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I won't post my training (not worth it), but I did ~20% of Gobi's total hours.
Got my VLM '12 number today, probably 50:50 whether I will bother to even attempt to make the start line. A possible change at work could mean more responsibility/travel - back off to LA next month.
Run: 115 miles - 15:18 hours (7:58mm - including 5kg extra lard)
Bike: 206 miles - 13:48 hours (15mph - including commutes)
Swim: 8 miles - 6:00 hours (2:45 per 100 - including rests)
Total: 35 hours
One Olympic distance triathlon in 2:23
First running month over 100 miles since April. Longest run since VLM (14 miles).
Bike miles down on recent months because of holidays in first two weeks (zero miles)
Swimming was about 2/3 open water this month (sea and lake)
Evenin all,
I can only assume there's been a deluge of orders for Xempo kit this week....!!
Lev - few comments I'd make. The taper is horrible. I hate it. You'll convince yourself you're injured and ill probably, cos I do every time. Post on here a lot - it'll reassure you! I agree with CD that Garmin signal can be a bit iffy in city Maras due to tall buildings and such like too. So I'd be tempted to turn 'Auto Lap' off and do your splits manually from the KM markers on the course. That's what I'll be doing for my Mara in October. I'd also give Imodium a whirl on your next Sunday run. Pop a couple an hour before you set off. Loads on here use them on Mara day (including me) - but make sure you're ok with them first, hence trying em Sunday. Don't try anything for the first time on the day of the Mara. Good luck!
SL - tidy 10k that fella. I can only assume it was a Marigold course (i.e. - downhill and with a strong tail wind)
I'm with TR on the film thing too. Can't remember the last one I watched. Mind you, I don't even own a TV now that they've turned the analogue signal off so that tells you all you need to know about me and popular culture....
Drifter - nice joint win!
Nice to see marders too. I've now stopped laughing at 5'05 being Mara pace. That's my PB for ONE MILE on the track!! Interesting re the Garmin set up though, cos I was thinking of doing exactly the same as you actually. I think that's where similarities between me and you end though...
Immense training from Gobi - really looking forward to seeing how Snowdon goes.
Sorry to hear coro's mojo is still AWOL. Still, sounds like more important stuff to sort at the mo, but hope to see you back at it soon.
Anyway, 17.5 miles tonight including a Pyramid Session led by BR - twas good! Ended up giving me monthly stats of (drum roll here):
276 miles
at 7'48 avg pace
0 races (but I'm highly confident I would have won loads if I'd entered, cos I'm ace and stuff)
Bit of a lull for me in August: no races, 2 fell runs, 120 miles, 17hr running, avg 8:34/M (that'll be the fell runs!), no races, 12 non-running days; but I have 3 half marathons lined up.
I would have hit the trainining hard this week (with the first HM now 10 days away, and ~3lb of apparent holiday flab to redress) but have a lurgy, so the first HM will be a pretty half-baked affair.
The initial pace is always crazy, like the start of a half marathon. The leaders, which included plenty of national, continental and world champions, went off at sub 6 min/mile pace. The first 8km out of Chamonix are run along easy undulating paths to the town of Les Houches. Loads of people were out supporting in the rain, as we began the first climb to 1800m then back down to St Gervais, the first major checkpoint (CP) at 21km. The ascent was really good; I’m not normally a good climber, but I’d worked hard in training at my technique and was able to run a fair bit of it as well. The descent was madness down red run ski slopes with runners acting like the finish line was at the bottom. Loads of people were falling over in the rain & mud, but I loved it and just went with the flow.
St Gervais is usually has thousands of people to welcome runners in, and the atmosphere is indescribable. But since we started this year so late and were arriving at about 2am, I was expecting it to be deserted. How wrong can you be? The town was packed and the crowd was going crazy. It’s that sort of ambiance that makes this race what it is. Jen and another 6 of my mates were there too and told me that I was in the top 100. That was way too quick amongst this quality of field so I had to rein it in a bit thereafter. But I was absolutely loving it and feeling brilliant.
Next checkpoint was 10km up the valley and 500m higher, in Les Contamines at 31k. I was running but it was all uphill so it was a steady rather than quick pace along dark rooty mountain paths. I was running with one of the lead women, but the gaps were already quite big between runners, whereas I was used to being a bit crowded at this point. I got to the CP an hour after the last in 120th, 3h35 after starting. Still plenty of supporters in the town at 3am. Quick refuel, then straight out. As a bonus, it had just stopped raining for the first time. I’d been running in a thermal top and waterproof jacket all the way so I was actually working hard not to suffer from dehydration. At this point, we leave civilisation and head off into the mountains proper.
The next 13km were uphill with 1,200m of height gain on technical trails. And as the path went up, the temperature went down. After a couple of hours, the ground turned white, and soon we were trekking through snow. 2.5 hours after Les Contamines we reached the summit of the Croix du Bonhomme. I couldn’t feel my hands despite two pairs of gloves. The climb had been exhausting, but I’d held position and was in 124th. I should point out that I deliberately didn’t wear a watch and had no way of knowing what time it was or my position (or at least I purposely didn’t seek to ask the CP staff). It wouldn’t make any difference to how hard I pushed regardless of the time or position. All the times and positions I’ve mentioned here were found out subsequent to the event.
But what goes up must come down, and we had the ridiculously steep descent to the marathon distance CP at Les Chapieux. 1000m descent over 5k. I’ve done this descent several times, and even a couple of times in the dark. This was the first time I’d done it in the dark and the snow. Very treacherous and for the first time my thighs were hurting. A lot. But as I got to the CP, at 6.30am with exactly 7 hours on the clock the light was good enough to turn off my head torch. I saw US ultra running journalist Bryon Powell at the CP and told him I’d just finished reading his book. I tried to get through the CP quickly; a quick hot soup, change of top; there was an equipment control where they were ensuring that nobody had omitted any of the obligatory kit. Anyhow, I had survived the night and was still in the race. The sun might even come out soon....
Part 2 to follow
Gobi - top miles there
Coro - more responsibility. you'll be PM soon ! Plenty of time re VLM, I reckon the 8 week build up (and 2 week taper) will start mid Feb-ish.
MtR - the swim looks good. A good balance of bike and run there. Still havnt donned my wettie since the Swash either.
CW - the 1/2 might be 1/2 baked, but it'll be a good pointer. I have a similar experience planned for Oct 9th.
Dont know on totals, but defo well under 100M running again. It dawned on me during my morning aerobics today that this time last yr I had a few pre Abo 20s and midweekers under my belt, and the only recent "long" (cough) runs I can remember are a trail 1/2 mara at the start of Aug and a 10M about 10 days ago.........oops, looks like I'll be needing a big shovel (for digging deep) during the run leg of the 2 upcoming tris. The "fear" of the Ballbuster will do my running good through October though.
The next section is one of the longest to the second highest point of the course at 2,516m - the Col de la Seigne which marks the border between France and Italy, and the climb itself is over 10k long. I start of running most of the first 3k to the base, but then I begin to hit trouble for the first time. My climbing legs have deserted me and I’m struggling to walk up at any sort of rhythm. Bryon goes past me. As does a UK runner called Ollie from Serpentine club. Followed by dozens more. I’m in trouble; hopefully just a bad patch. It will pass I hope. But the weather is getting bad again this high up.
I get to the summit in deep snow and blizzard conditions two hours after leaving Les Chapieux and I’ve slipped back to 155th position. It’s a long run down to the next check on rough rocky paths and my legs don’t want to know. This is hurting, but I try not to panic that I’ve still got another 110km to go. Another UK guy I know, Andy, passes me on the way down. Says he’s felt sprightlier in his time, but looks strong to me. I’m quickly through the next checkpoint, but moving too slowly. There’s the fourth climb of the race just ahead of me to Mont Favre another 600m up.
I’ve done this climb in training many times and it’s usually OK. But now I’m really tired and it won’t go for me. I have to stop and rest every few hundred yards. I’m sick from the effort a few times. Other runners are asking if I’m OK or if I need anything; water, gels, food? Great camaraderie here where everyone looks out for each other. We all suffer at some point. I tell myself to man up a bit, breathe in the pain and continue as hard as I can. An hour later I go over the top; I’ve gone backwards in terms of places but I don’t care. I have to get to the next CP at Checrouit, before the brutal descent to the first major base at Courmayeur. I mix up running, walking, shuffling to Checrouit over the next hour, but as I reach it, the sun has come out properly and I get a burst of energy from nowhere, and I’m back in the game.
I see Bryon ahead and run to catch up with him. We start chatting about ultras with his knowledge of all the top guys. He’s a quick descender and I raise my game to keep up with him. My thighs are trashed, but I ignore the pain and we fly down the hill. Another 1000m drop over the next 5k and we are back in civilisation. Jen and another half dozen friends are here, and go mental when I arrive. I’m a bit overwhelmed and pretend that I’m feeling better than I really am; I feel I have to give them hope that we’re going the whole way. I’m still in the top 200, and I see a female Swiss runner who is one of the overall favourites; that gives me a lot of confidence that I’m doing OK.
The first big town since Contamines and Courmayeur represents the spiritual halfway point of the race. It’s really only 78km in which meant another 92km to go, but to get here is no mean achievement. 12 hours have passed since the start of the race. 250 runners will drop out at this point. I see Ollie and Andy in the CP and they’ve both decided to stop. I hope they’ll be back. I spend 15 minutes eating, drinking, changing and head back out to a great send off from the guys. It’s game on again...
Part 3 to follow
Straight up, and it’s the 5th climb of the race (there are 10 in total each going to between 1800m and 2500m up). This one to the Bertone refuge has troubled me in the past. It’s 5k long and 800m of ascent. Bryon and I walk the first part together before he moves ahead. I fall into step with a French guy and we work in tandem. We don’t speak but we stick together like glue for the next hour. We arrive exhausted at the summit and touch hands in mutual appreciation. No word has been exchanged or needs to be. And I’ve moved up to position 158.
The next section is a beautiful 10k traverse over runnable terrain high up in the Vallee Ferret with views of Mont Blanc the whole way. I love this run in training, but in previous races I’ve been suffering badly here; I’m determined not to let it happen again and I want to make good progress to the Bonatti CP further along the valley.
But sometimes things are beyond our control, and despite everything, my whole world begins to fall apart on this section once again. From climbing strongly, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. I can hardly run; every muscle in my leg is screaming in pain. I’ve hit the wall and I’ve stuck to it. Maybe I didn’t fuel up enough at Courmayeur? Maybe it’s natural since it’s been 14 hours since the start. I crawl, almost literally, into the CP and collapse on a bench. My plan initially was to avoid lingering at the CP’s and not waste time, but I couldn’t move. I was in the shit and needed to lie down for 5 minutes. 20 minutes later I got up and continued out of the CP. This was going badly.
It’s mostly downhill to the next CP, before the massive climb to the highest point of the race. The imposing 2,537m of the Grand Col Ferret. The border with Switzerland. I arrived with Bryon who was also in a world of hurt, although I’m sure he was glad when I reminded him of the title of his book, “Relentless Forward Progress”. The wife of my friend Dan who was also racing was at the CP and told me he was not far behind by also suffering badly. Bryon said he was going to stop, but I convinced him we should crack on together over the next climb.
I had to take a few more minutes to prepare myself mentally, as well as physically for what lay ahead. It was two more hours of straight up. And it hurt. It really hurt. Bryon disappeared ahead, as did everyone else. My progress was slow and painful and I think I’ve locked it away somewhere I don’t want to bring it back to the surface. All that matters was that I got to the summit and had the 10k downhill section to the La Fouly aid station to negotiate. That’s where I dropped out in 2009; it looked like I might be about to do the same.
I could barely run on the descent; Each step was like a lightening bolt of pain shooting up my thigh into my brain. Agony. I was in despair, and convinced I couldn’t go on. Dan went past me, as did many others. At this point I decide that I’m never running this race again. Soon I’ve retired from all marathons. Not long after I’m certain that this is the end of my running career. If I can get to La Fouly then I need never run another step again in my life.
I phone Jen, secretly hoping she has come out to village with a car to take me away from it all. But she’s back in Chamonix and hearing the desperation in my voice, begs me not to throw in the towel. I know how much it ate away at me last time, and with all the support here, I promised that I’d get there and try to sort myself out before doing anything rash.
I walked into the CP as night was falling for the second time on the race. The last 27km from Bertone had taken me nearly 8 hours and I was now down in 344th place. I was in pieces. And I hear that Bryon has dropped out.
Despite the exhaustion, I’m not feeling sorry for myself or looking for sympathy. I wanted to be here, and I’m happy to chat and joke with the CP staff who are all volunteers and doing their best to get us back on our feet. I feel I owe it to them too not to quit as I had intended to do a couple of hours earlier. So I weigh up everything and completely change my mindset. From now on places and timings don’t matter. I’ll just try to keep going forward until either the maximum time barrier catches me up or I collapse on the trail; so long as I’m pointing forward it doesn’t matter.
So I take my time at La Fouly and accept an offer of a massage from a physio to get some life back into my legs. Like a miracle, half an hour later I’m actually running out of the CP. 5 mins later I’m running back in, as I’ve left my walking poles there. FFS!! Then back out again and on towards the second major aid station at Champex. Progress is good at first, but soon all that renewed energy is gone and it turns into a death march. I’m trying to run as much as possible, but frequently I just can’t get my legs off the ground and I’m marching instead. On the way, we pass through small mountain villages, where kids have stayed up all night to offer the runners water or snacks. Fabulous touch, and very humbling; I take a hot tea from a family who have set up a fire outside their chalet late at night. There’s a 5k climb up to Champex, and as I begin it, I am totally washed over with exhaustion. I’m swaying sideways as I climb and for the first time in my ultra career I begin to hallucinate with the fatigue. Trees and rocks take on the shape of people and animals. It’s weird but quite funny, and I don’t worry too much about it.
After what seems like hours, in fact it was 3.5 hours since La Fouly only 13km ago, I stagger into Champex aid station. I can’t even lift my hand to acknowledge the applause. Is my race over? Only if I decide it is. The new mindset is to take my time and do whatever I need to progress. So I eat. I sit. I accept a massage off two very sweet young French medical students who work on one leg each for half an hour. We speak in French, and they call my legs “bloques de bois” - “blocks of wood” as they try to massage some life back in.
I also decide to sleep. This goes against everything I had planned, but I was in survival mode. It was 1.40am and I set my alarm for 3am. It was a round number. The alarm went off within seconds of me closing my eyes, and the temptation to roll back to sleep was overwhelming. But no. Absolutely no. It was time to man up again and get going. I might not be doing well, but it was still a race and the clock was ticking. Just get back onto the trail; there were 48km of the race still to go, but I hadn’t pushed on for the last 25 hours to give up now. So 2.5 hours after entering the CP I put on some extra clothing and headed back out into the dark...
We’re soon onto the part of the course that has been amended so I was on unfamiliar ground. The next CP is 14km away in Martigny. At the bottom of the valley. The path down to the town takes an hour and a huge bunch has formed of about 25 runners. I find myself heading them, then moving ahead. The break at Champex seems to have done me good. We enter Martigny, cross the town then head back up the other side of the valley. I question whether I’ve missed the CP. Surely not, that’s impossible. But we keep climbing away from the town. However I’m climbing strongly again, taking a lot of places. Another hour of climbing and no sign of a CP. Then we head back down. Legs are shot to bits again, and another hour passes. My headlamp batteries are running out, but it’s beginning to get light and a second night without sleep has passed. Finally the CP arrives. I had travelled strongly, yet it was over 3 hours since the last. I didn’t hang about, because for the first time in the race, I thought that I might just be able to make it the whole way.
Next was yet another climb. 12km and 1000m of ascent, with not a single downwards step. I was progressing strongly now, at least compared with the previous night. I chatted with a French runner and we both agreed that finishing was the most important thing. The only thing that mattered. Eventually a descent to the village of Trient and Jen & her sister were there with a couple of friends. It was great to see them, and it gave me a real boost. It was 9am and we began to believe the end was in sight, albeit many hours away.
But another major climb stood in the way; but it was the last of all ten and it was a case of just one foot in front of each other. Relentless forward progress indeed. I ascended strongly again - a different planet from the despair and exhaustion of the previous evening. Amazing in ultras how one can go through such highs and lows.
I was suffering again though by the summit, and I struggled to run down the other side. My legs had seized up again and my thighs were in agony. A Spanish guy passed me at a reasonable pace, so I pretended we were attached by a 2 metre rope and kept telling myself not to break the cord. That kept me on his heels despite the pain and just before midday in soaring temperatures we entered the CP at Vallorcine. The same valley as the finish line Chamonix. There was nothing after that.
My mates were at the CP and were going to follow me to the end. It was a great feeling for someone who’s so used to running for long hours alone it felt very different. I was told that my mum was waiting for me at Argentiere which was the next, and penultimate CP, only 10k from the finish. She had to return to the UK so couldn’t be at the finish; I felt awful for not getting there in time for her to see me, but Argentiere was a little more private and less hysterical than the traditional Chamonix welcome. That helped me run really well from Vallorcine, most of it uphill. Impossible to believe earlier that I could have done that. When I arrived and saw my mum there, it was a great moment. She was crying, and I think I must have had a bit of suncream in my eyes too. Even had time to stop for a piccy[url] with the family.
All that was left was the last slog to Chamonix. It was hard though. A sting in the tail took us up an unannounced climb which virtually finished me off. I had been running but I was almost at a grinding halt by this bit. However, it was the final few k’s and soon I could see and hear the finish line. The last bit took us around the town which was packed with tourists and spectators. Thousands of them, and every single one offering vocal support for the runners coming in. “Bravo” & “Courage” rang out a million times and it was truly the most uplifting emotional finish you could possibly have to a race.
Coming round the final corner, choking back a lump in my throat, were Jen and all my friends. I crossed the finish line in 39.5 hours in 412th position of the 2,366 starters. A million miles from what I was expecting. The race had chewed me up and spat me out, and made a mockery of my year long training. But I had finished and for the moment it was all I cared about. Only 47% of the starters made it round, which is testament to the severity of the course and conditions.
Some photos. As for next year? Maybe...
DanA: wow. Fantastic race report. I got a lump in my throat, but also chuckled at (what I hope were) appropriate points, too! 2 points:
1. IIRC, your 'year long training' was disrupted by a serious calf injury. I know that 'what might have been' is never very helpful, but that must have had some effect, quite possibly a considerable effect.
2. Why not send it in to RW for publication? It's a thousand times better than most of what they print. And if they'll publish an article about a Formerly Fat Postman (now, of course, formerly a formerly fat postman)...?
I agree that it could be published. There must be a bit of suncream in my eyes...
Just incredible Dan. Supremely well done for sticking at it. And I agree with Joolska and FR - reading it I was on a rollercoaster of emotion, right alongside you - well worthy of publication.
Edit - sorry FR, missed you out there.
DanA - Have lurked on here a bit and not posted. Awesome run mate and a great write up, considering the quality of people who attended and also the big names that dropped finishing, and finishing where you did is a top effort.
I was aiming to run UTMB in 2012 but also running UTLD again which is the last weekend of July and could be a little close to perform well at both. We shall see. Off to Caesars Camp 50 next month to collect the last point I need.
DanA - still right up there on the wall of stars ! Only a few months ago you were unable to run. I'm proud to know you. The bit where you met your mum made my eyes water a bit !
cracking report Dan - I was with you every step of the way as I know the route from walking it, some bits many times. I could see those frigging climbs in my mind as you got to them and hear the rhythmic tap, tap, tap of the walking poles going up.
you have to do it next year - surely they can't have shite weather 3 years running eh??
<lurks>
you deserved to go to the pub last night - well worht the wait. take it easy for a couple of days now aye.
and how on earth can you look so fresh in that family pic!!
That was worth waiting for! I'd cyberstalked and seen the 2.5 hour break at the CP, plus I knew the outcome, but even so I can confirm the research that it didn't spoil my enjoyment one ounce.
Awesome and inspiring. I really must do this race one day.
Hmm, suncream is the new thread euphemism!
Inspirational stuff Dan, congratulations on a great acheivement
and a great read too
I have to agree with others though that you looked very well as you came in through the finish. A bit like the marathon, even if you've had a bad one the final photo with the medal always seems to be a good one. I guess the smile after 170km is four times bigger than the usual.
Sorry about my spoof posting I couldn't resist it.
My Abingdon entry is up for grabs for anyone that wants it. I had a bit of a health scare last month which furter setback training, but after a couple of tests it appears there was nothing wrong with me. Still spooked me a bit though.
Not quite at the jack it in stage but no more marathons this year at any rate.
Dull
<<delurks>>
Awesome Dan, awesome.
<<relurks>>