tailwind/Mountain fuel or whatever I fancied en route. The plan was to meet my crew at Wrasbury 22 miles and it worked out I would be there in 3hours 17min. I reached Wrasbury with little drama and I stopped for seconds at the aid station knowing my crew would only be a little further on where I would be able to switch bottles. I met my crew within a minute of my predicted time. The Thames was gorgeous, people everywhere, so much going on. All this lead to some heavenly trail running. The heat wasn't really bothering me yet, I was keeping my sleeves damp and my hat wet and that was enough to stay on top of the temperatures. I ran into Dorney at 30 mile feeling surprisingly fresh and my slow start was paying off. I had run the 30 in about 4:40 so I was exactly on pace and now was time to start a more strict walking plan. Up till now I'd walked for 1 minute after an hour and a half and then a subsequent 1 minute every 45 mins.

Bang on time

The run to Cookham was pretty uneventful. Most of the early position changes had taken place, the field was well spread out. Runners were dropping like flies though and I had passed some very good athletes. All you can do in those conditions is your own thing and crack on. The heat was beating on us and keeping the core temperature down was key. I refilled my bottles at Cookham, damped everything down and took an ice lolly. I walked along the river eating my lolly, all was good in my world. Somewhere in the next couple of miles I came to a busy road and was trying to avoid pedestrians but as I skipped to dodge one I tripped and face planted in the main road. Soo lucky a car wasn't coming! My pride was dented as people expressed their concern but I was fine. I sheepishly jumped up and ran avoiding all eye contact.

Another crew stop at 42 miles, I'd slowed up considerably but was still running. My feet felt good but I took the time to remove my shoes and socks, powder my feet and eat a couple of fruit pots. It was a good stop well timed. My next crew stop would now be 51 miles. I ran but I was just about to have the mother of all bad spells. From the 44 mile aid station I felt like death. I was eating right but felt violently sick, my head was spinning and I felt dizzy. The sun was about 45 degrees up in front of me and there was no shade. It was relentless. The heat was finally getting to me. I started a 10 minute to 1 minute run walk strategy, this was so tough. I really started to question my reasons for being out here. I had nothing to prove, no time to chase, what was I doing? Why put myself through this shit? I'd had enough and I was definitely dropping at Henley. Boats full of people partying passed me by, Henley seemed an age away! I reached the bridge and crossed, the amount of people out and about gave me a slight lift as did the applause as I ran into the aid station.

I set about sorting my feet with fresh socks and powder. I couldn't eat though, I felt really sick. Runners were coming in behind me looking fresh and full of beans. A couple barely stopped just went through smiling and eager to press on. I felt hopeless, my mind was spinning. James and Jacque were speaking but it went in one ear and out the other. I often feel I'm letting people down when I consider dropping. When you mention it everyone just looks at you like there's a massive spot on your nose then carries on caring for you. I'm always left just getting up and carrying on even though 5 minutes ago it was over.

Ok I thought I'd kind of left Henley for no particular reason lets get to Reading and drop there at least it be a good 100k covered. Although I felt awful I was still running, I hadn't really lost any places although a couple of lady runners were really running well and it was taking everything to keep them in my sights. None of it mattered because I was dropping at Reading anyway but there was certainly no issue with my running. I wasn't walking for prolonged periods, I had no chest pains and the sun was dropping fast. Reading appeared and I spotted my crew from a way back. Excellent i'll get over there and drop out. I bumped into Sarah Sawyer on the way over and said Hi I'm dropping. Not a lot was said but it was enough to reconsider my postion. In 30 seconds I went from finished to finisher. If nothing else I'm up for a challenge. I only had 40 to go. It was cooling down, lets have a go. I saw Jacque and restocked and loaded up on gel the only thing I was able to eat now. I poked my head in the aid station door and left. It all seemed possible again.

Feeling rough?

It started to get dark on the next section and my headtorch came out on the long section along the river towards Whitchurch. I had a light jacket which I put on too. I started doing some decent running again kept the other two runners in sight. Scott was one and Laura Swanton the other . They were running well and I was doing well to keep up. At the carpark at the far end I met my crew again and decided on waterproof socks. The grass was getting wet and this would only get worse so to avoid foot failure they were a must. Whitchurch was a flying visit , I was a bit delirious and felt quite faint so it was probably a good move to just keep going.

Buckle happy

I don't mind the next section. It's probably the best stretch of the second half. I leap frogged Laura several times and we were both enjoyed the trail sections and varied terrain. All was good in my world again. I quick stop in Streatley aidstation and I was off and running again. I left first followed by Laura then Scott. They soon closed the distance and passed me. Scott was not seen again till the finish but Laura and I ran some together, some apart but was never too far away. This 20 mile section to Abingdon is definitely the toughest. Its bleak and featureless. It just goes on and on! I was having my own private battle with sleep demons and was totally incoherent . A sunk a few caffeine tablets and just kept on run walking. I sent Jacque to the finish so I could just crack on and get it done. The aidstations came and went. I was passed quite convincingly around 85 mile by David Thompson. We are friends but he said nothing as he passed , he was obviously on one. I was a little pissed off as this put me in 10th place and Laura who was just behind was like a robot she just didn't stop running! My competitive side came through and I was determined to either catch David back or at least hold my top 10 place. I ran well into Abingdon and there was no one behind, the aidstation staff said there was a runner ahead who I may catch so I ran my heart out to do so, In hindsight I think they were telling me porkys.

I got to the last aid station ate one last gel and committed to running hard in. I did in fact run one of my best splits of the evening and walked very little. I felt like I was running 7 min miles but in fact I think they were 10s but boy it felt fast. I soon got to the gate and it was just light enough to see without my torch I ran to the line and crossed with a big sigh of relief. 10th place and 18:54:18.

Six of the best

I'm so happy with this race. Although it wasn't a pb or anything particularly out standing I ran one of my best 100 milers ever. I ran pretty much all the way, my feet management was perfect, fuelling was good even though I was nauseas for hours, my plan worked out really well and I reckon another 20 miles and I would have made up places but best of all I had no chest pain. This was my 20th 100+ miler and I cannot recall anyone going better. My only negative would be my slight mental weakness at the end of the first 50. The heat caught me slightly and I almost dropped but I'm really glad I gutted it out.

I've always said this race is my nemesis and should I conquer it I'll leave it be and not run it again. Well balls to that it's really just an annoying old friend who I have a love hate relationship with. We will get together whenever possible and duke it out. Got to run at least 10 of them and then I'll reconsider.

Western States Endurance Run 2017

Very soon after completing my first marathon I became fascinated in ultra distance running and what the human body was capable of. This lead me to read every book and article I could find on the subject. After reading one particular book my mind was made up. I would one day take part in the Western States Endurance Run. Fast forward eight years and I'm stood on the start line. The clock reads 00:17:05, I turn to my crew member and friend Chris Benjamin and say "That clock has been ticking for eight years and now I'm finally ready to start". I stare up the mountainside and  I feel rather emotional, It has been one long journey, 55 ultra marathons, thousands of miles of training, qualifiers, entries, hours spent watching the draw, disappointment and elation all about to come to fruition now. Would it live up to the hype? Would I go sub 24? Would my feet hold up? Is it the greatest race on the planet? Would I even finish?? All these questions were about to be answered in the next 24 hours.

I trained double hard for this one post Arc of Attrition. I emptied my diary and decided to once again put my training in the hands of James Elson. He helped me through Spartathlon and although I could do this on my own I do enjoy the structure of having a coach I find it very motivating. Plus I was determined to leave no stone unturned, It really had to be this way, No excuses. Training went exactly to plan, long weekends in the lakes, days on the south downs, 50k races, fast marathons, hill reps, I even spent one evening a week doing single leg weighted bouncing lunges just to make sure my quads were conditioned. The only part of training that went awry was my physical job getting in the way of training in the last three weeks, what can you do, works work!.

I had changed my diet too, starting the day after the Arc in fact. I gave up refined sugar and almost all processed food. Such a simple concept but sugar is in everything! However I stuck to it and felt great with it. It's a real enjoyable way to eat, you get lean and gone are the sugar highs and lows. As you get older your body is like a vintage car, you need to put the premium petrol in and the decent oil or it'll run like bag of shit. I experimented with sugar free running too but that didn't work. It's ok to a point but I just kept crashing and burning. So I ditched that idea.

I spent a lot of time toying with kit. The Salomon 1 litre pack was going to be my pack of choice but I kept overheating whilst wearing it so I changed pretty late to 2 x UD handhelds and a waist pouch. With all the support at Western I certainly didn't need to carry more. I love my Hokas but they are pretty unstable. With such a mountainous prospect I decided I need to be nearer the ground. Inov-8 Trail Talons turned out to be the shoe of choice, they are spot on, I'd go as far to say they are the perfect shoe for me.

Lake  Tahoe

Lake Tahoe

Everything set it was time to fly. I arrived a few days early to try and acclimatize to the altitude. Lake Tahoe is at around 5000ft above sea level so that would be the perfect base for me. Tahoe City itself is gorgeous, it sits right on the lake which in turn is enormous. The lake is completely surrounded by mountains and there is only one outlet which measures about 20 metres across. You can stand on the shore and the views are breathtaking, a great place to gather pre race thoughts. Squaw valley resort is about six miles away and is approached through pine lined roads. It is a real rugged landscape and the expanse of it all hits you round every turn. The resort was the host of the 1960 Olympics and the torch still burns there. As you wander through the massive carpark to the start area you expect everyone to be involved in or at least know about the race. This isn't the case and in fact half the people milling around Squaw Valley have no clue. The startline is tucked right in the corner at the foot of the first climb.

Heading up out of Squaw Valley

The start line arch

Lots of snow near the top

The Escarpment takes you to over 8000ft so it was a good introduction to the mountain to take the organised hike to the top. The hike is leisurely and its nice to chat to a few other competitors however it was quite alarming to reach the snow so soon. Some of the climb is steep and getting a footing was tough we were certainly going to have our work cut out on race day. The view from the top was worthy of the hike and with the help of a local we were able to visually plot the next 30 mile.
The day before the start was registration, it was great to see everything set up and ready to go. The start area is a relatively small courtyard with the gantry in the corner. Registration was in an upstairs room in the building behind. After a ten minute queue the process began. All very regimented as we were shepherded from table to table unable to proceed without having fulfilled your task at the current table. Cards with your name and number on, wristbands, photos, questions, freebies all before being ushered straight out the exit. No faff. In and out. The most important thing I walked out with was the sacred wristband, loose it and no race. We all headed over to the briefing room next for the race talk. Same old stuff about course conditions etc. One stand out point was a story about Gordy. The WSER committee had somehow managed to miss count the waitlist entrants and had told one runner he had a place. He flew in from Vermont only to be told they had miss counted and there was no place. That guy happened to be John Fegyveresi from Barkley fame. Now John was in tears at the prospect of having to go home. Then up steps Gordy and says he's had rough week and feels he won't get too far so he will stand back and let John take his place. All to massive cheers. You couldn't make this shit up. Hmm well maybe you could? The cynic in me has my reservations about this story but it sure makes a great headline. To finish the brief they got all the elites up the front, UTMB winners, Laverado winners, WS winners. The thing that struck me is how young they all looked especially Jim Walmsley, a mere slip of a lad. Really made me feel old!

Gordy the legend

Me and David

I slept well that night and after my 2:30am alarm call we were soon heading for the start. We were promised breakfast which turned out to be coffee and muffins. I couldn't face a muffin at 4am so I settled for a Cliff Bar, I had to eat something. I collected my number and was ready. Unlike UK races where people mill on the start line for ages the WS start line was empty with 20 mins to go. I stood at the start line and just soaked it up. I chatted with Peter Wright and David Harvey two fellow Brits. We wished each other luck as the clock ticked away. Finally everyone surged forward as the final few seconds disappeared, the gun exploded and we were off. My plan for the first mountain was mainly to fast hike and keep up with some of the leading ladies that way I wouldn't drop too far back and get caught on the single track further along. I really needed to get to Robinson Flat in 6 hours 30 to stay on my 24 hour plan.

I ran across the line and within 300mtrs I was walking, the sloped tracks are fairly steep but runnable, just not today. Not a wise move for all but the elite. As we rose up the twisting tracks the first shards of light could be seen in the distant clear sky. I kept stopping to look and take it all in, the higher we rose the more entrancing the view became. There was a cloud inversion in the valley below. I was in heaven and wasted several minutes stopping to look. Its not everyday you get these views, I made the most of them. After a couple of miles of long smooth switchbacks we hit snow. Very lumpy and still relatively steep we trudged ever upwards. About a mile from the top of the escarpment is a very steep section of trail, real hands on knees stuff as I was already blowing hard from the thinning air. Sixty five minutes had passed by the time I reached the top of the escarpment. Four miles in 8750ft up, incidentally that is higher than any point on the UTMB course. I took one last look at the valley behind and then the wilderness ahead before pressing forward to the cheers of the crowd spectating from the top.

Half way up the first climb

Early in the race

The trail descended slightly as we ran all the time trying to find my groove. Before long we hit a patch of snow, little did I realize this would be the norm for the next six miles. We seemed to be maintaining altitude and the going was tough, real technical stuff. The snow patches were pretty constant in frequency but they could go up, down, level or indeed 45 degree cambers. It was so awkward to keep a footing, runners were sliding off the snow banks then having to climb back to the marked path. There were fallers everywhere. The down sections of snow had to be slid down either ski style or my preferred method of crouching with one leg forward and sliding down. In between the snow patches there was no defined trail, we were running on branches and pine needles following the markers set by Tim Twietmeyer on a route he had deemed to be best. It was rough and more like an assault course than a trail run on these early miles. Gradually we left the snow behind but the snow melt had turned the trail into mushy mud, over the ankle mushy mud. This was far more British and I took quite a few places as I bowled through it headlong. I ran into Lyon Ridge aid station and

Concentrating soon after my fall

demolished a can of coke, it was a relief to have a break, although we'd only been going for ten miles it felt like a whole lot more. The run high on the ridge was now drying out but extremely technical, my brain was doing overtime as my eyes flicked from rock to rock. It was so hard to concentrate, the views were amazing and my mind kept wandering as I tried to take it all in. I was running at what seemed a respectable speed keeping my place in the long line of competitors. We weren't toe to heel but if you stopped plenty would barrel past. Then disaster struck, I caught my toe on a boulder and before I could even out stretch my arms I smashed into the surrounding rocks. My elbow, knee and hip took the biggest hit. I lay on the floor contorted in pain, a group of four runners came hammering through one yelling a cursory "ok?" before disappearing around the corner. Who could blame them? They were not jeopardising their WS dreams for a downed runner in the wilderness. As I composed myself the pain seared through my body, I stood to take stock of the situation, I was in so much pain as I tried to move forward, my knee felt alien and extremely unstable. I hopped forward, it was mile twelve this is a possible race ender. My hops turned into a limp, too much had passed to get me this far, years of effort. I made a decision right there to overcome it. The pain was only in my head, I could still move, I kept telling myself to reposition the pain else where in my brain. It may sound like horse shite but it's something that I felt I did. I jogged into Red Star AS and took a glance at my elbow it was scuffed up and there was a fair bit of blood on my arm sleeve but adrenaline was firmly kicking in. I figured the sleeve would help contain things and keep it clean. Time to crack on.

Duncan canyon

The views were stunning high on the ridge but since the fall all my concentration was going on foot placement. We were still at fairly high altitude and would remain so until Robinson Flat, I think we averaged 7500ft through this section. I was breathing heavy due to the exertion but the thin air just wasn't feeding my muscles, it felt incredibly draining. Things were starting to hot up as I descended into Duncan Canyon, my knee and elbow were still zinging with pain but I was holding it together however my speed was suffering as I knew another fall wouldn't be good. I reached the creek and there was a rope strung across, the water was thigh deep and extremely cold. The numbing feeling on my legs was heaven. I got my balance in the middle and dunked my head under before wading through. What a relief, a real system reset. The climb out the other side of Duncan was long and sustained and an ideal opportunity to rest. The altitude had zapped my muscles, my body was screaming for energy. The GU and Cliff gels were maintaining my 200 cal an hour but I was tired surprisingly so for such an early stage in the race. I could hear the buzz of Robinson Flat AS up ahead and ran hard to it. I so wanted to show my crew I was solid. Seven hours had passed for the first 30 mile, I was 30 minutes down on my absolute slowest predicted time so in my eyes I was a good hour down. It was good to see my crew, Jim and Chris. Jim is a real old school runner, he doesn't enter races he just puts his shorts and trainers on and runs. He knows the trail like the back of his hand, every mile of it. Chris has run Badwater, Spartathlon and a whole host of other 100 milers, he is a real experienced guy. I couldn't have asked for a better team to back me up. I picked up my drop bag and changed my shoes and socks. The waterproof socks I had worn for the first 30 had done their job and kept my feet from getting macerated. I drank more coke, restocked on gels and told the guys I would be another 7 hours to Foresthill at 62 mile.

I walked out of Robinson and up the wide dusty road eating a handful of melon. It was really hot now and we were easily in the 90 degree range. I had my hat adapted by my mum pre-race she stitched elasticated pockets to each side of my cap and I would fill these with ice. The ice would then slowly melt and trickle cold water over me. Lovely. I had opted for total skin coverage using my arm sleeves all day. Also the hours spent in the sauna acclimatizing before the race helped loads. All in all I was dealing with the heat really well. As the road reached a crest and I finished eating I started running again for what turned out to be a very runnable bit of trail. Millers Defeat AS soon appeared and I was advised to do as much running as I could in the next 10 mile because after that I'd have 12 mile of hell! I stuffed my hat full of ice, took the advice and ran on. The next section was undulating through thick forest and very runnable, I really enjoyed this part of the run and was leap frogging with several other runners. It worked very well to keep each other going. The trail is extremely dusty almost sandy in places very apt as I passed through Dusty corners AS. I was shuffling a bit which isn't ideal on these rough trails. With that I stubbed my toe square on a rather large rock. The pain shot through me like electricity. Fuck!!! That hurt. I knew straight away by the searing pain that I'd either ripped a nail off or broke a toe. Either way not a lot I could do about it. I carried on to Last Chance AS and had a system check, I was dog tired but still eating, my elbow had stopped bleeding and my knee was sore but if I kept it square to my foot running was perfectly manageable. Oh and my toe was just a stubbed toe.

The sort of view you can expect

The descent into Deadwood Canyon was steep and lengthy, I dropped about 2000ft to the base, the temperature at the bottom was off the scale. I was feeling ok though, yes it was hot but it wasn't bothering me too much. My legs were really tight and I couldn't face the climb down to the creek but Jim had told me that a bit further up the other side there was a cold stream. He was dead right and I dunked my hat and arm sleeves, it was ice cold and so refreshing. I knew the climb ahead was to be the hardest of the day and definitely the hottest. The sun was beating on our side of the mountain, estimates on the day were around 110 in that canyon. The climb out of the canyon was the most physically demanding part of the course, it just went on and on, steep switchback after steep switchback each one sapping more energy. I was being passed easily on this climb and climbing is one of my strengths. I was tired and regularly stopping with hands on knees to catch my breath. The climb eventually ended and I walked straight into Devils Thumb AS. I was wobbly, there was runners crashed out everywhere. I thought it best to get my shit together and keep moving forward even if it was a walk. There is a short flattish section after the aid station to start running again before another massive 2500ft descent down to Eldorado Creek. I shuffled down the descent conscious that my water was ebbing away fast. I had two 500ml bottles that had been plenty so far but they were not going to last me up the other side of the canyon. Luckily enough there is a aid station right on the creek and I was able to restock and have a sponge down before undertaking the next climb to Michigan bluff. As I climbed the up the other side I worked out I was over halfway, 50 miles in 11 and a half hours. I had a further 2 and a half hours to meet my 14 hour target for Foresthill. The near 2000ft climb to Michigan Bluff was certainly easier than the last with long shallow switchbacks and much more shade. The AS come as a welcome sight knowing the worst of the course was done. The trail from Michigan Bluff to Foresthill was rugged and pretty slow going and I was tired from all the course had thrown at me, I didn't feel much like a runner at this point. My thoughts started to wander to the 24 hour target. I was calculating what needed to be done in the last 38 mile to go sub 24. The first thoughts of doubt entered my mind. I was physically in ok shape, my nutrition had remained pretty good, my feet were good and mathematically it was on. There was one glaring problem though, I was shattered! I felt bereft of the ability to run. It took a lot out of me just to get to Foresthill. I hiked up the hill with another runner who had met his pacer. The pacer was explaining how he had been in this exact position twice before and both times had failed to go sub 24. Great! As I turned the corner my pacers were walking towards me and conversation soon turned to the 24 hour target. Jim had done all the maths and was explaining not to worry but I was worried.



Foresthill with Jim

Foresthill was buzzing and it was buzzing with people. Thousands I'd say. I'd arrived in about 14 hours 10 and took a further 20 mins to change socks and eat. Food was becoming a real struggle to get down and I felt quite nauseous. I ate some yoghurt and a few swigs of tailwind but struggled with anything else. I even ran back into the AS just to make sure there wasn't anything that I'd find appetizing, there wasn't. I walked with Jim out of town, he was keen to get running and rightly so, It had been a long day for the guys. On paper the next section is extremely runnable and I was trying my best. My legs however had other ideas, the intention was there but I was just unable to get my legs turning over properly. It was like running in slow motion, a very peculiar sensation. I felt like I was running but Jim was walking and I could tell he was getting frustrated with me. He kept asking why I couldn't run, I didn't have the answers.

OMG I'm tired!

We arrived at Fords Bar AS and I could feel a massive blister on my toe. I had to get it sorted, Jim protested but it was no good, it needed sorting. It was stinging like murder, I peeled my sock off to find the side of my big toe missing its skin. The blister had burst and the skin had peeled back. The AS captain wrapped my toe in tape and we were good to go. Darkness had firmly set in and the trail was featureless, soft and dusty under foot, undulating and overhanging vegetation. Waves of runners were passing me now all of them chasing the silver buckle. Bucklemania was in full flow, some would make it some wouldn't. I wasn't, in fact I was dropping further back on my 24hour dream. I felt awful for Jim, everything he'd done for me and I couldn't muster a run. We hiked down to Rucky Chucky river crossing where we was due to change pacers. Jim ran ahead to brief Chris, I can only imagine it wasn't a positive conversation.

We were helped into our life jackets and given a glow in the dark neck band. I was pretty shaky and had to be helped into the boat. The oarsman soon had us across and I was helped out the other side. We took our time at the farside AS. I changed my shoes and socks, got loaded with gels and after some soup we hiked up the long ascent away from the river. It was about 2 miles straight up and into another AS. We pressed on and Chris asked if I wanted to run, I explained I was running! This was rubbish, I was rubbish. Chris had flown all the way in from Kansas for this and I couldn't perform. I was doing the motions but was just not moving at any pace.

Much of the next few hours rolled into one. Steady plodding on dusty trails with just enough roots and rocks to keep us on our toes. We both kept tripping over and over again. It became quite comical. Chris kept running way ahead and disappear into the distance then wait for me to catch up. We had a few proper runs but the damage was done. I eyes were spinning with tiredness, the caffeine in the gels wasn't quite cutting it. These are supposed to be the easy miles of the WS course but they are far from flat with hills a plenty. In the distance I could make out the flashing lights of a police car and I figured we were coming up to Highway 49. Daylight was breaking and the 24 hour mark drew ever closer. The police stopped a solitary car as I was given priority over it. We crossed the road and ran through the grassy meadow leading us all the way to Pointed Rocks AS. I entered at exactly 5am and 24 hours had elapsed, I still had 6 miles to go. I felt pretty flat and was busy making excuses to myself in my mind. I had a drop bag here which contained my GB flag but I told the AS staff I didn't need the bag. Chris took a look and saw the flag, he insisted I take it with me. Whatever the finish time I'd earned the right to carry the flag over the line. I jogged down the final descent into the canyon and onto the famous No Hands Bridge. I stood there for a minute and drank a coke, just savouring where I was and the superb runners that had passed this very point. Chris was urging me on though, 3 miles to go. We climbed the final ascent to Robie Point which is a real arse kicker just to finish you off.

Finishing straight

It's done

I left the trail for the final time and joined the tarmac. Jim was there to meet us and we all wandered onwards towards the stadium. I would usually feel an urge to race anyone to the finish line but I was done in and couldn't handle a sprint finish so I timed my final run so that the track would be clear. I entered the track with my flag round my shoulders, it was a very surreal moment. A moment I'd dreamt about for a long time. I jogged round the track as the announcer read my pre written running resume. I thought I would cry, I have at other finishes but I just felt relief, relief it was done. I crossed the line in 25:50 with the GB flag held aloft. My Western States adventure was over. I stood on the line while Tim Tweitmeyer hung the medal round my neck, the guys run over to congratulate me. I just wanted to lie down. I felt faint post race and within minutes my knee started swelling. I went to the medical tent and crashed out but was kicked out pretty soon for not being ill enough. I popped to Jims for a shower before returning for the awards ceremony. My knee had swollen solid and I had to start my walk to the front several minutes before my name was called otherwise I would have been late. I took my buckle, shook everyone's hand and left the awards tent.

Placer High school

Physically I ended up coming out quite well. Although I ended up in the emergency room just to check I was ok to fly home. My leg was swollen massively and I needed to check for DVT. I got the all clear.  On arriving home I got checked out by my physio and it looks like I crushed my collateral ligament, so loads of swelling but no real damage.

Jim and Chris

Stop swelling!

Mentally I needed to work things through. I needed there to be no excuses. Other wise there would be the dreaded 'what if' demons. Make sure every aspect was covered then what will be will be and I believe I did that. The race was certainly harder than I expected and the early miles and altitude chewed me up and spat me out. I struggled a bit with the terrain too, I may be a trail runner but this was mountain trail running. Everyone tells you its a runners race which it is but you have to be very skilled with rough rocky terrain. At the end of the day I prepared and trained as hard as I could but it was not my day to go sub 24, I did everything possible and came up short. I can't be disappointed with that.

Would I do it again? Now there's the million dollar question. For so long I've dreamed of this race, I assumed it would be the holy grail of trail running. In many ways it is, just not my holy grail. I hyped it so much in my mind that it could only ever fall short of my expectations. Yes I enjoyed it and yes It is a running spectacle. It has the greatest history, the most hype, is incredibly beautiful and is bloody hard to get into but I couldn't help feeling short changed, maybe because I didn't hit the target I'd dreamed of. People will forever chase a place in the Western States Endurance Run and rightly so, it's an experience not to be missed. Part of me wants to walk away from it but me being me will keep putting entries in and I'll make a decision if I'm ever lucky enough to be drawn again.

The buckle

London to Brighton 2017

The sun rises over Blackheath

Back in 2010 I ran my first "proper" ultra and by proper I mean 50+ miles. I had a tough outing, I had been desperate to crack 10 hours. It wasn't to be and I came in around 11 hours having covered 56 miles. It really ignited the ultra running flame in me, I'll never forget the feeling of elation having finished on the seafront only to promptly seize up and be unable to walk. It mattered little as I ate an ice cream totally content if temporarily disabled. Fast forward to 2017 and Sussex Trail Events decided to resurrect this marvellous race. How could I not enter? L2B 2017 was on.

 It's been a tough year and I was really struggling to recover from the Lakeland 100. To make recovery that much harder I threw this in to the mix just five weeks later. So rather than train for this I sort of recovered into it. Come race day I felt as good as could have been expected but I was determined to crack 10 hours. The course also measured 4 miles longer some how, so 60 miles it was. As an extra incentive a sub 10hr t-shirt was on offer. Well that's like a red rag to a bull for me!

We are off
(photo by Jon Lavis)

We left Blackheath at 6:15, it would have been 6 but one of the runners turned up 6 so we waited for him. Aren't we nice. We headed off down towards Ladywell and I started chatting with a guy I'd previously run the Tanners with a few years back. Good company and he runs at my pace so the time passed easily as we worked our way through the London streets chatting away. There were two other runners ahead but I wasn't bothered, I had a plan and was determined to stick to it. My plan was simple, run each 10 mile section in 1hr 30, allowing for a bit of drop off  and minimal stops would get me in under 10 hours. As much as I was enjoying my company, running with someone else isn't a good strategy when running to a plan. I had carried a bottle of tailwind in addition to my water bottles for the first leg . My idea was to drink the tailwind in the first 10 miles meaning I could run straight through cp1 and still have all my water for the next leg. I did just this and left the cp alone and ready to run my own race.

Running into CP1
(photo by Jon Lavis)

After Cp1 at Keston you leave London behind and the countryside starts. I was bang on time wise and running well. Just after Biggin hill I approached the two leaders. Bit of a dilemma though, I didn't want to push for the lead so early, I also didn't want to run with them or even run deliberately slower. As I pondered what to do the decision was taken out my hands as we hit a big hill and they both immediately started walking. I felt strong so continued to trot up the hill. I exchanged the lead for the next couple of miles but never pushing outside of my game plan. Around mile 18 I ran a long hill and managed to edge ahead, as I sprinted down the other side I  missed a turn. There is nothing so gutting as having to back track up a hill you just ran down. I caught the other guy back up and we entered cp2 together. Again I was in and out only having to fill my bottles. I ran out at pace and the other guy decided to stop for a while.

So this was it, I'm leading, 40 miles to go. Stick to the plan and keep at those 8 minute miles. The miles ticked by nicely and I was enjoying some lovely trails. I have been lacking energy during my last couple of races so I upped my calorie intake and decided to eat a gel every 45 mins with the occasional bottle of tailwind. This was working just fine and running was coming easy. I ran through 30 miles bang on schedule. I passed through miles of glorious countryside and London was a distant memory. I had no energy dips so that meant no walking. Luckily I was following a GPS and not map reading, it's quite a fiddly route and map reading would have slowed me down massively. The route is very intricate with some real under used pathways. On more than one occasion I was battering through stinging nettles but there was little time for loitering as I was constantly conscious someone could be right behind me.

It's Done

This was a solid performance and I ran into the 50 mile CP feeling great and a smidge under 8 hours. It was good to see some friendly faces and stop for a brief chat. I ran towards Black cap with some gusto knowing I would be walking up the hill. There was a route change coming up and I turned right as I should. I ran too far though and came out the other side of the farm onto the road. The run to get back on track seemed to take forever and I really had to push hard up the downs. My legs were screaming at the top but knew this is when I had to push hard so immediately after cresting the top I started running across the other side. I was having a slight wobble at this point but I battled it and ran all the way to Falmer. The weather had closed in now, it was raining and really rather shitty. I cobbled together a run/walk up Falmer rd and stopped at the end to have a look back. I couldn't see anyone behind but felt determined to run to the end. Once I'd crossed the racecourse I was on the final descent and still running strong. I crossed the main road and found the underpass which led me to the finish. It felt good approaching the finish flag even though the weather was horrendous. I'd finished in 9hrs 37 and 1st place.

Yay I got a black T-shirt

Smiler

It was so pleasing to run such a perfect race. I had a plan and stuck to it, my nutrition was spot on, I got the time I wanted and the black t-shirt all on such an iconic route. When everything goes so well there is nothing left to prove to yourself on a course so that'll be the last London to Brighton I run. Great course, Great organisation, Great result.