The Ultra Brecon 40 Winter Edition - 41 miles 7,470' ascent

Forty plus miles of mud, great crack and my first meeting with Cani Crossers.  A long tour of the Brecon National Park with a dawn start and dusk falling long before the finish (for ordinary mortals).  There was a freezing mist in the valleys and in that mist glowed the pale, clear eyes of Huskies.

I arrived at the Talybont Recreation Center in the evening after a comparatively uneventful drive and set off to find a dorm with a free bed.  I found a space and was soon chatting about this and that with a fellow who introduced himself as Ricardo and later I met my other two room mates.

The rooms were far too warm for comfort and none of us had slept for more than a couple of hours when we rose at around 05:30.  I hadn't realised that in another room, ground coffee was being served by a caterer and had settled for some disgusting all in one instant concoction to accompany my porridge.  I had organised my kit in advance so just chilled until it was time for the ten minute walk to the start line and 07:15 briefing.

As soon as the briefing was over I removed my down pullover and repacked it carefully.  Forty five seconds later START was called and I waited as a few runners went past before adopting what I thought was a sensible position two thirds back.  

There were no real bottlenecks, apart from stiles, in the whole race and we trotted without pressure up the first ascent.  The freezing mist was receding into the valleys leaving a film of white on all but the tops of the hills, the scene was amazing and everybody paused for a picture.

The first ascent and the freezing mist revealing it's handiwork. -el

There were patches that were wet/muddy, most of them easy enough to dodge and I enjoyed the early running and the scenery made especially haunting by the early light, mists and frost on the ground.

On the way to CP1 another view that few could resist the urge to record - el.

The terrain became seriously muddy after a while, check point one at 8 miles seemed a long time coming, though when I checked my watch I was making reasonable time.  I still felt reasonably fresh and had packed for self sufficiency so did not stop.


I made sure I ate and drank my scheduled amounts.  When I  reached CP2 at 12 miles I took a little water to dilute my Coke.  I felt that I was slowing down now, though I still felt OK.  Checking my split time showed that I was maintaining exactly the same pace as before.

Talybont reservoir, on the way to checkpoint 3 - el.

After a few miles I started to feel very tired and was hoping I was not going to have another fizzle out like I did at the Roaches.  I reassured myself with the memory of how worn out I had felt at a similar distance on the Long Tour of Bradwell. I also monitored my breathing to ensure that I was working at a respectable level.  I have found that it is easy to slip into a sub optimal trudge and that an increase in speed sometimes seems impossible, but once achieved is not at all uncomfortable or difficult to maintain.


Checkpoint 3 at 16 miles came and went.  I was expecting the worst when I looked at my watch and was pleasantly surprised that I was still averaging better than 15 minutes a mile, no slower than before.

The almost constant deep mud was not my "cup of tea" at all.  Sometimes it was ankle deep and threatened to pull your shoes off, sometimes it was less deep and so incredibly slippery.  Often there was a crust of ice and you never knew whether your foot would slip on the ice, break through and sink into the filth below or break and sink just enough for a shard of ice to get you in the Achille's.

I had struck up the occasional conversation here and there and the usual passing and re passing had taken place, a couple of Australian fellows and I had passed and re passed each other several times since the start.  Nonetheless, I ran much of this race on my own, my preoccupation with the filthy terrain and staying upright meant that I missed views and other opportunities that I might otherwise have enjoyed.  For similar reasons I took no more photographs.

The Aussies

As the event progressed my fatigue plateaued and after a while I just became used to it.  I continued to eat and drink as scheduled and when any temporary increase in energy came along I took advantage and upped my pace.  I started to catch a few people that I had not seen since the start.  Amongst these were some of the canni crossers and, as our paces were similar, I had the time to admire the remarkable, beautiful and noble huskies. 

Harley, Max and Gary Turner. Gary spent more time on his bottom than most of us, especially on descents.

Eventually I left the canni crossers behind and could discern no familiar faces.  I had expected checkpoint 7 at 35 miles to be significant for me as it would be further than I had ever run before.  Somehow this significance waned long before I got there as, tired as I was, I knew at twenty miles that I would make the distance barring accidents.

I continued to maintain pace through the 21 and 25.5 mile checkpoints, gained a little on the steep ascent up from the road lay by shortly after CP5.  I was sorely tempted to stop for coffee there but kept on.

At check point 5 I had caught and left the Australians and did not see them again until the steep descent before the 30 mile checkpoint 6.  They caught and passed me, I later caught and passed them again until eventually they passed me a last time running as if they had found some energy at the bottom of their packs.

The scenery was fine here and I began to enjoy the route again until darkness hid the view.  I had company on and off until the last checkpoint at 35 miles.  At this point the twilight ended and as head torches went on four of us stuck pretty much together and navigated as a team.  This worked well as signs were not always easy to see and bits of tape were invisible.  We ran towards purposeful looking head torches and assumed any running back and forth at right angles to our path were lost.  When we saw an example of the latter or where otherwise uncertain we spread into a semi circle and shouted when we identified the route.  When one of us had a bit of energy we ran ahead and shouted back if correct direction was confirmed.

We did have to zig zag or change direction occasionally (and sometimes mistook the reflection of a sheep's eye for a torch) but together we lost maybe ten minutes that could so easily have been much more, I think we also pulled each other along.  Around two miles from the finish we met a runner from the organising team who was out placing glow sticks, runners behind us had an easier time getting home.


The team; Hannah, Jonathan, Michael and myself

Our impromptu "team" finished together at 10:40:56 representing an overall pace of less than 16 minutes per mile.  I have never run at such a consistent pace in an event this long.  We shook hands then headed for refreshment.  Soon Ricardo came down to see who was home, later another room mate Paul did the same, this kind of camaraderie was a touching feature of the event.

Our last room mate, Mark (and dog), was still not home after some time and Ricardo and I headed for the pub.  I bumped into the Australians who had got back in 10:10.  I congratulated them on this achievement, after running so much of the race at a pace similar to mine they had got half an hour ahead in ten miles and that is some going as I had hardly slowed.

Mark coming home

When we returned from a very pleasant time at the White Hart, Mark was still not home.  The rest went to bed while I chilled and took some air, I checked again for Mark who had not yet arrived but a head torch could be seen in the distance.  He came across the finish a few minutes later with a smile that threatened to crack his face.  He was congratulated then attention moved to his beautiful white husky.

I can not say that I enjoyed the route, far too much filth for me.  Still,  sores in the Achilles area where mud and grit had accumulated in the opening of my shoe are the only injury I sustained.  I am pleased with my time.  The event I enjoyed enormously, the crack, the support, the laughs and especially my fourth pint from a generous comrade who understood that a cash flow situation, due to a cloned card, meant that I couldn't stand my round.

Cheers everyone, for your excellent company.  Hope you had a good journey back to Denmark Peter, good luck for the Tour de Helvellyn Emiko and cani crossers give those lovely dogs an extra hug from me.

All photographs except those credited to - el, are muen photography.  Excellent work guys.

Roaches Fell Race 11/11/12 18 miles 3700' ascent

For those familiar with the Roaches Fell Race, but not present this year, the title description may appear to be an error.  This year's race was extended by 3 miles in an attempt to minimise the spread of Phytophthora pseudosyringae.  Most of the change to the course was between Roach End and the river crossing.  The new route followed the path towards Hangingstone before turning right to take the path north and then east to the western end of Forest Wood and the river crossing.

As registration was on the  day only, I made sure that I was at Meerbrook Village Hall with an hour in hand.  It had been a cold start to the morning that had included scraping car windows, so I changed and loitered in the hall.   When I did make my way outside for the start I was surprised at how much the day had warmed.


I can't remember hearing anyone saying "GO", but suddenly everyone was moving.  I settled into an easy pace towards the back, I intended to take this race steady.  I had clocked up a few miles in the last fortnight, more than 70 just in weekend runs.  Beachy Head at the end of October, Roaches in the middle of November and Ultra Brecon 40 at the beginning of December has given me a bit of a training headache.  I aimed to get round in about four hours, steady, but not so slow as to keep the marshals out.

We turned off the road and started across fields, easy at first then steeper, up to Roach House and then the road beneath the Roaches.  This section was filthy, really, very, very, filthy.  I have never been a lover of muddy sections and here was a mile of deep mud trodden up by cattle who had left the odd "bonus".  I can't remember sinking in to my knees, but at the end of it all of us were plastered to knee height.  I hated it.

The stile at Roach House

We crossed the road and on up to the Roaches, all in all around 900' of ascent in a couple of miles.  The ascent continued at an easier rate until the Roaches trig point at about 1,640'.  I was feeling fine and started to gain a little momentum as we passed Roach End heading toward Hanging Stone.  Much of the path here is a deep narrow gutter and is hard to run, even harder when in a pack.  I gained a few places but passing was difficult.  Just as I was coming on well I placed my right foot badly, I didn't fall but did turn my ankle.  

The route turned off toward the river crossing, the terrain was better here and the ankle seemed to hold up.  I started to enjoy the descent through trees to the crossing.

The river crossing, I think this is on the way back
Michael Orange Photography

 We ran across fields, via Helmesley and Helmesley Rocks to join the path on Midgley/Tagsclough Hill.  I was astonished to see the first returning runner pass me by the gate just before the path.  I hadn't expected this for another mile.  Indeed it was a good mile before the next runner came past.

I followed the now familiar track to the main road, crossed and set off for Wildboarclough.  The second placed runner passed us by the end of the first field, he was a cheerful fellow and shouted "well done, keep going" towards us even before we had had a chance to congratulate him.  Parts of the descent down to Wildboarclough were soggy as usual, but  more bog than mud.

The water at the road crossing was very welcome.  I was very thirsty and my Coke tasted cloying, in retrospect it was a mistake to have carried only Coke and solid food with so little water on route.

At the top of the track on Shutlingsloe quite a few returning runners came past, including the first ladies.  As the track turned into footpath evasive action was sometimes needed until the outward and return paths separated.

Returning runners, after the track turns to footpath on Shutlingsloe.  The return path can be seen to the left.

The paths separated and so began a very steep ascent direct to the trig point, marshals checked our numbers as we appeared over the rocks.  I was on my way again, but was told by a marshal that we had to touch the trig point.  I ran back a step to do so and, as a result, later discovered that I had somehow managed to take a photo of the ground instead of the marshal and trig point.

The steep ascent route up Shutlingsloe.  This goes over rocks to the trig point,
starting from where the usual path and the by pass route separate.

It was a few moments only, along the top of Shutlingsloe, before the tricky descent began.  Descents are not my forte, however, I don't remember anyone passing me on the way down so recent training must be paying off.  I bent my knees and leant forward a little, favouring my left leg to spare my injured ankle.  I think it is lack of confidence more than technique that now limits my descent speed.  I was pleased with myself, but even more pleased when the steep part was over.  The rest of the descent flew by and when I stopped for water again at Widboarclough the marshal expressed surprise to see me again so soon. 

Shortly after crossing Clough Brook I placed my left foot badly and felt a sharp pain in my knee.  The pain eased after a few steps so I carried on, though I was also beginning to be aware of the fact that I was unexpectedly tired.  I started to eat one of my buns, but my mouth was so dry that I had run half a mile before I had finished it.

Time passed un-remarkably.  I was a fair way in front of the following runner and a fair way behind the one in front.  There were several miles where I could not see another competitor at all.  The river crossing came and went as did the following short ascent.  When I reached  the Back Forest path I caught and passed a couple of runners.

As the climb up to Roach End began my left knee began to protest, each step hurt a fair bit.  There is a road down from Roach End which is used by competitors who fail to make the cut off time to this marshalled point.  I asked the marshal what the difference in distance was, he replied that it was not much, just less ascent.  I decided to carry on and finish the race.

As I started the ascent to the Roaches trig point the rain began.  I resisted donning my waterproof, then as the rain turned to rain and hail and a sharp wind I gave in.  Shortly I encountered a pallid looking runner leaning against a rock.  I asked him if he was OK and he replied, "I think I am in a bad way".  His speech was not clear and he did not look well.  He had burned out and was badly in need of food.  I was also worried that hypothermia would soon set in given his weak state and the exposed location.  I offered him my jumper and leggings, he did not take them, he thought he just needed to eat.  I produced my last bun and a packet of dextrose tablets I keep "in case" and gave them to him.  I asked him if he had water, which he had, and told him to take a drink with the food otherwise the sugar would not be absorbed (the reason I had not bothered eating it myself).

I was still worried about the exposed location so suggested that we got moving.  I said I would walk with him until we could find somewhere more sheltered or a marshal to take care of him.  We set off together and just before where the path drops down by "Chicken Run" found a marshal.  I left him in the marshal's care and got moving again.  Although many runners had passed me since I had stopped, a look at my watch suggested that I could still finish in well under four hours.

It was not to be.  I don't know where the time went, I did not feel that I was moving slowly, but somehow it took me forty five minutes to cover the last two and a half miles most of which was downhill!  Maybe I had misread my watch or maybe it was just too much mince in the filth fields.

After I stopped my knee started to hurt a lot, indeed driving home was difficult and was punctuated by much wincing and sharp intakes of breath.

In the hall I met the chap I had given the bun to.  He had been able to carry on and finish once the food had kicked in!  He bought me a cup of tea and a slice of fruitcake as a thank you.  He had an eleven mile bike ride to the station before a train home to Bristol, I suggested he eat a lot of cake.

It appears that the early returning runner had not got lost, he won by an incredible 19 minutes!  I on the other hand took 04:09:32.  Though this is pretty much the time I was aiming for I still felt most dissatisfied with my performance.  Once out there I had upped the game then I had fizzled, this shouldn't have happened in just 18 miles.  I was well under hydrated and not absorbing nutrition, I had also failed to carb up well enough before the race.  This was bad planning.  What really annoys me is that I let the effect of these mistakes affect my head enough to wreck my performance further.

Ibuprofen worked wonders on the knee, it doesn't hurt too much now.  The ankle is OK so long as I don't provoke it, it just feels like I have something in my sock.  I think it will be fine as long as I stick to track and road for a while.  The memory of the fields of filth will take longer to heal.



 

Beachy Head Marathon 27th October - A Comedy of Errors

"Never try anything new on race day".  Sound advice which, I can now say from experience, applies equally to race preparation and organisation. 

Once again, my confidence was low in the days leading up to an event.  Illness following the MMM lasted ten days and left me feeling so tired and dizzy that I was beginning to worry that I was suffering from anaemia.  I had not run more than 30 miles in total this month and a 10 mile run had left me exhausted.

The two bus, three train journey to Eastbourne was, thankfully, uneventful.  This year a ticket for the connecting tube ride was included in my booking.  I checked into the excellent Alexandra Hotel and then walked up to Duke's Drive to  register.

 Walking up to registration on Friday evening, the view looking back down the beach to Eastbourne pier. 

Usually, I take everything I need for the event.  This year I reasoned that there was no need to load up my rucksack with race day food and drink, there are Co-ops everywhere and I had plenty of time to shop - Error No. 1.  I was dismayed when the Co-op had neither buns nor fruit bread, nor did the next few shops I tried.  After about half an hour wandering the streets, it became clear that I would burn more calories trying to find a suitable source of nutrition than I would get from consuming it and I gave up.

I watched TV in my room for a while then went to the Buccaneer for a pint. On my return I sorted out my kit.  Instead of my usual drink degassing technique, of tapping the bottle, waiting for the fizz to die down and repeat, I left the bottles open on the dressing table overnight - Error No. 2.

I awoke on Saturday feeling better than I had done for a while, had an excellent hotel breakfast, then made my way to the start.  As I had support from my sister Sandi, and as there were plenty of water stations, I reasoned that I need carry only one bottle of Coke.  I would take water at the stations and Sandi would give me a second bottle of Coke around halfway - Error No. 3.

I parted with my down pullover reluctantly and made my way to the start line, or a fair bit behind it as befitted my expected time. This also turned out to be an error, the start was incredibly slow as many slower athletes had started far too near the front.  It took me two minutes to cover the few tens of metres to the arch.  Some sub five hour finishers had to wait six minutes while some eight hour finishers made it in seconds, hmmm!  Whinge over.

Once on the first hill I made some effort and as the gradient slackened began to feel the joy of running.  The first feed station at around four miles came quickly.  Once I had had some water I was ready for carbs and I opened the Coke when I got going again.  The night spent open seemed to have had little degassing effect and there was brown foam everywhere (fortunate that I had moved to the edge of the path).  I managed to get the top back on before I lost too much, but wondered how easy pulling gloves over my sticky hands would be.

The glove question was soon answered.  The strong wind began to bite and so I started to put the gloves on, five minutes later I was still trying to finish the job.  I managed to get some sensible output from the Coke after a few more false starts

I soon recognised the open running to the next checkpoint.  I did not see Sandi.  I drank some water to dilute the Coke and aware of the fact that I had no buns was glad to see bananas on offer.  I managed to peel half a banana with gloves (glued) on, but failed to manoeuvre the banana into my north and south.  Another competitor kindly gave me some of his then a marshal helped me deal with another.

Alfriston, original image -Sussex Sport Photography.com

I had been overtaking people steadily and continued to do so down to Alfriston and on the long ascent to the next checkpoint. I was beginning to feel a little tired and had some pain in my groin (why do I suffer from groin pain in trail races but not fell races?), all the same I was enjoying myself greatly.  The nearly half way CP3 came and went, still no sister and I was now beginning to need the Coke's carbs.  I chatted with a few people but didn't let conversation affect my pace.  I monitored myself for inefficient stride length constantly, for as I crest an incline I often fail to re lengthen my stride and so waste energy while losing time.

I held my head high with my eyes on the horizon, the chalk downs drain very well and there was never more than a little surface mud.  Compared with the Manx Mountain Marathon, Beachy Head is like a (very hilly) lawn and the occasional downward glance was all that was required to ensure safe foot placement.  This maximises appreciation of the views and does wonders for morale.  Runners started to come past me on the last descent before Litlington, I had expected this.  As the slope diminished they began to bunch up as their exuberance wore off.  I re passed several in the next half mile of flat running.  I was looking forward to seeing Sandi and my Coke at checkpoint 4.

There was no band at checkpoint 4 this year, nor was there any sign of Sandi.  There were hot cross buns (maybe that's where they had all gone).  I grabbed two halved buns, ate one, washed it down with an orange juice and set off with the other half in my hand.

A turn right through a stile leads to some gentle uphill running across fields.  Though feeling a little tired now, my 50k training has given me a good deal of "just carry on" endurance.

The gradients came and went, the path narrowed and widened, stones became leaves and leaves became stones, bare chalk, grass, a plank across mud, stones again.  Time became something that existed outside of my world, a world that consisted of landscapes I enjoyed as I passed through like a series of living photographs.

Nearing the coast the way swung east and so began the steep, curving ascent of the first of the Seven Sisters.  I picked my pace carefully and used my hands on my knees where necessary.  I soon felt a burn in my calves, the feeling was almost welcome as different muscles started to take the strain. I was determined not to let the Sisters intimidate me and saw them uncoloured by the experience of previous years.  I kept my eyes on the whole landscape and ran through it, I treated each ascent as a rest from descent and vice versa.  I wore my tiredness like a shirt not a shackle and was soon enjoying this difficult section.

The Seven Sisters and Beachy Head with Belle Tout lighthouse. This photo is of another year and was not taken by me.

I ran down to Birling Gap longing for that Coke, but it was not to be, still no Sandi.   About half a mile along the path that followed the road up Beachy Head I heard a car horn, I turned my head and saw Sandi pass by.  She managed to find somewhere to park and shortly I saw her on the edge of the path pointing her camera at me.  My face lit up in anticipation of 210 fast hit calories and, of course, the pleasure of seeing her.   She explained that more roads had been closed this year and this had prevented her from reaching any of the checkpoints on time.  I soon had the top off the drink, got on the outside of half of it and was on my way again.


I bent to the steepening gradient and plodded on to the crest of what I knew was a false summit (not even half way up).  I took the next short descent as a welcome break rather than a cruel height loss and had soon caught another bunch of runners as the way turned upwards again.  The headwind became ferocious now and I really became aware of how tired I was.  I checked my stride and found myself capable of more so picked things up, passing more runners and  cursing the wind (probably out loud) as I went.

The first buildings of Eastbourne came into sight above the horizon and I quickened my pace as the gradient first eased and then changed to a broad grassy descent.  Last year my back hurt on this penultimate section, this year I kept my posture, bent my knees and let my thighs take the strain to make the best speed I could.  I began down the final steep bank in a similar manner, the technique allowing a quicker pace and line.  Soon, marshals were shouting at me to slow down and take care on the slippery chalk steps and I took their advice.  I jumped from step to step with a "deadpoint" landing before accelerating over the last hundred metres of grass, onto the road and, finally, through the finishing tunnel by the school.

The finish, original image - Sussex Sport Photography.com

Another cracking Beachy Head Marathon, I will keep coming back to this superb event as long as I am able to complete the distance.  The marshals are brilliant, the crowds are inspiring, the piper is stirring and the course is both beautiful and challenging.  Somehow the organisers and populace have managed to combine the support and facilities of a big event with the intimacy of a small one.


I collected my medal, handed back my timing chip and made for the nearest shelter from the wind and the light rain that had started on the way down Beachy Head.  I put on a thin jumper and my waterproof jacket.  I huddled in a shelter for a minute or two before making my way to where I had agreed to meet Sandi.  She arrived quite soon which was fortunate as it was an exposed location and, bless her, she had my down pullover.  We walked to the car and I got in for a warm, Sandi gave me a fleece blanket for my legs which were still bare as I had not the courage to remove my shoes.

Once warm we headed back to the café at Birling Gap, there was free grub at the school sports centre, but there can be huge queues - Error No 4.

Sandi had driven through the night so I went for a meal while she had a kip, "take your time" she had said.  I changed into long trousers then entered the café .  "Two eggs, beans and chips please," I said.  "The kitchen closed at half two," said the waitress, "noooooooo" I said, "you were serving last year", "ununuh", she said.  As I did not want to wake Sandi there was only one possible solution,.. drink some beer.  I loitered with my pint, stood outside the bar, took a photo of the Seven Sisters, went back in and read every poster on the wall before draining my glass.  It was still too early to wake Sandi so what was a caring brother to do but bite the bullet and order more beer.

I rejoined Sandi and explained that the measures I had been forced to employ, in order to spare her, might have a disruptive effect on the journey home.  This proved true quite soon when the beer, only ever rented, proclaimed the end of the lease.  I hopped out at a lay by and as I climbed down a steep embankment realised that I was now quite dizzy from low sugar.  A garage triple sandwich made the world of difference to my well-being as we headed towards Oxford, services and a more substantial meal.  

Sandi had another kip while I re carbed.  It had been a great day and as if to round it off in style the services had both a Starbucks and Cool Jazz on the speakers.

My chip time - 4:42:39.05 (a PB by 11 minutes).

My thanks to Sandi, who remained cheerful despite a long drive, lack of sleep and frustrated route finding.  Your support is appreciated, BHM would not be the same without you.

Beachy Head route profile (from www.robin-web.co.uk),  There is now an extra check point at ~4 miles so CP1 in the profile is now CP2 etc.  There is a new profile on robin-web, but the scale of this one corresponds to perceived gradient perfectly (and I love the mixed units).


A history and description of the event can be found at:  robin-web.co.uk

Manx Mountain Marathon 29/09/12

As I was running over the last of the Seven Sisters at last years Beachy Head Marathon, I remember thinking to myself - "you can forget about the Manx next Easter".  Fortunately, circumstances and a date change saw me competing in the event despite that sudden confrontation with my inadequacies.

(Ed:  The race later became known as the IOM Mountain Ultra or Isle of Man Mountain Ultra)

It was late August that I received an email stating that I did have a place in the MMM, which left little time to make arrangements.  Nonetheless I managed and was ready to go, albeit nervously.  With a week to go I started to feel the cold excessively and by the Wednesday it was obvious that I had a virus of some sort.  I resolved to travel anyway as it was too late for refunds, but I did not feel optimistic about being fit enough to run.

Port Erin Bay

I arrived in Port Erin on Friday, checked into the Falcon's Nest and after a quick pint went for a walk on Bradda Glen.  I felt "remote" from the event and was worried about transport to the start in the morning so when I saw someone flagging the route's finish I introduced myself.  The someone, who introduced herself as Jackie, was a young woman with the poise of a model, natural good looks and a warm smile.  I later found out that this was Jackie Lee who in addition to the foregoing qualities can run like, well, Jackie Lee - Ladies winner  and course record holder. Jackie promised to confirm transport for me later.

Early morning at the start in Ramsey

I rose at five for the six o'clock taxibus to Ramsey.  I was not sure whether the headache and fuzziness I felt were due to the virus or the fact that I had hardly slept for several nights.  I decided to give it a go, I would quit at the first safety check if it all went wrong.

We set off along the seafront then swung right and uphill past Ballure reservoir and plantation and onto the fells.  The first punch at 4.6km was on North Barrule (565m) 564m above the start!  The west wind on the ridge must have been force 6 or 7, making it difficult to make the clips and gloves went on all round.  

Up on the ridge - West wind whips my pony tail

The wind continued, some runners dropped lower for shelter even though this meant more heather bashing and extra ascent. After the second clip we dropped 130m before ascending Snaefell at 616m for the third clip and a total of over 900m ascent in 10km.

Looking back from  from part way up Snaefell - North Barrule, subsidiary peak and Clag Ouyr.

The wind tore at my eyes so fiercely that I could not see properly so I waited for those just behind me and then followed.  As we descended to the safety check at the Bungalow (and a little respite from the wind) I realised that there were going to be some unique navigational problems and hoped I could keep locals in sight.  I forgot to consider retiring.

By now I had come to realise that this already very tough event was made a lot tougher by the terrain.  There were bogs, rocks, bogs with rocks and miles of heather bashing.  Where there were paths, they were boggy and sometimes extremely narrow and deeply channelled. Sometimes these deep channels were hidden by heather top growth.  There was very little in the way of paths for the next 5 checkpoints.  The descent off Greeba (CP8) was via a deep, narrow, slippery channel hidden by gorse instead of heather for some painful variety.  One competitor slipped here, gashing a knee badly, and had to be rescued.  This descent took us right down to 27m.


I waited for a local runner just behind me, at the end of the Greeba descent, he was closing on every descent and the wait took less time than getting the map out.  This was a good decision, we stuck together for the rest of the race, him pacing me on the level and descents, me setting the pace on the ascents.  As we went through the safety check at St. Johns I dutifully considered retiring but decided not to.  

My companion, Dave, wanted to wait for his support for a short while at St Johns so I set off through Slieau Whallian plantation alone.  I missed a marker on the flagged route, when I noticed my error and retraced my steps I found Dave waiting for me at the turn!  Now that's good mannered.  More heather up Slieau Whallian where we caught another runner at the clip.  He pulled ahead and out of sight on the (heather) descent.

There was now a short road section past some old mine workings as we headed to South Barrule and checkpoint 10 at 35.5 km.  South Barrule marked a turning point as the route now swung west towards the coast. We caught the same runner as before and again he surged ahead on the descent as we turned west towards Cronk ny Arrey Laa and the coast.  The views now became spectacular.

The beautiful west coast stretch.

We passed the same runner on  Cronk ny Arrey Laa and Lhiatee ny Beinee summits and again he surged away on each descent.  I lost sight of him completely as we descended into Fleshwick Bay

Fleshwick Bay


The last ascent, of Bradda Hill is only 200m but is very steep, some regard this as the cruellest part of the race.  Just as our ascent started, the sun made a real effort and we were glad to feel the wind again at about two thirds height.  We followed the scary coastal path, "with caution" as the route description advised, until we met the flagged route to the finish.

We finished together in 9:14 by my watch (confirmed).  We were greeted by Jackie Lee who would have finished hours earlier, but was still around to marshal and congratulate us instead of taking a well earned rest.

View of the end of the route from across the Bay in Port Erin.  We would have come in from the right along the skyline then back from the left along the cliff tops to finish on the grass opposite the large blue building.

Dave and I shook hands and remade the acquaintance of the fellow we had passed and been passed by so many times.  He said that he had not finished that far ahead of us, but as the finish was nearly all descent from Bradda Hill he had made some time.

By the time I had caught my breath my head was streaming and I was coughing and sneezing, the revenge of the virus.  I headed to the Co-op for crisps, a sandwich and LemSip capsules.  I then pulled my windproof trousers over my filthy legs, took off my muddy shoes and headed for the hotel bar.  Thus disguised I enjoyed a pint of beer  (with quite a few similarly disguised people as it happened) before my shower .


Again I was reminded of how poor my descent technique is.  If I could raise my game to the level of other runners who spent similar total time on the course, without losing my ascent speed, I could be nearly a couple of hours quicker than I am!  Descent will be the focus of my training for the foreseeable future, this will mean more travelling at weekends.  Unfortunately that will have to wait until this virus, which has already meant two days off work this week, has cleared up

I really enjoyed my stay on the Island, everyone was so friendly, people seemed content and got on with things in a no fuss way.  I will be back.

I made this traditionally 31.5 mile, 8000' ascent race, 30.25 miles and 8808.6' on this years course. I later realised that this was not just my first long "category A" fell race, but in fact my first "category A".

There is a feature on the MMM at manxathletics.com