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 :)