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.

9th April: Trainer Failure (CTS Exmoor 2017)

In the last entry I alluded to my trainers falling apart mid-race in the Exmoor CTS marathon last year... Well this is what happened.

I was pretty chuffed with the trainers LSS had bought me for Christmas: 2 pairs of Karrimor XTS. In appearance they looked like wannabe minimalist Inov8’s being low drop and consequently very flexible and also very comfortable... I was really enjoying wearing them and eager to get running I toed the line at the start of 2017's Endurancelife CTS Exmoor marathon under the blazing sun in temperatures already in the late teens at 9am.

It was about a mile in and on the climb up on to the cliffs of the shorter 7 mile loop that I felt a pinging sensation at the front of one of the trainers. I looked down and saw the sole had detached from the toe of one trainer... I thought nothing more of it, blundering on regardless.

Shortly afterwards I felt the other trainer ‘ping’ and sure enough that one had the sole separating from the upper. Bugger.

The start of the failure.

I carried on running but could feel my right trainer sole getting further and further separated from the upper and in real danger of total failure... 2 miles in and I’m looking at a DNF through footwear failure if I’m unlucky!

Crossing the moor I felt the sole catch on a rock and fold back under my foot. Looking down it had separated from the upper all the way back past the ball of my foot. I realised the other foot had peeled-back about 5cm and the was worsening. To get by I had to drastically alter my running style, pronouncedly heel-striking so as to try and preserve the trainers until I was back at the start. I looked like I was running whilst wearing flippers, with the soles making a slapping, clapping sound at me with every step, much to the amusement of those who were overtaking me.

Getting worse!

At 4 miles I reached the aid station and asked for gaffer tape to try and bind the soles to the uppers but they had none... It was going to be a long slow sole slapping 3 miles back to the start to try and get some tape from there.

I arrived at the start just as the half marathoners were being unleashed on the course and had to wait for 300 of them to run past before I could get in to the marquee. Inside I asked a Marshall for some gaffer tape and they refused to let me have some!.. I explained clearly why I needed some and reluctantly they found a roll and supervised me using it in case I used too much! Great, don’t you love being treated like a 3 year old!

It was all to no avail though as with the moisture of the ground soaked in to the trainer fabric, the glue would not adhere and the tape slipped off the front of the trainers, so I was faced with a choice: DNF or a walk to the van to change into my only other footwear: walking trainers... Half a mile up a 16% gradient hill and I was at the van contemplating chucking it all in, but after a can of red bull and a strong word with myself I put the walking trainers on and eventually rejoined the race having lost over 30 minutes with this on top of about another 20 from the enforced slow pace of the last 4 miles.

The trainers at the van.

A good race time was gone, but the sun was shining and with no pressure I would not suffer too much in the warmth from overheating via my exertion, so a leisurely bimble it was for the rest of the day surrounded by some cracking scenery!

The trainers were binned after a poor showing of just 150 miles and you know what, the other pair went at the same mileage which kind of explains why they were on sale in Sports Direct in the first place - I did not really trust the second pair for racing in after I had accumulated about 70 miles, can’t think why!.. Still combined both pairs of trainers were £30 for 300 miles, so not too bad on the money per mile stakes but frustrating as I was certainly not expecting a trainer failure mid race! Karrimor trainers seem to be a bit of a lottery - they either go for 700 miles a pair or 150, still at least they're cheap as trainers go when they do give-up early.

At least by means of compensation on a compromised race there was plenty of time for pictures of trail porn along the way without pressure for a decent finish and I maintained my 100% record of finishing my races rather than DNF'ing over footwear rather than something worthwhile like injury!

Certainly a real contrast on conditions from one year to the next when you look at the pics in the previous blog entry compared to this one... It was actually easier to run in the conditions this year as it was not too hot and maintaining a level body temperature was easy, unlike when these pics were took where the temperature had jumped over 10 degrees in one day making it difficult for everyone as consequently no-one was acclimated to running in 20 plus degrees temperature and strong sunshine!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

8th April: Claggy Exmoor.

Having re-found my marathon mojo at the start of the month whilst running down a hill in a flurry of snow I was actually looking forward to today’s run rather than just enduring it.

Hanging around in the rain.

 The fun bus is still suffering from a severe case of engine-knack so I had to borrow LSS’s somewhat smaller motor to get down to Exmoor for the Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series marathon. Driving in the darkness I arrived at the Hunters Lodge event base in Heddon Valley on the stroke of midnight having seen a first for me... A Polecat! Just a half mile from my destination and one ran along the side of the country lane towards me and stopped for me to get a good look as I drove past, which was awesome!

The initial climb to the cliff tops.

Sleeping on the back-seat of a hatch-back folded like a Swiss Army knife is not the most comfortable way to spend a night pre-race and when the rain starts battering down on the roof at 4am waking you then it just adds to the ‘fun’. Having only fitfully slept from when the rain started I went to register pretty-much as soon as I could, queuing in the rain and standing in mud that was getting deeper the more people walked over it.

Running through the clag.

At the briefing I managed a brief chat with Luke and also Gareth from my running club who had made the journey down to beast himself over the terrain. Shortly after we were all gathered around in the rain and were unleashed on to the course; a figure of 8 with a westerly loop of 7 miles run first before the easterly one of 20.

A brief clearance of the clag.

The weather report had been for heavy rain all day so we were all ready for a proper soaking, with everyone to a person in a waterproof girding themselves for a damp run to say the least... Which completely threw us all when we climbed up on to the cliff-tops to find we were above the rain and just the occasional bit of low cloud and sea fog in front of us rolling up from the sea.

The stream-like path over the moors.

The air temperature was a comfortable 7 degrees or thereabouts so pretty soon everyone was overheating in their waterproofs, so like most of the field from halfway back I stopped in a sheltered spot and took mine off... But lost about 10 minutes trying to ease it into my already tightly packed camelbak so I could carry on, whilst everyone else scampered past me.

Expecting the hound of the Baskervilles to come galloping towards you.

Pretty much at the rear of the race I was now able to indulge in a rare spot of overtaking as I undulated my way along the coastal path to the furthest westerly point and the trek up on to the moors... The paths here were streams with all the rain and now being on the high exposed parts the fog was properly shrouding everything reducing visibility to around 20m... And that was about as good as it got for visibility for the next 20 miles!

Blair-Witchy woods.

The Exmoor route is a beautiful course of rugged wilderness and scenery, but today nowt of this was to be seen... I’ll say this for lack of visibility; it certainly heightens your sense of sound as you listen-out to try and figure what is around you; the sound of rodents in the undergrowth, the bleat of new born lambs somewhere distant, the gargle of a pheasant and the crash of a wave reminding you that nearby lies a cliff.

More limited visibility!

I meandered through the murk chatting with those whose paths I crossed: a couple of lads over from Jersey whose friend was really struggling in the mud through his trainers not being man-enough to cope, a Belgian expat who lives a mere 20 miles down the road from me, and eventually a lady from Devon who was getting back to trail marathons having had some bones in her foot fused!

As I hit the aid station at 17 miles having just worked my way through a bit of a ‘Blair Witch-y’ woods I saw Gareth already there trying to force himself to eat and suffering from the heavy going of the trail... We shared the next mile or so before we hit the long drag up on to the coastal path again where he disappeared off in front lost to the mist and I ploughed onwards alone.

Up on the coastal path on the descent to Lynmouth, I was able to see a sight you don't often see thanks to the conditions: the white line in the sea where the fresh water from the river estuary meets the salt water of the sea known as the 'salt wedge'.

The diagonal line of the 'salt wedge'.

Through Lynmouth we had to scale the path up to the cliff tops - part of it was blocked by a fallen tree you had to scramble under - I put my hand right onto a holly leaf doing this which was a shot of pain to the system. Once on the top it was a blast along the tarmaced path heading through the ‘Valley of the Rocks’ where I was able to have a relatively close encounter with some of the wild goats thanks to a brief gap in the fog, before it enveloped us once more and I battled on to the finish passing a lovely waterfall, crossing the line about 30 seconds after Gareth who it seemed I had been steadily reeling-in since he steamed up that hill.

Goats!

A good hard workout today but not much in the way of trail-porn to picture and a whole world of difference from last year with its 20 degree heat and strong sunshine and thankfully today my trainers remained intact, unlike last year!

Something I have really started to notice of late is that I seem to eat a fraction of what I used to on these races. Today I made it around on 2.5 energy bars and a couple of gels. I put this down to changing my drink to an electrolyte+carb one rather than the previously used electrolyte only. I suspect I’m getting a blast of energy now with every sip of fluid which is helping me a lot although I am not taking-on any more fluids as a consequence. Definitely a change for the better.

Gareth in both ruin & ecstasy in a matter of seconds.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.