13th September: Endurancelife Exmoor, the return of some prodigious fun!

 To riff off Eminem:

Guess what's back, back again
Racing's back, tell a friend
Guess what's back, guess what's back?
Guess what's back, guess what's back?
Guess what's back, guess what's back?
Guess what's back?

RACES ARE BACK!.. Although in a very limited different way to what we knew before the plague descended upon us.

Last week Endurancelife held their rescheduled Classic Quarter ultra down in Cornwall, their first ‘Covid secure’ event and yesterday saw their rearranged coastal trail races over on the coastal trails of Exmoor.

Loads of members of the running community have rightly doubted the wisdom of holding any form or organised event involving mass participation - I can see where they are coming from and I was intrigued as to how the organisers would cope with the social distancing regulations which are now the norm in every aspect of our daily lives within a race environment.

In a way Endurancelife were able to play to their strengths from the get-go. The biggest one being their race locations: always on trail and for the most part remote, so you are well away from town centres and for the most part people in general!.. Plus there is their experience of well over a decade of successfully putting on multi-distance race-days

The event base today was in the middle of nowhere in a cliff-top field, which runners were not supposed to really access beyond bag dropping. The toilet block had been moved from its normal location of the base into the parking field the other side of the road and to use them you were required to hand sanitise beforehand.

The event briefing had been done online, race numbers had been sent in the post with Endurancelife moving to an RFID timing chip set-up from their traditional system of ‘dibbers’ so as to remove more potential points of human contact. You are allocated a start time before the race based on your submitted estimate of a finish time so everyone is streamed from fastest to slowest which reduces the chance of overtaking. Whilst awaiting your start time the instructions are to remain in your vehicle (or away from the starting zone if you don’t have one), until 5 minutes before your slot.

As you approach the start you queue on a line of crosses spaced 2m apart until you reach the front and are unleashed onto the course having been told some reminders of the new course rules by the marshals: use the hand sanitiser that is now part of your compulsory kit before you open any gate, no headphones to be worn at ANY time and no ‘drafting’ of fellow runners - if you must overtake then you do so as soon as you are able and distance yourself from your fellow runner once passed, with no contact supposed to happen between competitors unless they are in their own ‘bubble’ together already… We’ll come across the aid stations later!

Driving down the night before the race, a few miles from where I was going to park for the night I had a massive shock when a Red Deer stag, crowned with a mahoosive set of antlers decided to jump out of the roadside hedge right in front of me as I approached doing about 50, nearly making me resemble a fucked-up wild west-country version of Boss Hogg in his motor! Fortunately he saw me coming, thought better of making contact with the van and becoming my hood ornament and jumped straight back into the hedge! Heart still pounding a few minutes later I parked as close to the event base as I could and hunkered down for the night.

The view from the van!

Waking to a view over the Bristol Channel to Swansea and breakfasting on black coffee and LSS’s excellent patented granola I busied myself readying for the start. I ‘hailed the prophet’ one final time and walked the short distance to the start queue to be unleashed upon the course. Being fat and slow, I had been given a start time at the back of the marathon field, which was half an hour earlier than the normal start time, so at least I’d be home half an hour earlier than I would have been if it was a ‘normal’ race day regardless of how I perform.

The marathon course was a figure of eight with the easterly loop about 2/3 the distance to 1/3 on the westerly and much to the Pet Shop Boys’ & the Village People’s chagrin, we go east from the off. This first loop takes you along the coastal path past a christian retreat, with its eery sight of a trio of giant cliff-top crucifixes, to the village of Lynton and a trip inland to the beautiful National Trust property at Watersmeet and the cascading river flowing through it.

Running back up on to the coastal path I was on autopilot following the familiar route from years past… However where the aid station normally is, there was nothing to be found, so I plodded on as I normally do. Soon though it was obvious I had missed a sign for the turn to the first aid station as I now found people heading towards me! Like a salmon heading upstream I moseyed my way in the direction they were coming from and saw the aid station around the corner through a churchyard, having neither gained nor lost distance.

As I ran through the graveyard in sight of the station, passing through its ornate wrought iron gate, one of the adjusting straps on my race pack snagged on a spiked part of the decorative iron work and all of a sudden I found myself swinging horizontally through the air before crashing into the ground in an undignified mess, my strap still on the spike but the webbing on my pack now torn off at the bottom of the shoulder strap… Picking myself up from the floor and detaching myself from the gate I made my way the final few metres to the aid station where I had to effect an emergency pack repair with a couple of safety pins to be able to wear it and carry on!

The aid stations at Endurancelife events have always been minimalist as they have consistently made a major point about people running with the highest degree of self sufficiency. They still had their normal fare of biscuits, jellies and crisps, however rather than just being able to dip into a tub as before, now they were in individually sealed in packs as provided from their manufacturer, with bananas sitting whole rather than halved.

 

Gone were the manually operated water bowsers of the past, with the water going into your own cup, bottle or bladder (Endurancelife has been ‘cup free’ for years). What was in its place was an ingenious foot-pump system for you to dispense water for yourself in a hands-free manner.

Those manning the aid stations were maintaining distance at all time and ready to step-in should emergencies arise fully PPE’d up of course!

As the morning progressed, the temperature rose with broken sunshine for most of the day, fortunately large swathes of the course are in shade under trees or on the cliffs which naturally shield you from the direct rays of the sun, that said the temperature and humidity was creeping up the whole time, though fortunately a gentle breeze took most of the heat away once up high or in the open. Normally when this is run in early April, if you have the misfortune of it being on the first proper ‘hot’ day of the year when the sun is out and the mercury nudges the early twenties, it is sheer unadulterated hell for all as nobody has been able to acclimate to such weather - at least now at the end of summer we are now used to being out and about in a bit of heat.

 

Back out on to the course and there was the stunning couple of miles of steady descent in to Lynmouth, before the evil of the switch-backed climb to the top of the cliffs once more as Joe and Joanne Public queue for a trip up the climb on the funicular railway rather than doing what us idiots do!

 

Once atop it was a jaunt though the 'Valley of the Rocks’ and a close encounter of the goat kind - they roam wild in those parts but are so well camouflaged you tend to smell them rather than see them, however I did catch sight of one of the horny beasts!

 

The goat was not the only diversion as the monotonous hum of engines could be heard and I noticed approaching down below in the sea was a jetski race chasing along the coast with about 20 riders flat out bouncing across the chop of the waves. It must have been an endurance based race as they disappeared eastwards then a couple of hours later reappeared from the north before heading west.

Soon the first loop was coming to an end. Rounding the headland just as the descent was about to start I found myself up close and at eye level with a Peregrine Falcon out hunting, scanning the cliff and the vegetation far below for some scran. Descending through a waterfall along the way and cooling off in its stream, the valley floor was found and another slog from sea level to cliff summit commenced as the westerly loop began in earnest.

One of the major differences of running this course as summer wanes and autumn rises, rather than from winter into springtime when it is normally held, is you get to appreciate how lush and green some parts are now rather than the dull or barren sight you are used to, offering you a whole new perspective on an otherwise familiar sight. The most marked change was seen when crossing the moor on the westerly loop: I revelled in the contrast between the dull sables of the winter’s moor being replaced by an effervescent riot of purple heather and yellow gorse all round… And I saw plenty of it as there was an enforced last-minute route change that led us across the moor’s breadth rather than cutting over the summit with a trip to the summit cairn.

 

When I had hit 19 miles, shortly before the penultimate aid station, the wheels properly came off and I was flagging - breathing out of my arse and utterly cream crackered. The marathon course has the small matter of around 1.75 miles of vertical ascent over its length, which after doing the majority bar the final 2 climbs had me realising how out of condition I was for tackling ascents, especially in this concentration! The last serious amount of ‘vert’ I did in a race, or really in general, was back in February at Endurancelife's South Devon marathon and over in Brecon the week after… Just before everything went in to lockdown and all racing shuddered to an instant halt.

Not mushroom on the coastal path.

Since lock-down kicked-in I’ve been running yes, but running around where I live which is pancake by comparison! I’ve been out and done plenty of miles in the interim, but with regards to prep for hardcore trail races, these miles have been ‘junk’ miles: miles for the sake of just being out there ticking over, rather than specifically targeted miles for training towards the required terrain… Boy did I feel this now, mind you plenty would be in the same boat today and I doubt anyone was complaining as we were all just happy to be out here doing what we love.

 

Reaching the aid station I took some time to regain my equilibrium by sitting on the grassy slope equally warmed by the sun and cooled by the breeze whilst munching a banana and taking in the view over the undulating cliffs and the calm sea below. You certainly don’t get aid stations with views like this in any town centre race… Well you don’t get any there full stop at the present time!

Chilling at the aid station.

Semi refreshed I plodded onwards knowing that it was only a matter of grinding everything out to a finish: head down and slog it out. Soon I was at the final aid station - placed with just 2.5 miles to go because you have an evil 2 miles of climbing over that distance and gritted my teeth, girded my loins, pulled up my big-boy pants and just ground it out to the finish, both exhausted and relieved.

 

All things considered I felt this first race experience in a time of Covid worked well. A great deal of thought has gone into this by Endurancelife to minimise the impact of the virus on the race-day experience. They have adapted to overcome in a successful manner that really did not diminish the event for me, what with being a back of the pack plodder and used to being out there on my todd with no company for hours at a time, although the lack of the mass start is a bit of a shame, but needs must and all that.

 

The above point though does form part of the one major notable change, which I know is also a big concern for the organisers. Taking away the race briefing and the mass start as part of the necessary changes it has to an extent sucked the buzz, the hubbub, the atmosphere you get from the interaction of a crowd of excitable people out of the event as a by-product of everyone having to be forcibly kept apart! The thing is this will be the same EVERYWHERE you go for races from now on and is a trade-off we will all have to get used to if we wish to carry on racing. Races will become less of a shared communal experience and more of a solo show. Endurancelife have proved they have found a workable formula to hold events as Covid secure as can be that a lot of other event organisers will no-doubt be paying attention to and probably incorporating the same into their own ones, as most people will come to the same conclusions when facing an identical problem. One thing they are finding problematic though on the logistics side, is the issue of permissions from landowners and councils for access. With how things are changing daily and sometimes hourly, even whilst in constant contact with the relevant people and organisations there are and will be last minute route changes, sometimes at the eleventh hour, as permissions are withdrawn. This just adds to the headache of organising an event but at least with plenty of plan b’s, c’s and probably d’s in place the inconvenience will be overcome in a seamless manner for those out running.

Bring on the next (Covid secure) race!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

 

1st Feb: Endurancelife South Devon Marathon.

I was woken at 5 on Friday morning to the unmistakeable sound of LSS praying to the porcelain god as she tried puking-up her toenails whilst alternating with extruding liquid napalm out her other end. Out of the blue the previous night, but thinking nothing of it at the time, I’d developed the ability to shit through the eye of a needle, so I was pretty concerned that our front door should be marked with a big red cross for being a house of pestilence with a plague of a norovirus upon it… Just what you want the day before one of the harder trail marathons out there, the Endurancelife South Devon race on the coastal path down at Beesands.

Rather than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself, an inescapably busy day at work followed for me whilst trying to manage my day around urgent pit-stops when they arose: I had 3 jobs to get through: running a new circuit for a hob for one customer, rectifying a DIY job in another house that could better be classified as ‘Destroy It Yourself’ and fitting a storage heater in the final job of the day.

Returning home I had enough time to scarf a fish supper with accompanying jumbo battered sausage, clear the van and head down to Beesands. Before leaving I said my goodbyes to LSS from the bedroom door. Understandably after spending a day doing doggies between bedroom and bathroom whilst not knowing what end to point at the toilet, she was still feeling pretty sorry for herself. I didn’t dare go in for 2 reasons, first to try and maximise any chance I had of avoiding going-down with her lurgy, especially with being trapped driving for the next 3 hours and second because you could cut that air with a knife. It properly honked in there! With the window shut, the heating on and 3 dogs having spent the day in bed with LSS, the room was a bit ripe to say the least: we’re pretty-much talking on the level of a teenage boy’s bedroom but minus the crispy socks wedged between the bed and the wall.

The drive down was mercifully uneventful and so far so good with my stomach not joining LSS’s in sympathy. At least I had plenty of bog-roll in the van and I was parked close to a public toilet should disaster strike during the night.

The starting coral

Breakfasted and registered it was almost balmy in the early morning air. The sun was out, there was no real chill to be felt. This was going to be an unseasonably clement day for the 1st of February with temperatures forecast between 10-15° C! This felt very weird as I’m more used to being down here freezing my tatters off. I’ve run this race before in the arse-end of a hurricane, torrential rain, the freezing cold. One time I was shot-blasted by hail in a gale-force wind and once the course had to be shortened for our own safety as the conditions were just that little bit too gnarly! This simply wasn’t normal.

Already looking the worse for wear!

Before travelling I had decided I was going to play ‘trainer roulette’ on this run. I’m currently using 2 pairs that are pretty-much on their last legs. The one in worst shape, my More Mile Cheviot’s, have the uppers failing from side to side, however the integrity of the upper to the sole is perfectly fine which is far more important. They also have the best grip of the 2 pairs, so I had decided to wear them and see what happened. The roulette aspect is there was the fair sized risk they would not last the race. What I did to mitigate this risk and call the bluff of sod’s law, was to shove the other pair in my pack just in case of failure, however by having a spare pair with me I knew it meant there was a racing certainty I would not need them. As a penalty for this insurance policy I would have to lug the weight of the spares around for the whole day, unlike if I just threw caution to the wind and didn’t carry spares, where you know sod’s law is absolutely guaranteed to kick-in to effect and you would definitely need them and potentially DNF!

The weather report might have been rosy, but I wasn’t. I was still feeling the effects of whatever lurgy had been lurking at home and effortlessly emptied myself a couple of times before the start whilst dosing myself with imodium and hoping things would stay put for my day on the trails - Yes it was a risky strategy, but I didn’t have much more than hope!

 
Waiting for the hooter I was chatting to one of the Endurancelife crew who said there had been a call to them during the week from a major trainer manufacturer asking to use the event to shoot footage on the marathon course of one of their paid-for athletes using a new pair of trainers that are about to be launched… A new pair of road trainers! Endurancelife pointed-out to them that the race is not a road one and far from it, so wasn’t at all suitable for that kind of trainer as per their entrant’s guidelines for kit. The manufacturer said they were fine with that, so the view taken was ‘on their heads be it’ if the trainer company didn’t manage to achieve what they hoped for with their shoot, so at least they had been warned and expectations could be managed… I just hope that the trainers in question aren’t white as by the time they could shoot their footage on the only road section, they certainly wouldn’t be that colour!

Soon we were off into the bright low sun of the cloudless sky and from the very start I was struggling. Every muscle, every fibre of my body ached, but I was not going to admit defeat, especially not now before I was even out of sight of the marquee… I’ve run whilst ill in the past and it is not pleasant in the slightest. This however was an entirely different sensation, not of illness, but one of being sore all over, lethargic, completely drained of energy before the real work has even begun and with over a vertical mile of ascent to be covered along the 28 miles of the route, this is a punisher of a course.

I realised whilst I was starting slow, I was already getting even slower, but I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, so it was going to be a case of ‘suck it up buttercup’ and keep on going. I knew it was going to be a tough day at the office to get round, however just after the first mile I could hear myself being caught by a couple in the middle of a full-blown domestic. He was trying to cajole her forwards and faster and she was certainly having none of it - there was still 26 miles to go and it didn’t matter how fast they were going, if that was how they started for them it would be a very loooong day and I couldn’t help but crack a wry smile.

I put my head down and just went for it as best as I could, taking plenty of pics of trail porn as I went. This first half of the race along the cliffs from Beesands round to the Kingsbridge Estuary is one of my favourite runs to be had and it was great to experience it in sun and good lighting for the first time ever! Rounding the headland for the lighthouse at Start Point we faced right in to the teeth of a wind we weren’t aware was there. The blast properly grabbed you, blowing your cheeks out so you looked like a dog with its head out a car window. Trying to run into the wind it felt you were moving backwards at times as you were buffeted by the stiffest of the gusts.

Running this section when exposed to the blast was particularly feisty, to the point it was pretty tricky to make much headway or speed, plus with the exposed rock on the path you had to cover it was pretty slippery at times under foot - I nearly went over on my arse a couple of times and rolled my ankle once, at least focusing on this pain gave me something ‘proper’ to take my mind of being painfully slow.

On this leg we went round Gammon Head. With what had happened the day before during my drive down, it seemed particularly appropriate and I couldn’t resist taking a pic. As a Big Benless 11pm rang-out the previous night, Britain had left the EU and the radio phone-ins seemed to be full of drunken ‘gammon heads’ shouting down telephone lines with a discourse playing out thus: ‘we’ve won, we’re free’, only to be consistently asked ‘What have you won? give one quantifiable example’. Silence then reigned time after time before aggressive shouts of ‘WE’VE GOT OUR SOVEREIGNTY BACK’ were beerily bellowed… The responses of ’but that’s not a win as you never lost it in the first place’ seemed to all fall on deaf shouty ears!

Whilst my trainers may have had the bonus of added ventilation with the holes in the uppers, they had been allowing stones to ingress as I had traversed beaches and through puddles. I’d tried to ignore them as much as I could, but it had got to the point that I had to stop to empty them. Setting myself down on a boulder I emptied the trainers, put them back on and tried to stand-up and found myself struggling to do so. In the end I had to do it in stages, which certainly didn’t make me feel any better in myself.

Leaving the coastal path we climbed inland for the northerly section of the course. Compared to the stunning views of the coastline this is not quite as inspiring, but offers plenty of challenge with the continual changes in elevation and we were sheltered from the wind, the sun shining down on us getting a proper sweat on as a consequence that made you wonder if we would be slightly lobstered from catching the rays.

To take my mind off the slog I hit the podcasts to help while away the solo miles. I was also in bit of a dilemma - I knew I should be eating to keep my energy levels up, but at the same time with how my guts were I daren’t eat anything for risk of it reappearing sharpish from one end or the other as I was fully expecting the puking to start. Perhaps it was the anticipation of this that made me feel sick, yet at the same time the rational part of me realised the sick sensation was probably related to hunger and the strenuous activity rather than a lurgy, but I couldn’t trust it… My guts were cramping-up as well and I was properly deep into ‘never trust a fart’ territory, as no matter how confident you are that is is just a fart and how you much you crave to release the pressure, you don’t know what if anything is about to be involuntarily unleashed so you just don’t dare! All I had trusted myself to have in the two previous aid stations had been a handful of fruit jellies plus I’d also eaten a pack of jelly from my pack.

Eventually I made it to the final checkpoint of the day with around 10k to go and a familiar marshal who is always there, so I stopped for a chat as I certainly wasn’t in a hurry! As we spoke she told me that that Endurancelife had received a call this week with some bad news. It turned-out that after their previous race in Anglesey, one of their regulars, Brian, a gent who is in his 60’s had returned home having run the half marathon and died of a massive heart attack the following day. He’d certainly been a recognisable face to me ever since I ran my first of their events in 2012. Brian was pretty-much an ever-present at and had been since almost the beginning of Endurancelife. He ran mostly the half marathon and some 10k’s and just loved being out doing them on the coastal path. You couldn’t really miss Brian as he was very distinctive looking - think Noddy Holder’s doppelgänger, complete with the hair. You also got the impression he was still exactly the same as he was back in the 70’s just greyer and a little more rotund (hey it happens to us all)! The marshal had some very fond warm words to say about him, how he was always smiling and pleasant, one of their regular characters who was always chatting with people, smiling and joking with them. You could tell from the sadness in her eyes how she missed him on a personal level, as did the rest of the crew she said. They are thinking of doing something in his honour, or naming something after him to mark what they feel is ‘the end of an era’ with his passing.

Leaving this last aid station the majority of the rest of the course was on the flat through the mud and slippery duck boards of a nature reserve and along Slapton Sands, however my legs had long since already given up on me, I just couldn’t muster much more than a shuffle. The cyclist Jens Voigt used to yell through the pain ’shut up legs’ to his to persuade himself onwards and upwards, but me trying the same today it was more a case of ‘computer says no’ than a positive outcome.

Eventually I finished in the waning sunlight, pretty much the last of the marathon runners over the line (but hey a finish is a finish) Chatting with a crew member after - he had been working the event for 4 years and he couldn’t believe how good the weather is, forget about the sun he said, this was the first time he'd seen blue sky at the event!

My trainer roulette plan had held-out and my trainers survived the day. From what I could see under the caking of mud they didn't look too bad, however I had to wait to find out if they were in fact held together by the mud and I was pleasantly surprised at the outcome!

Coated!

Not too bad after all!

I met up with running buddy Luke for a post race beer in the Cricket Inn where I told him about Brian. Both of us had initially noticed him on our first race down in Pembrokeshire a good few years back - Luke was saying on the morning of one of the races he had seen him polish-off a fried breakfast before later running the half marathon and when Luke finished the marathon he was there at the finish line with a pint and a fag! We both raised a glass to Brian and his memory… You never know when you will have run your last.

This put my day’s run into perspective. I felt like shit, I wasn’t particularly ‘up for it’ physically and consequently mentally, but it doesn’t matter how poor my run was, I was fortunate enough to be able to get out and do it; a chastening reminder of NEVER taking it for granted, count your blessings that you can. Here’s to running tomorrow.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

3rd May: CTS Pembrokeshire... A marathon Spudding session.

Back to where it all began: The Endurancelife CTS Pembrokeshire Marathon.

In October 2012 I ran this as my first ever organised marathon - and it hurt, boy did it hurt! Then it was part of my challenge to myself of running 12 trail marathons in 12 months, something I managed to drag myself across the finishing line in achieving and have not looked-back since.

On that initial marathon, if you discount the 2 middle-aged ladies who set-out early with the ultra runners and walked every step of the way, then I finished dead last with the final few miles spent having to fight the urge to curl-up by the side of the trail and cry like a baby!

Ok so I’ve improved slightly since then and here I am again in the village of Little Haven on the Pembrokeshire coast for another ‘first’… My first marathon as a canicrosser with Spud as my willing companion.

Since LSS & I found Spud in the on-line classified site ’pre-loved’ (his owner was unable to look after him through illness so she put him on there for adoption) he has become a much-loved addition to the family and a very willing running buddy for the 2 of us. In fact running him has been a really good thing to do as it takes the edge off his continual need to be tearing around at 100mph all day every day - being a cross between a border collie and a springer spaniel he seems to have all the energy of the collie combined with the stupidity of the springer… But in a very loveable huggable kind of way!

As soon as he was old enough we have been taking Spud out on increasing distances and he is certainly ready to be taking-on a marathon distance, especially as now at this time of year it is not too hot or cold and the conditions underfoot being trail will not be damaging to his paws.

LSS joined Spud and myself on the 2 & 1/2 hour journey way out west for the day and we parked for the night over in Broad Haven for some kip before waking at dawn and making our way to the event base and registering for the race.

Excitement at the briefing!

Briefed on the jetty in the village centre, once the hooter went we were off and from the back of the pack starting point, Spud and myself deliberately made our way as far up the field as quickly as we could on the ascent out of the village. Knowing the course here I was aware there is a pinch-point getting on to the coastal path above the village that could have seen a very excitable Spud held in a queue for a few minutes to get through the gate and running again, so it seemed the sensible thing to do to get out of as many people’s way as possible and let them overtake us along the coastal path.

The coastal path with the dots of runners stretching along it.

On to the coastal path under the sunny sky we wound our way along the sheer clifftops to St. Brides where we descended to its small inlet and rocky beach. From her we turned inland by the church at Check Point 1 for a trip across the western peninsula of this bottom left corner of Wales, via the hamlet of Marloes, to the sheep-poo strewn WWII Coastal Command airfield.

Skipping up some steps.

Once across the flat couple of miles of the airfield and through Check Point 2 at 9 miles you begin the 10k loop of the southern peninsula with the slow easy descent in to the village of Dale… As we hit the outskirts of it we passed a window cleaner working with his dog left in his van, a dog that was not too pleased at all these people passing him by and was very vocal about this. Initially I though he was just having a shout at Spud, but from listening after passing you could tell how many people were behind and how close by the torrent of woofs still to be heard as Spud and I plodded away onwards to the shore.

A 'refined' view.

Through the centre of Dale, being at sea-level it was the start of the ascent back up on to the cliff-tops, and the undulating slog around the headland. On one ascent with the temperature rising I saw through a gap in a hedge a large pond holding water for the farmers fields. With us still being a few miles from the next aid station I ducked-under the fence with Spud to allow him to drink his fill… The pool was absolutely teeming with tadpoles and Spud was straight in there belly deep drinking the water and attempting to eat the tadpoles at the same time!

Teeming with tadpoles.

Passing the Coastguard look-out point we approached the lighthouse and the cottages at St. Ann’s Head, crossing a field to get to it… Unfortunately this field was full of cows, cows that had been wound-up by the passing through their field of countess ultra and marathon runners, and now there was someone with a dog invading their territory.

The cows were split either side of the well-trampled path and as Spud and myself, along with another 2 runners approached them they took a big interest in me and the boy and began to close in on us. To give Spud his dues he was not fazed by this at all, as when he is running that is all he concentrates on (unless he sees a squirrel) so he was ignoring the attention of these large slabs of beef. At this point I slowed a bit to allow the other runners a chance to get away from us as the cows certainly were not interested in them and Spud and I attempted to ‘run the bovine gauntlet’ and get to the exit of the field.

I was looking ahead for an exit strategy. The fence the path leads you to is waist height with 2 rows of barbed wire on top and you need to take a right turn against it and follow the fence for another 100 metres before arriving at the gate to leave the field… Which meant the two of us were potentially going to be pinned against the fence at any point along there.

Maintaining a constant pace Spud carried on running and ignoring what was happening but when we made it through the cows they all converged in a group behind us and began to jog after us matching our pace in the direction of the fence. Looking around I could see there were 2 leaders of the herd that the others were following. Turning my head to keep an eye on what was occurring I could see they were now beginning to speed-up and as we hit the fence there was now a real danger of us being pinned against it.

There were some holiday makers on the other side of the fence who could see what was happening and started shouting at me to let Spud go… The fence was too high to hurdle although I could easily get Spud over it by picking and throwing him across. The thing is Spud was fine with the situation and had not confronted or caused any direct issue with the cows and letting him go would put him and myself in direct danger if he was to bolt and panic the cows.

By this time the other 2 runners were through the gate so were now safe and very relieved! Assessing the situation I took the chance that the cows were really just curious and allowed them to keep following, but when they got to within a metre of my back I took the step of firmly turning my body as I jogged and holding my arm out to them with my palm up I shouted a firm ‘no’ to them. This made them stop which bought us an extra metre before they began to follow again, this time keeping their distance… I covered the last 20 metres or so to the gate with my arm out behind me, palm up and repeating ‘no’ every few paces until we got to the gate and mercifully through it with minimal faff and fumbling of the catch! A close call - although Spud was completely unaware of everything that had gone on and just wanted to keep on running!

Looking back at the lighthouse.

Relieved to have escaped we took it easy on the last couple of miles to Check Point 3, finishing the loop of the peninsula 16 miles in to the race, with Spud taking on plenty more water at the stop. All the Check Points at the Endurancelife events have tubs of water specifically for the dogs to drink from as part of being canicross friendly events. With us humans running long distances we need to keep ourselves sustained with food, and the same principal it is with dogs - I had taken some high-value treats (to dogs that is) for Spud on the run - a bag of cooked chicken and a bag of chopped Mattesons sausage. As a reward for successfully negotiating the cows I gave him most of the bag of sausage a bit at a time to keep his energy levels up.

Gateholm Island.

From here it was a return to St. Brides along a different route that was mostly on the cliff-tops, passing the sight of Gateholm Island before a quick trip north across the western peninsula and hitting the coastal path once more which will be our companion for the final 10k or so.

On this final 10k, having given Spud most of the chicken I took the opportunity to start a new trend - you may have heard of ‘nutscaping’ where men take a photo of some cracking scenery with one of their hairy ’plums’ blurred in shot at the top well I’ve thought of going one step further but on a tangent; taking photos of cracking landscape with a furry Spud in the corner or the bottom of the shot and calling it ‘muttscaping’… So here’s some of our efforts from the last 10k.

Crossing the finish line half an hour faster than my last effort on the course, Spud had more than taken it all in his stride - in fact as I sat with LSS (who was there to cheer us in) on the grass by the finish to recover my breath, he was straining to go run and play with the other dogs who had run the half marathon or 10k and were all chilling-out in the warm spring sunshine with their tired owners!

A happy chappy sporting his bling.

A cheeky pint in the pub on the quayside followed, where Spud was trying to look as pitiful as possible to cadge food off those eating their lunch before the three of us made our way back up the hill to the fun-bus and the drive home. Once the motor was running, Spud finally gave-in to the effort of the day and curled-up in his travel cage and fell asleep immediately for the entire trip, and well deserved it was too!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

10th April: CTS Exmoor

I'd been looking forward to getting down to Exmoor for a second run at one of the tougher Endurance life Coastal Trail Series marathons.

I say 'tougher' and that is by Endurancelife’s standards: In just over the standard marathon distance it gives you a vertical mile of ascent, so this course in effect offers you the same challenge-wise as the 'junior' of the Skyrunner series in the British Isles, the Peak Skyrunner, which comes-in at a near identical ascent over 29 miles… It's certainly not a course for the faint-hearted!

This year there had been a slight tweak to the course in that the start and event base was not to be at the Hunter's Lodge pub as before but up on the top of the cliffs just along to the east on the edge of Martinhoe, with the figure of 8 course run in the reverse of my previous time, with the easterly loop the first of the two to be conquered before the shorter but more exposed westerly loop.

What its all about, waking to sight like this!

Following my normal ploy of arriving at midnight I had parked-up and enjoyed a night's kip in the back of the van and when dawn broke and registration opened I went off to undergo the quick and painless process that Endurancelife have managed to make work well for them.

Somewhere under the rainbow...

Walking across the field to the marquee there were some rain clouds hanging ominously behind it with the beginnings of a rainbow arcing across the sky.

First ascent of the day.

The start was a mercifully benign one for a a CTS race: normally you are straight in to a climb, but today from our elevated position it was a good long downhill blast heading eastward to the valley bottom, however with hitting the bottom comes the inevitability of a big climb looming.

God-botherers a go-go.

Ascending to the valley of the rocks it was mercifully nowhere near as windy as it had been on my previous visit and I managed to crack-on making good time through the wooded surrounds as we hit the ’Tarka Trail’. Soon we were hitting the first of the lung-bursting climbs (the kind that makes your Garmin pause as it detects no lateral movement; you just seem to move vertically), as we wound our way up the steep sloping cliff as we overlooked the god-botherers of Lee Abbey below us with their large hill-top crucifix standing-out defiantly against the sea and the wind.

Heading East.

Once atop it was a blast through the ‘Valley of the Rocks’ with its short grassy track well manicured by the wild goats of the area, before we entered the village of Lynton and the descent to the river, following the contours of it round to CP1 after 7 miles at Hillsford Bridge and the short jog on to the idyll of ‘Watersmeet’.

Meeting the water.

From the river at Watersmeet it was another climb back up on to the cliff-top path where I came across a fellow runner who looked like he was on his knees in prayer whilst he was attempting to solve an issue with his kit. I offered a helping hand, but without something like a screwdriver to re-attach an unyielding clip onto a plastic tube, a losing battle was being fought so I wished him the best of luck and carried along my merry way, which was a beautiful slight descent of over a mile in length overlooking the cliffs towards Lynmouth and Lynton before the drop to the sea front.

Praying to the god of kit-repair.

The weather that had threatened to pour with rain had not materialised with the sun now fighting its way out and warming us up noticeably when we were sheltered from the wind, making the climbs all the harder for this.

Off we go chasing the horizon.

Goat.

Soon after passing some bemused goats on the steep cliffs, we crossed through the grounds of the abbey with some freshly born lambs in the field beside the route and we were through to the halfway mark at CP2 and the end of the easterly loop.

Waterfall en-route.

Nearly back on the top!

On the western half the first challenge is to climb back up to the cliff-tops once more. In the past this has been shortly after the start and the entire field has been stretched-out Indian file along the switch-back path as we all sped-walked up the lung-burster! This year there was no queue and in the heat, the first strong sun of the year, with a half marathon already under my belt it was an effort to keep-going. Fortunately I was on this section with another runner, so we were able to grouse about this section as well as talk the common talk of the trail runner. It seemed that in the valleys just behind the cliffs they experience their own micro-climate. Sheltered from the wind, with the heat beating down it brought out all the moisture in the undergrowth and made it uncomfortably humid.

On the cliff-tops and Westward-ho we go.

Once back on top of the cliffs it was a lot easier to get moving consistently under the bruising sky as an ominous-looking cloud moved towards us threatening rain. As we wound our way along the coastal path with its undulations till we reached the furthest westerly point and we tabbed inland across the moor through CP3, passing the cairn on Trentishoe Down and the silent woody descent where you feel that there is not another soul for miles around.

Crossing the moor.

Turning left at the cairn.

Following the trail we wound our way across to the Hunter’s Lodge and a final sun-drenched climb up to the coastal path for the last mile and change taking-in the sumptuous views across to the distant Gower peninsula in Wales, where the CTS has a November race. Looking down in to the coves as I ran I spotted a seal calmly swimming around on the hunt for some fish, the first time in many a year that I have spotted one in the wild.

Always bittersweet seeing these signs... One more mile of pain but only one more mile of views like this!

On a high from this I crossed the finish in the spring sun, cream-crackered but happy to have finished the race in one piece… Last time out I suffered equipment failure with my Vango hydration pack failing to any longer hold-on to the 'mandatory equipment' pouch that I carry the items in, which led me to get a Camelbak (which I still run in) and with shredded feet - which were doused in the stream by the Hunter's Lodge in the fresh freezing water to clean them and numb the pain. This time round it was down to the Hunter's Lodge with fellow runner Luke for a post-run pint before heading home for a welcome shower and some burgers!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.