Post #6


I must begin with an apology. Sorry for neglecting my blog and not updating you with a post Longhorn Marathon report. There have been many contributing factors to my absence – work, other hobbies, holidays etc. But I’m back and I will try to keep you guys up to date over the next few weeks as things are really moving fast (unlike me).

So…The Longhorn Marathon on the 23rd April 2017 – Heading into this race I felt composed both physically and mentally. My preparation was complete, I was now in my usual tapering so to feel fresh and eager come race day. Soon my alarm was sounding and race day had arrived. The usual routine of shower and fuel ensued and at 6:45am we loaded up the camper ( I will fill you in about this later) and on our way.

Arriving an hour and a half before my start, I wandered the ¼ of a mile to the registration to relax after the drive, readied my hydration vest, had another bowl of porridge, (note to self: This was the best porridge I’d ever had) hydrated, then took a brisk walk down to the starting area.

The weather was shaping up nicely, bright and with a light breeze. I was my usual relaxed self and felt no apprehension of the task ahead – what probably described my inner thoughts were that of a Labrador…I was just pleased to be out. Soon after, my fellow marathoners and I gathered on the start line eager to begin.

After a few miles I settled into a happy pace along side a bloke called Jon from the North West. We exchanged running tales which made the first lap fly by. My body felt great and I was loving the undulating train amongst the trees. On the exposed parts of the course the sun was starting to warm up and I just remember thinking how much I love running in the sun. A winters worth of cold wet runs all seemed worth it now to be here. On lap two we caught up with two other lads Jon knew who had already completed a 100 marathons each! I though to myself “I feel comfortable here so lets just go with it” and the chatter continued up until a mile from the half way point.

I suddenly felt a little tightening of my quads just above my right knee, I didn’t panic, I just gave my knee an extra bend on my next few strides. Further down the trail it happened again then on my left quad too. Fuck! I thought, this is cramp – I started to question what had gone wrong and why of all bloody days, it chose now to rear its ugly head? I have never once suffered from cramp on any of my runs. It wasn’t like I was overly fast or at a distance that was new territory for me. As I approach the aid station I was glad to see my crew and immediately requested for my diluted salts and gulped them down. I was pretty certain that my body was suffering from salt depletion and I knew that it was a battle I couldn’t win for the remaining half marathon.

Jon and I left together and covered the next mile side by side. Jon looked good but commented on how hot it was. I was suffering, and now cramping on every stride. On an exposed section of the trail I gave in and slowed to a power walk. Acknowledging the loss of his buddy, Jon turned and called out “Everything OK mate?” “Yeah, all good mate – you carry on and I’ll catch you back up”

This was the last I saw of Jon.

It soon became apparent that I was physically unable to run up hill. Power walking was my only option when I came up against an incline. I could run/shuffle my way down the declines but this opportunity was few and far between. I managed to make it back to my crew but by this point I was seriously pissed off at my lack of ability to run. My crew rallied round stuffing handfuls of salted peanuts in to every available pocked on my vest – judging by the state on my top and hydration vest you could have stuck unsalted ones in as I had more than enough salt stuck on my person from sweat. There is no way you are retiring. This message repeated over and over in my head.

With my supplies replenished and a wave of encouragement I set off on my final lap. I made a simple rule to focus on. “You run every decline and you power walk the inclines. You do not stop moving unless you have to piss” This got me through the next six and a half miles. Before long I began catching and passing other runners in a similar or worse state than myself. This didn’t make me feel any better, just more of the same frustration that I had made a mistake in my preparation and was now suffering for it. I followed my rule to the exact word and ticked off the miles. I crossed the finish line happy it was over and proud I had dug in when everything physically and mentally was screaming at me to stop.

On reflection, I’m happy with my achievement that day. I could not have done it with out the support and encouragement of my crew, you guys were incredible and I will happily return the favour for you. I finally got to experience my version of the “questions” other runners had spoke about before. Yes I did have to ask myself what I really wanted and how much I was willing to go through in order to succeed. No it wasn’t pretty but I kind of liked it because I had to push more. The salt depletion is a lesson learnt, I now know this will become a show stopper for me if not controlled properly and I will for future races. But the biggest lesson of all… I can reach what I thought was my limit and then push beyond – This is the satisfaction I wanted.

I’m a running junkie and I got the fix I crave the most.


Post #5


As you all know from my previous post, I am running The Longhorn trail marathon on the 23rd of this month. I knew my body wouldn’t take many miles to settle back into the pace of longer distances. I planned to get a steady twelve miler one evening after work on a local trail, then for the weekend, head over to Clumber Park for a good couple of hours out there.

There it was again, that hit only a junkie can relate too – to be out on a long run again is my fix. One thought my mind always drifts to when out on a long run is “the questions” others refer to when they talk about the distances of marathons and beyond. I suppose the nature of these questions are as unique as the individuals possessing these inner thoughts. Some talk of how they ask themselves, can they go back to work? or post on Facebook? that they failed to complete the task they set. Others have shared that they question what they have to give from deep within in order for them to finish or succeed in a certain time. I have still up until now wondered what my questions will be. This topic occupied my mind for most of my twelve miles.

Come Saturday morning I loaded the car ready for a ride over to Clumber Park to run for what was going to be my first twenty mile plus run in a while. I hadn’t given a fixed distance to run….I just knew I wanted to go out there for at least three hours so I could test how my stomach accepted different types of food whilst on the move. I had my usual energy gel’s, Harribo’s and cereal bars with me. (I also purchased a ploughman’s sandwich and some salty crisp’s to eat at an “aid station” stop at the back of my car).

I set off not feeling all that great – maybe I was starting to think of all this running as “training”? Now, I know from my previous hobbies, as soon as I start to think this way, I start to think about the results. And so, I did what I do in most situations of worry or concern, I ate something to cheery myself up. Thankfully it turns out I was just a little hungry since it was an hour and a half since my porridge back home.

Having established I was a complete pillock and admitting that to my pacer on her mountain bike beside me I settled in as usual. I was increasingly happy to know that I had no set route planned,  I just took a turn that looked the most remote and what seemed to be leading me farther from my starting point. After stopping every few hundred yards to allow people of horseback, plodding along, taking part it what seemed to be a “Sky Ride” but for horse owners, I stumbled across the Robin Hood Way and consequently a sign for Thoresby Hall. I decided it would seem only fitting to run out that way. I felt a great sense of occasion knowing I would be out in this area in only a matter of weeks to run my first official marathon.

Having reached the aid station (back of my car) I took on some salts, devoured my ploughman’s and a vast amount of salty crisp’s. I replenished my hydration bladder with water and soon after recharging with a coffee I was back on my way. This time heading out the opposite side of Clumber Lake to explore what trails lay ahead.

My Garmin bleeped signalling my first mile complete. This confirmed what I already knew and feared – Ploughman sandwiches are appropriately named! They are perfect if after your lunch you are going to sit back in your tractor and continue ploughing. The schoolboy error I had made was that I forgot when at the chiller choosing my said lunch, that I am not a ploughman, nor am I attempting to be! My body struggled to propel itself forward under the weight of my less than ideal choice of food. I made a mental note – “You want to be an ultra-runner, not a ploughman you fuckwitt!” 

A few slow miles passed and I suppose, on reflection, those grim feeling miles worked as a good resource to draw upon for when I’m feeling shitty and have to dig in to get my self beyond that point on race day. The latter miles all felt great, mentally I was positive and excited at the prospect of my up and coming events. I again confirmed I love to run long, and, more so in this environment, where speed simply does not matter.

With prior engagement’s for that evening planned I had to turn back towards my car. On the last mile or so back I felt sad my run could not go on into what was set to be a beautiful evening, but also overjoyed to have felt so good after what turned out to be twenty four miles. I packed up my car, slipped on my Birkenstocks and headed home and reflected on the day. I could only smile at the achievements and laugh at my fuelling faux pa. This was my sweetest fix yet and with all good hits – I only craved more!


Post #2

It seems now, that I should share with you my reasons for writing this blog.
My intentions are to voice how I feel when I run, the journey I want my running to take and to offer an average person’s account of an age old pastime with a refreshing and sometimes embarrasing honesty.
If at this point you are thinking “Great! This shit better not get spiritual” then don’t panic! This isn’t going to be that kind of blog.
When I decided I wanted to run again my only motivation was to get moving outside. I knew I didn’t need to lose weight but feeling “fit” was something I hadn’t
felt in a number of years. At that point I never imagined how this obsession was about to grow.
But, it is worth noting that there is one part of my being that I am unable to change or remove…
The fact I can’t do things by halves.
So, I realised after a few of my early runs that the goal/target setting of the past wasnt going to fit the person I was today.
My external competitivness has all but disappeard. I have no interest in being the quickest or the pinnacle in my group, I honestly couldn’t care that someone is faster
than me over a 5K.
Suddenly I found myself at the start of a journey I never would have thought was my route.
Ultra Running…
Now my first hearing of this type of race was back in 2011 when a family memeber had entered the Marathon des Sables. As with most people (and some of you now) who didnt know what this was, I Googled it. After being a little bit sick in the back of my mouth I thought “He’s off his trolley that lad”. This time around I thought “I fancy myself some of that” albeit on a smaller scale for now!
I have always had an intrinsic interest to see what my body and mind will stand, until it screams enough is enough. It now seems I have found its perfect test.
I have read the reports and watched the videos of the numerous Ultra Marathons and become more attracted to these events. The surrondings and terrain are
a place I love to be already. Outside in the open space, free from the sense poluting surroundings we all live in today. The urge to run the road I drive too and
from the office everyday interest me very little, if anything that would serve as a reminder of what I run to escape from. The distance…Now I’m not saying that
26.2 miles isnt a fair old trek on your own two feet but to me its too defined already. What I mean by this is, it is too much of a known quantity for my mind to
want to take on without gettin dragged into the PB’s game. I mean you don’t hear of many poeple dressed as Big Bird from Sesame Street hammering round Mont Blanc
raising money for the local hospice do you!? So my question to my self was this Is just a marathon that much of a test?”. Ultra’s on the other hand seem to have no ceiling, it truly is in the hands of any race director to make their event longer, higher or in whatever brutal enviroment they wish.
So follow me on the trail to becoming a distance junkie.
Not all of my posts will be conforming to your normal training log.
They will simply be an insight into the highs and lows of my journey to becoming an ultra runner. I will share the details of an obsession – something that is beyond the average, in the hope that it connects with and inspires you, to push yourself a little bit further, than you ever thought possible!!

Post #1

Post #1

Hello all and welcome to my blog.

I appreciate that with any anonymous blog only a certain amount of introduction about myself can be divulged. I don’t think any of you will care what colour my hair is, how tall I am or even my gender? But I will give you the basics of what and whom I am today. I am, just your regular runner….I don’t break records or finish on the podium of any event I have entered. With that nor am I your regular couch slouch. I run to stay healthy, because I love to be outside and exploring the world around me wherever I may be. I have run in the past but only to train for a 10K event back in 2012.

Looking back I can’t say my training was all that much fun, it was just another target I had set myself, like I have many times in my life from a young age.

For the 10k, my process was, as it always had been with anything I wanted to achieve:

1.0 Set a target, in this case time.

2.0 Try attempt that time at the start to get a measure of where I am currently.

3.0 Devise a training plan to make up for the time.

4.0 Put myself through the mill in training to get to my target and beyond in most cases.

5.0 Achieve my target (in this case by almost 5 minutes) then feel mildly elated, but more so relieved the training was over!
I found that with most things I have achieved in my life, when I set a definitive target, upon reaching that target, I lose interest almost immediately. Now this from the outside would probably suggest the targets I have set in the past are too easy, those on the inside would disagree entirely and probably suggest the target I had set are one for a better word “mad”.

But it seems now my life has shifted somewhat in how it sets its targets.
My life must always have a focus or project to engross my time. Even from being a child I’d like to build or start something that would take me a while to do. It seemed looking back I was never too bothered about the destination but the journey attracted me more (maybe something I have ignored since then in my life).

Fast forward a few years and I have stopped doing all the other hobbies I have enjoyed in the past for one reason or another and now found myself with that void to fill.