The 2016 King Offas Dyke 185 mile Ultra and Gemmas revenge

The 23rd of September 2016 had arrived and I made my way to the school that was to be the start for the King Offas Dyke 185 mile run,the route of which ran south to north from Chepstow to Prestatyn along the old England / Wales border. I got there early and joined the other runners who were laying around in the shade of a tree near the entrance to the school. Finally we were told that the hall was free and we could go in.

We entered the gym hall, the floor of which had just been washed, everyone spread themselves around the edges of the hall and started preparing for the upcoming run. As we settled down a lady came in and told us that we shouldn't be there while the floor was wet as it was a health and safety issue. I'm not sure if I was the only one there who recognised the irony of a wet floor being a hazard to a group of people who were about to spend the next two to four days running through some really remote areas, up some steep hills and down some equally steep and very tricky trails the other side, at all times of night and day on minimal, if any sleep. She was a clever lady though, sensing the lack of movement in response to her statement she made the compromise that if any of us did injure ourselves on the wet floor we wouldn't sue. Thankfully no one slipped and injured themselves so the school did not have reset their '174 injury free days' board.

It had just got dark as we set off. The lead group missed a turn within the first mile or two but fortunately for them there were some kind hearted people in the chase group that called them back rather than laughing amongst themeselves as the leaders disappeared into the darkness. Then within the next two miles there was some more discussion about which route to take, some people went straight, some went left, both ended up meeting again but those that had gone left had travelled slightly longer ... guess which group I was in! Overall though I was not getting a good feeling about navigating the remaining 181 miles.

I reached the first checkpoint at Monmouth and didn't spend too long there. By now it was about 00:30 and I headed out on the route which passed through Monmouth town center. Not sure that I was on the correct route I stopped a group of young men. As I got closer the smell of alcohol warned me that maybe I should have chosen another group. One of them managed to focus on what I was saying and after much conversation they agreed on a route for me to follow. They enunciated it to me in that way that only drunk people who don't think they're drunk can do. Considering the hour of morning Monmouth was a very busy town.

At one of the aid stations I took them up on their offer of a baked potato with beans. Trust me when I tell you that eating a baked potato covered with beans floating in a load of sauce using a flimsy plastic fork and knife off of a thin paper plate on your lap is not an easy task. But I am proud to say I did it! In fact it is probably my second proudest moment of that weekend after finishing the race itself :-)

There was a point along the route where we went through some really hilly territory. I started to think that the Grand Old Duke of York had been unfairly accused, it should have been King Offa in that rhyme. Anyway, with nothing else to do as I trudged up the side of yet another hill I came up with a modern version of the rhyme.

An RD called Richard.
He got one hundred men.
He ran them up the side of a hill
and he ran them down again.
And when they were up they were up.
And when they were down they were down.
And when they were only halfway up
their tears fell to the ground.

At some stage we passed through the flattest part if the course. Apparently it's a 10 mile section. It was very flat. The thing is, it was sooooooo very boring. Field after field after yet another bloody field. I think it is fair to say that I would have preferred some hills and their associated variety of scenery than those level fields. By now I was starting to hallucinate. It was amazing the images my mind was conjuring up out of bushes, clumps of grass, in fact it seemed that anything was fair game for my mind to transform into something amazing. I suspect, from the amount of dragon and wierd monster animal type hallucinations I had, that my recent Game of Thrones movie marathon is still fressh in my mind. I found it absolutely amazing that even once I knew I was hallucinating I would still hallucinate. In fact I still find it amazing.

One of the aid stations was at a National Trust Castle. I was craving hot food so I went into the small 'restaurant' and after waiting ten minutes for some old dears to finally decide that they did in fact want the scone and jam with their tea I ordered a baked potato, beans  and cheese only to be told that they only started serving hot food after 12:00 (45 minutes away). I let my hallucinations play out my urge to smack the guy round the head in frustration while in the real world I ordered a cup of tea and a chicken salad sandwich instead. I'm guessing I looked and smelled bad because as people came in and sat down at free tables I couldn't help but notice that there was at least one row of tables being left clear around me.

I need to go off on a tangent here but bear with me as it is relevant to the whole story. I had booked a hotel room near the finish. I won't mention the hotel chains name (but there may be a hint somewhere below). When I first entered this race I did the maths using my 50 and 100 mile race times and worked out that I could, potentially, finish in three days (plan A). But I also knew from past experience with ultras that my plan A's fail more often than not, at which stage I revert to plan B (crawl to the finish within the cutoff time). So, bottom line, I could finish any time between 20:00 on Monday and 20:00 on Tuesday. I needed a room on standby between those times as the last thing I wanted was, for example, to finish at 08:00 on Tuesday morning to then have to wait for a room because check in was only at 15:00.

Before making the reservation I phoned the hotel and explained the situation to a lovely woman who told me it was no problem. Book a room for two nights and if I was not going to be there the Monday night, just phone them and they'd make a note next to my reservation and the room would be available whenever I arrived. So I made my reservation. I paid the 'super saver' rate (it still cost a small fortune for what is basically just a room with a tv with very limited channels but it did save me some money). I was happy, I was sorted out for the finish. I would catch a train back home the following day.

Anyhoo, on the Monday morning reality had whacked me over the head a number of times by then and I knew that plan A was a total pipe dream and there was no way I would finish that day. So I called the hotel. A lady (not the same friendly lady I'd spoken to a few months back), let's call her Gemma, answered. I explained the story. She asked me if my booking was a super saver one. I replied yes at which stage she seemed to switch over to a different customer procedure manual where apparently every flowchart ends in the response 'no' or 'we can't do that, no'. I explained to her what the nice lady had told me when I'd originally phoned, but that didn't seem to help ... obviously the nice lady hadn't been reading the correct manual. We agreed that she'd speak to the manager and get back to me. I then explained that I would have intermittent signal so may not receive her call but to please leave a message in such a case. Her response didn't fill me with hope.

I reassured myself that if worst came to worst I had my credit card and could book another hotel should Gemma have decided to stick to the 'just say no' manual. And so I continued my run.

On Monday night I arrived at aid station number eight and was given some beef stew to eat. It was the best beef stew I had ever eaten. I loved it. I was offered a second helping and happily accepted it. I set my alarm for two hours time and went to sleep. By now I was having no trouble falling asleep, even if I was sleeping on a concrete floor in an open sided barn with a cold wind blowing through it. I was woken some time later by having a bright torch shone in my face. Thinking it was the guy I was planning to run the next stage with I got up (cursing him for waking me up 30 minutes earlier than our original plan). I went to the aid tent to get something to drink and expecting to find my running partner ...who wasn't there. I returned to the row of sleeping runners to find my partner just getting out of his sleeping bag. I assume that what happened was that some runner was looking for his partner by shining his torch in everyones faces until he found the right guy, safe in the knowledge that those he woke up would be so blinded that they would not be able to recognise him should they catch up to him later.

Anyway we set off on our last night of running. It was on this second last section that I got two blisters that made running painful. At the last aid station I asked the medics to look at my feet and got some tape put on my feet. After some egg and beans on toast I left the aid station ready to finish the last 12 miles. By now I knew that I was safe in terms of meeting the cut off but even so, I paid careful attention to my navigation as the last thing I wanted was to make a silly mistake and get hopelessly lost.

About eight miles from the end of the race we started coming across hikers who had started the KOD at what we were considering the end of the route. They'd obviously seen the finish banners and asked what was happening and so I started to get a lot of 'well dones', some good natured 'you're crazy' and a lot of 'almost there's' thrown my way as people saw me approaching.

I reached a style at the same time as an old couple approaching from the other side. The man said 'Ahh, you're one of those racing people, we'll let you go first.'. I smiled and thanked him. It took me a good few seconds to climb over the style (remember I had completed almost 180 miles at this point) and as I struggled over the lady said  'You do know that the chap who won this finished two days ago!'. I'm thinking she might have been related to Gemma.

Now, the thing about the KOD is that a few miles from the end the route takes you to the edge of the cliff, you can actually see the finish, and then it does a 180 degree turn and takes you back inland, away from the finish!. It was here that my sense of humour left me and I last saw it throwing itself off that cliff. I stomped along the single track, okay, I shuffled along with an angry look on face as stomping my feet would have just been too painful until eventually the route turned and ran parallel to the cliff. Finally there was the downhill into the town and I knew the end was near. I checked when I got home and was shocked to see that Prestatyn is not in the Guiness Book of records as having the longest high street in the world! It seemed to go on forever.

Finally the finish was in sight. I managed my 'Ha! Look at me! This whole zombie shuffle thing I had going  for the last 100 miles was just an act' run to the finish where I patted the stone and was congratulated by Richard. It had taken me 90 hours and 11 minutes, I had had 6 and a half hours sleep and according to my GPS, I had covered 192 miles (I really need to stop getting lost so often). I had a shower at the finish and called a taxi to go to my hotel... all the while wondering if I still had a reservation.

I got to the hotel and found that Gemma had obviously spoken to the manager, and had been told to do as I had requested (and as I had been told by the nice lady could be done) and my room was ready. I was handed the key and Gemmas revenge at my forcing her to ignore the 'just say no' manual was revealed. If you were to draw a top view of the hotel, the room I had been allocated was in the corner that was the absolute furthest away from reception, on the top floor of a hotel with no lifts. Well played Gemma, well played. Lenny Henry would be proud of your humour.

12 Labours of Hercules

Saturday 12 July saw me driving through the gates of Church Stretton School, the starting location of the 12 Labours of Hercules. This race is organised by Beyond Marathon. The race concept is very different to anything I've come across before. You have 24 hours in which to complete 12 challenges. If you do all 12 challenges you'd have run 78 miles (assuming your navigation skills are up to scratch ... see my first blog entry).

The race is centered around the legend of Hercules who had to complete 12 labours in order to atone for slaying his kids and wife while mad.(I had so many witty comments to put here but I wasn't sure my wife and kids would share my humour.)

In the weeks leading up to the race we'd been sent a participants handbook which described various aspects of the race control, location etc.. A few days before the race we got the Race Oracle which was a list of directions to each labour. At registration we were given an A3 printout of a map of the area with the recommended routes to each labour marked on it. We were also given a goody bag which contained the electronic tag that we'd use to register our presence at each checkpoint, a race
number and a nice gift from the sponsors Racing The Planet.

A comprehensive race briefing was given and at 10:00 we were all sent on our way.

The beauty of this race is that you are free to do the challenges in any sequence you choose. The only limits were that two of the challenges were only open during limited times. Challenge 5 from 11:00 to 13:00 and challenge 12 from 16:00 to midnight. All other challenges were open for 24 hours. The closest challenge was 0.5 miles from the HQ, and so had a round journey of 1 mile, the second had a round journey of 2 miles, the third a round journey of three miles and so on until challenge 12 with its round journey of ... yup, you guessed it, 12 miles.

Warning: it's possible there's some slight exaggeration in the following post.

The early opening, and limited duration of challenge 5 meant that the majority of the field chose one of the first three tasks to complete as their first task.

I chose task 2. I mean seriously, how hard can 2 miles be? We set off from the school and after about 500 meters hit the first hill.

The road wound its way up a hill. Okay, it's steep, but nothing too bad.

Then we hit the first trail. Had the hill been just one degree steeper you would have had to have sherpa guides help you get to the top. I had never been to the Shropshires before and so I blissfully assumed that this hill must be the exception, How many hills like this can there be? The answer was pretty soon in coming. Having slowly clambered up and peaked that hill, there was a lovely downhill before we hit the twin brother of the hill we'd just climbed! At the highest point of this second hill were the objects that this task require we retrieve.

The following picture is taken from the top of the climb of labour 2. The arrow in the center was the checkpoint, the arrow to the right hand side shows some runners and the arrow at the top is showing Church Stretton which is only a mile away from where I was standing!!!!!

Now I'd been thinking that having uphills was no major issue, after all, Newtons third law of running states that for every uphill there is an equal but opposite downhill, and so, in my mind, any time I lost by walking up hills would be clawed back by running back down them. I hadn't factored in the fact that walking uphills would be more like climbing up mountains and as for running down them ... hah! If you had tried running down them gravity would have taken a hold of you and admittedly your downtime would be a lot faster than your uptime, but a trip to hospital would be pretty much guaranteed. And so I climbed up and then climbed back down the hills. I got back to HQ, checked in and checked out for challenge 5.

I studiously followed the map and joy of joys, the first 2 km were on road. Nice, I'll make up some time here. Cross the A49, enter the fields and  pretty soon discovered that those twin mountains I'd met earlier were actually part of a really large family. Again I crawled my way up the side of the hill. The cruel thing was that as I crawled up, I could see the peak and thought, yes, I can do this! But as I reached the peak I saw that 200 meters in front (and 2 kilometers above) was the next peak.

At this stage I hadn't quite realised that the aim of this race was to take you to the 12 highest points around Church Stretton. Consequently I ignored the 200 meters in front (and 2km above) peak and started looking for the path that I was to descend to the entrance of a cave we were to find. I couldn't find it and my worst fears were confirmed when I saw a runner plummeting down from the 2km above peak.

I climbed up, and sure enough, once we were at the highest point on that hill I found the path to the cave. At this stage the reality hit, don't bother looking for the tasks until you are at the highest point of the mountain you are on.

On the way back from the cave to HQ we were presented with the labour required by this leg. Archery. We were given three practice shots and then three shots to count. The person scoring the highest won a prize (as all my arrows only just made it to the target I was never a serious contender for that prize). Back at HQ I checked in and then chose to do task 1.

This task was half a mile from HQ. But of course by now I'd learnt that between HQ and the task was bound to be yet another huge climb.  So there I am, puffing and panting after having fought my way through assorted shrubbery to claw my way to the top of yet another of the high points on the outskirts of Church Stretton when I read the task. The task was to to make a sword, dagger or some similar weapon ... from a balloon!

The balloons were the long thin types used by entertainers to make all sorts of objects from a sausage to a fairy castle depending on the skill of the entertainer. Following the script of a famous kids story I huffed and I puffed but sadly the balloon was suffering an identity crisis and thought it was a house made of brick. It stayed uninflated. I stretched it and blew, stopping only to pick up my left eardrum that shot out under immense pressure as the balloon fought back. Finally though I won, just as I thought my foofie valve was about to blow the balloon inflated. I made my sword, and what a wonderful creation it was (Would I lie to you?). I started to leave the checkpoint when I had a flash of reality. Getting a balloon sword down the side of a mountain might not be that easy. I took a spare balloon just in case.

I set off back down the way I'd come, doing my best not to look too stupid as I pranced tenderly down the hillside holding a balloon sword out of the reach of all that sharp and pointy shrubbery that was desperately trying to pop it. Halfway down the mountain side it happened. I slipped, my hand went down to stop my fall, there was a loud bang and all that was left of my amazing work of art was a droopy piece of rubber (or whatever it is that balloons are made of).

When I got to the bottom I did debate trying to blow the spare balloon up but my foofie valve, eardrums, eyes and cheeks just wouldn't have stood up to another round of trying to inflate a balloon and so I returned to HQ and placed the unblown up balloon on the stage.

I'm not going to go through every task for two reasons, one it would be boring and two, because I didn't do them all. If you read the blog entry before this you'll see I had a mountain biking crash and cracked a rib a few weeks before this race. Well one of the falls I had on this race jarred my ribs which then started tightening up and I eventually called it a day. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

Not all the tasks had an activity associated with them. Some of them just required that you retrieve an object and one of them you just checked in at and returned.

This was a FANTASTIC race. Yes it was hard at times (of the 29 runners who entered as solo runners only 4 finished all 12 tasks) but wow, some of the views that you were treated to were amazing. And the whole concept of the race is just so brilliant, it's so different from running point to point or a large circuit. The organisation was amazing. The food that was available at HQ was the best I have seen at any race. I mean there were even chips and pizzas available at one stage!

I will definitely be back next year. Details of the race can be found at http://beyondmarathon.com/12-labours-of-hercules/

Mountain biking, concussion and evolution

On Sunday I took the family to a mountain bike park. Our eldest son (I'll use his nickname 'Mud', given to him by my wife after he insisted on traipsing the stuff through the house after every ride) was celebrating his birthday and taking a friend along.

Mud got into downhill racing about a year ago and, as time passes, is 'becoming one with his bike'. My youngest son (no nickname yet) is following in his tyre tracks.

As they are dependent on an adult to drive them to the various sites it makes sense for everyone to pack their bikes and do some mountain biking at the same time. That's what we did on Sunday. We got to the park, unpacked the bikes, the boys disappeared up the hill and were soon jumping the jumps, berming the berms and generally having a good time.

My wife and I did some of the routes. We started out by 'rolling' them. Rolling is where you take a route slowly so you don't get airborne or out of control at any stage (it also means that any falls are almost in slow motion). On some routes, because they're so steep, rolling means desperately squeezing the brake and hoping that the heat radiating from your disk brake will not melt your ankles.

I rolled the same route a couple of times.

Then I started loosening my grip on the brakes and experiencing the thrill that can only really be achieved by doing stupid things at stupid speeds.

The first time I got air time (both wheels off the ground ... I know! Awesome dude! Fist pump, pull fists apart wiggling fingers and making a noise like bacon frying.) it took me by surprise, and I will admit did cause a moment of panic but after thudding back down to earth it was all quite exhilarating.

And so I started getting more air time. I must stress that when I say I got air time it is a very different air time compared to that that the boys get. The boys get airborne, twist the bike to the left and right, take a selfie and post it on facebook before gracefully returning to earth.

My air time is such that if you blink you'd miss it ... but it is still airtime!!

Anyway, what I'm trying to tell you is that as the day progressed so my confidence level increased and so did my speed. Mud decided to give me some instruction and I launched myself down a route with him on my tail shouting instructions at me. (Don't tell him but he got a bit boring after a while, it was always, let go the brakes and put your weight back.) I got through the berm part of the route, got over the first few jumps and was heading for the section of the route that has two consecutive jumps.

I hit the first jump, which I landed and was going into the second jump when I woke up in the car.

When I say woke up, I had actually been 'awake' all the time (well except for 10 seconds which we'll cover later) but it is the first memory that I have after the memory that I was entering the second jump. According to Mud I landed the jump badly, my weight was too far forward (Told you to move your weight back dad!) and I went over the handle bars, hit my head (Serious note here: thankfully I was wearing a helmet.), lost consciousness for about 10 seconds and came too not knowing what was going on.

I ended up spending 9 hours in hospital. Over a period of about 2 hours my memory returned although I do have a gap of about 15 minutes that is probably lost to me forever.

But having 9 hours to spend in hospital with nothing to do it did leave me time to think. And it got me to thinking about the point of concussion.

I think I've spotted a flaw in the whole evolution and survival thing that humans have going. Humans have developed various ways to help them and future humans survive. So let's look at the following examples and see how the human body and mind helps ensure that humans survive.

Two ancient men see a lion (I don't know if they'd actually been named lions at that stage but as I can't be bothered to research what lions were called in those days we'll use the modern name) and think, mmmm, food. They sneak up on it and try kill it with their flint tipped spears. The lion is not killed and one primitive man becomes the lions lunch while the other escapes. He returns to the camp and tells the story. Everyone develops a fear of lions and no one tries to make lunch out of one which saves many more humans. Conclusion: fear is good for survival.

Many, many years later a not so ancient human discovers fire. He's really proud of it and lights a fire for the family in the middle of the cave. Everyone is amazed but the wife is delighted! Wait until she tells that nosy b*tch two caves down who's always bragging about the time her husband killed two birds with one stone from his catapult, the way she carries on you'd think that he'll be famous forever. Anyway, as  people see fire for the first time they want to touch this amazing thing and as a result suffer varying degrees of burn. As a result of that pain they stop touching fire and so their chances of survival increase. Conclusion: pain is good for survival.

Fast forward many, many more years, lions are actually called lions, fire has been tamed to the extent that it is bottled in small plastic containers of liquid and can be released on command by flicking a thumb in top of that container, or even more magical, it has been dried out and is stored on top of a small stick of wood that is dragged against a rough surface in order to release it (sadly though for the wife, the husband of ‘that b*tch two caves down’ is remembered more than her fire inventing husband). Of course there is still Bear Grylls who scoffs at such advances and insists on lighting fires the same way that not so ancient man did, but he has a thing for sifting through all sorts of animal poo on TV so his behaviour is not likely to catch on.

So, in that era of tamed fire and lions being called lions we have not so good mountain biking human. He crashes on a downhill run and gets concussed. He wakes up with absolutely no memory of what happened. Evolution fail! Not so good mountain biking human has learnt nothing from what should have been an evolutionary style warning about mountain biking maybe not being so good for his survival.

And my theory about this fail was proved right because yesterday that same not so good mountain biking man was back on that route ... although admittedly he was rolling it but that was thanks to the cracked rib he suffered ... so it was pain and not concussion that taught him the lesson :-)

NoMad 50 - a view from the back of the field

So this weekend I ran yet another ultra. The NoMad 50, which is a 50 mile run around Derby. It's organised by the Long Eaton Running Club, a group of really enthusiastic and friendly runners.

I'd entered this race early in the year. At £25 pounds entry fee (if I remember correctly) I wasn't expecting too much from the race particularly considering that I've recently been paying close to £100 for some 50 milers.

As time went by the NoMad facebook page came alive with regular updates and this inspired me to book into a hotel and commit to the race. The closer we got to the race the more frequent the facebook updates and the more excited I became for the race.

I'm a 'get value for your entry fee' runner (or as some of my less charitable friends would say, I'm slow) the advantage of which is that there's always someone in front of you to follow. I could never win races as the stress of having to pioneer the route for yourself would be too much. So, knowing that I'm always towards the back of the field, the comments on the website about navigation on the route didn't bother me, after all I'd just follow the runner in front.

But then one evening I started reading feedback from earlier NoMad 50 events and got the shock that there might only be about 20 runners! Panic set in. I downloaded, printed out and studied all the route info (of which there is a lot on the NoMad website). I watched a few YouTube videos on how to use a compass and finally, I was reassured when the organisers said they'd mark difficult parts of the course with tape and paint.

And so on the morning of 28 June I sped off with a group of about 20 runners. I kept up with everyone until I had to remove my waterproof top. By the time I'd done so everyone had shot off into the distance and I was alone. Not a problem! I pulled out the route maps and course description and did my best to recall those YouTube videos I'd watched.

The first few miles lulled me into a sense of security about my navigational skills ... but then with the benefit of hindsight, who can't run in a straight line keeping the canal on your right until you hit bridge 14? Anyhoo, onwards I shuffled.

Then we hit the fields. Occasionally I got glimpses of runners and was able to 'navigate' the area successfully (by just aiming for them). A few times I caught up with runners (although usually I was being overtaken as the NoMad has a staged start so that faster runners don't have to wake up at silly o'clock) and trudged along with them until they did that whole 'trained athlete' thing and started running faster than I could.

But there were those parts where I had to do my own navigation. In some places I was really good at it ... oh okay, the instructions were so detailed that you'd have struggled to get lost. But in other places there were references to keep going south/north/east or west (or some combination of the four). As there was no sun on the day I couldn't do the Bear Grylls thing and look at shadows before shooting off in the appropriate direction. So I got the compass out, looked at it and realised that all memory of the content of the YouTube videos I'd watched had vanished in much the same way as my son does after supper when the kitchen needs to be cleaned up.

And then there were the 'head to the right of the large oak tree' type instructions. They would have been really helpful except that to me all trees look the same (and I'm not being racist, some of my best friends are trees), and I am unable to tell the difference between any two different types of bushes. So I would just choose the biggest tree, or the largest bush ... let's face it, I've got a 50% chance of being right as it's either the right tree/bush or not.

Now for those of you that read blogs written by proper athletes and trained ultra runners you know they describe how they got into their rhythm at mile such and such, how they monitored their food and liquid intake etc. etc. Well it was at this stage that I got into my rhythm which I'll describe here because it might be useful to someone.

Basically I ran as best I could following the instructions. Approximately 50% of the time this worked. For the remaining 50% I soon realised I was lost. At that stage I'd stare really hard at the course photos and instructions (I think it's an evolutionary thing, I do the same when my car breaks down, open the bonnet and stare at the engine ... before phoning the RAC). Then look around slowly, go into Bear Grylls mode and try find trampled grass that would indicate someone had passed here recently (believe me, some of these fields had only been passed by NoMad runners in the last 5 years). Important point, when you do find such trails, make sure it's not one of your earlier ones. If that doesn't work look for someone to help (sometimes you have to walk quite far to find someone in such remote areas). Ask them if they've seen some runners come by recently, if the answer is yes, just find out what direction they were going. If the answer is no then don't be shy, give them the race instructions and ask them to point you in the direction of any point they recognise on those instructions.

By following these simple instructions you will find that when you download your GPS data to your computer you will have a nice single line interspersed with tangles, something like this:

My day brightened when I saw a group of slow moving runners ahead. I tried to catch up to them but it turns out that their slow was fast compared to my pace and so it took a while. As it happened the group was made up of the two back markers and an accompanying club runner who was 'sweeping' the course.

At that stage I'd given up on my 11 hour target and I relaxed and joined them until the finish. I finally finished in 12 hours and 10 minutes.

So what lessons did I learn from this race? Stinging nettle stings sting for about 7 hours after you get stung. Cows can be quite scary. Watching YouTube videos is probably not the best way to learn the art of navigation. People are very helpful to sweaty, bedraggled looking runners. However if it's a single woman in the middle of a field it does help to approach slowly, keep your hands in plain sight and explain what you want as you approach ... they tended to look a bit nervous and in my stage of exhaustion the last thing I needed was them bolting off like a skittish deer. Oh, and most importantly Breaston is actually pronounced BrEEston. Getting that pronounciation right can save you loads of confused looks, not to mention that saying Breaston to a single woman with only a little hamster of a dog in the middle of a field did seem to make her nervous.


I had a great time on this race. I like to think that I have a good sense of humour and I always try to laugh at things and sometimes that helped ... also falling to the ground and bursting into tears of despair in front of a herd of cows might start giving them ideas that we are weak (from what I saw it looks like some cows are planning a revolution soon so all signs of human weakness must be hidden otherwise they will get bolder).

The race was very well organised and the fact that I got lost is all my own fault. Whenever I was pointed in the right direction I inevitably found some blue Asics tape or a yellow arrow left by the organising team. The people organising and helping out at the race were extremely friendly and cheerful. And the goodie bag was really good value for money!

I will definitely be back next year ... and I'll actually know how to navigate ... or I'll have bought a GPS to which I can download the route ... after all, who needs to see the surrounding scenery when you can just stare at a small arrow on your wrist :-)