6th December: CTS Dorset

There is nothing happier on this fair planet than a dog with its head out the window of a moving car, and today I managed to experience exactly why they enjoy it so much, complete with jowls flapping in the wind!… Yep, today was a little bit on the blowy side to say the least!

The Coastal Trail Series Dorset marathon course is rated as a 5/5 difficulty and labelled ‘Extreme’ by the organisers Endurancelife.  This has to be one of my favourite courses out there: Yes its hard, but it also rewards you with the beauty of the views the tricky nature of the course throws your way.

Underfoot the course never seems to be too heavy-going even after prolonged bad weather with the majority of it covering the grass-covered chalk cliffs of the area which drain well and the only mud really to be found is the crossing of a farmer’s field at the most easterly point of the route… Rather than overcoming slippery conditions underfoot, the difficulty of this course is found in getting up and down the very steep and numerous cliff hills along the way.

Over the preceding week we had been warned by the Met Office about gale-force winds blowing-in that would make life interesting on exposed parts of the south coast, but at least it was forecast to stay dry for the duration, although with it supposed to be overcast all day and with the shortest day approaching, light may prove to be an issue for any late finishers on the marathon, with those in the ultra & ultra plus, bar the quickest in the field all but guaranteed a finish in darkness.

All registered in the simple quick, effective and painless Endurancelife ‘conveyor belt’ manner, I joined the throng awaiting the start in the relative shelter of Lulworth Cove, although the howl of the wind on the hills above could already be heard even from down where we were!

The upwards procession from Lulworth.

Off and running - or should that be hiking - up the steep ascent from the start line to the cliff-tops, we were soon exposed to the delights of the wind - blowing consistently strong the whole time, with gusts that forced you to a near standstill as you advanced in the face of it.

Looking back on passing the 'Dor

Scaling the first hill everyone was forced to tighten-up any loose clothing flapping in the persistent wind to prevent it from creating progression-hindering drag. At least we found shelter on the steep uphills as the ground shielded us from the onslaught, which kind of made you look forward to them for a change! Soon we had passed Durdle Dor, squinting to stare at the beautiful rock and its cove as your eyes struggled to stay open in the blast of the wind… Which was so strong on the way down the hills that it was physically blowing me off balance: I would line-up a step only to have the wind take me - all 15 stone of this idiot - and blow me a couple of inches sideways whilst airborne in mid stride, so my foot was landing away from where I would expect it to be. The problem was it was not consistent, as if it was you would simply aim a set distance to the side and land where you expect every time, but with the wind varying in speed and gusts you did not know how much you would be moved and trying to get your foot to land in a rutted track just over a foot-width wide was tricky and required a lot of concentration!

A good 10k of these to conquer!

After my experience on the Gower last time out with the wind driving rain and severely impairing visibility, I have decided to add another item to my kit to help me see in such conditions. With the tint on my sunnies too strong to be useful for seeing clearly in overcast conditions, I realised the clear lensed cycling glasses I use for night riding (which allow me to keep my eyes open and look at the road whilst protecting them from foreign bodies and the slipstream) would be perfect! So at one point where the wind was picking-up sand off the ground and blowing it into our faces I made the decision to stop, get them out of my pack and put them on; and immediately I began to scamper past those forced to slow-down with their hands in front of their eye to protect them.

The slow upwards slog.

This run from the start to the furthest westerly point of the course was an absolute hoot, and with the turn inland to the first checkpoint gave us some wooded shelter and a bit of respite before heading back to Lulworth a little higher up on the cliff-top ridge but now with the wind behind us. The mostly grassy undulating trail culminated with its sharp descent to the start line, with the added fun of the wind trying to blow you down the hill which felt like having two hands on your back pushing you downwards… This meant leaning back as much as you could but at the same time not altering your centre of balance so much that your feet slid out in front of you putting you on your arse on the very steep slope down to the visitor centre!

Along here I was blown sideways mid-air :)

About to descend to the visitor centre.

A trip around the shore of the cove itself and we were climbing up on to the cliffs and across the firing range… and the most evil hill of hills that is by far the biggest of these beasts on the whole Coastal Trail Series! The ascent was not as bad as my previous times through having the welcome assistance of the wind at our backs, so much so that as you approached the summit and the gradient levelled-off, the strength of it forced you in to a run over the final few metres… All well and good except after those final few metres is a barbed-wire fence with a narrow gate in it, so you had to aim for it whilst trying to slow down so as not to find yourself unwittingly blown on to the barbed wire.

Around Lulworth Cove itself.

A small respite was to be found on the flat cliff summit, being blown on our way from the wind at our backs roaring past our ears like a jet engine, passing the derelict tanks on the firing range before hitting the next of the hills. All the half marathoners were out here at the same time as us marathoners and going up and down the peaks was a steady procession of runners, each watching the other being buffeted in the winds, trying to get a clue as to how to deal with the conditions, sometimes nearly being blown over as they went, groups of people moving tightly-packed together trying to utilise fellow runners as wind-breaks with plenty of shouted conversations and laughter to be heard.

'That' hill!

This section has a series of steep ups and downs punctuated by the third checkpoint and its welcome respite, before continuing a couple more miles eastward over farmland to the edge of Kimmeridge Bay with its nodding donkey pumping the oil and our turn for home.

Another tricky descent!

Crossing the muddy farmer’s field, we turned from the wind at our backs to being hit broadside, to being blown backwards again as we ascended on to the coastal ridge and a dawning realisation that this return was going to be fun as the wind ripped in to us once more… A good 7 miles of slog in to the relentless blast that was strengthening as the day went on.

It was a case of safety specs on again, lean in to wind and make as quick a pace as I could. The downhills were very amusing being almost blown back up them, allowing you to lean ridiculously far forwards without losing balance; the blast so strong as to catch your cheeks and blow them out. At times I was struggling to breath with the force of the wind at my mouth so had to cup a hand over my face as I went to cope better.  Along the ridge and over the hills, another respite was offered with our descent from the ridges north side towards the abandoned village of Tyneham, mercifully affording us some more shelter. although the pay-back was the long slow ascent to the final aid station, the most exposed of the day, and the last leg to the finish line.

Counting the bumps to the finish.

From the aid station we were back on to the ridge and the rest of the course to the finish was laid out to see before us. Scanning the horizon for the finish it was a case of working-out how many ‘bumps’ were needed to be traversed till the final descent in to the cove and the finish.

Cloud descending onto us blown in on the gale.

Eventually I made it to the line, exhausted but having loved every step, in what today was a proper battle with the elements… My time was not too hot, but hey, today was not about that as these CTS races are not flat-track PB routes, it was about getting to the end in one piece and enjoying yourself as much as you could along the way! Just a few hours away from the mundanity of a daily life out there jogging in interesting conditions and some cracking scenery. No music on today's run again either as the sound of the wind would have drowned-out everything and you needed to have total concentration for extended periods of time.

Damned sight more than '39 Steps'.

Leading to the Cove below.

Upon returning home and some homemade burgers, I looked-up the wind speeds for Lulworth out of curiosity and they were recording gusts in the mid seventies mph throughout the time we were on the course!.. I hope the weather calms-down in time for my final marathon of the year down in Portsmouth in a couple of weeks.

As a rule I don't normally 'do' selfies, as these runs are about the landscape in which I am plodding, but I couldn't resist: as you can see in this very unflattering image, I'm doing my impersonation of a dog with its head out of the car window with my jowls flapping away inflated by the wind!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

 

7th December: The Dorset CTS

I was looking forward to this run… I say looking forward but it was with a healthy dose of trepidation and respect for the route having run this last year. The course in question, the Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series Dorset marathon, is the one I have found hardest of all of them so far… It may be beautiful with its scenery but dear god does it have some hills and the first of which when climbing up it last year caused me to strain my right calf muscle, which I then pulled a couple of weeks later playing footy. 6 months on with the calf not healing it led me to seeing a physio for the first time in my life in an attempt to cure the problem. To be brutally honest it is still not 100%, and as a means of protecting it these days I am wearing compression sleeves on my calves for trail marathons, something I resolved to do whilst thinking about the strain as I made my way around this particular ‘madathon’ this time last year.

A few weeks ago my uni friend Claire had put me in touch with her running buddy Jamie, who was also in the marathon field today and was chasing after some advice from someone who had been, seen and survived this marathon before about what to expect. Having previously completed the Three Forts Challenge he was well aware of what a hilly trail marathon has in store underfoot and I was looking forward to running at least part of the course with him.

Following my normal pattern I drove down to the event base at Lulworth Cove to arrive at the witching hour in the midst of a freezing cold snap. Parking the van as level as I could in the sloped car-park, with the thermometer dipping well below freezing outside I caterpillared into my sleeping bag under a duvet in the back to get in 40 winks in before the ultra-runners would arrive at sparrow’s fart a few hours later.

A chilly dark registration.

Waking as the sky began to lighten to the symphony of slamming car doors and excited voices I registered in the marquee illuminated by lanterns. The winter solstice will be upon us in a matter of a few days, so daylight is limited meaning that some of the ultra runners will be on the hoof for all hours of today’s light as their route will be the marathon course, followed by the half then 10k courses one after the other as they cover some 45 miles of hilly hell!

The sun rises over the parked cars.

I watched the ultra runners depart on their merry way as dawn broke behind us, before meeting up with Claire and Jamie in the car park, sharing some coffee and flap jacks before getting changed for the briefing and the pending start.

Claire & Jamie.

The departure of the ultras.

Awaiting the off at the bottom of the first hill, everyone huddled together like penguins to try and keep warm but at the same time being peculiarly British in trying hard not to invade one another’s personal space too much. The weather could not be better with nary a cloud to be seen in the sky, the visibility perfect and no real wind to speak of, so it would be sunny and chilly all day long… If it were not for everyone being wrapped-up in winter running gear to keep the cold at bay, you’d think from the photos we were in the middle of summer!

Packed like penguins grouped for the get-go.

My target for the day was merely a finish following on from my disappointment on the Gower and knowing that I still really was not back to anywhere near my fitness lost to flu after Glencoe… It would be a case of hit the trail, see what happens and enjoy every step. At least I was fully aware of the number and nature of the hills and what lay in store so they would not be demoralising me… after all I’ve conquered them all once before, so no problem a second time.

Lining up for the countdown I introduced Jamie to fellow 7X Challenge marathon holder Luke (going for it again this year after last year’s injury affected season), who pretty much reiterated what I had said about the course to Jamie and wished him all the best… In a way I felt sorry for Jamie hearing an identical tale of woe from Luke and myself about how tough the course is, but I felt it was better to put him under no illusions about what was to come rather than tell him ‘don’t worry, you’ll be fine’ perhaps only to find it was not so, and I think Luke was of the same mind.

In no time we were off on what I find to be the most amusing of starts for a marathon, about 20 metres of flatish ground before we hit the climb of the first hill and watching the entire field essentially being cheered-off to a brisk walk… The path here was flat cobbles, but with the temperature they were very treacherous underfoot coated with ice from the night’s frost, with grip consequently at a premium, so we were all slowed to a pace even slower than we would have liked.

One of the 7 natural wonders of the world.

After the first three miles of hills and passing the unique sight of Durdle Dor the field was beginning to stretch out as people began to find their level and position within the pack.

Glimpsing what lies in front.

Closing in on the climb.

Looking up at the steep ascent from the foot.

The scenery was beautiful, something that was enhanced the whole way in the early morning sunshine - pretty much the last throes of the ’golden hour’ with the sun still behind us as we ran from East to West.

The field stretching out in front of me.

Mind the drop!

This stretch to the initial checkpoint at the furthest point westward was essentially 6 miles of continual climb and descent… Hill reps from hell you could say. Even when we hit the last long descent to the shoreline (where I missed a turn and ended up on a pebbled beach before retracing my steps), we still had to turn inland and endure another climb to the checkpoint and the aid station. Those around me who were also confused about directions, due to around 20 of us either missing the sign or it having been moved, were asking if anyone knew if we were back on track… From memory I said I was pretty sure we were and there should be a very picturesque avenue festooned with golden leaves along in a short while and I was very relieved when we found it, as no doubt was everyone close by, so we could all carry on safe in the knowledge that we would soon hit the aid station.

The final descent of this leg.

The gold leafed avenue.

As normal I dibbed-in my timing chip and pretty much just strode on through having grabbed a handful of jelly beans, munching on them as I traipsed up on to the top of the hill where we re-traced our steps over lush green farmers pasture back to Lulworth Cove along the top of the ridge, the land dropping off to our right towards the coastal path we had just run along and cliffs to its side with the becalmed blue sea below them.

Across the fields

Midway along the return to the cove, you could hear the sound of stampeding hooves - well the sound of the leading half marathoners catching up on us and overtaking as they went on their merry way chasing the win. Shortly before the appearance of Lulworth down below us in the distance, I saw a familiar figure walking along the route towards me in the form of Claire who was looking out for Jamie and me. As I polished-off a cereal bar I stopped to chat and she said that Jamie was definitely behind me, which I was surprised at as I had been steadily working my way backwards down the field!

Lulworth below.

Soon we were dropping down off the hill and in to Lulworth where it was extremely tempting to stop off for a cup of hot coffee in the van as I passed, but that would not really achieve anything, so through the streets I went and down on the beach of the cove proper.

Across the cove.

The route had been changed around the cove from last year, so rather than climbing the stairway to hell and going up around the cove, this time we were to run across the pebbled beach, with the uniquely turquoise water beside us, to the other side of the horseshoe of this natural harbour. We were then to scramble up the muddy and rocky bank on the side of the cove and back on to the coastal path… And for me the sense of foreboding over what was to face us shortly.

Here be danger!

Entering on to the live firing ranges for the tank battalion stationed at Lulworth Camp just outside Lulworth (which are closed for business and open to the public at weekends in case you were wondering), it was a gentle wend up and down along the coastal path until the final slight downhill revealed around the headland the sight I was not looking forward to (and from the sound of the gasps of disbelief from those around me I was not alone in this)… the monster hill that needs to be climbed. Photographs do not do justice to the size and scale of this beast. It is mountainous with a gradient that leaves you using your arms to help get up it as well. Several times I had to stop through overheating and general knackeredness, taking my jacket off to help cool myself down. Finally I reached the top and turned to look at my fellow runners as they too summitted as I put my jacket back on and the looks on their faces of near total defeat and exhaustion spoke volumes despite the fact they had made it to the top.

Rounding the cove before...

...the behemoth.

When a picture paints a thousand words.

Still, as the saying goes: What goes up must come down, and soon enough we were making our way down the other side of the behemoth, which was also painfully slow through your toes getting squeezed tight into the toe boxes of your trainers whilst trying to negotiate the extremely steep gradient, before hitting the next climb in a matter of a handful of metres once you hit the base.

Down then up again.

Halfway up this next ascent was a sight I had noticed last year and had promised myself at some point in the future I would take my time to investigate further: The tank graveyard.

The rusting hulk.

With me not chasing a time today and the weather unbelievably crisp and clear, I made-good on my promise and stopped for a good look around. I’ve never been this close to a tank outside of a museum, where you certainly are not allowed to clamber all over the exhibits! The old tank here (I think it is a Chieftan) seems to have been parked for gunnery practice as a target at a known distance. The gun barrel has been cut-down and spiked so as to be completely useless and over the years it has certainly been rusting away. I suspect most of the useable parts had been stripped from it before it was left here, but you could still climb into the turret and experience how cramped everything was inside for its crew of 4.

Inside the turret.

When I jogged over to the tank I certainly got plenty of funny looks from my fellow runners, most of them I suspect wondering why I had diverted over here from the route and wondering what on earth I was doing, although anyone seeing me clambering over the tank would certainly have realised I was having a bit if a ‘boy’s own’ time exploring it. It was certainly a chance of a lifetime to have a good nose around, and the view from the tank down the hillside and across inland was pretty spectacular in the bright sunshine.

Yet another hill.

This diversion was merely something to avoid the obvious fact that I was halfway up a hill that still remained to be conquered, so I rejoined the line of walking runners as it filed slowly past climbing the hill. At least this was the last big climb of the eastward leg, so once over things would not be too bad, plus the checkpoint was not too far away.

The descent to the aid station.

Looking back from whence we came at the aid station.

Once through the checkpoint it was a matter of a couple of miles along the coastal path to the turn inland just past the nodding donkey pumping the oil at Kimmeridge Bay. From here we made our way across a farmers field that was planted with a crop rather than being fallow this year, so we were under strict instructions to keep to the marked path which follows the footpath route on the OS map so as to minimise any potential damage to the farmer’s livelihood. Judging by the track across it, everyone had been true to the instructions, so hopefully there will be no issues next or any other year.

The lush fields towards Kimmeridge.

Over the other side of the field and we climbed up on to the ridge-top path and passed a field of what I thought were black llamas, although I was corrected in my identification to alpacas by a fellow runner who has been on a training course in the animal husbandry of them through his wife deciding they were to get a small-holding and raise their own - so he had stopped to look at them out of professional curiosity! It just goes to show you never know who you will meet on one of these runs!

Retracing our steps westward.

As we continued along the path I found myself alongside a couple of fellow runners in the form of Emmeline and Gerard, with the three of us pretty much running with each other for the remainder of the last 6 or 7 miles, chatting about other races we had done and cursing how tricky this one is with its pesky hills.

The ruins of Tyneham.

The three of us made our way through the abandoned village of Tyneham to the final checkpoint of the day at the top of the hill on the way out. Onto the last leg we were back on the top of the ridge and re-tracing our way to a certain extent back towards the path we had run eastwards earlier on from Lulworth, and covering the evil hills in reverse of before, all bar the most evil of them which we wisely do not have to make our way downwards.

The day was now drawing to a close and the sun was starting to set in front of us, so I took the chance of taking a photo in the golden hour of the evening when I was temporarily dropped by the other two going up a hill. I found Emmeline and Gerard to be very genial company. Normally when you run with people, it is because at that time your pace’s briefly synch with each other before you end up splitting apart again as in the long term people will always tend to be faster or slower, so you find yourself in a dilemma of pushing on at a pace you know you can muster which will be faster than those with you, or to ease-off if you have been pushed beyond your normal pace for too long, or in this case just ignore either urge and just carry on at a pace comfortable for all to remain with your companions, which was certainly a great morale booster and made the last quarter of the race fly past.

A parting shot in the golden hour.

As the sun had disappeared and the shadows had followed as the day began to slip away we made our descent on to the beach at Lulworth Cove and across it before with one final effort we jogged up the slipway, past the pubs and in to the finish, exhausted with the efforts of the day.

As I tried to recover my senses I sent Claire a message to establish if she was still around and if there was any sign of Jamie, as I knew I was pretty near the back of the marathon field so he could not be too far behind, if not already finished by overtaking me whilst I was twatting around on the tank. Soon I received a reply telling me of Jamie’s enforced withdrawal through calf cramps at the halfway mark when he got in to Lulworth. He made the decision not to fight-on and risk an injury, especially with plenty more hills on the agenda. Making such a decision is never easy when you have been training and building-up to the race, but if you are unsure of any potential damage and a risk of a longer term injury and its associated lay-off for recovery, then it is certainly the right decision to make and Jamie made a very wise move and one I should take heed of!

As hard as this run may be, I certainly enjoyed it, and more so with no pressure being placed by me on me to chase down a time through still not being back up to speed after the lurgy. I crossed the finish line an hour slower than the previous year and safely towards the rear of the marathon field, but hey, this included the time messing around clambering over a derelict tank on the firing range which I certainly would not have normally done if I was seriously racing. That said, I really want to run this HARD and see how much time I can knock-off from last year’s effort.

One thing this run has done was to give me more thinking time about what to do with the hills, and the solutions seems to be a pretty simple one: drop some weight. This can be achieved by upping my training time between races and not only will it mean less of a bulk for my arse to haul up them hills, but it should also lower the strain on my troublesome calf and every other muscle as well. As simple a solution as it is obvious, and most likely an accurate assessment… We’ll see as only time will tell.

One disappointing note from today though, I lost my Garmin Forerunner 405 somewhere between the finish and the car park - most likely it fell out the slider of the van as I got in and out of the side, which is a real bummer to say the least and has turned what was a very enjoyable day in to an expensive one as well… Shit happens :(

Eat pies. Drink beer. Run far.