Kids, by now I hope you’ve started to realise that in life you will face a lot of challenges and that if you prepare for them and try hard you will overcome most. And I wish I could tell you that all things are achievable, but sometimes you’ll come up against something that truly tests your mettle. A challenge that literally breaks you down to your component parts, strips you down, lays you bare and shows you what you are really made of.
I’ve faced a few of these in all aspects of my life and at some I’ve succeeded, at others I’ve failed. I’ve come to realise that as long as you learn from the experience, it’s a positive one.
Recently I entered a race which turned out to be more of a challenge than I had realised. Advertised as a trail marathon I wasn’t expecting anything easy. I’ve always said “respect the miles” and 26.2 is a number that commands respect.
But while it started as a hot and hilly trail run it went on to take me to breaking point and gave me one of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt in running so far. Here’s the story…..
The day before the race I had a horrible, stomach-churning realisation that for the first time in three years I didn’t want to run. I’d come off the back of a couple of ultras, I had nothing to prove to myself and wasn’t looking for a challenge. But seeing that my hometown running club was holding a trail marathon I saw the chance to have a new challenge. Having backed off the training for a while, “could I go out and run a marathon on the trails I’d spent three years running, with just two weeks’ notice?”
I’ve got to say I was nonchalantly confident. When people asked if I was ready I shrugged it off. Someone even tweeted me, asking if I was ready for it and I dismissed it with an “I’ve run ultras” comment. I forgot one of the most important rules of running, “respect the miles”.
With a fortnight to go, I trained hard for the first week, ran six days in a row and posted 40+ miles. I felt good, fast even, brimming with confidence and ready to race. But the second week was a different story. Work commitments and shift pattern meant working nights and little sleep. My diet was all over the place. I didn’t even know what shoes to wear, having recently transitioned to minimalist shoes.
With two days to go I found myself 4lbs over race weight and feeling lethargic and sleep deprived.
The day before the race I was going to a concert with your Mother and regardless of the fact I’d be sober, it would be a late night and I wouldn’t be well rested. It didn’t bode well.
Race day didn’t look any better and it was with a sense of foreboding that I set off to the start. A couple of bottles of water to drink, some gels that were scattered among my kit to fuel me and my Vivo Evo “barefoot” shoes.
Now I don’t know if I was just being pessimistic or beating myself up, but everyone at the start line looked fit and FAST! As ten o’clock rolled around I made my way to the start line and reluctantly waited for the bang to signal the start.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it was heating up quickly, already 25 degrees. The pre-race warm up and stretch routine had made me break a sweat and with the thought of 26 miles hot and hilly ahead of me, the bang sounded.
And a strange thing happened. The pressure and the tension subsided. The doubt and the concerns started to disappear. A single clear thought was in my mind, “Ignore everyone else, run your own race”. The course went through some school fields across a small urban estate and quickly into rural countryside, the first obstacle a steep incline where the gradient increased the higher you got and I realised that on this part of the course at least I had a hometown advantage. I knew these hills. I’d run on them countless times. I’d cut my teeth on them. So while others powered on only to be drained, I kept a steady pace waiting for the summit and undulating summit that I knew followed. And this undulating course spelt out the next 5 miles. Working my way through the field and feeling lighter and stronger as the race went on. Aiming for 9 min/miles I continually found myself coming in just under and feeling great.
7 miles in the course enters woodland and forest giving a softer feel underfoot and a more involving run. This was most welcome especially in the minimalist shoes I’d worn. Past the first aid station, I’d started to flag a little with what felt like constant uphills and the still rising temperature. The exposed roots and rutted paths made ankles an issue but the barefoot shoes gave great preprioception and I stayed upright and light on my feet.
As the course is not marked out, runners are given maps, but advised to follow instructions written on four sheets of A4. I’d done this on a previous race so didn’t feel disadvantaged, but took some wrong turns early on, as did others when I went the right way. It was all part of the challenge and at first felt like fun.
About 15 miles in the fun stopped, then the motivation waned and finally my energy levels sunk. On reflection I’d got my fuelling strategy wrong, I’d not hydrated enough and I wasn’t prepared. I felt myself falling back through the group. I had been leading a small group for miles with direction and motivation, but now was at the back, disinterested and demotivated. I can only liken it to the movies where one by one the large engines on a plane start to fail and you can sense the drop in momentum and speed until eventually the nose dive starts accompanied by a whine and crash.
At my lowest point I’d lost my place on the route and map. I’d been at the back of the group for a mile and I wasn’t even sure we were going the right way. I came to the conclusion that if we’d taken a wrong turn and had to back track I’d throw in the towel and walk to the nearest town to arrange a lift.
I don’t know how long this moratorium continued for. I know I got to another aid station and took on water, an electrolyte tablet and jelly babies before setting off. I know that I kept talking to people and realised that no one near me was having a good day. But I lost about 90 minutes not really conscious of my situation.
When the fog cleared I was at mile 19. I’d entered a mile stretch of woodland, lots of shade and a cool, damp microclimate which was exactly what I needed. I turned to the last page only to see the course was just over 27 miles, not 26 and worse, my mistakes early on had added a mile. I was in for a 29 mile run and the course on the instructions was the shortest route back. I thought back to other races especially the ultramarathons and the mental effort required for those. I thought about the goals I’d set for this race and how I was still on target for most. I thought of the countless hours of training and running I’ve done and drew on this experience for strength and confidence.
I felt hot, but strong.
My feet felt good and legs, although heavy, were showing no sign of strain or injury.
I was hydrated enough to finish and was still with a group of others. I got my head down, focussed on form and technique and got a mantra going in my head.
Relentless Forward Progress. Relentless Forward Progress. Relentless Forward Progress.
At the last aid station, with 4 miles to go I felt great. I’d been running with a guy for miles. We’d found a comfortable pace and been overtaking others doing the marathon and 20 mile course. I knew I was going to finish and that is the main goal of these things. Whatever happened it would be successful. And then the little voice started asking “If you push a bit harder, could you be more successful?”.
2 miles left and my pace picked up. I knew the route and ditched the instructions. My partner was happy to coast to the finish and I was happy to find another gear. 27 miles in and I convinced myself that I was out on a short run. No target pace, no pressure. No one else. The pace dropped from 10min/miles to 9’s then I started seeing 8’s on my Garmin. Half mile to go and the country side gave way to urban sprawl and the promise of a finish. The final turn into the sports field and the finish flags waved me in. The applause and cheers of my family made the last 100 metres some of the easiest I’d ever run and a finish time of 4:47 and some change, while outside my target, was a good time for the race on the day.
At the finish, you guys were there for me along with your Mum and Grandad. As usual you all looked at me with a mixture of pride and concern. And I love you all for that.
So what did I learn that may help you out?
1) If you fail to prepare, prepare to fail. I should have been better prepared for this and nearly paid for it. I should have had fuelling and hydration strategies sorted way before race day!
2) When your body wants to give up, your mind can carry you a lot further. It doesn’t matter how you do it: mantra, positive mental attitude or just lying to yourself about how far you’ve already run!
3) Running with others is very important on long distances. For safety reasons as well as motivational.
4) Run the race you are in. Plan all you like, but the weather and the route can mean you don't have the day you planned.
Most importantly though,
5) It’s good to know your limits and to be realistic with your abilities, but
6) It’s great to ignore them and push hard for the finish.
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