A couple of years ago, comfortable with running plenty of trail and fell races up to marathon distance, I was tempted into what then seemed to be a little publicised world of ‘ultra’ running by some of the Spartan club members.
This inevitably led to me entering my first beyond marathon distance event in May 2012; running the 33.4 miles up the Sandstone Trail. I wasn’t fully fit, having been suffering with progressively worsening groin pain since March, which I eventually needed bi-lateral hernia surgery to repair just 6 weeks later. On the day, I ran OK to 20 miles, then fell apart at Rock Farm and the remaining 12 miles were spent hobbling slowly on badly cramped up legs, but I made it to the finish in 6hrs 20. Ultra number one, done!
Last year I was fitter and had more miles and a few more Ultras under my belt, but most importantly I knew what to expect in those last miles. I would have been pleased with my 5hr 26; a 54 minute improvement, however I concussed myself after an argument with a tree in the last couple of miles, which kind of slowed my finish!
A bloody finish to the 2013 event
Since then I have done several more ultras and results have got better. Sure, I’ve trained pretty hard, especially in the last 6 months with some good results. I think the main improvement in ultra running is achieved in your mind. You have to visit the dark places that you encounter in a long race to be able to condition your resolve to carry on when it is tempting not to.
So to this years race. My 2014 has gone well so far, with some decent performances and placings. A few of us decided to make a night time assault on the full SST at short notice just before New Year. I ran the Anglesey Ultra in pouring rain in January, two Trail Marathons at Grizedale and Excalibur, the Edale Skyline and then the Highland Fling in April. A few other races, plus 35 and 40 mile training runs here and there and so we came to Saturday June 7th 2014.
Time to push it up a level, improve on last years 9th place and hopefully stay clear of low hanging branches in Frodsham woods……
In 2011, I ran the last 17 miles of the SST with Stuart Mills and amongst the interesting advice he imparted during our run, the need to have a clear race goal and focus seemed sensible enough. I stored mine safely in my head.
I decided to travel light for the race and ditched my usual Salomon race vest in favour of a bum bag. The weather was predicted to be shocking, which was fine by me. I prefer the cooler temperatures and I have had enough experience of very wet races already this year!
As usual, a fantastic Spartan turnout assembled early in Frodsham Community Centre and we headed off on 3 coaches towards Whitchurch. As we got closer to our destination, the first flashes of lightning signalled an epic rainstorm and we gathered at the start line looking like drowned rats.
Drowned rats await the countdown Picture by Steve Riley
With everyone sheltering until the last minute, it wasn’t easy to ‘eye up’ the opposition amongst the 189 folks in the car park. So, after the Mayor gave his welcome, Andy R gave a quick count down and I legged it off down the trail, remembering how Dave Douglas had scarpered off into the distance last year, for a flag to flag victory.
As I puddle jumped down the trail, I expected to be passed. I planned to run fast over the canal section, but with an eye on the HR to try and avoid hitting the red zone too hard early on.
A nice summers morning for a race Picture by Steve Riley
All my gain made in the first half mile or so was unfortunately lost when I spied the canal bridge ahead of me, suspiciously looking like it was raised. Sure enough it was, thus halting the race and evaporating my lead as before long I was joined by the entire race field as we watched a canal boat executing a 23 point turn. This was the first test of my positive mental attitude!
All stop Picture by Claire Rowlands
Eventually the crank was handed over and the bridge started to lower. It was a scene reminiscent from watching the D-Day coverage, as runners mounted the lowering bridge like it was the ramp descending on a landing craft. Race start take two and another sprint to the front was required. Quite a buzz actually, as I dashed after mad dog Moorhouse and Paul Avo, the first nut jobs to launch themselves across the half lowered bridge.
Ploughing ahead Picture by Steve Riley
I led out to CP1 at 6 miles. This was a truly great feeling, to be leading out a race for the first time. The pace was about right, I wasn’t in the red or over stretching myself and consequently it wasn’t long before I was joined by Alex and two other guys I didn’t know; Martin and Pete, both quick runners. We stayed together from CP1 through the next 4 miles or so, swapping positions as we went, with me forging the way mostly as the others seemed a bit less familiar with the route. This fact becomes evident later…..
I didn’t really think much about the poor ground conditions. This seemed OK compared to some of our previous SST expeditions and it’s way more fun than hard packed trails, just slower and harder on the legs!
Chivalry at work last January, as James (not the tallest club member) gives Bev a piggy back. Snorkel almost required.
The first section of the Trail before Duckington isn’t that exciting or scenic really. We had a really near miss with some skittish cattle in one field, followed by an alarming incident with a horse that was determined to stop us passing through his enclosure. Probably not a sensible place to put a horse if you ask me, with a National Trail going right through his territory where he was kept. Andy Whittaker had also joined our peloton and as we battled through the fields of beasts it was a case of safety in numbers I think!
I seemed to have the slighter better course knowledge early on, but eventually the elastic between us 5 was over stretched and I found myself in 3rd place behind hard charging Martin and Alex approaching Beeston. Into CP2 alongside Pete from Warrington, a pretty handy sub 3 hr marathoner as it turned out. As we hit the field sections beyond Beeston, just ahead of us we could see Alex and it’s always positive to see a target to chase.
Approaching 11 miles Picture by Dave Douglas
Up to now, the route had been pretty heavy going and slippy in places but the pace was good. Fighting the nettles and overgrown wet vegetation became more of an issue as we went on.
I had also been resisting the urge to stop for a call of nature for several miles, but eventually I had to stop just before Pudding Lane and thus lost touch with Pete. As I tried to make up the gap, I finally managed to regain sight of both Pete and Alex and I progressed steadily up to Rock Farm, about 2 minutes adrift in 4th place.
Things stayed this way until I reached the forest, with just one wipe out in Primrose Wood where I did a neat half somersault on some dodgy ground. Heading onto home turf is always a mental boost and it was great to hear Spartan cheers at Gresty’s Waste as I crossed into Delamere.
I passed Barnesbridge in an almost identical time to last year, which given the effort I was exerting, showed how the conditions were affecting the pace.
Approaching the hills of hell, I was a little surprised to come across Martin who had vanished into the distance a good 10 miles earlier and I passed him as he was putting on his jacket. Right then, head down and get your backside moving I thought as I moved back into 3rd place.
As I kept a focused pace on tiring legs, I came across a runner heading the opposite direction, just before Commonside and he told me that I was in second place. No, 3rd I said, but he was insistent that he had only passed one runner. This also happened last year, where I had been told I was 6th which turned out to be false.
I carried on, somewhat confused. However, I had not had a single glimpse of another runner since Rock Farm and had to conclude that Alex had put the hammer down. Could I have slipped back that much?
I pressed on and began the climb up into Frodsham woods and hauled myself up the steps at Jacobs Ladder. Twinges of cramp hit my adductors and right calf, but the climb was nearly over and once I reached the monument on Frodsham summit, I knew it was all downhill to the finish and I enjoyed the muddy slide down the zig zags.
Onto the road and past the Ring O Bells and down the alley. Woah! My Fellraiser studs did not like the damp greasy tarmac down the alley and I almost lost it more than once. Full cramp lockdown in my right calf was a distraction but I crossed over the main road and as I ran down the final stretch behind the houses, I spotted my eldest daughter Isabella on lookout duty just exactly where she had stood last year. Then she was horrified to see me covered in blood from my fall, but this year we high fived and I dashed into the field with her chasing after me, for what I thought was a podium finish, with a magnificent Spartan welcome to see me home in 5hrs 9 minutes.
Still working hard to the line Picture by Steve Riley
As I looked around the finish area for other runners, it became evident no one else was in the hall. I had to ask for confirmation of my finish position, only to be told I was first! Surreal.
Less than a minute later, Pete arrived. He had made a wrong turn in Frodsham woods and headed over the golf course to Beacon Hill! No sign of Alex at all and I later found out he took a wrong turn near the edge of the forest approaching Manley. I’m quite glad I didn’t know he was not far behind and chasing me down after his wrong turn. I don’t like being chased!
It felt a little bizarre initially, being the first home under the circumstances. However, ultra running requires navigation of the course as an integral part of the race, so to finish first you first must finish I guess!
I decided to make use of the massage facility as I was pretty crampy. I think the following 30 minutes were probably more painful than the race as my adductors were treated to a full friction workout!
I’ve won my first ever race and it feels great to have finished first and conquered the Sandstone Trail, racing through Spartan home territory. With 4 Spartans in the top 7 and a whole host of magnificent performances throughout the club, this is a great event!
Trophy time with Andy Robinson Picture by Dave Douglas
I was pleased to run the last 7+ mile section from Barnesbridge to the finish a good 17 mins faster than last year. My endurance has improved a lot. I was fuelled by 4 gels and about 4 cups of orange, along with two handfuls of jaffa cakes. 5hrs 9’ isn’t a record breaker, but given the course conditions and with the little wait at the canal, ahem, it felt more like a sub 5hr performance!
My pre race goal was 5 hours. I was also determined to run it as a race from the start and I think I achieved my goal.
The next goal is to exorcise the demon of last years meltdown in the UTLD 50 at the end of July and then move to this years epic challenge of the 135 mile Ring O Fire at the end of August.
I need to condition my mind to run through pain and tiredness, so I dragged my backside out of bed at 5am on Sunday and headed to the Clwydian Range with James for a 20 miler, with 5,750ft of hills. Ouch. Job done!
A big contribution to improving my own endurance performance has to be the endurance capacity of my family, putting up with increasing hours of training and distraction, for which I am grateful and hope that it at least occasionally seems worth it for them!
Big thanks also to the marshals at all the CP’s on a grotty day, including our very own Spartan CP1. Also to the organisers for another impeccable performance; Andy R, Helsby RC and the scouts for fabulous pie and peas table service! Steve Riley's camera appeared at just about every CP, a tough job snapping everyone in such wet conditions.
A day to remember. The nettle stings will linger in the memory a while longer still.....