Classic Quarter 2013 - Ultramarathon

Classic Quarter 2013  - 44 miles Coastal Trail  

Lizard Point (southerly most point in England) - 08.06.13 - 4:58am

 

As we stand around, Vaselineing, limbering and sun tan creaming, the lightning strikes finally touch down out at sea. The world has turned a deep charcoal and a hard rain has been falling for an hour now. The starter’s orders come as if from underwater to us and with seconds to go, I place my right foot forward, as if to toe the line for a dynamic start, and a steady trickle of water beads out from my porous fell shoes as I put the weight through them.  Realising what a futile gesture this is, I adopt a more resigned, relaxed position. Looking over my shoulder at the other, some 200 hundred odd bedraggled specimens, I remind myself how far 44 miles is and of the terrain we are going to cover and rejig my race rucksack nervously. When the gun finally does sound and with the lightening beating on the waves of the English Channel to our left harder than ever now, it was with a somewhat chastened approach that I set off.

 

I chuntered along at what seemed like a steady old pace for the first few miles whilst the day which seemed in serious danger of returning into a nocturnal slumber was intermittently shocked back into life by the vertebrae of electricity that spread itself across the sky. I had set off in the lead group of roughly ten runners and over the next 15miles, another ten runners overtook me.  Bottling up the irrational urge to push on, I reassured myself that I was running my own race and that, if they had got it wrong, I would by hunting them down in the second half of the race.  I separated from the chasing group as we approached Loe Bar; an exposed and very beautiful stretch of deposited sand and gravel interspersed with grasses that separates Loe Pool from the Atlantic and watched them dance off across it, some 300 meters ahead.

 

With a refill of water in my hydration system, I climb out of the still sleeping fishing village of Porthlleven, laid siege to by the passing storm, passing one car with its windscreen wipers beating a faster BPM than my own. I cross a stile and, seeing a decent fast and flat section infront, covered only by a thin veneer of water I stride out, more eager now to not lose any placing. This is when it happens. A spasm in my leg is the first I know of it and then a big splashing noise. The puddle gives way and proves itself to be a 5foot trench engulfed with water. I should have known better. The course gets meaner here. Snaking harder; rising more aggressively and disguising its contours in unsavoury insidious ways which nearly devoured me. I am aware of my breathing for the first time and watch as my chest sends ripples across the water, as it rises and falls. I marvel at the incongruous sensation of being afloat suddenly, bobbing silently now. The stench of the pete is strong and my leg feels stiff and strange like when you have taken a step down but find that you are already at the bottom of the stairs. I breast stroke to the bank.

 

Tin mines pepper the coast line now as I approach Prussia Cove. Here there comes a headland like a crocodile’s snout which leads you out on a one way peninsula to the Atlantic. Knowing from my reece that this is not the way to go and baring my own teeth, I look out at the view that is afforded for this first time, across Mount’s Bay to Michael’s Mount and Marazion, Penzance beyond, Mousehole and then, well enough, towards Land’s End and the finish. I find my sunglasses still attached to my hat and pull them down over my eyes; the first rays of sunshinenow breaking through the clouds and feel warmth spread up my back for the first time. There are 24 miles to go and I have plenty left in the tank: it’s time to give it some beans.

 

3:42 I go through halfway and I can’t ask for better than that. As I come though, Richard and a girl who I didn’t catch the name of, shout my name and cheer me on.  That was really nice of them as they barely knew me but for a brief conversation in the campsite the night before, yet it made me feel really great. The station is super crowded and a little chaotic but the marshal who records my dibber tells me I am in tenth position. I also open here my secret weapon race snack of salted and roasted whole almonds and stash a whole assortment of other goodies into my bumbag. I let out a little ‘WHOOOP!’ of excitement as I leave the aid station, which was probably terribly cheesy, but at that moment it felt right to be greeting the next leg of this journey in this way.

 

Now comes 11 miles of pretty much flat before a final push of a further 11 miles on much more broken terrain to the finish. This is where I planned to capitalise and although I only caught one runner, what happened later makes me think that I made good ground on the others here.  Marazion could do with a marshall or two I think as I weave in between cars as everybody is waking up now. Quick stretch of sand dune. Then its all road for five miles. Penzance goes past. Then Mousehole before a 2 mile stretch of pretty technical rock hopping to the next check point.

 

The marshal at the checkpoint was a dude and laughed as I ingested one of the energy ‘shots’, declared it disgusting and then chugged another.  There was a runner just infront who was in 8th place and I set off to track him down. Immediately, I was taking my weight in my upper body and reduced to a very slow speed as I manoeuvred between rocks, sidestepped and generally tried to maintain forward progress without twisting my ankle.  After passing and asking several groups of walker, I hoped that I might just be closing in on the next runner, but this came with a warning: ‘She’s a girl’ they said ‘and she is moving very fast.’  My legs I could feel were also still gnawing on almonds or oat cakes rather than just that horrible glucose caffeine crap and I managed to hold a good pace on the intermittent flat sections that we rolled through. Increasingly now, whilst it was flat, the path was completely obscured, however, by tall grasses that lapped at your feet with a soothing swishing sound but which simultaneously hid insidious rocks and unseen undulations.  To maintain a good pace it was blind faith at times that the footing was good that kept you moving along.

 

It’s very easy to slack off at points like this I imagine in long trail races when you don’t know how far infront the next person is. You might be charging on at what you think is a strong effort but they are still moving away from you. This expense of this could be a complete blow up at the finish and you could lose minutes or even position by the dozen.  Making a game of it, I tried however as I approached each incline to tell myself ‘the runner you are chasing won’t have run this bit, so RUN it!’ After what seemed like a very long time for someone who I was assured was only minutes ahead of me, I reeled her in.

 

The last 6 miles from the water stop at the very long awaited Portcurno were mentally very tough. My legs were still ticking over nicely but for the next two miles I floated along, more mentally exhausted than physically and this really started to show itself when I took a wrong turn and ended up running back past Lizzie, the female runner I had worked hard to overtake. I had been concentrating for seven hours now. And really concentrating. The scenery had been flowing by and frequently I had been looking around me. The weather had been in revolution around me too and the brooding and atmospheric thunder storm that I had run through, to the brilliance of the light that was now reflecting up off the now calm sea, was a reminder of how long I had been out for. I wanted to finish for the first time, and, as this thought came to me, with three miles to go, I saw for the first time the buildings at Land’s End and the finish.

 

It was around this same time that I took stock of my physical condition. My bag smelled from its complete submersion earlier in the day; growing fetid now in the full glare of the sun. My skin was starting to feel tender from the beating rays that were coming down as hard as the rain had once fallen. My hands were sticky from where I had taken to dipping a finger into my electrolyte pond (which had formed in my bumbag after the rainwater had caused them to fizz together creating a crazy melting pot of toxic colour and proportions) which I would then stick in my mouth and dilute and swallow once mixed with a swig of water. My body was still holding together and I remember feeling very thankful for this. Appraisal complete; I caught site of 4th place. Finding myself surprisingly close all of a sudden to him I locked in with my game of running what he wasn’t.  Dipping like a maniac still into my electrolyte broth and brandishing a purple finger before gobbling down its residue to the last, I tried to chase him down.

 

There was less than a kilometer to go now but he still hadn’t seen me. Some walkers who must only have seen the spectacle at the finishing line to understand the crazed plight of the specimens before them stopped to clap as we went past and then he knew the race was on. I thought this would really kick him into life and the game was up because I’m a good one for always imagining that everyone else has always got more left in the tank.  I kept at it though and on the next rise out of a small cove I forged on running when he slowed to a walk and allowed myself to think that I might just have him. It was close to the finishing line now and we passed a woman, me some 10metres behind him who shouted ‘you are racing for 3rd place, go guys GO!’

 

Putting all thoughts of cramp to the back of my mind I opened it up as much as I knew how and shooting warning pains sparked up in my legs immediately. I knew that this could be really costly even with just two hundred metres to go to the line now, but I thought that a place on the podium was worth it. I was huffing and chuffing with deep desperate intakes of wild breath as I drew level and I felt the electrolyte solution foaming slightly at the edges of mouth like some rabid wild donkey as I moved past. Sofia, who had caught sight of me because of the way this sudden injection of energy had caused my already eccentric running style to turn spasmodic, ran down the grass bank to the trail and ran alongside me with wonderful encouragement which made me feel teary and wild eyed with the wonder of it all.  I was so happy that she was there at the end, especially after we had spent three days of our holiday walking the start of the course and even though we didn’t do the whole thing together, it felt complete. I reached the finish seconds later and a marshal wrestled my dibber into the slot; me too breathless, too exhausted, too emotional to do anything. I stumbled around for a few seconds, hands behind my head sucking in breath and considered the preposterousness of an all-out sprint finish for the line after some 44miles and 7hours 39minutes on the trail.

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Land’s End (westerly most point in England) - 08.06.13 – 2:04pm

I enjoyed being at the finish whilst the runners came in and the coincidence of a practice cliff top rescue by a hovering helicopter some 30 metres away and a wedding with its music spilling out to fight the propeller blades’ roar from the nearest building, made for a rather surreal marriage of events.

 

I was fourth overall and third in the men’s race as another girl who stormed ahead in the first 11mile leg came home 2nd in the overall standings. I think it is inspiring and indeed fascinating that women in these events come so close, or even out outperform 99% of men, as was the case in this field. 

 

This morning, before pulling my finger out and writing this first entry of what I hope to be many entries to this new blog, I was already online and looking for the next race. I’ll hold on for a few days I think and see what comes my way. Overall what I liked most about this event was the journey. I liked being out in it all day long: drinking it all in great big greedy gulps. It’s an indulgent thing to run all day and I’m very thankful to my kind friends Kakay and Andrew who helped me make the journey, Sofia for coming along for the whole ride and the very generous people at Wellsway School who sponsored me and who raised funds for Cornish Hospice Care.