Tough lessons on the Coniston marathon

As I write this I'm recovering at home, two days after completing my first 'official' marathon, the Lakeland Trails Coniston. I'd gone into the race with a feeling of quiet confidence - after all, I've run over a marathon in training now - but, as I'd hoped really, the whole experience taught me quite a lot. But not in the most pleasant way.

The weather has been warming up steadily for weeks now and by the time it was race day was forecast wall to wall sunshine and high twenties. No great shakes for lots of the world but for us Brits and especially those who've done all their training over a Cumbrian winter, quite a shock to the system.

So I had good reason to be glad I'd entered the 'Challenge' version of the marathon. It follows the same course but with much more generous cut off times than the more competitive 'Race' and crucially, starts 2 hours earlier at 07:00. Even so, it was already pretty warm by the time the fairly low key and rather sudden start was announced and we were off, jogging through the flat meadows towards Coniston village.

Lovely gentle start towards Coniston village

This early part of the race was crucial. Part of the reason I'd entered this event was to get some experience of running my own race and not getting carried away trying to keep up with much faster runners. So I was very happy to spend the first 7 or 8 miles up to Tarn Hows meandering along, walking the uphills and chatting to fellow runners. Many of them had the same idea as me as almost everyone I spoke to had also entered the ultra in a months time, albeit the 55km version, and were using this as a training run.

I saw Janet again at Tarn Hows (she'd been on the Yewdale bridleway to cheer me on, then walked up for this second rendevous) who had a surprise bonus of some grapes for me, very welcome. After this I realised that I'd started to overtake quite a lot of runners, not really deliberately but just through settling in to a natural pace. This continued up into Grizedale forest, along the wide tracks and through a lovely shady singletrack until we suddenly popped out of the trees high above Coniston water. This moment stopped most runners in their tracks, partly because of the view and partly because of the sudden exposure to the day's oven like heat.

Runners rather distracted by the view ...

It really was properly hot now but I felt fine and kept pushing on through the pack. I really noticed all the training I've been doing on trails paying off on the downhills, where I was able to fly down at full pelt while most of the other runners were picking their way down very gingerly. Past another feed station (there were four with snacks and a further two with just water) and I was on to the final climb to Beacon Tarn. During this I started to develop that all over glowing feeling you get when you're really too hot, so was only too pleased to dunk my head in the tarn at the top. To my surprise the marshalls there said I was one of the first to do this!

Beacon tarn - refreshing!

The marshalls also said that I'd 'reel quite a few more in at that pace' so by now all thoughts of running this at the same pace as a normal long training run had gone out of the window. After the rough descent to the last road crossing for the final few miles back along the lakeshore some spectators informed me that I could be in the top ten if I could pass 5 more people, so I carried on pushing on, pleased to discover I could still run up as well as down the many undulations in the path.

I did pass more people, all of whom were walking, and it was only within sight of the finish arena I started to feel quite odd. Pins and needles in my hands and a dizzy head led me to realize I'd not really eaten anything all race, except crisps at the feed stations and an early bit of home made flapjack. It felt wrong to stop now, but I didn't want to pass out on the finish line, so I got myself a bar out of my bag and scoffed it down with literally 500 metres to go.

Hot and bothered - coming in to the finish line

It worked, and I was able to complete the unexpected loop of the finishing area, now packed with people, in reasonable style. The results showed I came in 14th, with a time of 4hrs 53mins. To put this in perspective, the winning time was 4hrs 20mins but last year's winning time was 3hrs 37mins - a difference I'd put down entirely to the heat.

I think pretty much every runner ended up in here ...

At this moment I felt fine. Ten minutes to sit down, a quick leg soak in the lake and I was ready for a falafel and an ice cream, after which we settled down for the afternoon to cheer on all the other finishers making their way in. I don't know if the damage was already done when I finished, or whether it was the further sessions of sitting round in the sun, but it was later on after getting home and having my tea that I started to feel pretty awful. A night of vommitting and diarrhoea saw me in a very miserable state the next morning, something I'm only just recovering from now after two days off work.

So all in all a very positive experience - the run itself that is. I was pleased that I held up very well during the running, pleased that I kept to my own pace and especially pleased to do so unexpectedly well. But it's really taught me a good lesson about looking after yourself (I didn't have any hat, sunglasses or suncream on), something that will be especially important in the upcoming ultra marathon. I've seen a quote about ultras saying they're really 'just eating and drinking competitions with a little light exercise thrown in' and while I'd quibble the lightness of the exercise this whole experience has drummed home the importance of this other side of things. Get that wrong on the day and I'm toast, especially if it's as hot as this was .....

Getting the hang of it?

It's now just under two months until I undertake what will undoubtedly be the toughest physical challenge I've ever faced and attempt to complete the ultramarathon. A scary thought for sure, but while out again this last weekend for another couple of back to back long runs a strange thought occurred to me: Am I starting to get the hang of this?

Now, I'm not getting overconfident (or in fact, confident in any way). But I am finding that as I increase my long runs to even longer runs I'm beginning to enjoy it more. It certainly hurts more to keep going, but this keeping going is giving a satisfaction all of it's own. I look forward to my long runs now more than my short ones.

I discovered a while back now that I don't feel warmed up until a couple of hours in and after that I start to settle into a sort of rhythm. Not really so much of a physical rhythm, as I tend to slow down and speed up, stop to take pictures, walk up hills and eat snacks and follow interesting side paths just to see where they go, but more of a mental rhythm. Being out running for 5 hours gives your mind time to wander, then settle into a kind of moving meditation where you're just focussed on the simple act of keeping moving on. One step after the other, the minutes turn to hours and the miles slip by. 

The great curve of the Langdale valley ahead, plenty of time to get into a rhythm here ...

They don't slip by unnoticed though. I'm amazed by just how far it is possible to travel on foot, something I knew as figures - after all, everyone knows a marathon is 26 miles - but hadn't ever actually experienced. 20 odd miles feels very different when you cover ever inch of it on your own two legs. It feels epic, in a very real way.

Epic! I'm in this one, on the track right in the middle near the bottom (photo thanks to Janet)

That epic feel is also helped by the landscape I'm lucky enough to be training in of course. I mentioned in my last blog entry about exploring areas I'd not thought to visit before and exploring feels like just the right word, thanks to being on foot. As opposed to vehicular travel you notice so much more from contact with the ground and this feeling of being embedded in and part of the landscape, seeing it change around you is very addictive. It's a real joy to keep moving on and experience what's around the next corner or over the next hill, even if it's on trails I've run many times before.

So, getting the hang of it then? Well, I don't know about physically (that'll only come out on the day) but if I can keep this interest and delight in the journey this will surely give me a great chance of getting round the course.

(Almost) a marathon on the oldest trail of all

Another week away to visit family saw me running on the Ridgeway again. The last time I was here was back at the end of October and I was looking forward to revisiting the path for what I thought would be a nice easy 5 hour run after my recent outings in the far hillier Lake District.

Described as Britains oldest road, the Ridgeway has been in use for at least 5000 years as a trading route. Running along the edge of high hills which afforded both easier, drier travelling and gave a view of potential attacks it travels for 87 miles from Avebury to Ivinghoe Beacon. Luckily, in this modern age I don't have to worry about potential attacks, but I was kind of hoping for some easier and drier travelling. Sounds good!

That's one big field! 

Mostly, I got my wish. I say mostly, because I hadn't reckoned on the wind. I'm used to running in windy weather back home in the Lakes, but at least there the topography means that unless you're right on the tops there are lots of hills and valleys to break the wind up. No such luck on the Ridgeway. Not only does it stick resolutely to the escarpment edge, but the high side is largely made up of vast arable fields with only the occasional scraggy tree to get in the way. I really noticed the lack of drystone walls as well, a popular windbreak in the Lake District ...

So the beginnings of storm Katie continuously blasted my right had side for the first half of my run, only changing when I turned round for the return journey and the left got a go.

Definitely no excuse for walking here ...

I did get the wished for easier conditions underfoot, but even this had unexpected difficulties. When I run at home there are often steep hills to get up, or particularly rough areas of ground to get across. These provide a good excuse to walk for a while, giving me a break from running and an ideal time for a snack and a drink. With nothing like this on the Ridgeway I was left with no option but to keep plugging away for my whole time out, making special stops for food or drink which always felt like I needed to get going again.

Actually, it was quite good to practice this continuous movement. I've read of people who only train in hilly areas having difficulty just keeping going for long periods, but it was still surprisingly hard work.

The fantastically atmospheric entrance to Wayland's Smithy

Overall, I enjoyed the change of scenery along with the chance to revisit some of the neolithic sites dotted along the route such as Wayland's Smithy. It's this capacity of trail running to take you places on days when you wouldn't necessarily chose to go for a walk that can make it so addictive.

In the end, those easier conditions paid off and I was pleased to smash my personal furthest run by covering 24 miles - nigh on a marathon. With the return to the Lake District and those rough, hilly paths this is a distance record I expect to stand for while!

Reasons and motivations

Everyone has their reasons for entering a run like the one I've signed up for. For me, it's more than simply a physical challenge, entered out of curiosity or a need to 'push myself'.

I've mentioned before that the initial inspiration to enter came from my little sister Ruth's death from cancer. There's nothing I can do that can bring her back, but I hope that anything I raise can help Cancer Research just a little with defeating this awful disease. There's no way I would ever have entered without this worst possible turn of events and thinking of her when running helps. On longer runs when it has been starting to get tough I've been reminding myself that the pain and discomfort I'm experiencing is nothing, nothing at all, compared to what she went through. It's a hard thing to even think about, let alone to write, but it's helping me get through. Thinking these thoughts while out running have made me feel quite emotional with my still relatively short runs so I can only image the sort of mess I might well be in come the actual event. But with Ruth as my inspiration I feel determined to do this - it's an inspiration I'd give anything to not have but it's where I am.

I've run on and off through my life and I think if you've had any contact with any sport there's always a curiosity as to what it's like at the extreme end of that sport. This is a category I think it's fair to say that this run fits into and while I'm nervous and finding it tough to stick to the training and worried I might fail despite everything it's still exciting to be attempting it and it feels like something positive has come out of something that really doesn't have any positives.

It's hard as well for me to focus just on the disease and what happened to our family. I also wanted to make the run about something else as I don't think I would have the strength to carry on if it was all about the cancer. It's still too soon and it would feel like too much of a massive weight, a dark cloud hanging over me. So it occurred to me to give a percentage of anything I raise to Fix the Fells, the organisation that looks after the paths and trails of the Lake District fells.

I'm on more comfortable ground here. I've worked as a National Trust ranger for the last ten years, four years of which I spent on an upland footpath team. Now in my job at the volunteer centre High Wray Basecamp I spend a good chunk of each summer working on the fells with volunteer groups, dealing with path erosion problems as part of Fix the Fells. So I think I'm well placed to say that the upland paths need our help. Brown Tongue, just one of the three main routes up Scafell Pike can see 1000 people walk up it in a month in summer and that's just one path in one month. Multiple events, especially the three peaks charity walks, use the fells as a 'facility', but all to often nothing is given back to look after the place. I'm pleased to report the Lakeland Trails events do donate to Fix the Fells, but upland path work is underfunded and there's always more needed.

So while I'm running round in July, I'll be remembering my sister but also keeping an eye on the paths below my feet.