Tackling the Iron Horse Ultra - 100-miles :)

Training leading into the Iron Horse Ultra had gone well, and even though I knew that getting close to my course record of 21 hours was quite ambitious, I honestly thought that I would be able to do if I had a good day But those of us that are runners will know that whilst running is a physical sport, there is also a mental element to running well, especially when it comes to racing those longer distances. It was the mental side that let me down this time, although it wasn't during the race that I struggled but rather the weeks leading up the race itself, and in hindsight the signs were there that I wasn't going to be able to perform quite as well as I was hoping. 

Let me explain ....

I like to think that for the most part, I am a good person, and I treat people with the respect that they deserve. Although some things do wind me up in life, I tend to be very laid back and easy going, taking things in my stride and trying not to make a big fuss about things. I'm also an introvert, I don't like large crowds or being the centre of attention, and whilst I try to be sociable, I tend to sit in the background and let others do the talking. I bottle things up, it takes me a long time to trust people, but when I pop, I pop, and it's usually over in seconds - I learn, I apologise if I'm in the wrong, and I learn and move on. In all my 50+ years on this planet, I'm lucky that I have only met a handful of nasty, narcissistic characters that have made life difficult, and I have quickly dismissed them from my life, preferring to surround myself with those that bring good vibes, those that are honest and true and realistic, that have a positive and optimistic outlook on life. So it came as quite a shock, a huge disappointment, and an embarrassment, that a couple of months ago I was accused of bullying and harassment in the workplace. What made it worse is that it came from somebody on my team, somebody that I work with and see every single day, somebody that I helped to train and get them up to speed in doing their job, the same job that I do each day. Without going  into too much detail, this person hasn't spoken to me for three months as they are waiting for an apology, yet the result of the external investigation into my behaviours came back as unfounded - it was a false allegation with no basis, and it cleared my name of any wrongdoing. And yet still I am not being spoken to, somebody is still bearing a grudge, and this unnecessary situation is still dragging on, sapping me of emotional, physical, and mental energy that I would normally put into other things, one of those being my running.

Although I'm usually very good at keeping my work life and private life firmly separated, work started trickling into home a few months ago, and in the couple of weeks before Iron Horse, it had become a raging torrent that I was being forced to fight, despite me desperately wanting to just throw in the towel and walk away. It was a distraction from my usual race prep, and ultimately, it led to me not really having the race I believed I was capable of.

Having said all of that, looking back at my race at the Iron Horse Ultra, I do feel like I actually had a good run all things considered, and I am proud that I was able to step up to that line and run as well as I did despite everything that had been going on.

Andy and I drove up to St Paul on the Friday afternoon with Wilson in tow - we had left the girls at home again, but I really needed Wilson there with me as he is amazing emotional support even during a race - having those puppy snuggles when I'm in my pity pit at mile 80 are what will get me going again. I'd missed racing in recent months. I'd not raced since Sinister 7 in July and I had desperately missed the running community - I needed that sense of normality, I needed to spend a good few hours out on the trails in the middle of nowhere to take my mind off things, and I was so glad that I had decided to do the race regardless, especially when I saw so many familiar faces at package pickup, happy faces of people who know me for who I am, and I was so thankful to see them! Their positive energy was contagious, and for the first time in weeks, I was finally getting excited about actually doing the race.

I awoke on race day feeling pretty relaxed and ready to run. I'd had a good night's sleep snuggled up with Wilson, and even Andy had kept his snoring under control so as not to disturb me too much - it was going to be a good day! Andy would of course be crewing me, but we had made things far simpler this time with no drop bags, my plan being to just have crisps and a protein drink at each aid station, and to nibble on snacks whilst on the move in between. 

The start of the race was literally a two minute drive from the hotel, and we arrived with plenty of time to check in, grab a coffee, and stay warm whilst waiting for the start. The weather forecast was calling for a dry and overcast day, but it was going to be a chilly day thanks to the wind, which was expected to gust at 30 to 35kph throughout the day. It was difficult knowing what to wear as the temperatures wouldn't be too bad where we were sheltered, but when exposed to the wind, it could potentially be quite cold, especially if sweating and then cooling down, or moving at a slower pace later on in the race. I eventually opted for two long-sleeved layers, and I was surprised that I wore them for pretty much the entire race, and even added an additional layer when things went dark later on.

This was my third time at the Iron Horse Ultra so I knew what to expect from the course. It definitely isn't a mountainous course, but there are quite a lot of short nasty climbs and some quite technical single track on woodland trails, all of which soon adds up over 100 miles, making it a far tougher race than many actually realise.

The 100 milers started at 6.50am, and I settled into a nice easy pace from the get-go. To hit my goal time of sub 21 hours, I needed to run an average of 12.30 minute miling - that sounded so easy, but experience has told me that it is never easy - so my plan was to run at a pace between 10  and 11 minute miles for as long as possible and whilst terrain allowed - it was inevitable that I would slow later on, and even more so once things got dark.

At the start line with Wilson :)

The wind for the first few miles was absolutely crazy and it made the easy pace feel harder than it should have been. I somehow ended up with a couple of chaps, both running the same pace as me, and whilst it was good to have company, their constant chattering was something that I really didn't want to listen to. I didn't want to slow down as I would start to fall behind schedule far too early but then if I ran faster, I would tire much sooner. In the end, I just stuck with it, and eventually I pulled away from them whilst still maintaining the steady pace I had planned to do.

It had been a few years since I had last ran this race, but everything was still so familiar.The boardwalk alongside the lake brought back the memories of when I had first done this race, watching the sunrise and the mist hovering over the lake. This year it was much different as we battled the wind gusts blasting across the water, and we were greeted instead by thousands of Canada Geese, honking loudly as they mustered others in preparation to head south for the winter. After a short stint through town, we finally joined the Iron Horse Trail, and this wide gravel track would make up a considerable amount of the course.

Although another sell-out race this year, the numbers of people running the race is quite low, especially the 100 miler, and I think there were only around 20 or so that were registered for the longer distance. The others are mostly relay runners or those racing the 100km, and it wasn't long before they started to pass me at a much faster pace having started about 10 minutes after us. My friend Tess passed me by, cheerful and chatty as ever, and it was so nice to see her running so well as she made her intentions known - she was chasing the 100km ladies course record, and was looking strong and determined (not my story to tell, but she just missed out on that record by a mere 2 minutes - great job Tess!)

It was around about 22km to the first aid station at Edourdville, and I was making good time as I followed the old gravel railway track. I was already running mostly solo, but I was feeling relaxed and enjoying being outdoors in the fresh air. I knew that at some point the route would take us up a steep climb and across some farmland, before dropping down to the aid station, and when the climb came, it was just as tough as I remembered. I slowly made my way up the hill, then enjoyed some rolling hills before dropping down into the woodland below. The trail through the woods was overgrown with lots of fallen trees and long grass, and I almost tripped more than once on those hidden roots that like to take out trail runners. I was overtaken by a small group of 100 mile runners, but I wasn't too concerned given that we were still early on in the race, and I figured that at some point, I would likely catch them again in a few hours time.

Running into Edourdville, we were greeted by cheering and clapping from the spectators, and I spotted Andy pretty much straight away, and made my way over to our car that was parked a short way up the road, before grabbing a packet of Ready Salted crisps and downing a 500ml protein drink. I had already been munching on jelly sweets and a Mars Bar and wasn't craving anything specific - I felt like I refuelling pretty well, and so far, so good.

Leg 2 was slightly shorter in distance, and it would take us to the aid station at Moose Mountain. The first couple of miles included a long steep climb on farm track, and I surprised myself by jogging/running most of this climb, before dropping back down a steep hill where we rejoined farmers' fields and evidence of cows. At one point I couldn't see which way the flags went and veered off in the wrong direction - a huge pool of what smelt like silage and a lack of a defined trail made me realise my mistake, and I backtracked for about 5 minutes before noticing the fork in the field that I had missed. I headed up the hill through the trees and spotted the familiar flagging which would lead me the right way. I seemed to remember that we would need to run about 5 miles on gravel road on this leg, and having crossed a few more open fields, we emerged on to the road, and that long, straight stretch of gravel started.

Having done lots of my long training runs on gravel roads around Leduc, I was more than prepared for this, and whilst others found it tough and monotonous, my mind and body were ready for it. I passed quite a lot of runners on the gravel section, and I was running a decent 9 minute mile which felt comfortable even though faster than intended. Feeling good, I went with it, and before I knew it, I was crossing the rutted field and heading towards aid station 2. Spotting Andy, I grabbed more crisps, had the protein drink and I think I grabbed some tea and coffee too as well as refilling my water bottles that I was carrying with me. I was still feeling pretty good, and my stomach was holding out without any queasiness - maybe I could get through an entire race with puking for once! 

Leg 3 is the longest one of the race, and is approximately 25km - maybe more. It also includes "Mean Dean's Hill" - a good long, rutted climb that goes on for a good couple of miles, before turning and having runners go up and down, up and down, up and down - across more rutted fields that on a rainy day would likely sap the energy due to the amount of mud! Thankfully it had been dry and there was no mud, although there were plenty of cowpats, and I was mildly amused that flags had been placed in the piles of dung to lead us in the right direction.

Whilst that climb is tough, the views from the top are so worth it, and the long run down the gravel road provides some fabulous views of Moosehills Lake. I'd been running solo for a few hours now, not really seeing any other runners except when entering and leaving the aid stations, but now I could see a couple of  runners up ahead and I was starting to gain on them. Whilst I enjoy that solitude in races, it is always nice to see other racers and have a chat about how our race is going, offering encouragement and making new friends. I caught them up as we headed down the trail that would take us alongside the lake, and whilst they weren't exactly running slow, I found myself passing them after a few minutes chat. 

After a short stint running through bush and more rutted fields, another short steep climb ensued and I found myself gasping for air as I made the climb. The others started to gain on me again and I was really struggling with my breathing (I forgot to mention that I had been ill with a bad cold, or maybe even Covid, just a week or so previously, and I was still dealing with the aftermath of that viral infection), so much so that they were concerned for me. I explained that all was good and they didn't need to worry about me.

The next aid station was Elk Point, the largest and busiest of them all, and I was looking forward to having some proper food and a change of clothes. The wind was still gusting and bringing a chill, but with the sun making an appearance, I had actually been sweating - some fresh dry clothes were needed, as well as a change of socks as my shoes were full of thistles and gravel that was rubbing around my toes and my ankles. After another stretch of road running where I was able to make up a bit of time, we rejoined the Iron Horse Trail, and it was another 5km or so of flat running in to the aid station. I wasn't feel quite as energised now, a sure sign that I needed to get some more fuel in me despite having been eating pretty well thus far, but I was still making good progress and still on target for at least a sub 22 hours finish if I could hold things together.

Arriving at Elk Point, I went into the heated hut and enjoyed the heat from the woodstove whilst downing some broth, a beef sandwich, some cookies, a protein drink and some crisps. I was actually really hungry and it felt good to have some proper food in my belly. I was half expecting to start puking shortly afterwards once I got running again, but my stomach was still holding up really well which gave me some confidence to keep pushing onwards.

Shortly after Elk Point, the race splits - 100km runners continue on towards Happy Hill, whilst the 100 mile runners complete their additional 60km or so by running a loop that includes two more aid station - Fort George and Lindbergh.

I think the run to St George had been my favourite in previous years, running across open farmland and through woodlands amidst the gorgeous colours of autumn in the trees. Depending on pace, it's also when you notice the sun starting to go down, and you start to prepare yourself for the night ahead and running in the dark. I was still feeling really good and moving well, my hydration was going well, I was still eating and getting lots of fuel inside of me, and I was definitely in my happy place. But after a few miles, we hit a paved road that I didn't remember, and I didn't recall just how far we ran on that road. I thought we turned off at some point and spent far more time on woodland trails, yet this road just went on and on and on. Seeing the long straight road ahead of me was tough, especially after two or three miles of hearing my watch beeping, telling me yet another mile had passed by with no sign of us turning anytime soon. Mentally I was starting to struggle - I was getting bored, I hated that road, I tried to run but the motivation definitely wasn't there, and when my watch told me that we had already ran 12 miles, I started to wonder whether I had missed a turn and had somehow skipped the aid station. Looking back, I saw a group of other runners in the distance, so I knew that I must be on the right track - I just did not remember all this road!!!

Finally, I spotted an arrow that took me to the right and with relief, I made that turn, following a lovely woodland track, and then entering the parkland area that signified that the aid station at Fort George wasn't too far away. The trail was carpeted with fallen leaves, a golden pathway that made me think of the yellow brick road in the The Wizard of Oz - funny how the mind works during a race!

Running in to Fort George, Andy was once again waiting along with Wilson, and I had a good snuggle with Wilson and shared a little bit of food with him. I also needed to go poop desperately, and it was a good poop, one of the best I've had in a race, and still my stomach was feeling good and there was no nausea. I was so impressed with my nutrition so far - it was obvious that the crisps and protein drink were doing the trick, whilst the more stodgy food was keeping the gas out of my tummy and preventing those pangs of hunger I normally have.

I'd been spending around 20 minutes at the aid stations - probably too long in all honesty and I would have liked to have got in and out more quickly, but my race was going pretty well and taking my time now meant I was more likely to keep things going later on.

Leaving Fort George, it was already starting to go dark, and I was treated to an incredible sunset as I headed down towards the trail which would take me along the banks of the river for a short while. 

Beautiful sunset alongside the river :)

I bumped in my friend Andy down by the river, had a brief chat and then I cracked on - it's always good to see familiar faces when you're doing these races! The footing alongside the river is quite technical, and it would be so easy to trip and fall into the water, but thankfully I maintained my balance, and before I knew it, I was heading back up again , scrambling over a stile and joining more farmland. Up ahead, I could see a herd of cattle, some of them with calves. It was my first encounter with cows that day, and there were lots of them! I'm not afraid of cows, but I do know that running can freak them out, so I walked calmly through the middle of them, some of them still getting spooked and running in the opposite direction, whilst others just stood and stared at me, watching me cautiously whilst munching on the grass. I left the cows behind and came to a treed area where I heard rustling and something moving about, nearly jumping a mile when three cows came sauntering out right in front of me ... bloody hell!!

Heckled by the cows!

Having navigated the cows, I once again hit the gravel road, this time it would take me all the way into Lindbergh where the next aid station was located. The first year I did the Iron Horse Ultra, I was chased by dogs down this road for about a mile, so I was half expecting farm dogs to come running out to chase me down again. Fortunately, this year was much quieter, and all I experienced was the company of other runners that caught me as I was approaching the town.

One of the things I love about running in these kind of places at night is the vast open skies, and with no light pollution, those stars looks absolutely amazing! I always find myself gawping upwards, mesmerised by the beauty of the night skies, and trying to identify the constellations that I learnt about as a child. Tonight was no exception, and it provided a distraction from yet more road running. Before long, I joined the trail that took me into town, and completing the loop through the nearby woods and around the houses, before coming into the Lindbergh aid station which is at around 100km.

I was pretty cold when I came into Lindbergh and I sat in the car to warm up a little. I changed into thermal tights and a couple of thermal tops, but my hands were absolutely freezing and I just couldn't get them to warm up. I downed some hot drinks and more soup, making sure I had some bread to add that stodge again, and also ate some sweets and chocolate to keep my energy levels up. Despite being cold, I was feeling ok. I had by now slowed somewhat and I knew that I wasn't going to run sub 21 hours - even sub 22 hours was slowly slipping away - but if I could still run under 24 hours, I would be happy. I didn't have my crisps nor protein drink at Lindbergh, but given I had still had a good mix of food and drink, I figured I would be ok.

12 miles or so of the Iron Horse Trail lay between Lindbergh and Elk Point, and whilst it's flat and relatively easy running, mentally it's tough, especially when it's dark. Running by the light of my headtorch, all I could see for about 100 yards ahead of me was the gravel track lined my trees, and tunnel with what appeared to have no end. Things had now become more a case of run/walk, and I was trying to keep things at around 13 minute miles, running for 3 minutes, and then walking for 1, or something similar. Some sections of the trail were quite muddy with huge puddles, but otherwise it was just continuous gravel which was making my feet feel quite sore. Normally I can do 12 trail miles in a couple of hours, but it was getting close to three hours and I was getting frustrated, just wanting this leg to end, but all I could see beyond the light of my torch was pitch black whilst all I could hear was the occasional moo of a cow or the hoot of an owl. I would see a light ahead, I would think it was the light of a house and I would be entering Elk Point soon, but it would turn out to be car headlights on a distant road.

One foot in front of the other, forward continuous progress - eventually I saw the lights of town, and a few minutes later, the glow of the fire pit at the aid station, drawing me in to the warmth of the wooden hut where I could get warm again and get some hot food inside of me. With moving much more slowly, I was definitely feeling the chill, and I desperately need to get warmed up.

Sitting beside that woodstove for a second time that day felt so good, and I could feel the sleepiness sneaking in. I had a hot chocolate and some chicken soup, and also ate another beef sandwich. But whereas earlier I had eaten with relish, now it was a struggle even though I knew that I needed to eat and drink. I was now at 77 miles, I still hadn't been sick, and it was the furthest I had ran without GI issues for many, many years. I wasn't feeling queasy, my stomach was still behaving itself, but things definitely didn't feel as they had earlier. I really wanted the  crisps and protein drink again as that had been working for me so far, but I had already spent far too long at Elk Point and needed to get moving, otherwise 24 hours wouldn't even be on the cards. I gave Andy a hug and set off on leg 6 towards Happy Hill, another 13 miles away.

Just 5 minutes or so after leaving Elk Point, the queasiness came, and then the next minute, I was throwing up all the food I had just eaten.  77 miles before I had puked - I was impressed, but also disappointed. I knew I should have kept having the crisps and protein drink - they were both easy on my stomach and providing me with exactly when I needed, but I had skipped them at Lindbergh and also at Elk Point, and now I was paying the price - dagnammit!

Of course I felt tons better having been sick, and I started to run again, albeit slow. I started to nibble on the food I was still carrying whilst trying to curb the rumblings in my belly, and I took sips of water and coke to make sure I stayed hydrated. Thankfully the next couple of miles were once again on the Iron Horse Trail, so footing was good and I wasn't going to trip on tree roots or rocks, or fall into the river.

As I made my way to Happy Hill, yet again I felt like the course had changed considerably from what I remembered. Having come to the end  of the trail and ran along a paved road for a mile or two, a right turn took me onto a road that started paved, then gravel, then more of a dirt track with grasses mounds in between. It was a constant up and down for about 5 miles, and I remember the lady at the last aid station saying that there were 10 hills that we went up and down before we finally hit the fields towards Happy Hill. She wasn't wrong, and by the 9th hill, I was definitely feeling it in my legs, whilst I could now feel my toes bruising from the downhills. I could see lights ahead of me so I knew there were other runners close by, but with the constant up and down, the lights kept disappearing in to the darkness.

Eventually leaving that dirt track, I found myself running on a trail where there were lots of low hanging tree branches, and there was some bushwhacking as I tried to find my way through the maze of trees that had been put before us. Some of the flags were difficult to see in the dark, the reflective markers either lost or hidden and therefore not visible in the light of my torch, and on a couple of occasions I hesitated over which direction I needed to take. As the trail flattened out, there was more scrub on the ground making the flags even harder to see. I shone my torch in every direction but couldn't see where I was meant to go. I followed what I thought was a trail, only to find it ended with more scrub, and when backtracking, I was unable to see the last flag I had passed. I spent a good 10 or 15 minutes wandering around in circles, trying to find out which direction I needed to go, and then eventually, I saw a reflective marker on a fence post some 20 metres away and definitely not in the direction I would have expected. Cursing and swearing, I stumbled over towards the marker and then joined a well defined wide grassy trail up through the woodlands.

It was quite spooky running through those trees - pitch black, silent, and me completely alone. After a short while, I passed a small hut hidden in the trees, my headtorch lighting up the windows and showing dark shadows. It creeped me out a bit as I found myself thinking of horror films like cabin in the woods and suchlike - silly that signs of humans scare me more than the signs of animals (unless it's a bear or cougar - that DOES scare me!) More narrow single track, more ups and downs, more ducking and diving through trees as I made my way towards the Happy Hill aid station, yet no lights visible, no sounds, nothing, except the sound of my own breathing and my footsteps snapping twigs as I ran along.

It was feeling like I had been running to Happy Hill for absolutely ages, but finally I saw the lights ahead, and I just had one final climb before I would be able to have a short break and refuel. I sent Andy a quick message to let him know I would be there shortly, hoping he would have a hot drink and some hot food ready for me. Arriving at the top of that hill, I didn't see Andy, but I did see Laura and Matthew, and boy was it great to see them! I gave them a huge hug, and then went inside the warm tent where I tried to drink and eat some food. Although the earlier vomiting had made me feel better and I was no longer feeling nauseous, I tried to eat but just couldn't seem to ingest anything.Andy came along and gave me some food and drink, but it really was just nibbling and sipping now and I really should have been consuming far more. I kept telling myself that I only had 13 miles to the finish - I could get through that on zero fuel if I needed to, just so long as I got something inside of  me now.

The chilly night air was now causing me to seize up a bit and I knew that I needed to get moving again, so I said a fond farewell to my friends, gave Andy a hug, and set off on the final leg of the Iron Horse Ultra - next stop would be the finish line. I had no doubt that I would finish, I also had no doubt that I would finish under the time limit - what I wanted now was to make sure that I finished in under 24 hours.

Although heading towards the finish, that final leg is definitely not my favourite simply because I knew there was a lot of road running ahead. It isn't just the road - it's gravel road, and my feet were already a little sore from sliding around on gravel, and the small bits of grit that had got into my shoes. I also knew that there were at least two more good climbs on this leg - one shortly after leaving Happy Hill, and the other about 10k from the finish. I was still moving, I was still moving well, but it was becoming more difficult to muster a run or even a jog, and I was now at the point of power hiking to hit that sub 24 hours. Every time I tried to run, my legs just felt stiff and tight, whilst the cold air was now getting onto my chest and my breathing was becoming a little wheezy.

Apart from a few spectators cars to-ing and fro-ing to Happy Hill, there was nobody else around, and so I was back to running solo through the dark night with just my own thoughts and conversations for company. I managed the steep climb up the gravel road, yet again amazed by the starry skies above and turning off my torch just to admire this small part of the vast universe that was out there, and then on hitting the summit, I  tried to take advantage of the steep downhill by running a little, scrunching my toes in my shoes to prevent the nails from bruising.

I spotted the arrow that would take me through the woods again, this section much longer than I remembered, much more overgrown than I remembered, and I found myself tripping on fallen trees, landing heavily on my hands and arms, the shock of the fall vibrating through the rest of my tired body. I dragged myself up off the ground, annoyed at myself for falling and trying to get moving again. The A-frame stile coming out of the woodland section was tough as I tried to throw my legs over the top step to climb down the other side, and then I rejoined a section of the Iron Horse Trail once again. 

There was absolutely no light along here, the fir trees making the track feel enclosed and a little claustrophobic with just the beam of a torch, and the trail once again just seemed to go on forever. A sudden sound to the left of me had me turning to glance at what could be lurking there, and I spotted a couple of deer making haste in to the trees, probably more afraid of me that they needed to be.

I was still doing my walk/run technique and getting more and more frustrated at following the exact same track with a turn, but then I saw the arrow that would take me up the final climb, to the top of a hill where I would see the lights of St Paul in the distance. This section was also terribly overgrown and the flags were difficult to spot. I also had to scrabble over a wobbly gate which was becoming slippery with frost as the temperature fell below freezing.My legs were already unsteady and I was worried about falling and hurting myself, but I somehow made it over unscathed and progressed up the hill.

I tripped a couple of times in the long grass whilst crossing the field towards the farmhouse, and I was so glad to finally hit the gravel road that would take me back to St Paul. It was around about 5am as I ran past the houses alongside the road, and being a Sunday morning, all were in darkness as people enjoyed a sleep-in for the day. It's always a strange feeling running through areas with houses in the overnight period, those people oblivious to the fact that we have been out there running for hours and will shortly complete a 100-mile journey, whilst they have been tucked up in bed, snug and warm.It also makes me appreciate my own warm and comfy bed once I'm finished and I finally get home to rest!

Heading in to the final few miles of the race, I knew it was now pretty much road all the way. My watch had been pretty accurate in providing me the distance between aid stations when compared to the course description, and it was now reading around 93 miles. Very rarely is a trail race accurate in distance - sometimes they can be shorter or longer than advertised simply due to the nature of trail races, GPS and course measurements - so I was hoping that this one would be slightly shorter and I only had 5 miles to go or something. I kept on running down that gravel road, the city lights not really getting any closer, and no turnoffs from that road, and my watch just kept on measuring, kept on beeping as the miles slipped by far more slowly than I was hoping. 94, 95, 96 .... surely we must be nearly in town by now ... 97, 98 ... and still that road seemed to keep on going. I was getting so frustrated yet again, just wanting the race to be done by now, and just wanting a hot cup of tea and a warm bed. My running time was now close to 23 hours so I knew I was going to break the 24, but I wasn't sure by how much.

One more road crossing, and then  500m or so later, there was a bend in the road - "This is it!" I thought, thinking that the finish line was about one mile away. The street lights became more frequent and much brighter, and as I rounded another corner, I saw the hotel that we had stayed in the previous night. I was expecting to turn right at the traffic lights, but no, the flags led us straight up and it looked like we were heading out of town again. What the what???!!! I started swearing and cursing again, not happy that we were being taken the long way round ..."why the eff have they brought us this way when we could have gone that way??" And then I saw it - the Reunion Station about 400m away, the glow from the fire pit drawing me in, whilst the lights inside the building brought comfort that I was almost done.

I'd like to say that I ran that last 400 metres, but I didn't have anything in my legs and it was a shuffle as I crossed the finish line, my time being around 23 hours and 15 minutes. It wasn't as fast as I would have liked, but I had finished, and I had gone sub 24-hours once again, despite all the recent crap, despite having had a viral infection, and at the grand age of almost 52 - I was happy.

Andy missed me finishing, but he arrived shortly afterwards, and we headed straight back to the hotel to have an very early breakfast before going to bed for a few hours. My legs were throbbing, I was feeling fidgety and knew I wouldn't likely be able to sleep, but that was ok - my tummy was full with food, I'd had my fill of tea, and I could now relax and at least have a doze, whilst snuggled up with my little boy Wilson feeling much happier and far more content having finished my race season on a positive :)

Finishers' medal
I was 2nd lady and 6th overall on the day :)

The dreaded pre-race lurgy

 It's just over a week now until the Iron Horse Ultra 100-miler, and training for the race has gone exceptionally well with my weekly mileage exceeding 100km for the past three weeks, and one week it was around 125km! That's definitely high mileage for me, but I have been feeling pretty good for the most part, the only hindrance being the heat which only abated in the last week or so - we're now back to more autumn like temperatures, which includes cooler days and much cooler evenings!

Autumn running and my favourite time of the year! :)

The hubby is still away in India so the doubling up of long runs on a weekend has been hard - I hate leaving the dogs on their own when they've already spent a the work week home alone, waiting in anticipation for me to get home from work which is when I take them for their daily mayhem at the dog park. But doubling up I have done, and with some 50+ km days on the weekends, my body has certainly started to feel the benefits. 

50km run day in Devon :)

I have still being maintaining those speed sessions during the week too, but they've felt clumsy rather than smooth as I seem to have fallen into that ultra runner's shuffle again rather than the grace and speed of those gazelles I often imagine myself being! I've thrown in a couple of parkruns too, and whilst I've not got anywhere close to my PR in Edmonton, I have at least been consistently running under 23 minutes which I have been relatively happy with.

River Valley parkrun :)

This week was meant to have been my final big push before race day, but having got back from a 3 and a half hour run last Sunday, I felt a little drained and didn't feel like going out for another couple of hours later in the day was going to bring any benefits - I just didn't want to do it. It had been quite a warm day again and I had once again ran out of water despite carrying 2 litres with me, so I just put the fatigue down to dehydration. I didn't make the connection with the mild sore throat I'd had going to bed the previous night after volunteering at the Rivers Edge Ultra for part of the day, but in hindsight, the signs were there.

Volunteering at REU with the pups :)

Come Sunday evening, I had a throbbing headache, but despite taking pills, it just wasn't easing at all. I was off work on the Monday anyway, so just pottered around doing my thing, and other than a strength session, I didn't need to do a run that day. The headache persisted all day though, and I was starting to get a little snuffly with it. I've had Covid twice in the past, and this was how it started both times, except this time I'd had a sore throat - either way, it looked like I was to be struck down with the lurgy ... ugh!

I awoke Tuesday morning at my usual time to head to work, but I definitely didn't feel great. I popped a couple more headache pills to help me through the next couple of hours as I headed into the office, but as the day progressed, I just started to feel even worse. I finally gave in mid-afternoon, heading home for the rest of the day, and ended up falling asleep for couple of hours, snuggled up with Wilson and Tillie on the bed. The remainder of the day didn't see any improvement, although I did manage to eat something having had no appetite for a couple of days, so I was kind of hoping it meant I would feel much better by today.

A few days ago, before the lurgy struck - these pups
are amazing and look after me so well! :)

Sadly, Wilson was also poorly during the night and kept waking me up every hour to go outside. It din't help me to rest, and I awoke at 6am still feeling pretty rotten. I decided to stay home for another day to just rest and hopefully recover. My nose is still stuffy, and I am coughing up rubbish from chest, so I definitely have a cold or something - the only positive is that the headache has gone which makes a huge difference. Of course with having a cold or whatever it is, I won't be running until things have cleared up and I get my energy levels back. Having a 100 mile race in about 10 days time does concern me, but it is 10 days, I am starting to feel a little better, so maybe all that training will still be put to good use.I really need a good race at Iron Horse, one that will give me confidence again and that will reward all the prep I have been doing, but I also know that I can only do what my mind and body will let me do, and that health for me comes first. I keep telling myself that so long as I can do a  couple of runs this weekend at a comfortable pace and not feel wiped out afterwards, I will be ok. It's also the final race in the 5 Peaks Trail Running series out in Devon, so I have put my name down to marshall again. Given how much time I have spent on my own this past 5 or 6 weeks, being surrounded by running friends is just what I need, even if I'm not running myself at the minute.

The trail running community truly is remarkable, and they have a great way of picking each other when others are feeling down, so I am definitely looking forward to that on Sunday. In the meantime, I'll just take things a day at a time with this lurgy, and hopefully my body is strong enough to fight it off and then be ready to do a rather long run in a few days time!

Catching up!

Is it really September tomorrow??!! The year has flown by yet again and I will be honest in saying that my running year so far has been pretty average with more disappointments than highs this year. But that's ok - you can't be at your best all the time, and things have certainly been somewhat hectic this past few weeks.

I soon got back into running after my disappointing DNF at Sinister, and so far things are going ok. There has been some nonsense going on at work this past couple of months which has interfered with things, and the hubby is currently working away in India which brings added stresses dealing with everything at home, but if there's one thing I have learnt from my ultra running it is resilience., and I know I've the ability to overcome these things and push through them. I'm still focused on my next race in October, I still have ambitious goals, and I am making that my priority rather than letting anything else drag me down.

Three weeks after Sinister, it was the Canadian Death Race. I wasn't racing, but being a long weekend and having a serious case of FOMO, we made the decision to head to Grande Cache for a wee camping trip, and to cheer on the runners. We took the pups with us and stayed at Tent City for a couple of nights, and on race day, I made the decision to run leg 4 of the race as a training run, which would take me up Mount Hamell.

I have done the Death Race three times now, and leg 4 is where the wheels have fallen off every time. I just wanted a wander up there on my own terms, to enjoy the views and make some happy memories for the next time I decide to tackle the race. It was also a good opportunity to create another YouTube video to show my mini adventure in the process. The weather was gorgeous, the views did not disappoint, and I had the most amazing five hours or so out on those mountain trails. You can watch the video here if you want to experience on screen - one thing's for sure, that day whetted the appetite to go back again, and I am seriously considering racing in Grand Cache next year.

View from Hamell

Heading up Mt Hamell

It was just a couple of weeks later that we were off on another camping trip, this time to Kananaskis Country, with a weekend break at Gooseberry Campground. We've stayed at Gooseberry a few times now, and it's a perfect location to pop in to Bragg Creek for supplies if needed, as well as being close to the mountains to enable some of those awesome mountain hikes.

We arrived there on the Friday evening, and it absolutely poured it down with rain. Thankfully everything in the tent stayed dry, and with a couple of tarps covering it, our cheap make-do summer camping tent from Walmart held up to the elements too, ensuring we all had a really good night's sleep. By Saturday morning, the clouds had dispersed, and we were greeted with warm sunshine and blue skies.

My original plan for being in K-country was to volunteer at the Iron Legs Mountain Races again which were taking place that weekend, but knowing that Andy was going away for a month, I opted to spend time with the family instead. I had wanted to head up Moose Mountain as it has been far too long since I last hit the summit, but being a hot day and with there being no water available on the trail up there, it would have been far too warm for the pups. Instead, I headed up Prairie Mountain - a much shorter walk and quite steep, and possible to do in just a couple of hours.

It was a weird hike this time around. Wilson turns 14 in December, and although he is still energetic and active for his age, I knew he would struggle on the climb up Prairie. The kindest thing to do was to leave him to spend the day with Andy, popping into Calgary for some bits and pieces and hanging out by the river where he could stay cool by having a swim. Meanwhile, I was going to head up Prairie with Tillie and April, both of which are young and fit enough to make it to the top without having to stop every five minutes.

Mountain summits with the girls

It was a most amazing hike! Tillie and April were so well behaved, and with off-leash dogs being allowed on the mountain, for the first time ever I let them loose. There were lots of other dogs up there too and the girls didn't even flinch at them, and whilst they did walk ahead of me, they kept stopping to look behind and wait for me. It was such a pleasant walk and I loved it! Of course the views off the top were amazing, and we shared some cookies and cheese, and the girls also had a doggy biscuit or two before we headed back down to meet up with Wilson and Andy. With a run into Bragg Creek and supper at the Powderhorn Saloon afterwards, followed by a relaxing night around the campfire, it really was a perfect family weekend.

Summit of Prairie Mountain with the girls

River fun with our fave boy

Happiness in Bragg Creek

A couple of days later, I found myself alone with the pups as Andy headed off on his month long business trip. Training for Iron Horse 100-miler still continued, and even now, I am trying to ensure I stick to the training plan to give me every chance of hitting my goal in October.

There are a couple of things that I wanted to do to prepare for my race - do the River Valley parkrun every couple of weeks to monitor progress towards my goal, and to race one of the 5 Peaks races, either Chickakoo or Devon.

Parkrun has been going well, and I think I've done three in the past 6 weeks or so. My times are still a little slow compared to previous years, but then I have only just started to get back into speedwork, and my body is still adjusting to running those faster paces rather than the ultra runner's shuffle. My times are around 23 minutes so I am at least close to that 7 minute miling, but I will be much happier if I can start to run consistently under 23 minutes which will give me greater confidence for my race.

Being reflective and pondering things ...

Talking of races, I did get out to Chickakoo to do the Enduro race with 5 Peaks. I was hoping that I could race this one, and race it hard, but as mentioned earlier, shit has been going down at work and that affected how I ran.

The race wasn't bad, but it wasn't my best either, and my mind just wasn't on the race when I started. I was also lacking that familiarity of racing shorter distances - I was cautious about going off too fast, but then I now think I started too slow - that's lacking confidence for you! It took a couple of miles before my mind was focused, and it was only then that my body responded. I felt strong, but the emotional stress of the past couple of weeks made me feel emotionally exhausted at the same time, but I got around the course and thoroughly enjoyed it. The single track was lots of fun although I wasn't too good on the technical climbs, but I was flying both the ups and downs on the double track, and my pace was good. Unfortunately, I didn't get the confidence that I was hoping for from the race, but that's doesn't mean that I have given up on my goals for Iron Horse. I'm confident that things will settle down over the coming weeks, Andy will of course be home, and come race day, I'm hoping I will have a much better than I anticipate. I certainly need a good race this year - my results really haven't reflected the time and effort I have been putting into my running, and I just need something to make me feel like I've accomplished something, no matter how small. I should mention that I finished Chickakoo as 7th lady and first over 50 lady - I was on that podium in my age group and that made me happy, so I guess I have accomplished some things already and I'm.just putting too much pressure on myself.

PC Kevin Cheung

So with just 5 weeks now until my race, this is where I start to panic about whether I will actually be ready. I'm sure I will be. I did a 5k on the track today and ran just under 23 minutes, and tomorrow, I have a 50km trail run to do that mimics the race course - the latter will certainly give me a good indication as to what to aim for in just a few weeks time.

On that note, I bid you adieu, and I shall update all you readers again in due course. Happy trails folks!

Sinister Seven Ultra

 I knew going into the Sinister 7 Ultra that I wasn't as well trained for mountain running as I was this time last year. Twelve months ago, I ran the 50 miler with relative ease, finishing in a little over 12 hours and even making the podium with a third place finish, whereas this year, I hadn't been to the mountains once, and I knew I was in for a hard time. Regardless, I headed down to Crowsnest Pass with the goal of just finishing the race, even if I was DFL and only just made the 30 hour cut-off.

After a rather soggy and cooler spring and early summer, July brought heat warnings and hit temperatures in Alberta, and the forecast for race day was calling for highs of 30+ degrees - it was going to be a hot one! I did the best I could to prepare for the heat, continuing with my lunch time walks at work, and then running after work when things seemed to feel even warmer than earlier in the day. I even did my longer weekend runs just after lunch during the hottest part of the day, and whilst I'd finish dripping with sweat and drinking all the fluids I could find, I feel like those runs paid dividends on race day. The only other thing I could do was stay hydrated in the days leading up to the race, and I was drinking so much water and other stuff both day and night, it felt like I spent a good few hours peeing on the loo!

The other thing I needed to manage was the tightness in my left lower back and hip. This has been plaguing me on and off for several weeks now, but massage and stretching has been helping, so I was hoping things would behave themselves during the casual 100 mile run I had planned on July 13th.

Arriving at the campground in Crowsnest Pass, it was just Andy and I this year. Last year Wilson had joined us, but we'd left all three pups at home this time, simply because it was going to be far too hot for them to be hanging around outside or in a tent all day, and sitting in a car even with the AC running is definitely no place for puppy adventures! It was strange not having a dog there with me - they have a knack of making me chill and relax before a race, and they have a way of letting me know that no matter what happens, they'll still be there for me afterwards to give me lots of puppy cuddles. I missed that if I honest, but I was still determined to have the best race I could.

A 5.45am alarm woke us up on race morning, and things felt cool at that time, so much so that some folks were wearing long sleeves before heading to the start. I knew it wouldn't be long before things would warm up, so I was already in a t-shirt and enjoying the cooler air around me. The usual cup of tea and bowl of porridge for breakfast set me up perfectly, and having had a few swigs of water, we headed into town and the Stones Throw Cafe which was the start of the 100 mile race. 

Start of the 100 miler

The start line was buzzing with the usual excitement and anticipation, and I was surprised at how busy things were. I think the 100 miler has 300 or so solo runner and the rest are made up of relay teams, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a good 4 to 5 hundred runners on that start line. I didn't really see many familiar faces even though there were lots of friends there that weekend, so I positioned myself towards the back of the pack and stood alone, patiently waiting for the start gun to go. Bang on 7am, we were off!

Leg 1 - Frank Slide, town of Hillcrest, Bear Valley to base of Hastings Ridge - 18.3km

Although I'd ran the 50 miler last year, I wasn't at all familiar with the first half of the course, so I had no idea what to expect. I definitely started cautiously, not wanting to get caught up in the stampede at the start and trying to run a sensible pace given the weather and the unknown 50 miles that lay ahead of me before hitting the midway point, and those areas that I would recognise on course.

The first mile or so was on road before veering off to join the trail that ran parallel with the train tracks. The volume of runners made it difficult to pass, especially with everything being so overgrown, but I was perfectly happy to tuck in behind everybody as it did at least ensure that I didn't go off too fast. Looking ahead, all I could see was a snake of runners, all running in single file for quite a long way ahead. I took a peek behind me, the same sight greeting me as us runners made our way along the trail.

The highlight of leg 1 is running through Frank Slide, which consists of huge rocks and boulders as big as houses, and whilst we stuck to the mainly gravel road, It really was quite special running through such an historical site although it was over much too quickly. The next 2 or 3 km was on pavement,and I was a little surprised at the amount of pavement there was, but then I guess it's the only way to get out of Coleman before passing through the small town of Hillcrest and then hitting the relentless climbs as we finally made our way into the surrounding hills and mountains of Crowsnest Pass.

We'd only been running for a short while, but I'd been drinking my water and electrolyte regularly to make sure I stayed hydrated, and it wasn't long before I found myself looking for a large enough tree or bush to hide behind, so I could have a pee. I was also making sure that I grazed on some nibbles every half hour or so, to keep my stomach lined with solid food, and to keep any hunger pangs at bay.

This leg was around 10 or 11 miles, and I anticipated completing it in around about two hours. There were some climbs, a couple of them being steep, but nothing too long nor drawn out, and I wouldn't consider leg 1 to have been technical by any means. I was running well, feeling strong, and managing the temperature as it rose steadily hour by hour. I was still surrounded by lots of runners and we weren't spacing out at all and things were starting to feel a little too crowded for me. I was also feeling that I wasn't able to truly get into a comfortable rhythm - I was catching people up, but had to slow down when I couldn't get past, and then some wanted to take advantage of the downhills and sprint their way down, when I was trying to stay steady and controlled regardless of ups or downs.

Leg 1 - PC Sinister Sports

The scenery though was already impressive, with views of mountains and valleys, forest trails, and then areas of lush green grass interspersed with wildflowers, the vibrant colours looking do amazing on this hot, sunny, summer morning in southern Alberta.

After a couple of hours, a sharp downhill took us through more wildflowers, into a shaded treed area, and shortly afterwards, I was making my way into TA1 where I knew Andy would be waiting with refills of both good and fluids.

I was feeling really good - legs were good, my hip/back was ok, feet in good condition, I was feeling well hydrated and my stomach was holding out - all was good, and I was happy to head out on leg 2, and tackle whatever was thrown at me.

Leg 2 - Hastings Ridge and down into Blairmore - 16.7km

Leaving the aid station, I prepared myself for at least three hours of running this time, as I knew there was much more climbing on this one. I'd not taken my poles on leg 1, but something told me I'd need them from here onwards, so I'd made sure to have them with me when I'd set off from TA1.

I felt like I now had more space to run, and I started the next climb up the mountainside with strength and determination, moving smoothly as I climbed and passing a couple of other runner's as I went.

This climb was long, and as I looked up ahead at the switchbacks hugging the mountainside, I could see several groups of runners at various stages of the climb. Some of the runners were only a few hundred metres ahead, whilst others were like ants moving much further ahead, just tiny dots on the landscape.

I wasn't running in a group, preferring to run solo and run my own pace. The trail was steep but likely runnable in sections for somebody of a far better ability than I, but I was still making good progress with my strong hike, my poles helping to push me up a little more quickly with each step. Trees provided some shade for the first mile or two, offering some reprieve from building heat and strength of the sun, but as we climbed higher, the vegetation was more at ground level and we became more exposed to the elements.

I'm not really sure if there was a summit to be reached - I was climbing for what seemed like a good while, but then the trail flattened out, and we were greeted by impressive mountain vistas that looked incredible on such a bright and sunny day.

Stunning views off the ridge

By now, runners had started bunching up again, and it was back to what I considered to be haphazard pacing - me running fast enough to pass people, but then getting held up when catching the next group of runners either on a climb, or on a technical downhill where they lacked the confidence to just go for it. Now that we were a good five or six hours into the race, I felt like I should have found my rhythm, but things still weren't spread out quite enough, and I was still surrounded by quite a few other people.

After coasting on the trail for a short while, me constantly admiring the views and being in my element, we started to descend. I'm usually quite a good downhill runner and I make up alot of time cranking it out on the downhill sections. Unfortunately things were so steep, dry and dusty, it actually made the downhills much tougher, and when adding in some of the more rocky, technical sections, this caused some bottlenecks, and progress became slower than I would have liked. I shimmied past people as best I could, making great progress at every opportunity, encouraged by other runner's who were also confident on the descents. Some sections were so steep that I tried to use my poles to stop me sliding and falling over, but they were less helpm and more of a hindrance, throwing my balance somewhat and just becoming more cumbersome - poles for me are definitely more useful in the climbs rather than the descents, so I reverted back to moving sideways down the hills to give me better traction and balance.

The rocky and slippery technical downhill continued for a good few kilometres, and then I spotted the checkpoint ahead. It was really warm by now but I was still managing the heat really well, sweating like crazy which I figured is a good thing as it meant my cooling system was working, and making sure I was drinking regularly and eating to keep my energy levels up. I'd drank a good two litres of water, so refilled my bottles at the checkpoint as I didn't know how much longer I would be out there before getting to the TA station where Andy would be waiting. I also grabbed a packet of crisps - carbohydrate, salt, and a good 240 calories to keep me going - they were simple, but just what I needed!

Immediately after the checkpoint, we faced a km long steep climb. Out came my poles again, helping to push me up the hill, overtaking others as I went. The climbing was starting to have an impact on my legs and with the heat, I was certainly moving more slowly going uphill, but I didn't mind - I was still moving and making progress, which was good. Reaching the top, we made a right turn and had some flatter running along what seemed like a ridge, before dropping down sharply once again, taking us into what felt like the Emerald Forest. 

                                                    Mastering the climbs - PC Sinister Sports

Entering the forest, the trees seemed more dense and the rocky trail became softer underfoot, almost springy with the pine needles providing some cushioning. It was so green in there, a couple of streams passing through, and feeling much warmer and far more humid amongst the trees when compared to the more exposed mountain trails. With the moisture came the flies, and I spent the next couple of kilometres swatting them away as best I could as they tormented me by buzzing around my face and landing on my sweaty arms.

It was here that I think we joined some of the 50km runners, and I certainly noticed an increase in runners. Everybody was so friendly, do courteous, so encouraging.

I found my space again, and as we left the beautiful forest, a short climb took us through a lush green meadow, interspersed with the vibrant colours of the wildflowers. It was a sight to behold and I felt in my element.

It was shortly after this that there was a buzz of activity, and I noticed runners heading in both directions on the trail ahead. I was approaching TA2 and this is where Andy would be, ready to replenish my food and drink, and enabling me to change into fresh socks, eat some food, and have a jolly good drink! I'd also been running with an ice tube around my neck to keep me cool, and I was definitely ready for a refill! In all fairness I was managing the heat really well. I was drinking lots and still peeing, I'd been eating and my stomach was holding out, and although I wasn't feeling quite as strong as last year in the climbs, I was actually doing pretty good.

I ran into the transition area with a big smile, feeling good and confident that my race this far was going well. I was easily meeting the cutoff times and was about two or three hours ahead - if I could just get through the next leg, I knew I was on for a decent finish, and that made me feel pretty excited!

Leg 3 - Willoughby Ridge aka "Satan's Sack" - 30.8km

Having had a good drink of ice cold flavoured fizzy water along with some cold coke, I was looking forward to leg 3 as I would likely be familiar with parts of the course. The leg included a stint on Willoughby Ridge which had also made up a section of The Divide 200 that I completed last year - having had a good run over the ridge in The Divide, I was hoping to replicate something similar in the hundred miler which would put me in good stead for finishing 

Leg 3 starts with a steep climb up a ski hill shortly after leaving the TA, and I once again was grateful for my poles which helped me make the most of the climb. Things were now starting to heat up considerably, and I knew that it would be long before I'd be out in the open, exposed to the full force of the sun with no shade. I'd been sure to have Andy full my neck tube with as much ice as possible, but already it was starting to melt, the coolness of the water doing its best job to cool me down. 

That climb was tough and I was dripping with sweat, the salt trickling into my eyes and causing blurry vision as I moved along. There were fewer people around me now which I was quite enjoying, and whilst a couple of relay runners overtook me, I think I was still doing ok as a hundred mile soloist. I saw a few runners ahead of me, all of us just keeping our heads down as we shuffled up the hillside, one step at a time, forward moving progress. The trail wasn't too technical despite the steep gradient, and for the time being, we were at least getting some shade amongst the trees.

Up, up, up! PC Sinister Sports

As we emerged from the trees a few miles later, we joined what looked like a forestry road, and I was glad to see some flatter sections and some downhill. I was able to run for quite a bit now, tucking my poles under one arm and breaking into a fairly good pace that saw me gaining on some of the other runner's. It was so hot by now, and I'd been drinking plenty of fluids, but I could feel the salt drying around my face and neck as the sweat evaporated, so I figured I'd better take some salt tabs. I reached into the pocket if my backpack where my salt tabs should have been, and it was empty! It was then I recalled asking Andy to refill the bag with more pills as I knew this leg was long with lots of exposure to the sun, and I wanted to be sure I'd enough tabs to keep me going and avoid sickness. Except he hadn't put them into the pocket, and I later discovered he'd accidentally put them back into the tote I'd been using for medical stuff. Not having salt tabs had me feeling extremely frustrated - what a stupid mistake, and I should know better! - but there was little I could do, and there was no use wasting energy getting all wound up about it.

At least I still had some Skratch which would provide me with those electrolytes, so it wasn't a complete disaster. I had a good drink of Skratch at that point, and took a handful of the trail mix and jelly sweets I had in my pocket. The mix of sugar and savoury was amazing, and with some dried banana chips and some dried mango, I could feel that energy boost starting to take effect a few minutes later.

I was moving well on that gravel road, but I knew a climb must be coming and I was sure not to get too carried away - it's possible to go too fast on the downhills too, do I was trying to stay as disciplined as possible with my pacing. Up ahead I group of people huddled beside a bridge, and as I got closer, I saw that everybody was taking advantage of the cold waters from a river that was flowing through. I obviously joined them, scooping water into my hat and throwing it over myself which felt so refreshing. My legs were filthy from the dust so I washed them down with that cold mountain water, and it never felt so good. Then I drenched my neck tube before tying it around my neck again, enjoying the feel of the water trickling over my hot, sweaty skin. I do desperately wanted to wade into the water and lie down, but I knew having wet feet so early on in the race would be a bad move, I resisted the temptation and continued on my way.

Another left turn took us through more trees, and then we arrived at the checkpoint where nibbles and drinks were available. Crisps had been my go to food so far, so I grabbed another packet in addition to refilling two of my bottles. I was drinking so much that it was difficult keeping things topped up, but so far, I was handling things well, and even my stomach was behaving. The checkpoint aid station was of course busy, some folks sitting in the shade as they tried to manage the heat. One chap forgot himself and used a cup to tip some of the drinking water over his head, but he was instantly rebuffed causing him to be most apologetic, realising in that instant the mistake he'd made.

So far, I was wondering where the heck Willoughby Ridge was. Nothing as yet was remotely familiar to me, although a steep climb up a dirt road seemed vaguely familiar to me, although it wasn't the road I thought it was. At the top of the hill, we made another turn, and we hit some dusty, rocky, single track trail. It was as dry as anything up there, no water flowing, and I was making big dents in my fluids again. The climb had also taken some energy out of me, and I then remembered I'd got a couple of gels mixed with water in my backpack - that would provide me with a boost if energy with a good couple of hundred calories, and also a different flavoured drink. I had a rummage, but couldn't find the gel flask I'd been carrying - dagnammit, I'd also left my gels behind at the TA - jeez, am I some kind of rookie??!! That left me just half a bag of trail mix with some chocolate mixed in. I'd already eaten a mars bar, opting to have it early in before it became one big, melted, chocolatey mess, but now I needed something different from the nuts, and I was annoyed I'd left yet more vital foods behind.

The rocky undulating trail started to climb, and I figured this must be where we started the proper climb up into Willoughby Ridge. Things started to open up, and I was treated to more stunning views of the surrounding mountains, with wildflowers lining the trail, as well as providing a blanket of immense colour on the nearby mountainsides. There was definitely no shade, it was certainly hot, and the few people that I caught were starting to find things a little tougher now that the heat was truly kicking in.

Fun on Willoughby Ridge - PC Sinister Sports

I did pass a few people and then found myself running solo for a couple of miles. I knew we were up on the ridge, but I couldn't work out which direction we had come - things looked familiar, but it somehow felt like I was approaching in the opposite direction from The Divide 200 course. I wasn't sure, but I was thoroughly enjoying the views and was in great spirits and still feeling positive.

Another aid station checkpoint soon appeared, I took a few more nibbles and refilled bottle, and then I continued on my way.

I'd been running pretty much solo for quite a while now, but I was feeling good as was still managing to keep my energy levels up. The climbing hadn't been too bad and I was feeling happy. I started to think about how much time I had left to do things, and I calculated that I think I was still well ahead of the cut-offs. The thirty hours still seemed feasible although I didn't know what was coming over the next 15 to 30 miles - all I could do was stay positive and focused, and to keep moving forwards.

More ridge running followed, a few more rocky ups and downs, more sweat dripping into my eyes, me craving any water source where I could just lie down and soak myself through to the skin in icy cold water, but everything was still so dry and dusty.

After a while, I started a steep descent and I definitely recognised this from my 200 mile race last year. The trail weaved down the mountainside, deep trenches down the middle, and I skipped from side to side, trying to make sure I kept my balance and didn't go skidding into the holes. There was nobody around for what seemed like miles, the terrain flattened out somewhat, and I followed what was now a more sandy trail. It was the same trail where I'd seen cougar prints last year, but this time all I saw were the prints of trail shoes which came as a relief. I saw a couple of other runners ahead of me and as I caught them up, we chatted briefly before going back into our own little worlds, focusing on our race and keeping things moving.

I was still feeling pretty good, admittedly the heat and the sun were now becoming a pain, and all the sweat was attracting the bugs which were very persistent in wanting to crawl around my face, in particular up my nose and around my eyes. Their buzzing was driving me nuts, and I was flinging my arms around, trying to get rid of the pesky buggers. I was getting rather hungry again by now too, and I was craving a good cold drink and some proper food. I knew there would be a checkpoint soon once we hit the road, so I picked up the pace to get me there more quickly.

It's funny how you can go from feelings of complete isolation in a race to suddenly being surrounded by so many people, you wonder where the heck they'd come from! The last hour or so had been so quiet with no sound except the wind rustling through the bushes and my feet crunching on the gravel trail. Now, as I approached the checkpoint, there were about 15 people there, all enjoying a bit of a rest as they took advantage of the supply of food and drink. There was also the most amazing stream right next to the checkpoint, and along with others, I spent a good ten minutes just cooling off in the water. I washed my face, I soaked my feet, I washed down my arms and legs which felt so refreshing having got rid of some of the dirt and dust, and I dunked my hat and neck cooler in the water, drenching them again do that when I put them back on, that cool, mountain water trickled down my back to cool me down. I literally could have stayed there all day, submerged in that water as best I could, but I'd already taken much longer than anticipated to get to this point, and I knew I needed to get a move on.

The section after the checkpoint took us through more beautiful forest, providing some much needed shade after a couple of hours out on the ridge in full sun. It wasn't flat, more undulating, and again there were some steeper sections where maintaining balance was key. Although you don't get the same mountain vistas, I still love running on forest trails, and I was moving at a good clip, overtaking a few more people and opening up a bit of a gap.

Not for the first time today, I heard a couple of people talking about the climb just after the checkpoint. This climb was extremely steep apparently, and lasted for a good couple of kilometres. As yet, I'd not yet encountered the climb despite having left the checkpoint a good twenty minutes ago - maybe even longer - and I wondered if I'd already done it, and that folks had completely over exaggerated. Ignorance is bliss sometimes, but when I did hit that climb, boy did I know about it! I was running along at a decent enough pace despite the fatigue now building in my legs, when I suddenly came to a halt as a handful of runners were bunched up just ahead of me. I looked up and realised that the climb had started, and the steepness was causing everybody to slow abruptly as they started to walk, digging their poles into the ground whilst pushing themselves upwards. It was a narrow trail which made passing difficult, and some folks were pausing to catch their breath, allowing others to pass as best they could.

I  managed to pass about five others runners on the climb, keeping my head down and trying not to look up at what lay ahead. I was dripping with sweat, the salt stinging my eyes, my shirt sticking to me, and my sweaty hands causing my poles to slip slightly as I tried to get some grip to push myself up. It felt like baby steps, the climb was relentless, and it felt like I wasn't getting anywhere fast. I'd heard some saying that it was only about one kilometre long, but it seemed to go on for much longer, and I was drinking so much fluid as I continued to climb. After what seemed like forever, I eventually hit the top, and it was then an undulating route with some steep down sections that were once again quite slippy due to being so dry.

I knew that this leg would like take the longest, and the website said that typically people complete leg three in anything between 3 and 5 hours. I had already been going for quite some time, and whilst I was very warm and my legs were starting to feel the all the elevation, I was feeling ok. The crisps I had eaten earlier were helping, I was still tucking in to my trail mix, and I was still drinking really well - as yet, I had not experienced any nausea or lack of energy whatsoever, and I was really chuffed about that. The only problem was that I was now getting hungry, and I really needed some proper food. My tummy was starting to rumble and I was really craving an icy cold drink of coke or something.

Eventually, I arrived back at the ski slope that we'd encountered at the start of the leg, and we started to head down to the transition area. I was still playing cat and mouse with a couple of the ladies - I'd overtake them, only for them to pass me again shortly afterwards, and vice versa, but every time we passed eachother, we'd share a laugh and words of encouragement. Quite a few relay runners were also speeding past me, and I was surprised that there had been so many people still behind me at that point, especially as I hadn't exactly been pushing the pace.

The final descent was much steeper and far drier and slippery than I had thought, and it took much longer to run than I was hoping. I walked a few sections as my quads were getting quite sore from the downhills whilst the steep gradients were pushing my toes to the front of my shoes, causing some mild bruising on the big toes. Finally I could hear the music from the TA and I knew I couldn't be too far away. My mouth started watering at the thought of a beef burger and an icy cold coca cola, and I ran down that final short, steep hill and over the timing mat at the end of leg 3 with a huge smile on my face, eager to get some food inside of me before heading off in the evening to tackle leg 4 and pass the halfway stage.

Leg 4 - Saddle Mountain - 25km

Andy was of course waiting for me at the end of leg 3, and whilst there was no coke, he did have a pint of icy cold chocolate milk which I downed in seconds. I really needed to pee which reassured me that I was not dehydrated, and then I was ready for some food. Except there was no proper food, and I was terribly disappointed! It was now evening and I thought that maybe there would be burgers or meatballs, especially with it being a fairly busy aid station, but the only thing available to eat was a shrivelled up smokey that did little to curb my appetite. If allowed, Andy would have had some hot food ready for me, but the area was far too busy to be able to do that, so I had to make do with snack food again - far too much sugar and not enough savoury food. I tried not to dwell on it too much, but with another long and hilly leg coming up, where I could potentially be out there for another five hours, I really felt like I needed something more substantial to eat at that point, to keep me going for the next few hours. I drank a half bottle of flavoured fizzy water just for a different flavour, drank some pop, ate some more crisps and banana cake, refilled my bottles and restocked my supplies, before waving a Andy a cheery bye bye for the next few hours.

Heading out on leg 4, we followed the same route up the ski-hill before veering off onto some rolling hills through the forest. I was now finding the hills far more difficult and was moving up them far more slowly, and whereas earlier in the day, I had been overtaking people, now they were overtaking me. For quite a while I was running solo as the sun started to set and things started to cool down a little. I was really dusty and sweaty which was attracting the flies as dusk started to fall, and I was being driven nuts by the little devils biting at me whilst trying to swat them away at the same time. The climbing seemed to be endless, and it took me quite some time before I arrived at an open meadow full of wildflowers once again, whilst in distance, I could see the forestry road that we'd ran down earlier. I was eager to reach the road again so that I could dunk my hat and neck cooler in the river to cool down a bit. It had felt so refreshing earlier in the day, and although things were starting to cool down, I was still quite warm and really needed to feel that icy cold water on my skin again!

I spent a good five or ten minutes at the river this time, relishing the cold water, washing my arms and legs down to get rid of all the dust and dirt, and using my hat to scoop water over my head and upper body. I would likely regret getting so wet later on, especially as the temperature dipped and things got even cooler, but for now I didn't care.

I continued on my way, encountering a few more runners as I went along, some of them still moving really well, others struggling and fighting their own race battles, but everybody still being extremely friendly, sharing a smile and words of encouragement. I arrived at the same checkpoint come aid station that we'd passed through earlier, I refilled my drinks once again and grabbed another bag of crisps. The next section would once again take me on a good climb, and I wanted to be sure that I had all the energy I needed to get me through.

I'd been really excited about doing leg 4. Having done the 50 miler last year, I knew that the half way point was coming up, and I couldn't wait to join the section that I had ran last year, as I was certain that the familiarity of the course from there onwards would help to get me to the finish. I ran up the single track trail, slow but steady, still making forward progress. A few runners - mostly relay runners - passed me as the climb started, and before too long, I found myself running solo again without another runner in sight. One of the things that had surprised me so far during the race was that despite spending time on my own, my fear of a bear encounter was much more subdued compared to previous mountain races. I was enjoying those solo moments, taking in the breathtaking views and just running in the moment, although it was becoming more of a fast walk now rather than running, even on the flatter sections. 

A couple of undulating miles followed, and then a short stretch that exposed me once again to those incredible mountain vistas. Then yet another climb started .....

I think it was this climb that finished me. I could hear voices ahead of me, but I didn't seem to be catching anybody, whilst behind me I could hear voices but couldn't see anybody following me up the hill. My legs were now completely gone, and the climb was a definite struggle. I was by now at around 40 miles or more, and I was slowing quite considerably with every step. My mind was still feeling positive, my stomach had been behaving itself and I was still eating and drinking exceptionally well - but it felt like I needed far more calories, calories from proper food instead of nuts and seeds and gels and chocolate - and the frustration of not having any proper food available at the last aid station got to me again. Meanwhile, the climb got steeper, I'd think I could see the summit through the trees, but then as I turned the next switchback, I could see that I had been greatly mistaken, and the trail just seemed to keep going upwards as far as the eyes could see.

I have no idea how long it took me to get up that hill, but the voices ahead and behind never got any closer, and eventually all went quiet. I kept shuffling forward, leaning over and relying far more on my poles by now, taking a drink every 10 minutes or so and eating what I could to keep the hunger pangs at bay but to no avail.

Finally hit the summit - PC Sinister Sports

The trees seemed to thin out a bit, and there were large rocks and boulders lining the trail. It reminded a little of the Roaches back in Staffordshire, although these rocks weren't millstone grit, but the pathway and scenery reminded me so much of being back "home" at that point. It was then that I spotted a lady ahead of me, and she appeared to be really struggling. I heard her being sick quite a few times, but then she would get moving again, albeit slowly, and after trailing her I eventually caught up with her. I checked that she was ok- her tummy had completely turned and she wasn't having fun - and I felt awful leaving her to struggle by on her own, even though she told me to carry on and she would be ok. I've been in that very same boat so many times in the past and I could so relate to what she was experiencing, but I also know that I've told people to go ahead as I've not wanted to ruin their race by looking after me.

The sun was definitely setting by now, and it would soon be dark. The golden light on the mountainside looked magnificent, and I could have sat up there all night just looking out at the vast openness before me, but of course I had a job to do, and I was already falling behind on time.

Sunset in the mountains

After leaving the lady behind, the trail started to drop sharply downhill, and I was once again trying to maintain my balance on some extremely dry yet slippery sections, scrambling up, down and over large rocks as I headed down. The good news was that my legs were still moving despite being terribly achy by now, and I hadn't as yet experienced any cramping, so clearly I was taking in enough electrolytes and fluids. However, whilst I was still moving, my mind was working overtime as I tried to work out whether I would now be able to finish within the 30 hour time limit. I was moving much more slowly, my walk wasn't even a power hike anymore, and it was more like a casual stroll through the woods at night. I was also wondering where the heck the route joined the 50 mile route - I really wasn't expecting to still be running on unfamiliar trails at this point, with no sign of anything remotely recognisable ahead of me. The downhill now seemed to be following mountain bike trails, twisting and turning as I ran down, still very dusty from all the recent dry weather. I really wanted to run the downhills but my legs just weren't having it, and the slower I was moving, the more the relay runners were now catching me.

I'm not sure how long I had been moving, but finally - FINALLY! - I came to a trail that looked familiar, and I knew I was now on the 50 mile course. The trouble is that I also knew that there was still a good couple of hours running to the end of this stage, and by then, it would only leave me something like 13 hours to run that last 45 miles or whatever - it had taken me 12 hours to do the 50 miles last year, and whilst I was certain I could hit the TA cutoffs, I wasn't convinced I would hit the 30 hours cutoff. I joined the trail, my mind preoccupied with maths calculations, trying to work out speed, distance and time to get me to the finish, and was passed by about five chaps who were running together, all in great spirits, all having a great time and clearly having fun. As the mosquitoes swarmed around me, as the sweat trickled in my eyes and my quads complained about the ups and downs, I started to ponder whether I was actually still having fun. I usually love running through the night, this is my time, the time when I usually excel, but I just didn't have the enthusiasm and excitement I usually have when thinking about the night ahead on mountain trails.

I ran down another rocky section, feet slipping and sliding all over the place, and when I arrived at the small river at the bottom of the hill, I stopped to wash myself down and cool off, whilst pondering whether I really wanted to do another 40+ miles feeling the way I did. Did I have time to turn things around? If I was able to get some proper food at the next aid station, would it be enough to give me the energy to start moving more quickly again and save my race? I knew what the next few miles brought - I also knew what the remainder of the race would be like as I had ran these sections before. The bit I was dreading most was the 5km on the ATV tracks - I found that tough enough last year with the dust and the dirt and the noise - how would I cope with it tonight, given that my mind had already started to go into negative mode? And I had to run it not once, but twice. I wasn't looking forward to it. Then I figured that if I could just get through to the end of leg 5, I could do it - I just HAD to do leg 5 first. But every time I thought of leg 5, I knew I wanted to quit. I knew that I would end up walking some of it, and I was already walking far too much - I just didn't want to do it.

I arrived at the checkpoint still pondering whether to try for a finish or DNF, the volunteers being so kind and caring, saying all the right things, providing us with snacks and drinks, and more importantly bug spray! Be gone you mosquitoes...!!

The next couple of miles involved yet more climbing. The group of other runners were now way ahead of me, heading off in the growing darkness, and as I followed the trail through the forest, I took out my headtorch. I heard the snap of branches in the trees behind me and quickly turned to shine my light into the darkness - I'm not sure whether I felt relieved that I saw nothing, or more apprehensive that I had heard something that was now watching me, but I was unable to see them! I made my way up the steep climb, along the flatter wooded sections, and then arrived at the gateway that would take me on the undulating trail that in the daylight provided more incredible views of the surrounding mountains. Instead, I was now treated to views of a beautifully clear night sky, stars shining brightly alongside the moon, and the dark silhouetted outline of the mountain peaks - it still looks amazing! I went to take a drink of water, but as I reached into my backpack, I realised that I must have dropped one of my bottles on the way up. I'd already emptied my other, and right now, I just wanted some cold water rather than Skratch or Tailwind - I had taken salt tabs and didn't feel like I needed salty drinks too. But it was another 10km or so before I would see Andy and be able to refill things again - at the pace I was moving, that would be another 90 minutes at least, and even though it was now dark, it was still quite muggy and warm. 

I carried on without drinking, figuring I would be ok if I just munched on the orange I had, but my mouth was started to feel like cardboard, extremely dry without any saliva - I needed to drink. I then remembered I still had some Tailwind in a bottle tucked in my backpack, so I stopped to take it out. Unfortunately, just one small sip was enough to have me retching in the bushes, my body wanting to be sick but not having anything there to bring up - it definitely didn't want the Tailwind! Instead, I tried to eat some more food, hoping that would be enough to get the salivary glands working and putting some moisture in mouth. It helped but it was short lived, and it was back to cardboard for the next few miles.

Moonlight and mountains

A lady and a gent eventually caught me and we ran in companionable silence for a few km, stopping at water crossing to cool off and wash ourselves down. At one point, the beam of my headtorch hit a frog, and he jumped out of the way, trying to avoid being blinded by the light - I felt bad that I had not only startled him but also put him in the full beam of a torch - sorry buddy!

By now, I knew that I was only a couple of miles away from the finish of leg 4, so I sent a quick message to Andy to let him know I was contemplating a DNF. I hated admitting defeat as I only had a goal to finish the race, nothing more, but in reality, I knew I hadn't done enough mountain running, I knew the climbs would take their toll on my legs, and I was right. I was still having a mental battle with myself, still wanting a finish, but knowing that if I didn't make the 30 hour cutoff, i'd be terribly disappointed, and it would all have been for nothing. I always tell myself that I have absolutely nothing to prove to myself or anybody else, the decision to stop is mine and mine alone, and whatever others think doesn't really matter. But I hate the thought of Andy being disappointed in me or for me. Thankfully he is very understanding, and like me, he is very honest about what I can and cannot do.

The last mile or so along the road in to the transition area seemed to go on forever, but eventually I saw the welcoming lights ahead, and I sped up a little to get me there more quickly. Everybody greeted me with cheers and clapping which made me feel even worse a out wanting to quit, but I gave my thanks before scuttling into the warm area where Andy had everything prepped for me.

 I had now completed  57 miles and I had 13 hours to do the remaining 43 miles. On a flatter course, I know I could have done it, but with another 10,000 feet of climbing to do, and running that through the night on more technical trails, it was going to be tough. As I finally munched my way through some proper food consisting meatballs and perogies, and as I downed a delicious cup of hot, milky, sugary coffee, Andy and I chatted about the feasibility of still finishing. At that moment in time, I was good with stopping, and so the decision was made - I handed in my timing chip, and gave up the chase, preferring to save myself for another day, when I would be far better prepared.

Of course I was and still am somewhat disappointed by the decision- in hindsight, if I had sat at the aid station for half an hour to let the food and drink take effect, and then started to move slowly to tackle leg 5, I would have finished leg 5 and should have made the decision then as to whether I should continue or not. I wasn't feeling sick or having any tummy issues, I still needed to pee and poop, the problem was the climbs were seriously slowing me down far more than normal, and I needed to move more quickly, something I wasn't sure I would be able to do, even with a million more calories in me. It wasn't necessary the energy, but more the strength I was lacking, and on leg 4, the fun of the run had also gone.

Some people ask how I prepare myself to face my peers when I make a decision to DNF, as they feel embarrassed at the thought of it. I can't speak for others, only myself, and my view is that I have completed so many ultras in the almost 18 years I've been competing in ultra events, I don't feel like I need to prove anything, whether to myself or others. I also know myself better than anybody else - I know how my body feels, I know how my mind is dealing with things, I know how my training has gone, and what other goals I have over the coming weeks. Nobody else can speak for me as they aren't me, and whilst it's taken me a while, I have finally realised that it really doesn't matter what others think - true supporters will support your decision, no matter what.

I now have unfinished business with Sinister Seven 100-miler, and I know that I will be back to do it properly and get to that finish line. Whether that will be next year, I don't know. All I do know is that I am not getting any younger, and I hope to take advantage of my ability to continue running whilst I can for as long as I can - so long as I enjoy what I do, so long as I can compete against myself and prove myself wrong, then I will keep on trying until I finally achieve that goal.