Author: fawcettfitnessrunningblog

SDW100 – Loved It

Challenge two of the Grand Slam, after my big trip and fall on TP, I honestly didn’t think that I would get as far as the start line of SDW100.  Tendonopathy in both legs and now a hurty bit behind the knee (more tendon issues apparently), I’m managing too many injuries, I’m stupid if I don’t just take some time out and mend.  On the other hand, the Grand Slam is looking at me, taunting me, it will still be there next year if I don’t crack it now; I never ever want to run TP100 again so it’s now or never.  When I voiced the idea of quitting and not completing the other three, my friends were hugely supportive (sensible), they saw me limping and knew that all was not right.  Then I spoke to my husband and one of his army mates, they just gave me a slightly Disappointed Dad look and told me that no-one runs totally pain free at 43 (suck it up cupcake). So ‘suck it up’ overruled sensible, I sat on a bike in between the two races, put no pressure on my new hurty bit at all, put my Big Girl Pants on and got myself to race registration in Winchester. 

Instantly I knew that I had made the right choice, sitting on the bike meant that the hurty bits hurt a little less, the buzz of competition weekend was infectious and, most importantly, it meant that I didn’t have to go to Cub/Beever Camp with the kids.

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I had planned to run hard around the first field, get out of the choke point and then chill out like last year but something went a bit wrong.  I was having a ball; fabulous runners all around surrounded by glorious trail and freedom from the bike.  I flew around the first four check points, I knew that I was going way too fast, but maybe this time it would be ok, maybe I was just banking early miles so that I could chill a bit more when it got really hot.  

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T’was not to be, by Washington I was struggling more than I had last year. Just before the pigs on a gravel track I finally had my race fall.  Why oh why can’t I pick my feet up.  This time, I didn’t even feel it happen I just found myself on the ground, blood coming out of knee, hands and shoulder.  It’s only a few scratches and, compared with the tendon buster of the TP100 it was nothing, but it still shook me up.  

The next few check points were a bit of a blur, I remember an amazing guy before the nasty hill leading up to the YHA hostel who sorted my pack, made sure it was back on properly, shoved something sugary down me and gave me a positive pep talk, all volunteers on Centurion events are dedicated and caring but this guy focussed in on where I was deficient and sorted it out, love him.  Then it was Nasty Hill, brutal climb up to the YHA, I know it well and it’s not pretty.  I felt positive, up beat and better on that hill than I had last year but by the top, I just couldn’t get my legs working again.  This is where a pacer would have made a difference, I lost loads of time trying to get my legs to run on perfectly runable track when they refused to function, why wouldn’t  they work. The desire to lie down next to the track and just sleep was beginning to pass but the nausea was in full swing, Devils Dyke came and went, still beautiful, still a painful hill down. On TP I used tea, this time I tried coke my logic being that at least it as calories in it but I was struggling to get anything down at all.

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By the Farm I had been caught by some fab people, more pep talks and running banter and on to the way to the railway crossing via the most horrible downhill stretch of all. I can never remember the proper names just pictures in my head which reminds me about them.  Steps up, steps down and into the CP, full of people and positivity and it was that point I realised that I was finding life far harder than last year; most importantly I knew that I was extremely dehydrated despite drinking and drinking all the way around. It was this point that I realised that I needed to walk it in.  Yes I could have pushed a run, perhaps if I had had a pacer then I would have, but something told me that pushing any harder would end in me keeling over, walking (and I can walk pretty fast) was the way to finish.  It wasn’t ideal but I was totally at peace with the decision.  The realisation that even a gentle jog is faster than a walk became pretty apparent after people cruised past me and disappeared in no time at all.  Normally this would have bothered me, but not this time.  Evil, evil hill into the penultimate check point and then I knew that I had it nailed.  I checked into the final CP, didn’t bother to stop and started up the final hill.  This is a great hill, bit steep at the start but not in the middle and the ridge line is almost immediately visible making the trigg point feel close and achievable. I remember it from last year, ploughing up the hill and then the trigg point is suddenly and unexpectedly there. A friendly voice and a head torch greeted me, I clearly told him that I loved him as he sent me down the horrible overgrown rock fest which is the route off.  A short road, a never ending path around the hospital and there it was, the finish.  The longest 400m in the world which I managed to rustle up a jog for and the finish line. 

It was two hours slower than last year, I completely bombed as I struggled over the railway bridge,  yet I am left with the feeling that I’ve had a great race, why?  Centurion races are always great, the organisation is second to none and the loyalty to the Centurion Army is infectious.  The guys on the check points seem to emotionally give more and more every time I step onto a Centurion race, or maybe I just need more and more, but this race there were certain characters who saw where I was struggling and said the right thing at the right time to keep me going.  But it was more than that.  Before the race I had a fabulous email from sports psychologist Evie Serventi.  I had already discussed with her my change of goals for the year; just getting to the start line of each race was going to be an achievement, but Evie’s email this time around put me in the right place mentally and kept me there.  In fact, the biggest achievement in this race was just how positive I was with everything.  Running into Washington I was dreading the steep down and then steep up, but once there I found myself saying ‘well that’s the down done, only the up to go’, then I was ticking the checkpoints and nasty hills off ‘well that’s a hill I never have to run up again’. By the end it was ‘only three sets of five miles to go’. The walk in decision turned out to be a good one, my kidneys told me that in the days to come, our bodies are pretty good at telling us the score v I beat myself up every time I run because I perceive that I could have done better, maybe this time I could have done better but I remembered to congratulate myself for even getting to the start line, for every hill climbed and for every difficulty overcome. 100 miles is a bloody long way in anyone’s language so, whether I could have changed the course of the day or not I’m just proud to have crossed that finish line.  Only two more to go, how hard can it be……

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Thames Path 100 – It Was Brutal

 

The morning of the Thames Path 100 dawned blue and warm, inevitably we got to the start just after registration had opened and waited around for the 10 o’clock start.  Hours for me to change my shirt, change my shoes, change my shoes back again, worry about water oh, and worry about the 100 miles ahead.  I also had to worry about the hole which had appeared in my trail shoes a week before and the bold call to wear new trial shoes for the race, and I decided to buy a new race vest the week before, at least I had done one run in it. 100 miles on one of the hottest days of the year in new kit, how hard could it possibly be.

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By 10 o’clock I was on the start line ready to find out.  Crowded into a small area with some random punter on a bike pushing through (no, he couldn’t wait the one minute there was time for a quick last minute chat with the people to the left and right, a good morale boosting chat from James ‘if your garmin shows 103 miles, don’t bother sending us a photo, we just don’t care’ (brilliant) and a last minute dose of the butterflies before we were off.

There was a real mix of people, most were like me, wanting to play it safe and adhere to the constant advise of ‘go slow early’, people who seemed to be a fair amount of effort and those who were clearly sticking to their plans of run/walk from the start.  I arrived at CP1 to see quite a lot of people who had run hard past me stocking up, but I was ok, bit of Tailwind and I was off again.  Then CP 2, a quick stumble as I ran in but I was ok but that was all, ok.  I’m used to feeling better than ok early in a race.  

I was after CP two that I had my second stumble but this time I didn’t manage to catch myself and smashed into the path with my right knee leading.  I always feel a bit shaken when I fall on the trail (I really need to start picking my feet up) but this time I also felt annoyed at myself and at the two people who just stood and stared at me. Luckily another centurion was hot on my heels and slowed down to check on me, listen to my swearing and give a few words of sympathy. Yes my knee hurt, there was blood and everything, but more worryingly I could feel that things were not all good at the back of the knee. Please don’t let it be my cruciate ligament. 

By the time I got to CP 3 I felt like I was already at mile 70. I pride myself at being good at running in the heat, perhaps grabbing the black t-shirt in my hasty change was a bad idea or perhaps it was just bloody warm, the nausea was already kicking in and my leg hurt. I was determined that I would run all the way to Henley and not start a run/ walk until then, a plan I was confident in as I continued to over take the guys already adopting this strategy. That was until Andy over took me. I had gone past him a mile or so previously as he walked enjoying the shade, he was clearly in good shape, far better than me so I reckoned that it was time to join him which was a great move. Eventually there were three of us run walk/running along a beautiful trail through our amazing countryside. The pace was pretty rapid and I knew, a bit too fast for me during the running bits but it was worth it; the chat was brilliant and the three of us were looking out for each other, Centurion style. 

By Henley I was in a fair amount of pain. There I met up with Jo and Shelley from my Sports Massage course.  Shelly pointed out that she had power walked from that point onwards the previous year. That made me feel like I had options. I could run (nor really an option), I could run/walk or just walk. I felt stronger for it, still a sharp pain in my leg but felt ok. 

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One of the things I struggled with on SDW100 was the amount that I ran on my own but this race was different. There was always someone nearby, whether it be someone right in front or a head torch in the distance. With the amount of weed being smoked on the trail and piss heads staggering around enjoying the sunshine, I felt happier knowing that there was always someone around. 

Eventually it was head torch on time. I would love to remember the CP’s but I generally didn’t have a clue where I was. My only real memory of anything between Henley and Wallingford was  someone offering me cheesy beans whilst trying to understand me through slurring words, beans were clearly going down well with everyone else but not for me. I saw Andy again who gave me the stats on what was coming in an upbeat positive way, making over twenty miles sound like a trip around the corner. 

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Finally I got to Wallingford and Jodie, my fabulous pacer. I can’t believe what a game changer having a pacer is. My spirits lifted and I found a bit extra in my tank. The miles ticked past slowly but steadily through fog, mist, a beautiful dawn and then, finally I saw a field I recognised from my limited recce.  The white bridge appeared and I knew that all I needed to see was some boat houses and I was there. 

Crossing the finish line was emotional. Which ever way you look at it, 100 miles is a long way. On this course, with lots of concrete, sun blazing off the trail and the river and with a hurty leg and high temps, I found it brutal. But as ever, the Centurion army both in the trail and in the CP’s made it a special event. Again, I’ve learnt so much from this race, so many things I would like to do differently but, as ever, it’s all about finishing for me and I achieved that.  Jodie was a game changer for me, in an emotional race, she held me steady, made me laugh and gave me lots and lots of small goals to get me through. Hopefully, when my kids try to drop out of their next triathlon or find their next spelling test hard, their times tables unachievable or the bullies at school unbearable, they will remember what mummy does and that working through problems usually works out in the end.

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Ultra running is great. For me it involves quite a lot of miles, a few dark early mornings and a lot of time on my own. There are advantages to taking in the sounds of nature and enjoying a solitary retreat into the mud and tree roots of my local trails. But at times it can be dull; there are only so many conversations I can have with myself, any constructive thoughts are often washed down the drain of a post-run shower and motivation is occasionally an issue.
How excited was I when a friend suggested a bit of a muddy run the day after a Burns supper. A whole, glorious 10km, three other people to run with, some weird sculptures to run past and some technical trails thrown in; my version of legoland.

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So, bleary eyed, feeling a little bit red wine’d, four of us set off for a Relish Running race just outside of Bath.
Relish Running organise a great, small scale, friendly race. Everything we needed was provided from a change tent, wonderfully upbeat volunteers, through to decent post race snacks. In addition, they provided lots of things we didn’t need; quite a few medics, mountain rescue and mud…lots of mud. Oh my goodness, the mud. It was billed as a muddy run and in that area, the race organisers delivered with excessive exuberance.

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It was a day for fell shoes; trail shoes didn’t cut it, nor did the flat trainers our road running team member braved it all out in.

D7907413-6E51-41F0-A1EC-0E935E8CD590The other element guaranteed was absolute hilarity at every turn, we laughed so hard that one of our team couldn’t get up some of the hill, doubled over, tears streaming down her face.

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It didn’t matter that we took our time and soaked up every slip and stumble the course threw at us. The marshals were as upbeat and encouraging for the us at the back as they had been at the for those at the front and seemed to enjoy our smiles and jokes.
As is so common on good trail races, the runners were loving the experience and enjoying the banter. I’m always struck by people who make this an inclusive sport, celebrating all abilities and this race had those people in bucket loads. 31F8296B-4174-49B5-9743-2F6347D24AE1
After 1 hour 58 mins, we found the finish with a jovial medic and race official cheering us in. We passed on the hog roast, changed our mud soaked kit and found the bus which the organisers had sorted to get us back to the park and ride.
What a great race. Well organised and friendly.

77C32F95-EEC4-401B-8510-7927C027489AMost mportantly for me, I got to run with three fabulous runners who slipped, squished, encouraged and laughed for 10km. It’s recharged my ‘needing-company’ batteries and got me ready to get back into the trail a slightly less lonely soul.

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La Sportiva Running Top Review

502D5021-5BC3-4EF5-961C-B28DF5AACBDAThe winter is well and truly entrenched now; skies are grey, everything feels damp and mud permeates my trainers, leggings, kitchen and car. But this year doesn’t seem as bad as last year, I don’t seem to be feeling it all quite as much.
I’ve always been a bit tight on kit. My money goes on race entry fees, gloves and decent trainers. It had never really occurred to me just how important a running top is. I’ve got a few, they seem to be ok, if I get cold I just layer up a bit.
That was until I finally got a La Sportiva Neptune 2.0 Base Layer from the Centurion Running Store. When it arrived, if felt like it was going to be comfortable but also felt thick so I was worried that, on some days it would be too warm. You know those days, not quite cold enough for winter kit but too cold for summer stuff.
It was one of those days when I first went out in it and I immediately thought ‘this is brilliant’. I didn’t get too hot at all, as soon as I felt myself warming a bit too much I just pushed the sleeves up and they stayed there. This sounds like a daft thing to be excited about but, I find with running tops, the sleeves are either so tight that it’s impossible to push the sleeves up or so loose that I am constantly pushing them up to cool down.
Then there are the thumb holes. Look like a bit of a gimmick but they aren’t at all. The reason that I spend proper money on gloves is that my hands get debilitatingly cold in no time at all; once they are cold, I just can’t warm them up and which is painful and annoying when I can’t do the basics like turn my phone on or do up a zip. The thumb holes mean that, on those in between days I just hook my thumbs into the thumb holes and there is no need for gloves at all. I have been told that the key to warm hands is warm wrists but this has been revolutionary for me. So much easier to move my thumbs in and out rather than put gloves off and on. I wouldn’t have thought that a top could replace gloves, on a really cold day, it doesn’t but often it’s enough. On those really cold days, gloves and the thumb bits work a treat.
Most importantly, it’s warm. Last year, heading out for a cold 20 miler meant 20 miles of struggling to get warm or over heating because I had too many layers on. This top just keeps me at the right temperature. Occasionally I have put a buff on (another great bit of kit), but that’s largely been it. I get cold ridiculously easily and am often seen at the school gate wearing two puffer jackets, yet I can confidently head out in just this top and know that I will be fine.
With all things long distance running, it’s the small things which make a massive difference and this top has made this winter and, presumably the spring a little bit easier to cope with.

The First Run

Ultra running is stressful on the body; repetitive movement, high milage, arguably not enough rest and a gritted determination to never give up. Over-use injuries are probable rather than inevitable but it takes some sensible management to avoid them. I’m not always sensible with myself, yes, happy to advise others on what to do and not to do, but occasionally I should apply that knowledge to myself. So eventually I found myself gym bound due hamstring tendonopathy. I’ve managed this for over two years now but it raised its head again during an interval session in July during which, when the pain level started to creep up, I failed to quit from. I can beat myself up about that for eternity, but that doesn’t get me better and will only get me down so my thoughts turn back to a physio friend of mine who once told me that the best physio is often rest. After an Ultra in Sept and trying to run through it in Oct, I decided to take November off, made a rehab plan and got stuck in.

So for the last month I’ve done all the things which, as a PT I tell other people they should be doing, cross-training and strength work. I’ve run numerous boot camp sessions in between house moves (we are a mobile family) and have always convinced myself that they count as my strength work alongside a few exercises after each run. No doubt, doing the amount of squats, dips and burpees I get to do whilst running sessions is pretty useful but my indifference to the gym was always going to catch up with me. I needed, and have always needed specific strength sessions where the only focus is weight training and plyometrics, not a few (well thought through) exercises shoved on the end of a run. November was the time to reconnect with the indoor gym and, alongside a running buddy, we have ran through every running strength exercise I could think of.

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On top of that I’ve got amongst some Sufferfest on the spin bike, I’ve invested in and started using a skipping rope and I’ve even ventured into a pool. I’m not convinced that appearing on the side of the pool wearing my 8 year old sons goggles and clutching his float was the best look, but my swim time is 0600hrs so I guess no one is ever awake enough to bother looking.

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And now I find myself at the end of November, I’ve gone beyond the usual body weight exercises and kettlebells which I rotate around after each run, I feel strong, I feel as though I’ve got a spring back in my step and yet there is something hanging over my head. I’m scared of what that first run will feel like. I’m walking pain free and have made sure that I’ve done a week of being pain free before running again so why am I scared?

I’m not worried that my CV will be shot, I’ve done enough on the bike and I’m experienced enough to know that it will always improve again. I guess that I’m worried that the pain will come back and that I will be back to square one. I’m scared that I’ve grown a bit too accustomed to the nice warm gym and that the biting cold will be just too miserable, I’m worried that I’ve left it all too late and that my training program isn’t enough to cope with next year.

So, what to do? I’ve recruited my one and only running buddy for my first run out so that I can be distracted and not focus on my niggling hamstrings, I will try a bit of mindfulness and attempt to concentrate on the ‘now’ and not on what pain might be around the corner and I will have faith in my training program. At the end of the day, I don’t earn a living from running so why feel so pressured. I have numerous friends and ex-colleagues who have returned from military Operations missing limbs so I feel enormous gratitude for everything that I am able to do. I will go out and enjoy running in the cold, soak in the beauty of the last autumn leaves clinging on to the frozen trees and be thankful that I have running in my life at all.

 

Why Ultra

So, Sophie T at http://runningonfullblog.com asked ‘Shall I run another Ultra.’

‘Yes of course’ was my reply, but why. Any Ultra takes you to a pace where you can test yourself so why do more than one or two.  Why do I run Ultras. Two years ago I re-engaged with x-country and did pretty well against a significantly younger field. Last year I ran Avebury 8 (which is annoyingly 9 miles) coming in as first female. So I clearly still have some pace in my old bones so why do I want to spend all the time and effort training for and competing in Ultras and could some of these reasons inspire others to get into this sport?

Gotta be easier than Short and Fast
Firstly I think that Ultras are, in many ways easier than the shorter distances. I get to eat, chat and walk up hills. After the Avebury 8, I was ill for a week, it completely wiped me out. Running through thick mud over tricky and hilly trail with harsh November winds whipping past is hard work on any day. But combining that with a 07.30 min mile pace and steely eyed competition was tough:, although it gave me the fast work out I was looking for, the following illness put me back for weeks. Yes, SDW100 destroyed me but I find the shorter Ultra distances put far less stress on my body than fast 10-20 milers. The thought of doing a proper road marathon doesn’t feel exciting to me now, it just looks like hard work.

The mental battle
Road marathons are all different, I get that. For me, I know that I can run that distance but Ultras have put me in lots of different mental places; can I run 38 miles, can I run 50, can I run 100? And then there is the crazy variety of terrains which trails can throw at me, the up hills of Apocalypse 50, the down hills of SDW100 and next year it will be the flat and fast of TP100. Running on empty, on my own in the dark muttering ‘left foot, right foot, repeat’ pushed me physically but also threw me a mental challenge far tougher than anything the army, biathlon or road running ever put me through.

It’s all about the Trail
I was lucky enough to have a great chat with the sports psychologist Evie Serventi (http://evieserventi.com) a few weeks ago when I found myself explaining how I wasted my University time boozing, doing a few jogs and not getting onto the track as I had intended. Evie examined many of the things which I had told her and recognised that it is being in contact with nature, a love of being out on the trails and feeling free from the daily mundane which actually motivates me. This explains why I have such high anxiety about so many things but why it all disappears when I cross the start line of an ultra. It also explains why the marathon runners who I’ve pursued to run an ultra will say ‘glad I did it but never again’. They may not get the same buzz from nature that I do but get their running happiness from roads or the familiar feeling of competing in a road marathon.

Community
This is the key to it all for me. The ultra community is still pretty small. You are likely to recognise half of the field of an ultra if you have been a member of any of the FB pages dedicated to the sport (why are there so many pages when we are all members of all of them). Shorter races see people toeing the line, barely looking around, plugging themselves into headphones before they charge off to beat their PB. I totally respect this and am vaguely jealous of a PB goal but, as I get even greyer, I enjoy start lines where people chat or ask you about the kit you have on. As the race starts I love that the chat continues, people hold open gates, pick you up when you fall and volunteer to walk with you for a bit if they see you struggling.
James, the RD at Centurion started SDW100 with the words ‘We will look after you at the check points, but you know the score, we rely on you looking after each other in between’. This sums it all up really.

So in summary, if you enjoy eating, admiring a nice view whilst chatting away to fellow running loons, Ultra Running is probably for you. If secretly want to know just what your body can do over new terrain and over new distances where PB’s are largely irrelevant then Ultras are definitely for you. Even if you only do one, you will never regret pressing that Enter Now button.

Chilton Wonderland 50

The school holidays dawned, I had recently completed SDW100 and was therefore completely indestructible, I put myself onto the waiting list for the CW50 to give me a summer holiday goal to train towards, I got all place; all was good with the world.
….then I went training with the local athletics club, a really good half mile interval session with some great runners. I was indestructible remember, so when my hamstring tendonopathy started to play up, it didn’t matter because I could take on the world: I didn’t stop, I had to finish the session. As a result of those intervals I couldn’t walk properly, run properly do anything properly.  I am clearly an idiot. I tried to give the place in CW50 back so that someone else could run this incredible route, but it was too late. At this point I had a proper girly strop at Supportive Husband who made appropriate noises to try to make me feel better before I looked properly at Nici’s response to my request to give the place back…it was too late, but she was sure it would all be ok and that she would see me at the start line. Right, strop back in its box and determined head back on, rehab, here I come.

Before I knew it I found myself in Goring Village hall happily absorbing the greetings, running banter and general positive vibe which Ultras seem to bring. I was facing 50 miles of Wonderland; muddy paths, woodland trails full tree roots, some stunning views and a few obligatory hills. The weather was looking good allowing me a bit of stretching in the Autumn sunshine knowing that rain was due in by the afternoon. Standing next to the Thames (the hilly bit apparently), I decided that I don’t much like rain so had best get as much of the course done before it came in, the starter horn went off and I committed to keeping up with what can only be described as a cheeky pace.

I felt surprisingly relaxed, I hadn’t done any of the planned training, I hadn’t done my usual build up to a race but I had done something I don’t usually do, I had rested. I was puffing like a steam train, probably because I hadn’t stretched my lungs for a while, but my legs felt strong. I soon became aware of Charley behind me, the pace was pretty tough and I was willing her to just get it over and done with and overtake. Half way to CP1 a bunch of us found ourselves simultaneously shouting to the pack in front that they were going the wrong way leading to us all confessing that it was quite a tasty pace but we were all chasing the rain.

IMG_1112.JPGCP1 arrived surprisingly fast, hamstring felt like it was about to explode but somehow I knew it would ease. Centurion events stand out with their well stocked stations and unbelievably encouraging crews, I imagined all Ultras would be like this but my small experience has shown me that they aren’t which is what makes the Centurion CP’s so special. Before I knew it, my water container had been stocked, I had shoved some food in and was off.

It’s at this stage where I would love to give a blow by blow account of where I went and what point I arrived at which CP. The truth is that it all has all blurred into one, I’ve seen photos with me in them and have no recollection of where they were taken. The pictures I have in my head are of tree roots, a windmill at the top of a stinker of a hill, some views which we all said ‘wow’ at the same time, the back of Jim and James’s trainers, some steps which none of used words to describe (just lots of ‘ouch’ ‘ooh’ and ‘aghh’) and an extra hill.

Yes, an extra hill, thrown in totally for free….and we weren’t the only ones. The brilliant things about Centurion events is that the routes are really well marked, so a lack of markers should be an indicator that all is not well. It took us to the top of a nettle infested hill to figure it out, but it was a mark of just how we were carrying each other along when we shrugged it off and cracked on trying to find the right route.

But this day wasn’t about where we went and how I felt at each point, it was about two things for me; the magic of trail running and people. The route was fantastic, how on earth did they find these glorious twisting paths linking the Thames Path, the Chilton Way and the Ridgeway. I love nothing more than running through woods and on muddy paths where I can lose myself in my thoughts and feel a bit more connected to nature. This route had that in bucket loads. The nettles were in autumn mode and couldn’t really be bothered to sting properly, the hills were so scenic that they were worth all the climbs, even the mud felt manageable.

And then it was about the people. Charley, Jim and James. I couldn’t tell what we chatted about but we chatted for about 45 miles. We laughed at downward steps and me confidently turning right having been told ‘it’s left here’. We all took a tumble at some point and we checked on the tumblee. We got over the extra hill and congratulated ourselves on our extra milage. We waved heartily at the lovely supporters who weren’t there to support us but cheered us anyway. This is the Centurion Army, not just the people who refuse to let you stand on your own at the start and insist on chatting to you, but also the people on the trail who look out for you. These are the strongest memories for me.

Coming into Goring we realised that it was actually a race and so Charley and I upped the pace only to hear a shout from behind ‘you need to turn left’, luckily I got it right this time and we embarked on the dog leg around the back to the village hall. We had clearly gone off too fast but Charley can shift rapidly and still find the energy to chat positive words. The sprint in was brilliant, not what I expected to be doing in a 50 miler but to come in with under a second between us was incredible.

I always learn something from races. This time I learnt just how far I can push myself when I am surrounded by hard runners who don’t take prisoners. There were lots of opportunities to lose the route on this race and I knew that, if I dropped back, I was liable to get very lost and disheartened so motivation was high to stick with this incredible group of people who just kept driving hard. I stupidly asked near the end if the upward slope we were on counted as a hill (and therefore could we walk) and was told in no uncertain terms that we were too close to the end for much to be counted as a hill and that we just needed to run hard from there on in. Yup, they were a tough crowd.

In summary, it’s the best race I’ve ever been lucky enough to be part of. It was such an enjoyable day due to the route, the organisation and obviously the people; running, supporting and volunteering. Anyone looking for an Ultra, this is definitely one for the list.

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