Lakeland 50 2016

I first ran the Lakeland 50 in 2014......the heatwave year! .....blazing sunshine and 30C going up Fusedale I actually phoned home and swore "I'm never doing this f*****ng race again!", finished in 12:10:40...never again!.
Of course by the time I'd driven home it was "that is such a great race, I'm sure I can do better".
2015 Twelve months on, fitter, more hill miles in my legs and with a bit of route knowledge I knocked 1 hour 23 minutes of that time, "my work with the Lakeland 50 is done!".
But the running pixies in my head kept telling me that since I'd had to don my head torch for the final descent last year I'd been painfully slow, so maybe, just maybe I could just shave a bit off my 10:43:23 and finish in daylight?
So I guess it was pretty inevitable that I'd be on the start line at Dalemain this year.

Goldilocks running weather was how I'd describe race day. Not too hot, not too cold, ideal for a tough 50 miler. I didn't feel terribly enthused on the start line though, I'd not slept well on Friday, combination of toilet trips; noisy neighbours; excitement and being woken early by some twat runners who felt it necessary to be up and at em' at 6am banging car doors and running car engines, truly that should be a capital offence.

But I've paid my money, my head may not be in the right place, but the quickest way to get it over and done with is to run back to Coniston, OK so I know its not, but you get my drift.

Muggins and Caroline at the start

Fellow Harriers, Caroline was running the 50 too and Andy had opted for the big boy race, the full 100.

In common with many other bloggers I really dislike the first couple of miles, I hate running on grass and this all meant I was in a pretty foul mood by the time I headed into Pooley Bridge!

Trotting over the new bridge, I heard a shout of abuse, fellow Harriers Gillian; Gerry and his wife Lorraine driving through in my car! I've no idea what they shouted, almost certainly something uncomplimentary but it gee'd me up and I trotted through Pooley Bridge milking the crowd for applause.
I half ran, half walked up the hill out of Pooley Bridge and then ran steadily down into Howton checkpoint, surprise surprise the Harriers were there taking photos too. I think I made some crack about finding the race "hateful"...still in my dark place.
I knew I had to keep checkpoint stops to an absolute minimum, so refill the bottles grab a flapjack and straight back out heading for the joys of Fusedale!

Howton CP 1:35

Halfway up Fusedale there was a hugely enthusiastic lady with morale boosting slogans written on balloons, one in particular said "Don't be shit". Sort yourself out Ainslie, get your race head on and get this done!
First year I ran the 50 I didn't use poles, being a Scottish purist I subscribed to the "poles equals cheat" sticks principle, last year I realised the error of my ways, but ended up running with poles in my hands for pretty much the rest of the race after Fusedale, culminating in a comic moment as I tried to walk into the school at Coniston with my (fully extended) poles strapped to my pack and failing to make it through the door.
On reaching the top of Fusedale this year, I had a blinding flash moment, I'm running with fully extended poles in one hand and I feel really unbalanced as I run. Wait a minute I never run with poles in my hand normally why am I doing it now? I take a minute to stop; collapse the poles and secure them to my pack and I'm off across towards Low Kop with a proper spring in my step. 
The running demons have disappeared, step aside......Elvis is back in the building!

On the descent down to Haweswater I see a familiar figure up ahead, running mate Andy Beattie, 73 miles into the 100 and looking like he's having a pretty hard time. I'd expected to pass him at some point but not so early in the game. Andy is probably the fittest person I know, the fact that he's looking grim is testament to the difficulty of the Lakeland 100.

I'm not the best of descenders having variously been described as descending "like a proper fanny" or "like a big girls blouse" but this time I try to relax on the descent and really enjoy it this time with no dramas. 
On the path alongside Haweswater I truly feel at home, this type of narrower stony trail is exactly what I train on. I'm definitely getting into the race now.
The last couple of miles into the Mardale Head checkpoint always seem slightly never ending, I pause a couple of times, once to sort out scrunched up insoles in my Speedcross 3s and secondly to dip my buff in a stream and give my head a thorough and lovely drenching in cold water, good friend Andy Johns passes me at this point. Andy and I are roughly the same pace in Ultra's although he's always beaten me with stronger finishes, so I reckon this is a good marker for me today.

Mardale Head CP  3:38

Once again it's a quick in and out of the Spartan's checkpoint, bottles refilled; cup of soup and an attempt to eat a sandwich, ended up dipping it in my soup to make it palatable for my dry mouth.

Poles out again and it's the thigh burning climb up Gatescarth Pass. I make a point of name checking every 100 miler I pass, I simply cannot conceive of the mental strength required for this race, especially on the brutal second half climbs.

Two thirds of the way up I decide I'll have a celebratory scream, with due warning given to runners close by I have a good old animal yell, don't know why but it makes me feel good. I'm slightly ahead of Andy at the top but stop once more to fold away my poles and we start the descent together.

My memory of this section from past years is of a somewhat nightmare surface, but with Andy and his chum Dan for company we flew down this section, and on the flat road to Sadgill I pulled ahead of Dan and Andy. I wasn't racing but I find if I get into a comfortable pace I'm better sticking with it and sacrificing a bit of company.

I'm not 100% sure of the route here, but Andy catches up and performs his human GPS role and keeps us right into Kentmere checkpoint.

Kentmere CP  5:07

I wasted time here last year by sitting down feeling sorry for myself, not this year. I grab a quick bowl of pasta and force it down, handful of Jelly babies and I'm out the door sharpish.
Between here and Ambleside it's pretty much the Dan; Keith and Andy show. The weather was good that chat was excellent and our paces similar.

Troutbeck with Dan and Andy  pic: Ann Brown

I even muster up a recitation of Tam O'Shanter as we approach Ambleside, I'm feeling strong at this point so I pull ahead of Andy and Dan.

Through Ambleside Gillian and Lorraine pop up on the other side of the road, I decide I'll lose my sunglasses having hardly used them all day, so promptly launch them over the stream of traffic..good catch Gillian.

I'm a sucker for crowds so I speed up through the town milking the applause and into the checkpoint.

Ambleside CP  6:42

What a relief the CP is on the pavement outside the church...no steps! I refill one bottle and I'm straight through, I'm really focused on finishing in the daylight now. I ran this last section in training and I reckon 3 hours 15 minutes is realistic on tired legs. I'm as sure as I can be that a PB is in the bag and a sub 10 may just be a possibility.

My focus now is on not blowing the hard work so far, run wherever I can run, even the hills where possible, any walk is faster than a run is my race mantra!

Langdale CP 7:46

No sitting down, no faffing, dib in; water; small bowl beef stew and I'm stationary for less than a minute. I'm also on my own for the leg to the unmanned dibber, properly on my own. Possibly for the first time all day I literally cannot see another runner either ahead or behind me.
Poles out for the short but stiff climb up Side Pike pass and then quickly packed away at the top and a thank-you to the solitary supporter at the road crossing. My legs still feel good and I'm able to maintain a decent running pace down to Blea Tarn then across the stony section until the bracken becomes too thick, I'm not risking a tumble when I can't see my feet.
The road book says to stay high to keep your feet dry, and I do so until I can see the gate, this last section seems wet no matter which line you take but I reckon I'm close enough to the finish now that wet feet won't matter too much.
Quick dib and I'm trotting down the steep tarmac hill, heading for the NT cottage, past this, still running until I see a herd of Highland Cows complete with calves, they make look docile but even a friendly nudge from those horns could spoil your day. I walk carefully and VERY quietly and am glad to pass them without incident. One of my friends later had a less fortuitous encounter with them, which ended her L50.

Once I'm through High Tilberthwaite farm I'm running again and feeling strong (the slight slope on the road reduced me to a walk in 2015, not this year).

Tilberthwaite CP 9:12

Another lightning checkpoint, don't even refill bottles, I'm a man on a mission now!

Poles out for the climb up the Stairway to Heaven and I maintain what I think is a good pace, but somehow manage to get overtaken by 5 people before I cross the beck. I have a momentary low as they disappear ahead, but this is very much my personal race against the clock, forget about them Keith, concentrate on getting finished in daylight.
On the descent down towards the miners cottages, I'm pushing it, but I've realised that sub 10 hours is just not going to happen. I'm not strong on technical descents and I rationalise that I'm better with a PB than killing myself so close to the finish.
When I hit the landrover track I feel like I'm running 7 minute miles.....I'm not of course it's a 9:46 mile until I hit the tarmac. 
Then it's time to turn on the burners 7:23 minute mile past the cheering crowds at the pub, sod the footbridge, the traffic can stop as I take the straight line over the bridge. Left turn and its down the hill and through the finish arch

Coniston Finish 10:06:27 57th overall

I'm ecstatic, but I'm also done in I reward myself with a wee lie down on the grass, to the slight consternation of a marshall, who evidently thought I'd died!

My objective was to finish in the daylight, I've not only achieved that but I've knocked 36 minutes off last years time and over two hours quicker than my first attempt. And yes the last descent IS much easier in the daylight.

I may have thought I'd slowed on this last section but according to Strava my time of 52:36 was the fastest I've ever done it! Faster even than my training runs.

Into the hall to get my medal and t-shirt and I use my collapsible cup for the first time to satisfy my usual post Ultra craving for milk, sheer bliss.

Gillian is on hand to make sure I change quickly out of my soaked top, but I still have a monster dose of the shivers by the time I head for the showers. The shower was bliss even if I did need some assistance in removing my socks and a blocked plug hole meant I was paddling in 2 inches of someone else's effluent.
Now I have a new objective, I'm going to the pub for a pint before closing time!

I'm happy to report I achieved this second objective too and was able to see Caroline run through  Coniston and finish in a well deserved 11:14:17. We were both able to enjoy the luxury of Gerry and Lorraine's camper van (no midges!!) for some post race relaxation and whilst I headed for sleep Gerry stayed up to see Andy finish the 100 in 33:23:57 a quite simply fantastic time. I'll be candid and say when I passed him I thought he looked like he might not finish, so well done Andy.

Reflections

I was asked if I was disappointed to miss the sub 10 hours? genuinely no, as it wasn't my objective and I'm honestly not sure where I could find another 7 minutes, I'm happy with the PB.

Is it easier to finish in the daylight?, yes.

Would I run the L100? not sure.

Would I recommend the Lakeland races to other runners? 100% absolutely.

Cheers

K

Cateran Ultra 2016

For my second attempt at this race I was determined to improve on last years’ time of 10:53:21, whilst I didn’t have a bad day last year, I didn’t have a particularly good run either, so some unfinished business to take care of.

It puzzles me why this race doesn’t sell out each year? It’s in a stunning location; challenging route; incredible scenery and great organisation. Rather than fretting about not getting into the Fling or the Lakeland 50, get yourself an entry for the Cateran next year.

I arrived at race HQ at the Gulabin lodge outdoor centre on Friday evening, having fuelled up with the world’s largest fish supper in Blairgowrie en route, courtesy of Lois. Suitably engorged I had plenty of time to catch up with friends, register and get my kit laid out for the morning. I also made sure I got a bottom bunk, not fancying the climb up to the bizarrely high mezzanine beds with 55 miles in my legs!

Fortunately my room mates were all of a sensible turn of mind and we were all bedded down for an early night by 10pm.

We were greeted on Saturday with an unbroken blue sky, a chilly north wind and the prospect of a dry and warm day. There are 6 checkpoints, but with the first one at Dalnagiar only being 6 miles in, I’d opted for 5 drop bags only. After a quick briefing from RD Karen we walked across the road to the start point and with minimal fuss we were off on our 55 mile quest at 7am prompt.

In past races I’ve tended to err on the cautious side as far as pace goes, especially in the early stages, but I decided this time to be a bit more optimistic and not hold back. Within the first half mile or so I found myself in a “pace group” including Andy Johns (6^th place finish last year); Jo Murphy and Martin Butcher from Carnegie Harriers, with Jo at that stage being the leading lady I thought I might be being a bit too optimistic, but it felt comfortable so I stuck with it.

Comparing my splits with last year I was 5 minutes quicker at Dalnagair and running straight through I gained a few places, dropping to a walk briefly to take on board a gel, I’m often guilty of not fuelling enough in the early stages of an Ultra, so was trying to be more disciplined this time. On the road section to Glenisla the sun was starting to heat things up and we all stripped of a layer, with Jo and Martin showing off their splendidly bright Carnegie vests.

We pretty much ran as an informal group through to about 25 miles, with the place order swapping throughout chatting, singling songs (badly) and even a couple of impromptu recitals of Burn’s poetry from Martin and myself.

I’ve been asked before how the Cateran compares to the Fling? Frankly I find it difficult to make the comparison. They are broadly the same distance, there is probably a bit more tarmac on the Cateran, but overall I’d say there are more “less runnable” sections on the Cateran. When I say less runnable, there are some field sections you run over, where the cows have created a mini-minefield of hoof sizes pitfalls; one open moorland section that was so full of tussocks where I was barely walking never mind running and some sloping field edge paths that are challenging in the extreme. If you really want to find out what it’s like, sign up for next year.

I’m not a great one for analysing splits; in fact at one point while Martin was telling Jo where their current split times would put them for a finish, I put my fingers in my ears so as not to hear!

Having said that I couldn’t resist comparing my two efforts as below

 

I’m pretty happy that with my overall fitness better than last year most of my improvement came in the last three sections, in other words I’m not slowing down as much as I did last year. 

Once again I can’t give a blow by blow account of each section but once through Bridge of Cally I was conscious of being passed by Elspeth; Antonia and Jo (who went on to get 1^st; 2^nd & 3^rd lady respectively) but also managed to pass a few blokes. I was beginning to have an inkling I might get an age group place if I didn’t blow up in the last stages.

On the way into Enochdu Jenni saved me from a wrong turn and we stomped out the long and winding climb for the last 6 mile section pretty much together, both keeping each other in sight and unconsciously spurring each other on until over the last climb.

The sting in the tail of this race is undoubtedly the last section from Enochdu back to Spittal of Glenshee, a steady climb out through Calamanach wood at times too steep to run (with 50 miles in your legs!), a runnable mile to the foot of An Lairig and then a pretty brutal uphill, giving a total climb from the Enochdu CP to the highest point of around 1300 feet and then a downhill mile and a half, with 1000 feet of descent to the finish. As I was slogging up the hill, I knew I was well ahead of last year so the PB was in the bag, but sub 10 hours was border-line, it would depend on two things

1. How far was it from the summit to the finish?
2. How runnable was the descent?

In short It was too far and not easily runnable!

As I “summited” I had 9 hours 47 minutes and 53.2 miles showing on my watch and could see the finish, I reckoned the route is a trifle shy of the full 55 miles, but even then I reckoned it was too far to cover in less than 13 minutes. The top section of the corrie is actually quite technical; or rather it feels technical to run after 53 miles and nearly 10 hours. I suspect with fresh legs I could do better, but hey ho!

Once clear of the rockier part of the path I pulled on my brave pants and tried to descend like a hill runner, nope sorry I just can’t switch my brain off like that, so sub 10 wasn’t going to happen,  I crossed the line in 10:03:09 a PB by 50 minutes, more than happy with that.

On finishing Andy John’s reckoned I was 1^st MV 50, and when this was confirmed at the prize giving I was doubly happy, 1^st Super Veteran. And 13^th overall.

Great race; great location; great scenery; great accommodation; even better showers; fantastic food and great company, what’s not to like about this race?

Cheers

Oops I did it again - Complacency Strikes - Jedburgh 3 Peaks Utra

I’m about to have a bit of a self-pitying man-whinge here so be warned!

I’d better make it absolutely clear that the race itself is fabulous, the route in its full autumn glory is both challenging and quite breath-taking, not that I noticed at the time! The weather was actually quite good, the organisation faultless, the medal and the t-shirt are great. All in all it’s a must do race.

Back to the whinge

By any rational measure I’ve had a good year. I got my marathon PB down to 3:16 which earned me a VLM good for age place for 2016. I’ve PB’d at 10K; 5 mile and just recently banked 2 successive half marathon PB’s in two weeks. I’ve been injury and sickness free. I’ve ran 8 races of Marathon or Ultra distance so far. I achieved my goal of a sub 10 hour Fling and I knocked over an hour of my Lakeland 50 time in July.

Most recently I ran the 35 mile Tiree Ultra and got my highest ever Ultra finishing place 13^th overall, 10^th male, 5:36:48 for 35 miles.

On this basis everything should have been teed up nicely for a triumphal tilt at the Jedburgh Ultra, a fitting swansong to a golden 2015 for Ainslie?

Wrong

I didn’t have a “lightbulb” moment where I suddenly thought “Oh crap it’s all going to go tits up”, I did however have a persistent ear-worm nagging away “you’ve not done any long runs”; “there’s a lot of junk miles in the training log”; “a week in Tenerife running up and down volcano’s in 30C plus heat…..what could possibly go wrong?”.

But what the heck, I’m an experienced Ultra runner; I can run hills and trails and its only 38 miles!

Whoa there cowboy, it’s never “only 38 miles”. That’s near as damn a marathon followed by a half marathon, that’s a ruddy long way in any book.

Yes I’ve got the miles in the legs; yes I’ve got the experience; yes I’ve got the base fitness but in the 7 weeks since Tiree my Ultra training and focus has been pants, in short I’ve been complacent. In fact I’ve committed one of the cardinal sins I have banged on about on Facebook, not treating the distance or the race with the respect it deserves.

And to heap insult onto injury, in the week before the race I knew in my heart of hearts that I was guilty as charged, this was going to hurt…a lot!

Race-day

It was the first time I’d not stayed over the day before a race so a 4am alarm call and a 2 hour drive all helped to fuel the fires of self-pity.

The weather forecasts for Saturday were about as grim as my pre-race mood, with pretty much universal rain in prospect. I wasn’t feeling my usual excitement, just a quiet confidence sapping dread. The Jedburgh rugby club was packed, the nervous tension in the air was palpable and following Angela’s no nonsense “don’t drop litter and don’t be a dick” race briefing we trooped over the road for a warm up to YMCA where I danced around like a tit in the front row.

I’ve been nursing a niggle on my right hip / IT for a couple of weeks it’s not a proper injury, it’s not sore as such, but on some runs it feels like I’m running wearing a wooden leg, I’m almost limping for the first mile or so until I warm up so I spent the first 3 miles or so convincing myself not to bale. I’d overdressed at the start and lost a bit of time while I faffed around, losing my long sleeved top and switching to a waterproof jacket as the rain came on. In my mind it rained all the way to Maxton, but I suspect it didn’t in reality. There were some muddy bits, but in truth not many. It’s not really the mud fest it’s painted as, but yes, there are some muddy slippy bits. It’s not as completely mud free as the WHW, but it’s still very runnable.

The checkpoint at Maxton was super-efficient and friendly and apart from the numerous wet and greasy wooden steps on the riverside section after this threatening to send me for a river swim the run to the Eildon hills passed uneventfully if slowly.

I wasn’t looking forward to the hills or more precisely I wasn’t looking forward to the steep descents on the first two hills, my already stiff right hip protesting at every jarring downhill step. When Craig Malcomson passed me and described me as “descending like a big girl” I’m afraid I had to agree with him. By the time we hit the rather shallower descent from the 3^rd hill I felt like I was running wearing somebody else’s legs, everyone else seemed to be pulling ahead and away from me and having fun, while I remained firmly wedged in my wallow of self-pity.

I was lucky enough to find myself in the company of Caroline Graham and David Nightingale, whose cheerful company ultimately kept me going until just after the famous shoogly bridge, and they both pulled ahead, whilst being hugely grateful for their cheerful chat and banter all I could selfishly think of was……bugger I’m back running on my own and I’m not in my happy place.

As we’d gone through CP3 at Maxton I’d been so focussed on eating my rice pudding that I completely forgot to refill my now empty water bottles. I was only about 100 yards out on the road when I realised this. As I was still running with Caroline, I bizarrely rationalised that I could get by without water but couldn’t stand running alone. Not surprisingly I was wrong on the former.

The lack of water added to my misery fest, I was both cross at being dehydrated and even more cross at my basic and self-inflicted error.

When I’m struggling in an Ultra I’ve two fall back mantra’s one is to count from one to eight in my head and the other is “any run is faster than a walk”. I’m afraid I had to adopt the latter just to keep running, and I use the word running in the loosest sense of the word.

When you cross back over the A68 one of the marshals had thoughtfully got water available, what a hero.

I was able to refill one bottle, cram in a handful of Jelly babies and within yards I was feeling much sprightlier. My befuddled brain was able to work out that if I pushed harder I could possibly squeeze under 7 hours, especially if the route was actually slightly short of the full 38 miles.

The last mile of the race is a gentle slope back through the pavements of Jedburgh, feeling happy that it was nearly over and not feeling as rubbish as I’d felt all day I was able to pass David (but not Caroline) and cross the line in 6:57:47.

I’ve blogged in the past about how I hate runners who post statements like “only managed a 31 minute 10K, might as well give up running” I’m acutely aware that many folk would kill to get a time I’m moaning about, in my defence I did say right back at the start this was a self-pitying whinge.

I'm also conscious that this blogpost is also miles late AND it's ages since I posted both things I intend to pay more attention to this year

Cheers

K