tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30119888229966876262024-03-18T21:03:50.847-07:00The Green BeanStories from trails. From Chile to the UK.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-16678881420649468112015-07-03T08:21:00.002-07:002015-12-14T11:50:29.611-08:00Climbing for the Climate - 31,000m in July - UPDATES<div style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for checking in!</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">All further updates on the matt-maynard<a href="https://www.facebook.com/GreenBeanTrails?ref=hl"> author page</a> </span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">or </span></b><b><span style="font-size: large;">via the Twitter feed @greenbeantrails or linked </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">through the website <a href="http://matt-maynard.com/">matt-maynard.com</a></span></b></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-77462045611550474292015-07-03T08:16:00.002-07:002015-07-03T08:18:17.730-07:00Latest GreenBeanTrails Publication<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
- TrailRun Mag Australia and New Zealand -</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vbo8FFg1-jYfUFulDGqAJKLKHVpUIL4nZM7SBB4msAD9YlXxN-dFBTyQ5eaEVPTYloLepSuw6ITh_ECcWh8y04T3tTl6ReHl7gfwv8IeB6dKIIPCoxF0YXgNrrzRr0ErZYV_Ms_DDIM/s1600/TrailRun+Magazine+Frontispiece.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vbo8FFg1-jYfUFulDGqAJKLKHVpUIL4nZM7SBB4msAD9YlXxN-dFBTyQ5eaEVPTYloLepSuw6ITh_ECcWh8y04T3tTl6ReHl7gfwv8IeB6dKIIPCoxF0YXgNrrzRr0ErZYV_Ms_DDIM/s640/TrailRun+Magazine+Frontispiece.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-86347059164745730292015-07-03T07:34:00.002-07:002015-07-03T19:46:18.463-07:00Climbing for the Climate - 31,000m in July<h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;">- A Commitment to Clean Air -</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsL0ZQYtLmA4A7ALb_l3HUV4Cetev88Cw4BpjSiqTouiIooLH0me7Ge3aVZLpIhba6latgdqUcQ7bWfBqwomXBhjtE72C9vn_XToJGxFJXOqmPO-0S_n8XLbwM1XH7JnII5lTSX4BO8o/s1600/Santiago+without+smog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDsL0ZQYtLmA4A7ALb_l3HUV4Cetev88Cw4BpjSiqTouiIooLH0me7Ge3aVZLpIhba6latgdqUcQ7bWfBqwomXBhjtE72C9vn_XToJGxFJXOqmPO-0S_n8XLbwM1XH7JnII5lTSX4BO8o/s640/Santiago+without+smog.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rare clear winter's day after rain in Santiago</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">This week I started a challenge which I'm not sure I'll be able to complete...</span></b><br />
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<b><u>The Background</u></b></div>
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I’ve been running for 8months now in the mountains surrounding my home in Santiago, Chile. It’s mid winter here and it’s rained only twice since I arrived. The ski fields are dry and my lips are cracking in the thin air up at 1,000m, where we live. </div>
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Santiago suffers badly from air pollution and is one of the worst capital cities in South America on this index. The colder temperatures of winter presses this contaminated air down into the lowest altitude reaches of the city, where the poorest people live: Their babies, small children and elderly being admitted to hospital each June and July with respiratory related conditions.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8n7nYUM3XAwD8R-3EmtR9H3kWbjI6XsFW5iKv_B5Pny_alUrzRyNQ2qUlgB8HbD9cb2DtlTGDvRvsIrhnYqI8vNKRHrrUrGv2DAv0dZoli1M6TyhE4I4EJJpRBux0rxxe4kwo6fXtBw/s1600/santiago-smog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8n7nYUM3XAwD8R-3EmtR9H3kWbjI6XsFW5iKv_B5Pny_alUrzRyNQ2qUlgB8HbD9cb2DtlTGDvRvsIrhnYqI8vNKRHrrUrGv2DAv0dZoli1M6TyhE4I4EJJpRBux0rxxe4kwo6fXtBw/s400/santiago-smog.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px; text-align: start;">"...Babies, small children and elderly being admitted to hospital <br />each June and July with respiratory related conditions."</span></td></tr>
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The Andes mountains that sweep around the city, blocking the free flow of air, are part of the reason for the contamination. Other problems are the industry that has been allowed to take a grip in the heart of the city, the insufficient provision of quality public transport, the lack of bike lanes and the poor recycling infrastructure. </div>
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The government, the President; Michelle Bachelet and the Environmental Minister; Pablo Badenier Martínez have a lot to answer for.</div>
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But it doesn’t stop there….There’s an even bigger culprit really.</div>
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<b><u>The role of the individual</u></b></div>
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The singular acts of individuals, will be the main reason for the reduction in contamination in this city. The energy, effort and commitment involved in my climbing challenge, won’t do anything to change the air quality in Santiago. It does, however, show a parallel to the strength of mind needed to take seriously our commitments and responsibilities with the environment. </div>
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Choosing a smaller car, to share a lift to work, to eat just vegetables once a week, to recycle all the shit we buy, to take life slower and arrive by bike - these are the changes that are needed - regardless of whether you believe the man on the other side of the fence is making the same effort. S<span style="text-align: justify;">uch proactively is what draws the line between negligible and nothing. You can’t build on nothing but a lot of negligible eventually makes a difference.</span><br />
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<b><u>The Challenge</u></b></div>
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This month I will try to climb 31,000m above the city - 1,000m of elevation gain each day - to draw awareness to the tragic irony in Santiago that we breathe better when we escape into the thin air, and to show the level of effort needed to try and combat such a problem.</div>
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So I’m going into the mountains this month: to breathe some better air; to take pictures of the contamination and have a personal stab at making a difference. </div>
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There are some great people who already are keen to join in but I appreciate that climbing mountains isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. You can follow the challenge at <span style="color: #6aa84f;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/GreenBeanTrails?ref=hl">GreenBeanTrails on Facebook</a> </span>each day where there are pictures; data from the running App Strava and snippets of info about we can make changes on a personal level to reducing our waste, cutting our emissions and doing our bit.<br />
Share with #nosmog<br />
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Happy Trails. Matt Maynard. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-87396282353306919552015-07-02T17:49:00.003-07:002015-07-03T19:32:11.132-07:0031,000m Sobre Nuestra Contaminación En Julio - UPDATES<div class="p1">
<b>Un Compromiso al Aire Limpio</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJVnxEzI0LXR-T_LnYIPovuW65wQgxyw5E2dkiB966I3olWFL4OSykifT0gXX2pxRI5MfdRT25XmsuTggf14SdzezUzb0CU9CZrjbVgxOlpN0cfifW9hnj32FHDXYTved0V4pEnJtI4k/s1600/photo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: black; float: right; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJVnxEzI0LXR-T_LnYIPovuW65wQgxyw5E2dkiB966I3olWFL4OSykifT0gXX2pxRI5MfdRT25XmsuTggf14SdzezUzb0CU9CZrjbVgxOlpN0cfifW9hnj32FHDXYTved0V4pEnJtI4k/s320/photo+1.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><u>Day 3 </u></b>(Mas información abajo este post)<br />
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casa- observatorio - Pochoco - Pochocon - casa<br />
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<br /><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: small; line-height: normal;">Metros ganados hoy 897 Metros en Total 2,973</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJDy0T3B3JL7RSRJ9H6UYgIAPIu3OuYvePjmosW5L1TDTsZdavnwU3XEurlX2y9tB4eboyLAUJttyIJZ5y3MqNIPwJ-EvRfZ7dPfzHfPEEw6XMLqUx2Uth48XxXzrU31jAoYfmbd7NDKo/s1600/photo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: black; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJDy0T3B3JL7RSRJ9H6UYgIAPIu3OuYvePjmosW5L1TDTsZdavnwU3XEurlX2y9tB4eboyLAUJttyIJZ5y3MqNIPwJ-EvRfZ7dPfzHfPEEw6XMLqUx2Uth48XxXzrU31jAoYfmbd7NDKo/s320/photo+2.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
https://www.strava.com/activities/338479987</div>
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<b><u>Day 2 </u></b><br />
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Hoy día corrí a camino Las Varas desde mi casa y después subí hasta la canal en la falda de Alto Naranjo. Caminé un poco de la subida...estoy cachando que seria un desafío bastante difícil!<br />
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Tomé este foto a la 4:10 del smog<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOrMSQw1hurTOdHX4BupO9luxMSHUNq0Nqj_86nD1enFIEe1HbJpxxvMuUH5EQDxu9zlbXTX6uUDW_xYVbfSzmn8mYz9o2SJp7rFSRf6nXUNvCuaYvTSDUuUPETrq4jQLYtsrV3_-7zQ/s1600/DSCF5001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOrMSQw1hurTOdHX4BupO9luxMSHUNq0Nqj_86nD1enFIEe1HbJpxxvMuUH5EQDxu9zlbXTX6uUDW_xYVbfSzmn8mYz9o2SJp7rFSRf6nXUNvCuaYvTSDUuUPETrq4jQLYtsrV3_-7zQ/s640/DSCF5001.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Metros ganados hoy 1,014 Metros en Total 2,076<br />
<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/337922528">https://www.strava.com/activities/337922528</a><br />
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<u><b>Day 1</b></u><br />
<span class="s1"><br /></span>Hoy día subí el Pochoco por una ruta poco usado. Al medio día había todavía había una vista linda de Farallones, Colorado y El Plomo. </div>
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Metros ganados hoy 1,061 Metros en Total 1,601<br />
<a href="https://www.strava.com/activities/337013732">https://www.strava.com/activities/337013732</a><br />
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<span class="s1"><br /></span><span class="s1">Seria buenísimo si lo compartes </span>por <a href="https://www.facebook.com/GreenBeanTrails?ref=hl">Facebook</a> y describes tus propios intentos de bajar la contaminación en nuestra ciudad a Greenbeantrails! #nosmog</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-49535711536616622502015-07-01T19:25:00.002-07:002015-07-03T19:47:32.277-07:0031,000m Sobre Nuestra Contaminación En Julio <div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b>- Un Compromiso al Aire Limpio -</b></span><br />
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<span class="s1">Hoy dia empezé un desafío para el mes de julio. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Normalemente salgo a correr todos los días en las montañas de Chile - mi pais adoptado. Disfruto la sensación de dejar mi trabajo y mis preocupaciones “reales” por un rato y salir hacia las cumbres y el cielo.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Este invierno, sin embargo, entiendo que el smog esta peor que nunca. Hoy es la décima pre emergencia por mala calidad del aire. El gobierno Chileno impidió a 1,350 industrias funcionar y hay restricciones de auto y de estufas a leña... </span></div>
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<span class="s1">…Hasta cuando? Esta media es para una ciudad en plena crisis - no hace nada para mejorar la raiz del problema…Estoy llegando al meollo del asunto ahora</span></div>
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<span class="s1">El Ministro del medio ambiente; Pablo Badenier Martínez, y la presidenta de la República de Chile; Michelle Bachelet, necesitan tomar la responsabilidad y hacer los cambios necesarios para mejorar la causa del problema con las industrias, el reciclaje y formas de transportare sustentable. </span></div>
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<span class="s1">Pero también esta en nuestras manos. Es demasiado fácil quejarse del smog. Pero somos la causa también….</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Este mes, voy a subir 1,000m metros cada día por los senderos en las faldas de Santiago. Mi intención es escapar del smog y llamar la atención a la tristeza y grande ironía que respiramos mejor en nuestra ciudad a mas altura - donde hay menos aire.</span></div>
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<span class="s1">Subir una montaña no es una opción para todos, pero igual yo espero que este desafío muestre un poco la determinación y convicción que necesitamos para realizar cambios duraderos y significativos para combatir este problema que hemos creado. Ojalá te inspire usar un auto más chico, compartir un auto a la pega, dejar de comer carne una ves a la semana, andar en bici, reciclar o salir a pie a buscar tus propias aventuras. </span><br />
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<span class="s1">Seria buenísimo si compartes </span>por <a href="https://www.facebook.com/GreenBeanTrails?ref=hl">Facebook</a> a GreenBeanTrails tus propios intentos de bajar la contaminación en nuestra ciudad a Greenbeantrails!</div>
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<span class="s1">Matt Maynard - GreenBeanTrails</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-86134308524402829432015-06-22T09:53:00.003-07:002015-06-22T13:32:36.406-07:00Iron Man - A compelling urge for ice cream and to make ourselves exhausted<div style="background-color: white; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qlSKBFJ6dK3G9jFYeIOcQOmA-cjTVWc86wszlzgibIu1V1mkr5OR_nSWadXG9ebuKeRFOgtFN53jJWttp_shYnOm21nAYmGXDKGXbSb65CnZ3MfWdclh80Ad1owmu6R4YJtoFVQZqvo/s1600/James+Donald.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qlSKBFJ6dK3G9jFYeIOcQOmA-cjTVWc86wszlzgibIu1V1mkr5OR_nSWadXG9ebuKeRFOgtFN53jJWttp_shYnOm21nAYmGXDKGXbSb65CnZ3MfWdclh80Ad1owmu6R4YJtoFVQZqvo/s200/James+Donald.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This weekend is Iron Man France.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the lesser known British competitors making the trip across the Manche, is the Bath based triathlete James Donald. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This will be Donald's second time of competing the Iron distance that includes a 2.4mile swim, 112miles on the bike and a marathon run of 26.2 miles. His aim is for a finishing time of sub 11hours which would put him amongst the top 20% of the 2014 finishers.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">The 32 year old runner - known for his </span>electric<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> range of headbands, his constrictive clothing collection and his "recovery food" Christmas Cake stash that lasts him through 'til June each year - has had an incredible run of form leading up to the event.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Inside the magic training window (10-6 weeks) before the race, James clocked no less than four marathon or greater distances over each of the consecutive weekends. The first three of which included a 2:39min PB at the London Marathon, </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2nd place at the Marlborough Downs 33mile ultra-marathon and a 40 mile off-road training run through the night along the Costwold Way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">A runner by nature, Donald looks these days to the Ironman distance however, because his overriding penchant for pain demanded that he pushed himself for longer. "</span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">It used to be that <span class="il">long</span> marathon training runs did the job" he said "but unfortunately I'm finding the better I get, the more I need to do to feel the same type of </span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">exhaustion."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite not adhering to any normal standards for enjoyment, the pain Donald experiences, however, is clearly distinct for him from suffering. His training is time for himself and he described that finding the time to </span><span style="color: red; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">"</span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">zone out" and think about "nothing </span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">is pretty much the aim of </span><span class="il" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;">long</span><span style="font-family: arial, sans-serif;"> solo sessions."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nor is James one of those robot athletes who finds all things equal, admitting he finds it difficult to commit even handedly to all three triathlon disciplines. Of his pool sessions he stated, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I never really enjoy them;" his Twitter account reflecting this, in his terse and typically modest profile: "</span><span style="color: #292f33; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cycle a bit, run a bit, swim as little as I can get away with."</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJuW0bMTd0lStzlo-Lmkhrdm-c8-CEUc9cRsf90tBM1NpndPM2-SjuiRbDpCRUZmASEBCcl7SzIEq9AgYfBsPt_C5HQGLQwhd6w-eWIL2oWiV7ZwxT731BhxnZI6v5S_dGEzwTHmoIXaM/s1600/James+bike+gear+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJuW0bMTd0lStzlo-Lmkhrdm-c8-CEUc9cRsf90tBM1NpndPM2-SjuiRbDpCRUZmASEBCcl7SzIEq9AgYfBsPt_C5HQGLQwhd6w-eWIL2oWiV7ZwxT731BhxnZI6v5S_dGEzwTHmoIXaM/s320/James+bike+gear+2.jpg" width="233" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">This partiality for the two dry events of the triathlon, was reflected </span><span style="color: #222222;">at the Arun River Marathon in mid May: T</span><span style="color: #222222;">he final consecutive weekend of his intensive Iron Man preparation. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">Despite the accumulated exhaustion in his legs, he cycled the 112mile distance to the event's start through the Costwolds Hill and the South Downs on his favoured steed "Jake II." After a brief night's sleep, he then went on to complete the undulating run in a time of 3hr16min - taking 1st place. Donald stopped to comment that the win had been "</span><span style="color: #222222;">a real psychological boost ” - before</span><span style="color: #222222;"> quietly slipping away for the Iron distance cycle back home to Bath - The trophy stuffed neatly up his cycling vest.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">These four intensive weeks of preparation in May would leave many athletes exhausted. Donald however seemed unfazed: </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">“Overall I'm not feeling too bad, but </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I’m definitely ready for a few light weeks now! That, and eating a lot!' he quipped.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;">By any normal persons' standards, <a href="https://www.strava.com/athletes/1959801">his Strava</a> training log, with its stark absence of rest days following this intensive training block - would be the tell-tale sign of an athlete on the road to burnout, injury or even chronic fatigue. Donald seems to be made of something else however. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">His Twitter feed still burbles along this week with positive reports in the final build up to the race:</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #292f33; line-height: 22px; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Rather enjoying my </span><a class="twitter-atreply pretty-link js-nav" dir="ltr" href="https://twitter.com/Ironman_France" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: red; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #ff6666;">@</span>Ironman_France</a><span style="color: #292f33; line-height: 22px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> taper; I've only just left home for the pool and don't get knackered going up stairs!</span><span style="line-height: 22px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #222222;">"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe his secret to success is all the ice cream he eats. Or the beer on Thursday night that keeps him straight. Or just the deep pleasure he takes in carving himself out so regularly and in good company amongst the hills and earthy valleys of the Costwold Hills surrounding his home in Bath. Whatever it is, he will certainly be giving a lung-busting performance on the appropriately named </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Titillium-Regular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Promenade des Anglais, in Nice t</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">his coming Sunday.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And when it's finished...You can be sure he will be thinking about his next adventure - The Costwold 100mile foot race this September...well, that and the cornucopia of of croissants he will undoubtedly be </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">working</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> his way through, on the Eurostar</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> home.</span></div>
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<a href="http://jdultrasport.wordpress.com/">Read more on James's shared blog</a> <span style="color: #38761d;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">By </span><a href="http://greenbeantrails.com/what-we-offer/?lang=en"><span style="color: #38761d;">GreenBeanTrails - Adventure Media</span> </a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-7871067996896418872015-05-07T09:20:00.001-07:002015-07-03T08:32:34.905-07:00Why I’m not voting for myself in the UK general election <div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I believe that in 50 years time I will have grandchildren who will ask me “Did you vote for me?”</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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Today I hope to, by voting for the Green party.</div>
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I am not voting for the leader of the Green Party Natalie Bennett to be our next Prime Minister. Nor am I voting because I have been drawn in by the party’s policies of ‘Robin Hood’ taxation, looking after the elderly a bit more or putting the queen in a council house. I’m not even sure that I would want my local Green MP to represent my views in Westminster during the next Parliament. Frankly, I’m not really sure she is up to the job. She is still going to get my vote though and this is why…</div>
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The idea that the Green Party, in its current state, should have national polices in a First Past the Post political system, seems a little strange to me. There was one Green MP in the last parliament. Caroline Lucas representing Brighton Pavilion had her chance to share Green policy in a national forum for 5 years whilst representing the views of her constituents. This was a first for the Green Party - this was excellent progress. She wasn’t however called into an emergency meeting of the Cabinet ministers when they were deciding what to do about Bashar al-Assad or deciding funding arrangements for the NHS or discussing Trident nuclear weapons. She didn’t have a say in that - lest we forget.</div>
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By voting Green - you are no less putting the country in imminent risk of financial or geo-political meltdown as you are in thinking that doing your recycling every week and becoming vegetarian will immediately halt the march of climate change. </div>
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The Green Party and voting Green isn’t about immediate results. And unless you maybe live in parts of Brighton, or Bristol or perhaps Norwich you are more than likely to be on the “losing team” when the votes are counted. </div>
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However, like recycling on a very small scale - even when many around you don’t seem to be making the same effort - such proactively is what draws the line between negligible and nothing. You can’t build on nothing but a lot of negligible eventually makes a difference.</div>
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Nobody is going to be walking out of No.10 with a green tie anytime soon. The Green Party’s core concept - the environment and sustaining it for future generations - (which I hope they still stand for) is a theme that unlike austerity or immigration or health care, will not ebb and flow. It will only become more and more prominent. </div>
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The elephant in the room has still not got everyone’s attention however, and it will be a few more elections yet before vast swathes of the population make determined decisions about their choice of MP based on the threat we pose to the environment.</div>
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It currently saddens me therefore that the Green Party have been drawn into a sphere that is not currently one they need to be involved in. Some of the comments in their campaign have at times been like watching an episode of that old programme “faking it” , as they have got a bunch of passionate environmentalists to try and pass themselves off as construction workers or nurses - just by pulling on a bunch of boiler suits or scrubs. </div>
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I hope the Green’s were just trying to play it smart. I hope that they aren’t watering down their position as the only party with a core policy that extends the reach of a 5-year term. I hope that their stab at national policy is just pandering to the illogical need some groups have for them to present themselves a legitimate party ready to form the next government.</div>
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I’ll be voting green because, in the future, the starkness with which we will look back on these indecisive times with regard to the environment, will be in the same light that we marvel at why it took so long for women to get the vote or for Rosa Parks to be able to take a seat wherever she liked on a city bus. </div>
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I’ll be voting green, wearing the same hat I do my recycling in: Making a small, almost insignificant difference now. Waiting for the momentum to gather. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-5292673512455514692015-05-04T11:08:00.000-07:002015-06-22T06:21:34.791-07:00Latest Adventure Media / Prensa en Inglés de Deportes Aventura <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; font-size: small; line-height: 32px; text-align: start;">- The Great Divide Mountain Bike Route 4,000km -</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: -apple-system-font; line-height: 32px; text-align: start;"> - Outdoor Fitness</i><span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; line-height: 32px; text-align: start;"> </span><span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 32px; text-align: start;">Magazine UK -</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: -apple-system-font; font-size: small; line-height: 32px; text-align: start;">Mayo 2015 </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-family: -apple-system-font; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">- Andes Infernal -</span></div>
<div style="font-family: -apple-system-font; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">- </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Ultra Running</i> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Magazine USA-</span></div>
<div style="font-family: -apple-system-font; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Abril 2015</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumBLUWFl7zpbBMqHO6fF76BHnQGGztZIMPcfniBzwMpCh01rjkewzKcH22HV5r23tssfCkvqglHyzgDiQuPGCE5kP1SziMGpfeztJUbUPRVhYfebqt2SgNrkuRFHKw2ebOmvY73EoGJc/s1600/Ultra+Running+Magazine+March+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiumBLUWFl7zpbBMqHO6fF76BHnQGGztZIMPcfniBzwMpCh01rjkewzKcH22HV5r23tssfCkvqglHyzgDiQuPGCE5kP1SziMGpfeztJUbUPRVhYfebqt2SgNrkuRFHKw2ebOmvY73EoGJc/s640/Ultra+Running+Magazine+March+2015.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: large;">- Vulcano Ultra Trail 80k -<br />- <i>Ultra Running</i> Magazine USA -<br /> Marzo 2015</span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-44518470027901634902015-04-22T13:11:00.000-07:002015-05-04T10:57:47.673-07:00Ultra Fiord 70miles - 2nd place<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica; text-align: justify;">
The heat had finally burnt out of the South American summer. With 6 weeks until Ultra Fiord, I could finally run in the mountains after sunrise and not have to return home to a saline drip. The path that I had been gently teasing open in the mountain above our home, was now in a runnable condition and I added it to the selection box of training runs that I was now cherry picking through on a weekly cycle. To close even the shortest loop however here in the foothills of the Andes, involved never less than 1,000m of ascent and it left my UK Kelston Round Hill loop choking in the dust and cactus.</div>
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I had decided to target the inaugural Ultra Fiord in Chilean Patagonia because it was being held by the same race director who organises the Patagonia Expedition Race - once heralded by National Geographic as “The last wild race.” There were whisperings coming up from the south about glacier travel, of swimming across rivers and of puma sightings. It was something I wanted to be a part of. The flight from Santiago to Puntas Arenas took us from the equivalent latitude of Morocoo to the Pennines and yet we still weren’t at the bottom of the country. I watched however as the Santiaginos got off the plane and shivered in the cold. On the runway, I reassured myself I was coming home.</div>
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The 3,000m tomb stone granite pinnacles of the Torres del Paine were largely submerged in cloud on race day as the night begrudgingly gave way to day. Runner’s head torches were still reflecting off the first few race markers lining the course infront of the start line. Another three thousand of these stretched out over 70miles of forest, mountains, glaciers and barren tundra - some of which, 5 months previously when the race was first conceived, had never been travelled before. </div>
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Two Catalan men from the Asics Team and the Frenchman <span style="background-color: white;">Xavier Thevenard - 2013 </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">winner of the UTMB - set a wicked starting pace. Fortunately they were in the 70k race however, that was being simultaneously held, and I checked the other race numbers nervously to try to stay at the front of the star studless 70mile event.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">The Brazilian Fernando Nazário beat me to the the first river crossing at mile 2 but rather than charge across I decided to slow down, ensure my race pack was held high above my head and not compromise my </span>chances<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> by deteriorating so early into discomfort and fatigue.</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Helvetica;"> </span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Over the next 20miles the rain came down hard. I passed a lot of distressed 100miles runners who had run an extra 9hours though a wet night before we had even started. Many of them became hypothermic in the slow conditions dictated by the deep mud and DNFd at the next aid station.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoiJHjJZmjqpgPvjUROH2KVVZd4dwmUvjDWZ7GyPaVEDlS_lFk_u0MW4JhWZF3Dqs1CEAUXbzg62neBkETefP1uCosUWdEphYtCvBhmLG-xemJt8oYhNHTbJl_y2UwApePIno3A35bD7k/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-20+at+15.50.39.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoiJHjJZmjqpgPvjUROH2KVVZd4dwmUvjDWZ7GyPaVEDlS_lFk_u0MW4JhWZF3Dqs1CEAUXbzg62neBkETefP1uCosUWdEphYtCvBhmLG-xemJt8oYhNHTbJl_y2UwApePIno3A35bD7k/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-04-20+at+15.50.39.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">I then remember sitting on the ground outside the aid tents, pouring water and pebbles out of my shoes for the fourth time in the race. A photographer pushed a banana into my mouth. A volunteer emerged with my drop bag from the tent and took a knife to my tangled drawstring bag to free my waterproof trousers. I then set off running, pot noodle in hand along the jet black pebbled shore of the rain riddled lake.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicERMe2kw0HKfwEPYzNUDUhPhYph3gyQH94GtXlyfgKzwGglEWWVuow4ebY-_sHxrlj_tD5tWGBd7IH7DpybQtbg9egN2tzTMu2ufL0tX3ToEZeqOtqtWCOV4_UrhWWIacG5GEEFrvSNw/s1600/11083922_902110019852827_8782040831258038160_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicERMe2kw0HKfwEPYzNUDUhPhYph3gyQH94GtXlyfgKzwGglEWWVuow4ebY-_sHxrlj_tD5tWGBd7IH7DpybQtbg9egN2tzTMu2ufL0tX3ToEZeqOtqtWCOV4_UrhWWIacG5GEEFrvSNw/s400/11083922_902110019852827_8782040831258038160_n.jpg" width="400" /></a>I estimated at least a ten degree temperature drop over the 1,500m climb into the mountains. The route markers weaved at first through tangles of gorse and peat - akin to English moorland - and yet it was so steep at times as to require steps to be kicked into the dark soil to make uphill progress.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">At 1,000m above the lake, the vegetation gave way to technical running across rugged jumbles of scree and boulders partially covered in snow. I got a time check on the Brazilian as being 15minutes ahead, in 1st place, and chased after him up a steep valley that led directly onto the glacier.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZQ5FOhAMXn83lWLdNlOd2K99eu90YQEuc5L3ficAKwFi1a4gzsKRBBIBm3yN-HEXYxDXZIABW0sl36XpE0II1YiPt8flJO8CbZfz9wZteoGRQ_FBMe2CdCGz1_z8aCKqftnkf12cT2Q/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-20+at+16.14.41.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNZQ5FOhAMXn83lWLdNlOd2K99eu90YQEuc5L3ficAKwFi1a4gzsKRBBIBm3yN-HEXYxDXZIABW0sl36XpE0II1YiPt8flJO8CbZfz9wZteoGRQ_FBMe2CdCGz1_z8aCKqftnkf12cT2Q/s400/Screen+Shot+2015-04-20+at+16.14.41.jpg" width="346" /></a>Wallking poles had been made optional a day before the race began and with little experience using them, I decided to do without. The steep white terrain was ravished however by the scars of rockfall and it resembled territory that I had only ever travelled before when roped to a climbing partner and carrying an ice axe. I put the camera away and concentrated for the next forty minutes on kicking solid steps into the snow. Approaching the top of the pass, the snow rustled with every step as ice crystals formed in the fading afternoon temperatures and thinner air.</div>
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I took a wide contouring line on the descent from the summit plateau to avoid a cerac that was close to the route markings. Once running down the fall line again, however, I seized the opportunity to take the weight from my feet for a while and slid on my backside for 500m.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">Once finally off the glacier I caught sight of the Brazilian. I was jogging through a boulder field 300m above a hanging cirque and he was down there, inside it, picking his way through the moraine on the edge of the lake. I wasn’t certain that I could catch him, but felt that I had run a controlled race so far and had a lot left to give. We were only at mile 24 but the majority of the climbing had been done. There remained 19miles of technical downhill followed by winding forest trails and rivers to cross and then 27miles on a rolling 4x4 track. I clinged onto a group of four 70k runners and enjoyed taking pictures and sharing the navigation over the next 3miles as we descended back towards the tree line into a constricting valley of auburn leaves, conceding peacefully to the </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; text-align: center;">tightening grip of winter. </span></div>
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Once in the woods, I removed my waterproof layers and stripped to shorts and a t-shirt with arm warmers to run hard before nightfall. Now was the time to try to reel the front runner in. I wanted to cover as much of the course as possible in the daylight to have less to run in the night, as well as to have more visual experiences from the day to feed off when the lights did go out and the sleep monsters set in.<br />
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I didn’t feel hungry but kept eating every 10minutes or so from my little bird feeder like zip dispenser on my Ultimate Direction rucksack. I had been given some liquid calories as well in powder form at the aid station, and so with this mix of energy sources, I thought I was getting close enough to nutritionist Renee McGregor’s suggested 90g of carbs. p/h during the race.</div>
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I waded through rivers and drank in the sounds of woodpeckers banging out applause to my efforts; the trees themselves disintegrating now into the dusk. Some pain in my knees came for a visit. It usually floats around aimlessly and then goes away if I don’t welcome it in. I noted it as about a 4/10 and then tried to forget about it, despite its unusual insistence for further acknowledgement. As the darkness closed in, I took my last photographs and then put up the hatches completely for the night - hoping that I had enough miles run and enough positive thoughts to take me home.<br />
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There was a big pulsing event tent for the 70km finishers. I waded across a river towards it with my arm across my face with bright search and rescue lights blinding me. It was just after 9pm and it was into the 12th hour of the race. Fernando Nazzaro had left 20minutes ago and had not stopped. I stood in the tent, dazed by the attention of the eager to please photographers and volunteers; pushing cheese sandwiches into me, pinning me with a floodlight camera and pumping me for answers about how the race was unfolding out there. I was the third runner through including Jeff Browning who was leading the 100mile race. There were many runners behind me - some still perhaps on the glacier. There was a gathering tide of concern in the tent about the potential misadventure of others. With these disconcerting thoughts in mind, I poured some isotonic into my pot noodle to cool it down and finished it off. One of the Catalan photographers walked with me out of the tent, and then jogged with me to the edge of the estancia. I remember her stopping and I stopped too and looked at her to see what was wrong. “Suerte - good luck” she said, and I remembered I was on my own for the final marathon through the night.</div>
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The first 20km I walked the uphills and tried to fade out my conscious awareness of time passing and pain and fatigue into just a background autonomous function - like breathing in your sleep and pumping blood through your veins. I came out of this trance and realised however that I hadn't seen a race marking for a long time and backtracked for a km. As I did so, I couldn't recall going past any of what I now saw, but surprisingly, I was still on route and found a marker and turned around to retrace my steps.</div>
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Just before midnight I grew aware of the weight of the balls of my eyes, painful and protesting at the lack of sleep. I scanned ahead on the dirt road and then took the head torch and held it up against each one of them in turn for a few seconds - hoping to wake myself up a little.<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">At the 58mile aid station I stepped into a small tent and two figures in the shadowy light of a paraffin heater spoke very softly and calmly to me and gave me coffee and sugar and more noodles. I felt very relaxed and peaceful and grateful - but not tired, and was warmed by the companionship in the middle of that long road in the night.</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"> </span></div>
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I ran harder after this and sucked intermittently on the isotonic drink that I had mixed with 3 spoonfuls of instant coffee. I ran for 40 minutes and gave myself a two minute walking break. I watched the seconds disappear and then forced myself into a run again. The finishing lights of Puerto Natales glowed on the horizon and reflected in the sea - like a sun that refused to set until everyone had been safely gathered in. </div>
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There was a fire by the roadside and three Chilean men were kicking embers and drinking yerba mate. They seemed surprised to see me and almost despondent that by 1am only three runners had now appeared. I wanted to encourage them that people were coming - it was just that those markers from the start line had led through mud, over mountains, across a glacier and through the deepest woods before casting me out on this interminable track. I wanted to say this but I had nothing. They asked me if I knew how to run the last 4miles to the plaza - the same plaza I had spent the last three days before the race. I told them to give me a moment to think about this - and I stood there, rocking, in silence, for a half a minute or so. </div>
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“….I think it’s better we drive you in" said one of them eventually. I turned onto the road and my knees immediately fired up with a 6/10 at this unforgiving surface after 17hours on the trails. I ran in the headlights of the truck. I knew I wasn't going to catch Fernando now. Instead, I swerved intermittently out into the road to check that I wasn’t going to be caught by the American Krissy Moehl who I was certain must be bearing down on me by now. I ran in fear, in adrenaline and satisfaction at the distance I had come. At the plaza I vaulted two steps at a time and then, after crossing the line in 2nd place, crumbled quickly as the adrenaline sluiced out of me.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 26px;">Agradecimientos más que especiales a </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 26px;">Stjepan - </span>un hombre con una gran pasión y visión por las montañas, <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 26px;">y su tremendo equipo de Camilia y Max y demás. </span></span></span></span></div>
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(My own better photos and words to come in an article in an autumn edition of "Outdoor Fitness Magazine" UK)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-23155444151863355782015-03-17T11:24:00.001-07:002015-03-18T04:49:39.233-07:00Nikki Kimball on Patagonia's first 100miler, her new film "Finding Traction" and 'chicking' Usain Bolt<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-size: 16px; text-align: justify;">
<i>Nikki Kimball has been at the forefront of the ultra running scene for 16 years. During this illustrious career she has won some of the most challenging and competitive of races: the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc, Marathon de Sables and Western States three times over.</i></div>
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<i>She has set innumerable course records, worked tirelessly to close the pay gap between elite male and female athletes, and most recently has starred in the running expedition film "Finding Traction" which documents her attempt to run the fastest overall time (for both men and women) on Vermont's 273mile 'Long Trail.'</i></div>
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<i>'Finding Traction' will have its debut UK screening at Sheffield Adventure Film Festival (ShAFF) this coming weekend and then again next month, in Puerto Natales, Chile. (There she will be running in Patagonia's first 100mile ultramarathon - 'Ultra Fiord.') </i></div>
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<i>Ahead of these exciting times, she very kindly found time to reflect on these career accomplishments; discuss some of the dark times she has worked through, and talk with great passion about the challenges ahead.</i></div>
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<b style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: 'Times New Roman';"> Q -</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsCov0K_8TFhpWC2qTHlegkC4sOgHF_H6FhygE02R43_nBedxClmghuGVpoAVQybOv0guozbHlL3k4ePXjitGz34a1-JTSua_QfKmZSVA3n1c2TT_vK0YdRm1ORIy4AuoNAJE7NdAQ08/s1600/Finding+Traction+Bozone+Ad+Final-website+header.jpg__960x341_q85_upscale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsCov0K_8TFhpWC2qTHlegkC4sOgHF_H6FhygE02R43_nBedxClmghuGVpoAVQybOv0guozbHlL3k4ePXjitGz34a1-JTSua_QfKmZSVA3n1c2TT_vK0YdRm1ORIy4AuoNAJE7NdAQ08/s1600/Finding+Traction+Bozone+Ad+Final-website+header.jpg__960x341_q85_upscale.jpg" height="112" width="320" /></a><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><i>Nikki thanks so much for your time! You very recently returned from Transgrancanaria and are now shooting off to the UK. Busy times! Many people coming to see your film this weekend, though, may not be runners, and certainly never have run an ultramarathon. What do you hope that they take away from you film? </i></span></div>
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<b>Nikki -</b></div>
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I really love this question. Though the film covers a running expedition, I do not think of it as a film about running. I’ve been racing for so long (over 16 years in ultra and over 3 decades in a combination of skiing, cycling and running), that the sport in and of itself no longer excites me. </div>
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Rather, I love the humanity that ultrarunning facilitates. The stories I hear on the trail, and the possibilities uncovered by both running exploration and the physical deprivation racing can cause, are what keep the sport fresh for me. With that said, I will tell you that "Finding Traction" is about what running means to me. It is about exploring my mind and my body. It’s about crushing challenges rather than letting the challenges win. It’s about keeping me, and all who do endurance exercise, healthy. It’s about the value these sports add to human existence.</div>
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I think people take from the film what they need. A woman who’s struggled for 20 years in a job without equal pay to her male colleagues may find the courage to simply ask for more. A sedentary or overweight person may find the inspiration to exercise for health benefits. A person suffering from depression will find a sister in that struggle.<br />
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Naturally, given the deadly nature of the disease, I want the movie to encourage discourse on depression. From the two big film showings I’ve attended, I found that mental health professionals bought copies of the DVD for their patients. </div>
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Note that I had nothing to do with the writing, editing or composition of the film. I was its subject and I did a lot of fund raising and organizing of the premiere showings at home, but I take no credit for what the producers and filmmakers did. I wish I had that kind of artistic and narrative talent in this medium, but I do not.<br />
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Jaime Jacobsen and her team exceeded my expectations with "Finding Traction." They were brave enough to show my darker sides, and the personality traits that physical pain, lack of sleep and extreme stress can bring forward. For instance, I am not proud of the repeated frustration I showed when the weather during the expedition turned out to be sub-optimal for speed. But I don’t always show the behavior I want people to associate with me. And in choosing to publicize this expedition as I did, showing only my caring, powerful and athletic attributes would be dishonest. The film is honest and sometimes brutal. But so is our sport, and so is life.<br />
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>The Long Trail record is one of the most impressive FKT’s (Fastest Known Times) in the USA. Why was it important for you to have not just the fastest female time, but the fastest known time overall?</i></span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><b>Nikki -</b></span></div>
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I am very competitive and I like to win. I know that breaking the Long Trail’s FKT is eminently possible for the right person, male or female, given good conditions and good timing in the athlete’s life. I would love to be able to go after every record in my 2007 body which seemed to turn every effort into gold. </div>
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But the fact is that one only has so many peak performances in her body. My Long Trail expedition was far from a peak performance for me. I made many mistakes from ignorance, and many from circumstance. I know there are women in our world right now who can crush that record. I just hope I either get the chance to chase it once again, or to be on the crew of the woman who does.</div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;"><i>You have been a strong advocate for equality in prize money and sponsorship for both female and male athletes. In the last thee years you have seen a lot of these original goals realised. What impact is this having on your career now and what will it mean for future female distance runners?</i></span></div>
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<b> Nikki -</b></div>
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I am beyond my absolute fastest racing now. Much of what I’ve fought for in the last 25 years of my racing career will not directly benefit me. And I admit that I envy the women who’ve joined the sport, or hit their physical peaks, in the past 5 years or so. </div>
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I think some of the runners who joined the sport more recently will believe I over play the gender gap. Newer female athletes do not know what it is to have the director of an overseas race invite and pay for male elite athletes to travel to their races, while stating in emails that they do not care about the women. </div>
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They do not know about domestic race directors offering overall, but not women’s prize money. They may not know what it is like to see the most experienced scholastic coaches serving only the male teams. And frankly, I look forward to the time when a woman watching "Finding Traction" thinks to herself, “what the hell is she talking about?”.</div>
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With respect to gender equity, ultrarunning is light years ahead of where it was a decade ago and also ahead of professional sports in general, where many, many more opportunities exist for men than women. However, it still isn’t quite equal. I wish I had statistics on endorsements for male versus female ultra runners. My sense is that many companies are quite fair in their contracts. </div>
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However, factors exist beyond the control of even the most even handed companies out there. Most athletes, for example, get bonus money based on the athlete getting his/her picture with the company logo in the printed and television media. Particularly outside our sport, sports media continues to picture male athletes disproportionally often. </div>
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This gap needs to end and, though ultra athletes may not realize perfect fairness, we enjoy more equality than most. Perhaps our sport can serve as a model of better gender equity in sport in general.</div>
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<i>You said of a difficult experience during a race last year (Western States - interview by Ian Corless) ‘I was like “I’m vomiting but it’s so beautiful.’” For those of us who haven’t covered a 100miles on foot in a day, can you give us an idea about why you might feel like this?</i></div>
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<b>Nikki -</b></div>
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I think that physical discomfort can be scary when one is not used to it. Given that ultra runners experience uncomfortable moments frequently in racing, we are able to compartmentalize physical sensations. Vomiting is not pleasant, but it usually leads to a relief of the stomach pain that precedes it. Like hip pain or muscle cramps, it’s a known entity to me. Knowing the pain takes its power away. It cannot paralyze one who does not fear it.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Summer skiing <br />near home in Montana</span></td></tr>
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Further, when I am very uncomfortable I focus on the beauty around me. Since I know the pain is fleeting, I can accept it, and spend my mental effort appreciating my surroundings rather than focusing on the unpleasant sensation. </div>
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Doing this helps force discomfort into the background. I find this works well with all but the most intense pains. With those I focus on the pain and let it drive me.</div>
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<i>You have talked openly and very powerfully about using exercise as additional treatment to help combat depression. What is it about movement/being outdoors that helps alleviate these feelings?</i></div>
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I am not a mental health professional. But given that I have a mental illness, I read some primary literature surrounding it. There is compelling evidence that exercise lessons the symptoms of depression. I personally think that being outdoors while moving is even better than, say indoor exercise. But I am not sure if there is quality evidence supporting that belief. </div>
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Many hypotheses exist as to the reason that exercise is beneficial in the treatment of this disease, without a clear answer to your question. My guess is that exercise benefits one with depression in a complicated, multifactorial way. Chemical changes in the brain, a sense of purpose and accomplishment, increased body temperature, and several other factors may well combine to make exercise the treatment that it is.</div>
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<i>Q) During your time in England at the ShAFF, will you have anytime to run any of the trails, or have </i></div>
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<i>a look at such famous 24 hour time limit ‘Rounds’ as the Bob Graham, which covers 42 summits in the Lake District?</i></div>
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I cannot wait to run the trails around Sheffield. Unfortunately I will not have time to give the area it’s proper due with respect to trail running, nor will I be able to get to the Lake District. I guess that means I will have to come back another time! </div>
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<i>Q) When you come to a magical place like Torres del Paine in Chile, is it possible to race competitively and yet still appreciate the landscape you are moving through?</i></div>
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I love running in beautiful places, and that is a primary reason for me to race in Patagonia. I cannot focus on competition throughout 100 miles of racing. 100 mile races require a lot of mental power. One of the strategies I use to ensure that my race focus will be available when I need it, is to focus on the beauty of my surroundings as much as I can during the run. </div>
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This is in fact is why I like the distance so much: it's like going for a hike, but one gets to see a lot more because of the vast distance being covered. And it hurts a lot more. So, yes, I will appreciate the beauty, and I will race as competitively as I am able. And I am excited for both the beauty and the competition.</div>
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<i>Brilliant! We are really looking forward to having you down here in Chile. Finally then, just for fun of course: In an ideal world, what race you would be running and what male runner you would be ‘chicking.’ </i></div>
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Since we are being silly here: Usain Bolt in World Championship 100m. I’ve always wanted to feel the ground reaction force, and the body’s movement through the air at that speed of running!</div>
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<i>Thanks Nikki! We will see you down here in South America in less than a month for Ultra Fiord!</i></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-89827908127395559052015-03-16T04:25:00.000-07:002015-03-18T04:46:07.850-07:00Segunda Semana Recorrida / Second Week On The Run<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 22px;">Has click abajo por </span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 22px;">video</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 22px;"> / Click below to see the </span><span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 22px;">video</span></div>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-39051328730197646162015-03-05T06:45:00.001-08:002015-03-05T06:48:22.961-08:00Una Semana Recorrida / A Week On The Run <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-40460833440428792672015-02-24T15:42:00.004-08:002015-03-17T12:14:05.759-07:00Ultra Fiord pre-race interview with 100mile favourite - Joe Grant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBCgGIVgtstsf98dyc-PjG2Ww9gTi__36tBlV-XEcNzlAsdYU5xgzq3II3QUx2urFhyptTNDUkwyqTQyeBQ0aRpSGa0V4hAVORdCvQtgpzkGnzL4iYEC8HuFq2GDQBd3AazO-8Ep5zRdM/s1600/joe-grant+muddy+face.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBCgGIVgtstsf98dyc-PjG2Ww9gTi__36tBlV-XEcNzlAsdYU5xgzq3II3QUx2urFhyptTNDUkwyqTQyeBQ0aRpSGa0V4hAVORdCvQtgpzkGnzL4iYEC8HuFq2GDQBd3AazO-8Ep5zRdM/s1600/joe-grant+muddy+face.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.ultrafiord.com/" style="background-color: #eeeeee;" target="_blank">Ultra Fiord</a><span style="background-color: white;"> in Chilean Patagonia is less than 2 months away. </span></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Invited Ultra Fiord athlete Joe Grant, f</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">resh from the ravages of the multi-day 'Coastal Challenge' in Costa Rica </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">took a break from charging through rivers to share some thoughts about ultramarathon running and the challenges ahead with his next big trip down to Patagonia</span><span style="color: #073763; font-size: large; text-align: justify;">. </span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">Here's what he had to say:</span></div>
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(También puedes leer este artículo en espagnol en el sitio web muy informativo:<span style="background-color: #eeeeee;"> <span style="color: #38761d;"><a href="http://www.trailchile.cl/entrevista-a-joe-grant-previo-ultra-fiord/" target="_blank">TrailChile</a>) </span></span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">Q) You write a lot about running as a being a necessary ritual as much for your mind as for your body. Aside from physically, in what other ways does running bring you well being?</span></div>
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<b>It's really a holistic practice. Running is for me a way to explore places under my own power and provides a very direct engagement with the natural world. This isn't always the case, but I tend to get better clarity in my relationship to the land around me when I run. Running in the mountains forces me to pay attention to my surroundings, whether it's focusing on my footing on a technical trail, observing the weather and changes in conditions or adapting to the seasons. It's a very complex activity for how seemingly simple it is. </b> </div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Q) Have you got any tips about how to best make time for yourself to go running? </span></div>
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<b>Joe</b><br />
<b>I run a lot by myself, or with just one other person. I like to take pictures on the run, but other than this I leave the distractions of technology at home. I do really value this time alone and it provides a nice balance to the rest of my life that is much more socially engaged. </b></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Q) Many of the races you enter such as the Iditarod and the Tour De Geants seem to be on the hard adventure end of the ultra running spectrum. What is that draws you to these type of events, where you are out for so long and so far from home?</span></div>
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<b>Joe </b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="il" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px;">Ian</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px;"> </span><span class="il" style="font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px;">Corless</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Geneva, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 24px;">. All rights reserved</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-align: start;">Credit ©</span><a href="http://iancorless.com/" style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-align: start;" target="_blank">iancorless.com</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-align: start;"><br />more photos at </span><a href="http://iancorless.photoshelter.com/" style="color: #1155cc; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; text-align: start;" target="_blank">iancorless.photoshelter.com</a></td></tr>
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<b>The biggest draw for me is curiosity to see how my body and mind will fare in trying conditions and places. In both examples, for the ITI and the Tor, I'm drawn to the aesthetic of the course. The ITI is a point-to-point race with a long history. The Tor makes a great loop around the entire Aosta Valley. The distance or difficulty aren't really what draw me to these events, but rather the aesthetics. If the Tor was 160 miles or 400 miles, it would still be appealing as it's just a beautiful, logical loop. </b></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Q) Ultra Fiord will be the third fully supported 100mile race in South America. (The others being the Atacama Extreme and NF Endurance Challenge). All three of these take place in Chile. With such strong growth in the sport here, how do Chilean people know when it is the right time for them to step up to the longer distances and when to hold back and gain more experience?</span></div>
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<b>Joe</b></div>
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<b>That's a tough question. A lot of it depends on your background, experience and what you want to get out of an event like this. My first official ultra was a 100k in Oregon. It was close to home, looked like a fun event and I had a lot of experience with long distance backpacking and cycling so the distance didn't intimidate me.</b></div>
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<b>If you're coming into ultras from a straight running background, it's probably best to move up in distance little by little. If you already have an endurance background in adventure racing or long distance hiking or biking, your approach could be a little different. It's really just specific to the person. </b></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Q) For many people in Chile this will be their first time running the 100mile distance. You seem open to the idea that suffering is part of the ultra experience. If this is so, but we still hope to enjoy the experience, what do we need to do to 'suffer well'?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdVe3N0mOvfk72nucZBc130XnBvyoN3LrmoXQ-T4J40z16kvndjPw5EXk0HVS42S2eIWBylhEsbnZsoKhyphenhyphenKh2_-ccWdG1Mvmi-AYmV2M43dRLOpW7spOvmBxcu7B7RU9CtWLjzonz2zA/s1600/Joe+Grant+by+Matias.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzdVe3N0mOvfk72nucZBc130XnBvyoN3LrmoXQ-T4J40z16kvndjPw5EXk0HVS42S2eIWBylhEsbnZsoKhyphenhyphenKh2_-ccWdG1Mvmi-AYmV2M43dRLOpW7spOvmBxcu7B7RU9CtWLjzonz2zA/s1600/Joe+Grant+by+Matias.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a><b>Joe</b><br />
<b>I don't really like to use the word suffering that much in the context of running ultras, at least not for myself. Real suffering is not something you can do well. Running can be a way to process some deeper issues, but the act of running itself is elective and not something imposed on us. Feeling physical pain or discomfort is inevitable in a long race and dealing with that can be best managed with good preparation. Getting some long runs in before the race will prepare you physically, but also mentally to be comfortable being out on the trail for many hours. It's possible even in discomfort to enjoy the experience. </b></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif;">Q) What are your thoughts about the route of the race, the scenery you are to pass through and how this will affect your experience?</span></div>
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<b>Joe</b><br />
<b>From the photos and videos I've seen, it looks like an amazing course. It's wild and remote and the beauty of the course is definitely one of the main draws for me. A good course can really help keep the mind engaged after hours of running and enhance the experience. </b><br />
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Thanks very much Joe. Looking forward to seeing you in Puerto Natales and very best of luck for the race!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-56516873282980381412015-02-22T07:13:00.000-08:002015-02-22T07:45:21.401-08:00Futangue Challenge 60km, Chile - 3rd place - Full Report<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJLg3hf9sdCqKTai1W51CsQXhkzSucITqO6r8monoLA36qrt2gJrttTar66ONMcCVvVL3oEpzOzYEvbmtO_hgv96U6KxvHb7F04B5KSLbKpSwffuOSHRZnfNz5cKLfxxLTSahKjG14iw/s1600/10408829_1537468419870011_4295273101856070674_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJLg3hf9sdCqKTai1W51CsQXhkzSucITqO6r8monoLA36qrt2gJrttTar66ONMcCVvVL3oEpzOzYEvbmtO_hgv96U6KxvHb7F04B5KSLbKpSwffuOSHRZnfNz5cKLfxxLTSahKjG14iw/s1600/10408829_1537468419870011_4295273101856070674_n.jpg" height="424" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
I'm in bed with a Latin man. It's about 3:30am and he is sitting bolt upright and making strange popping noises with his chewing gum, whilst staring fixedly ahead.<br />
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I sit up and join him and a rush of stars comes past the window, as we take a big sweeping curve around the edge of Lago Ranco. The taxi comes back into focus, and I let the chair flick back up from its reclined position from where I had been sleeping.<br />
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An hour or so later I'm standing in front of a log fire in an old barn. It's desperately dark still and I'm rubbing Vaseline over myself and staring deep into the fire's embers. There is a call to the start line, a briefing about a stray vicious dog that we will encounter before the night is over; then headlamps on - and we are off.<br />
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Km 10<br />
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We are racing through a deep, rutted riverbed. Several competitors seem to have run out of battery already, and are running in the mangled shadows of those whose head torches are still working. We patter across a stream - keen to keep our feet dry for the remaining 50km still to be run.<br />
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Km20<br />
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First light throws up an impossible childlike sketch of a top-heavy mountain. Its vertiginous parallel sides transform from a fantastical outline to an undeniable solidness, as the contrast grows between lake, and rock and sky. I round on a beach and tip-toe the quickest route through a litter of loose stone and driftwood.<br />
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Km30<br />
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The damp mulch of many a millennia in Parque Futange is soft underfoot. The gradient is steep but demandingly runnable and the heat of the day arrives as I climb up through the cloud cover.<br />
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KM38<br />
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I'm piling downhill as quick as I can - back towards the clouds. An ocean of these puffy whitecaps seems to stretch out in front of me - cutting the mountains tops off - marooning them like suspended islands on a stormy sea. The sky is then momentarily thrown up in front of me; reflected in a lake that appears through the silver tress.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYywwhE1ehAmnYJ0zoVns0Xg0ayju_DdrKUmyasGTJh0Y4m6iwngk3ggK4fCyAYRIAvWY76C6xPzlkERsyINb2fCZPoBEYtDlEvIXvE43OUrPuIi0cmP-LimTwiJQrbJEMEYxbrzUo2o/s1600/Futangue+Challenge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeYywwhE1ehAmnYJ0zoVns0Xg0ayju_DdrKUmyasGTJh0Y4m6iwngk3ggK4fCyAYRIAvWY76C6xPzlkERsyINb2fCZPoBEYtDlEvIXvE43OUrPuIi0cmP-LimTwiJQrbJEMEYxbrzUo2o/s1600/Futangue+Challenge.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a>Km45<br />
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I use the entire contents of a water bottle to clear the vaseline and suncream out of my eyes; showering myself on the climb, as I cool myself down. A doctor at the next aid station, mistaking this for wild caucasian perspiration, thrusts my index finger into a machine and shouts some numbers back to me - before giving me the thumbs up. I launch into the next downhill, careering with wild arms, and fast feet through the knotted trails of virgin forest.<br />
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Km 55<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/8ZaJY_d3E2U/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8ZaJY_d3E2U?feature=player_embedded" style="clear: left; float: left;" width="320"></iframe>Above the clouds again, on the top of Cerro Mayo, I have only 5km of steep descent to complete but I'm confused by the effort and the beauty of it all and spend a few minutes spinning around, tripping over my feet, swimming in the spectacle of it all. I get the camera working and eventually begin the descent.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nn3STamtcRG8q30SlkT7IxfnG9DPzN94qX8uh9oHVmnL_kFf8ymiebSWBldAqk1iBa4QISuXopZRfNJZBbLaurYceakchADi7c4dakFooADem0S10XYdZ_MPuFnf8BiLidQp7fpdSGk/s1600/10974606_1538060483144138_6771445777016500039_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_nn3STamtcRG8q30SlkT7IxfnG9DPzN94qX8uh9oHVmnL_kFf8ymiebSWBldAqk1iBa4QISuXopZRfNJZBbLaurYceakchADi7c4dakFooADem0S10XYdZ_MPuFnf8BiLidQp7fpdSGk/s1600/10974606_1538060483144138_6771445777016500039_o.jpg" height="400" width="296" /></a><br />
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Km60<br />
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I cross the line in third, taking a moment to adjust to no longer needing to squeeze energy out of my legs and breath into my lungs, for the first time in 6 and a half hours. I congratulate Enzo Ferrari and Cesar Montoya (right) on their joint first place, and wait for my friend Rene to cross the line before we embrace each other for the sweatiest of hugs.<br />
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There is beer on tap and the cloud begins to break up. The afternoon stretches out; limbs tighten up. The heightened sensation of purpose, and singular concentration, begins to dilute in the noise of the crowd and barbecue smoke and then, slowly ebbs away altogether.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGPrbDy4UrbrzlBc2qd2WML8HAOwEA5ssCQ4NevJDeJjQpqvzxAmwNIkOvMrSBUGAHBYf59jQn_wh6ognf818wNvToitomoz69_jXljonVYglpBohslhYsbGSHqhxRmpF8TmZy1wVwWk/s1600/Futangue+Podium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTGPrbDy4UrbrzlBc2qd2WML8HAOwEA5ssCQ4NevJDeJjQpqvzxAmwNIkOvMrSBUGAHBYf59jQn_wh6ognf818wNvToitomoz69_jXljonVYglpBohslhYsbGSHqhxRmpF8TmZy1wVwWk/s1600/Futangue+Podium.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-2909087234247937522015-02-16T05:32:00.001-08:002015-02-16T05:45:00.803-08:00Ultra Fiord Update!<h3 style="background-color: white; color: darkorange; font-family: erasdemi, 'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1.2em; line-height: 17.9200000762939px; margin: 0px 0px 5px;">
Ambassadors and Notable Runners for Ultra Fiord 2015 Revealed</h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3EIrlXVaBfh9YWJujSWvr5m0kXUIVwXKUZiGWomeWxTqYpPUEyEaNhUTvO-ATot1Jek32sJ7-vpB5DhxUFk5FrKDv5P3ahKtprAwOUcHNc0e5HGbyJqemxHaKKcTiTkCpHewFruksbY/s1600/UFweb24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB3EIrlXVaBfh9YWJujSWvr5m0kXUIVwXKUZiGWomeWxTqYpPUEyEaNhUTvO-ATot1Jek32sJ7-vpB5DhxUFk5FrKDv5P3ahKtprAwOUcHNc0e5HGbyJqemxHaKKcTiTkCpHewFruksbY/s1600/UFweb24.jpg" height="352" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">70% of to-date race field originates outside of Chile, the event’s host country. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">11 ambassadors from five countries chosen for inaugural edition.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Registered runners to represent 17 countries around the world.</span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-ce8ade52-9296-b9e3-858b-5c0bbbb37709"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The registration and selection process for Ultra Fiord’s inaugural edition, which will take place from April 16</span><span style="font-size: 10px; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;">th</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to April 18</span><span style="font-size: 10px; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;">th</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> 2015, has continued to progress, obtaining interest from trail-runners around the world; 70% of the currently registered runners reside outside of Chile, the event’s native country. Being that Ultra Fiord is an international trail-running event, 11 runners, originating from five different countries, have been chosen as the ambassadors for this year’s edition.</span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-ce8ade52-9296-b9e3-858b-5c0bbbb37709"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtlc3v9ZIq3erVvpkKMy3N5UWqsfnDJJagIJSzpT5ko0bD6q_pfjHrwBBeQXnJoVl-4HqoGJ84nWBHagfXW2HKFpffvn2Xh8rsBxj6EPw1NRZlpJ21faAShsadSa0ivv6iCsRqjOE3G0/s1600/UF+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjtlc3v9ZIq3erVvpkKMy3N5UWqsfnDJJagIJSzpT5ko0bD6q_pfjHrwBBeQXnJoVl-4HqoGJ84nWBHagfXW2HKFpffvn2Xh8rsBxj6EPw1NRZlpJ21faAShsadSa0ivv6iCsRqjOE3G0/s1600/UF+1.jpg" height="222" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Enzo Ferrari</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, one of Chile’s strongest trail-runners, will represent the event’s home country in the longest event, the 100-mile distance, which will span over the course of two days. </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sofi Cantilo</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> and </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gustavo Reyes</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, who also will both run the 100-mile distance, will serve as representatives of Chile’s neighboring country, Argentina. Brazil will also be present for the event, as </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Manuela Vilaseca</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> will compete in the 70K distance, while </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fernando Nazário </span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">will look to join the 100K competition. The ambassadors are not only limited to South America, however, as </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Federica Boifava</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of Italy and </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Genís Zapater</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of Spain will represent Europe in the 100-mile distance. Last, but not least, the United States will round out the diverse group of ambassadors by seeing four runners join the inaugural edition, three of whom, </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Joe Grant,</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nikki Kimball</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, and </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Krissy Moehl,</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> will be joining Ferrari, Cantilo, and Reyes for the two-day running of the 100-mile distance, and </span><span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Brittany Dick,</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> who will compete in the 100K distance. In addition to these five countries, at least thirteen more will be represented this coming April.</span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-ce8ade52-9296-b9e3-858b-5c0bbbb37709"><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The race’s diversity, however, is not strictly limited to the ambassadors, as other notable runners have registered to explore the forgotten secret of Chilean Patagonia: it’s numerous and wide-ranging fjords. These runners include, but are not limited to: Candice Burt, Nicholas Barraza, Jeff Browning, Matthew Maynard, Kerrie Adair Bruxvoort, and Billy Barnett, all of whom, with the exception of Billy Barnett, who will run the 100K, are coming from the United States to run in the 100-miles. Finally Veronica Bravo from Chile will compete in the 100-miles. </span></span></div>
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<span id="docs-internal-guid-ce8ade52-9296-b9e3-858b-5c0bbbb37709"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir7L2lrIyyAVZQz-ufOKNyx5lHuPIETAj_z6x79NvCmDfLT9PxRSoWSAkZzK_JZtym5-WuEWVKNsVYqcx8TUEI2BTPGWnEr-vn4OrQNdw2TwsflVLYFKjyD6jCayx7khmN0nwAUklv5UQ/s1600/UFweb15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir7L2lrIyyAVZQz-ufOKNyx5lHuPIETAj_z6x79NvCmDfLT9PxRSoWSAkZzK_JZtym5-WuEWVKNsVYqcx8TUEI2BTPGWnEr-vn4OrQNdw2TwsflVLYFKjyD6jCayx7khmN0nwAUklv5UQ/s1600/UFweb15.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A fjord is usually defined as a long, deep outlet of water in the shape of a U, which is created by the coming and going of the glaciers, and stretches to the inland by rock on either side. Southern Chilean Patagonia has accumulated thousands of kilometers of fjords, many of which are unknown by these differing classifications, making Ultra Fiord 2015 a mystic journey to discovering the magical world of fjords. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Through the event, its coordinators seek to promote tourism within the region, contributing value to these patrimonial territories and encouraging sustainable development in the local communities. “We wanted to develop a race that would not only look to expose these mysterious waterways,” said race director, Stjepan Pavivic, “but go beyond that by adding sustainable development and conservation to the region to ensure the world of Chilean fjords and its local communities retain both their beauty and innocence.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Registration for the event will remain open until 7</span><span style="font-size: 10px; vertical-align: super; white-space: pre-wrap;">th</span><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of March of 2015, which can be completed online in Ultra Fiord’s official website:</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">English: </span><a href="http://www.ultrafiord.com/registration" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://www.ultrafiord.com/registration</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Spanish: </span><a href="http://www.ultrafiord.com/es/registration" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 16px; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">http://www.ultrafiord.com/es/registration</span></a><span style="font-size: 16px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-2822220095123086792015-02-16T05:11:00.000-08:002015-02-22T03:05:08.725-08:00Futangue Challenge - 3rd<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This weekend I had the great pleasure of racing with some of the big boys of trail running in Chile: Cesar Montoya and Enzo Ferrari. The climax of the day was on Cerro Mayo when we emerged above the clouds onto a seemingly floating mountain top, amidst the virgin forest.<br />
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Enzo and Cesar finished together, some 8 minutes ahead of me. Fantastic race, brilliantly organised - highly recommended.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-53602370674886362422015-02-02T07:21:00.000-08:002015-02-09T08:14:22.632-08:00A sense of home<h4>
<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: initial;">It can take a long time to feel at home.</span></h4>
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I moved house again recently and it has thrown me off my rhythm. The smooth edges of familiar living have been roughed up, and the pieces have all been shuffled. This being my 10th house in as many years though, means this is not too strange a feeling, and I have some strategies for starting to patch it together again.</h4>
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Like a dog eager to inspect his new territory, I got out and had more of a look around this week. It’s funny how learning how a new house sits in relation to the curves and the undulations of the landscape, helps you come to terms with your sense of self in an unfamiliar place. </h4>
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Drawing in my new surroundings and appreciating where I live, seems to be an integral part of the creation of my own happiness. Whilst travelling a day’s journey from my front door, the beauty, or lack of it that I find, becomes a reflection on how I feel about myself. The action of surveying, and the feeling of coming to know a place as I cover ground on foot gives shape and substance to who I am: If I don’t like what I see, I find it difficult to be at peace with myself when I return. Perhaps this makes me as much a function of my surroundings, as I am of the mind and body I presume to take with me each time I move to these new places.</h4>
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So what is it I am looking for?</h4>
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At dusk on Tuesday I made my way quickly onto the greying flanks of Mount Pochoco. In the previous weeks I had been out, teasing open the rabbit runs a bit more on this side of the mountain and trying to open a passable route through the cactus and fledging eucalyptus to the summit some 3,000’ above. The early eager shoots of spring that I had found knotted across the trail, had now died back. The hot summer sun and the passing of my feet pushing them into retreat. With my back to the city below and the gradient steep, it was not long before I could just concentrate on drawing regular lungfuls of breath; my feet skipping with increasing familiarity over the warm rocks and loose dirt.</h4>
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The route follows a strong line up a defined ridge, but I had left occasional small piles of rocks to guide me in the less obvious places, and it pleased me now to turn a corner and see one, and know that I had passed here before. Higher on the mountain, when the sun had not yet set, my shadow caught up with me for a short time and ran ahead through the boulders and loose scree and dry grass, before tiring and falling back once again. </h4>
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On the summit plateau, even the serious mountains had settled down into the obscurity of night; the last gasps of day dissolved into their snowy flanks. I stood there for a while, in the dark, to mark the end of the day. The moon was not yet up and the ground that rolled away from me on all sides shortly disappeared too. Then came the cool air pouring down from the Andes, and infront of me, on the earth, an inverted skyscape of city lights from Santiago.</h4>
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<br />On Thursday, I wanted to try and find a new way onto the the power line trail that contours along the other side of the valley from our new home. It is very runnable, and affords good views up to the ski area and down to the river, interspersed with sections that draw you deeply into the armpits of more minor valleys, allowing you to concentrate on what is close and more immediate. </h4>
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If there is an alternative way to go somewhere, I always like to try and tease it out; even if it only a very minor deviation; even if is longer and less convenient. I like the variety. The only way I knew to the trailhead was through the official entrance to Ñilhue Park. There is a small fee, and whilst I am not against helping keep this private land open to the public, I still find it a little grating to pay for the privilege of travelling under my own steam in the outdoors. Crossing the river, I passed the park entrance and tracked along the road until I found a boulder choked canyon that looked promising. It was not really runnable in an uphill direction - too steep and technical - but I grunted my way up it, stopping at one point to bridge up a deep slot where a short waterfall must have once cascaded. </h4>
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I made it up to the pylons eventually and stood there, looking up at the trail that I could contour easily along and begin to close the loop back home. The temperature was well into the 90s now. The air was very still and heavy, and the dust I had kicked up from the canyon hanged around as if in suspension. My water bottles were nearly dry and made a weak gasping sound as they adjusted themselves to the new thinner air.</h4>
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<br />I kicked again into higher continuation of the canyon and continued climbing, leaving the original plan of following the trail behind. I felt drawn to explore further up the mountain. The dry river bed was slightly more forgiving now; just on the limit of what I felt I could run in this heat. I think I passed an old stone sheep pen but I can’t be sure: my sunglasses were misted and all focus was reserved for the task of picking the trailing foot up before the front one touched the ground.</h4>
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I stopped at a level area and noticed that a new sound besides my breathing and footsteps had interrupted my rhythm. There was a whispering noise coming from an invisible line stretched out in front of me, close to the ground. </h4>
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At 5,000’ I found a shallow water catchment that seems to skirt the entire flank of El Naranjo Mountain. It runs every so slightly downhill and is drawn off at intervals as it passes above farmsteads to provide fresh running water. A greater variety of notably more mature trees grow along its length. Small mammals retreat here into the shade, during the heat of the day, and an abundance of birds flitter among the nests built into the trees. The closeness to this moving body of water, in the midst of that thick, hard scorched day, immediately made me feel light again, and tread easily. I turned to run along it, drawing in the knowledge of the waterway in the mountains that encloses my new home. </h4>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-43704807039567493492015-01-05T14:16:00.002-08:002015-05-19T08:37:55.737-07:00A Year On The Run / Un Año Corriendo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">First trip to Brecon of the year with Sof for some mountains</span></td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Full Winter conditions mega loop with Alan Royle. Kinder Scout, Peak District. UK</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A win at Imber Ultra with Guy and James</span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Pleased to be home in Mallorca</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> after 117km across the Tramuntana mountains - 18th place</span><br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">May/Mayo</span></u></b></div>
<h2>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBU7CPdwPHQGWURPgpGsPwp3zekYVd9FmDfFaV7qnkly-K1LmKStA77qkS6Nmrebbf9MBy8ylxWVwc0iAvQjm87k0HlPRltw4Uvg0lWoV_-3mRnv8yU_bZpWAV4_-fgcnLSIs6DG0W74I/s1600/IMG_0398.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBU7CPdwPHQGWURPgpGsPwp3zekYVd9FmDfFaV7qnkly-K1LmKStA77qkS6Nmrebbf9MBy8ylxWVwc0iAvQjm87k0HlPRltw4Uvg0lWoV_-3mRnv8yU_bZpWAV4_-fgcnLSIs6DG0W74I/s1600/IMG_0398.jpg" width="478" /></a></h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not Strictly running - </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">but a great trip across Salisbury Plain with Sof </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><u><b>June/Junio</b></u></span></div>
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<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;">Welsh 1,000m race with Owen</span></h3>
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<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;">Commuting home from work across the Cotswolds with Sof</span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>- Beautiful Kelston Round Hill in the background -</b></span></h3>
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<h2>
Westbury Whitehorse Challenge with James</h2>
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<div>
<b><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">July/Julio</span></u></b><br />
<h2>
<span style="font-size: 13px;">UK Ultra Trail Championships - Lakeland 50 (8th place) </span></h2>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnIQW_qPdIfSZ4LJ4KBzxm1HmaCCDA-_w7xHVhllqhECnRvQOsc2LYge1niF098b-67yylOIoWcVr7u5HAeaRKpLj6Hxlw-5v0mN2DEU2C4ZLSF4Sb4wP9ojFvVoSjc-DmfetbfIcvyg/s1600/recce+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnIQW_qPdIfSZ4LJ4KBzxm1HmaCCDA-_w7xHVhllqhECnRvQOsc2LYge1niF098b-67yylOIoWcVr7u5HAeaRKpLj6Hxlw-5v0mN2DEU2C4ZLSF4Sb4wP9ojFvVoSjc-DmfetbfIcvyg/s1600/recce+night.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px; text-align: center;">Looking back nostalgically on Wednesday<br />
recce night in the Langdale Valley<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u>August/Augusto</u></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUR5ORa8MsTWE15GucX-2_8AqPQmxOkaBTeoLlZtZ_HeOHY-QSb2AHOmHqOX4I2_m0VLkuDDX9ZATdsYzxoWSmOCO26ktH3deL53llcVxtWtYGSZKxkNkTMS3hGnLyCMlWQDZ_v7oo3k/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglUR5ORa8MsTWE15GucX-2_8AqPQmxOkaBTeoLlZtZ_HeOHY-QSb2AHOmHqOX4I2_m0VLkuDDX9ZATdsYzxoWSmOCO26ktH3deL53llcVxtWtYGSZKxkNkTMS3hGnLyCMlWQDZ_v7oo3k/s1600/photo.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">With Olly and Rich in fantastic Vancouver</span></div>
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<u><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Semptember/Septiembre</span></b></u><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">First day on the Great Divide</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Meeting Danny Fundinger</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SOtTRy173g4q5lrFeyz3D3BGkR8JCUqboxPnGMXgm-v-FXFMrqfwhaIW0qT16-558-RlF2Z_ujqVKaN_C8jOZ0igzDS2WUJ-o_qANsM15fxNI-JfAqQVQmVLrPMqwN8LoS_CihCZLKI/s1600/DSCF8694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SOtTRy173g4q5lrFeyz3D3BGkR8JCUqboxPnGMXgm-v-FXFMrqfwhaIW0qT16-558-RlF2Z_ujqVKaN_C8jOZ0igzDS2WUJ-o_qANsM15fxNI-JfAqQVQmVLrPMqwN8LoS_CihCZLKI/s1600/DSCF8694.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Big sky days on the Divide</span></div>
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<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">Deep and Dirty on the Divide</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SQSMT8dy9P_X4RphaVpJpqD-FvzLklNzTuk39kUFKdZ5UsET9LXBIAaAZ8VtTVXqAXkEcFmdEB56G7gFstOU9fVnXXetExTPmJwHaEyrRM7c5yBOV8KpBfuy6ILuCJ4yTjTpJR5gLe0/s1600/DSCF8974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: 13px; font-weight: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5SQSMT8dy9P_X4RphaVpJpqD-FvzLklNzTuk39kUFKdZ5UsET9LXBIAaAZ8VtTVXqAXkEcFmdEB56G7gFstOU9fVnXXetExTPmJwHaEyrRM7c5yBOV8KpBfuy6ILuCJ4yTjTpJR5gLe0/s1600/DSCF8974.JPG" width="640" /></a></h2>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Late September, deep in Montana</span><br />
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<u><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">October/Octubre </span></b></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Trails in Boulder Colorado with Boulder Breakfast Club</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Running into the snowline in Autumn in Colorado </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><u> November/</u><u>Noviembre</u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Training runs up to Salta Apoquindo /</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #212121; font-family: inherit; line-height: 36px; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">entrenamiento </span>Parque Natural aguas de Ramón </span><br />
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<u><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">December/Deciembre</span></b></u><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Volcano Ultra Trail - Volcan Osorno</span></td></tr>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-49635983370172995572014-12-22T03:46:00.000-08:002014-12-22T04:04:30.822-08:00Comprometido - Mammut Andes Infernal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgux0_FGqE4axPsDDXRSc8youfZBgtXOdLPNwFUxpkWWsQCDADxXup30Yvke5voNB29xbAm5KdGqNNqk96mPMCAY9MG9QJoFXEGezNAR_nkg-3psPwisJ5mOJTkLvazkdsTi9DITljtlas/s1600/DSCF9432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgux0_FGqE4axPsDDXRSc8youfZBgtXOdLPNwFUxpkWWsQCDADxXup30Yvke5voNB29xbAm5KdGqNNqk96mPMCAY9MG9QJoFXEGezNAR_nkg-3psPwisJ5mOJTkLvazkdsTi9DITljtlas/s1600/DSCF9432.JPG" height="296" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Este Octubre, en un sendero en Cerro La Campana, me encontre con un hombre. Vestido en polera de una corrida pasada, con mochila 'Ultra' y pinta de determination y estoicismo, me explico que estaba entrenando por una carrera que subes hasta una cumbre de 5,343 de altura.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfR40MvZzoD9DFzhJO0yWePDiKApRI4CdreSYymb1_8b8kQVCQSIYegB3xsqCFhEKHKQnjhGVgkvhyphenhyphenUGnK0HyabuQKjnHRHYiXF35B-rOd5PbXB2ESmSssx_byhlgHs-_dCvoWKU9T-qo/s1600/DSCF9420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfR40MvZzoD9DFzhJO0yWePDiKApRI4CdreSYymb1_8b8kQVCQSIYegB3xsqCFhEKHKQnjhGVgkvhyphenhyphenUGnK0HyabuQKjnHRHYiXF35B-rOd5PbXB2ESmSssx_byhlgHs-_dCvoWKU9T-qo/s1600/DSCF9420.JPG" height="320" width="289" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">'Andes Infernal' manda sus guerreros a correr hasta el punto mas alto que todas las carreras en el mundo. La realización de este concepto, es un sueno del director de la carrera Marcelo Rojo. En 2012 Marcelo rompió el record que El Plomo había guardado por 13 años y bajo el record de subirlo hasta 13h 30m. Ahora ayuda su competidores, con comida, flechas brillantes y ayudantes en la ruta para lograr al cumbre y, quizás, romper su record....</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim9OXoPKBV-wPmJki-zajL5WA1Q7hro1fl9ZN3u9mmfa5kMDNLFzzUBhoULT02_v-1b081Ery1pHchV7au8D-8QoJFl_6vy_5B_GE3qgBaXdEVg8UaYjWQGGYelDFMWRq6VioFw_dQ_14/s1600/DSCF9456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim9OXoPKBV-wPmJki-zajL5WA1Q7hro1fl9ZN3u9mmfa5kMDNLFzzUBhoULT02_v-1b081Ery1pHchV7au8D-8QoJFl_6vy_5B_GE3qgBaXdEVg8UaYjWQGGYelDFMWRq6VioFw_dQ_14/s1600/DSCF9456.JPG" height="427" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"> 'Andes Infernal' tiene el espíritu de montaña: de ser autosuficiente. Primero, si quieres hacerlo, necesitas entregar un Curriculum Deportivo, detallando tus experiencias en las montañas y depende tu nivel, estas elegido. Una semana antes la carrera, había un entrenamiento y proceso de aclimatización planificado. Fue gratis por todos los competidores para incluir a todos en un aprendizaje importante y bastante gente aprovecharon del oportunidad. El día de la carrera, tenias que entregar tu certificado medico y, después, a pesar de todo tu preparación, podrías ser descalificado si no tenia cual que de los equipamiento obligatorio. El checking fue un proceso muy riguroso.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZu_tOdbNmbOLuefiD5LyTdYjV-Ldkt5ls02Q6fAeLKBbIqLlgnEz1EZTnOg3jD7s4qFJGUy8Raefl4GwWFQBFT4PFxXo0Anew22r5zvyapwh4kmpewl7ydOaRxvcpPnlfYniCmQZUKM/s1600/DSCF9443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPZu_tOdbNmbOLuefiD5LyTdYjV-Ldkt5ls02Q6fAeLKBbIqLlgnEz1EZTnOg3jD7s4qFJGUy8Raefl4GwWFQBFT4PFxXo0Anew22r5zvyapwh4kmpewl7ydOaRxvcpPnlfYniCmQZUKM/s1600/DSCF9443.JPG" height="255" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Porque es una carrera, como todos las carreras, hay un elemento de competition (este año vino Karl Egloff, quien recién rompió el record de subir Kilimajaro). Competir en las montañas es un concepto medio extraño y puede tener algunas resultados muy serios. Por otro lado, moverse rápido en las montañas es una habilidad muy importante por la seguridad. Porque es una carrera, hay otro elementos poco familiar en Alpinismo también como estaciones de abastacieminetos y un examination de doctor antes de subir el parte final de El Plomo.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">En este forma, Marcelo Rojo, he creado un oportunidad por los corredores, hacer un desafío que requiere un esfuerzo enrome - donde necesitan tomar toda la responsabilidad en sus propio manos, adentro una estructura organizada, que mantengas la espíritu de aventuras montañoso. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LUKr9leKfF0E-sdr6JIxEdgSn3fGAVJFGM7wKKUoOuZrHMatGzFh1fTOXiaV3wqSaOKiIVAoZxqSVJGZ46C6PCThdUkYb-gbDyAcC9rfFx1ab_X_t3ojaQR0Js3pj2buWY9pmbotZ5g/s1600/DSCF9440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LUKr9leKfF0E-sdr6JIxEdgSn3fGAVJFGM7wKKUoOuZrHMatGzFh1fTOXiaV3wqSaOKiIVAoZxqSVJGZ46C6PCThdUkYb-gbDyAcC9rfFx1ab_X_t3ojaQR0Js3pj2buWY9pmbotZ5g/s1600/DSCF9440.JPG" height="515" width="640" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;"> Déjame recordarte del hombre entrenando en cerro La Campana. Poco después que nos topamos, llego un niño de 9 años, respirando mucho pero sonriendo y contento- su hijo. Obviamente este hombre estaba malabareando la responsabilidad de ser papá y entrenar. Todavía falto un par de meses antes de la carera, y habrían varios días y noches mas cuando necesitaría decidir si, después de los deberes paterno, tenia la fuerza para salir a correr, a subir, a entrenar. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Por buena razón la carrera es la única a una altura tan alta. Este año, como el año pasado, los corredores no pudieron subir hasta el cumbre de El Plomo por razones climáticas. Obviamente, este es una problema de una concepto asi. Pero acá en Chile, el país quien van a la vanguardia de todo Sud America en el tema de eventos 'Ultra,' hay un hombre que va seguir tratando muy fuerte a realizar este proyecto bastante difícil y bastante valorable. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Marcelo Rojo, aunque tiene el record en El Plomo, extiende la invitation, y ademas, ayuda a gente a romperlo - motivando más y más gente a empujar sus zonas de comfort y descubrir la maravilla que es la Cordillera Chilena. La fama del evento esta creciendo, y va a tener una reputación de aventura pura, bien merecida. Este proximo año, seguramente vas a topar con alguien quien esta entrenando para hacer lo - si, por lo menos, tu no estas entrenado para hacer lo mismo! En 2015 Andes Infernal va a disfrutar un nivel de éxito desconocido de antes. Va a ser así, más que todo, por una calidad bien fuerte de los corredores y el director - compromiso inextinguible. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-21641473360579063872014-12-11T11:50:00.002-08:002014-12-20T00:26:33.503-08:00Volcano Ultra Trail 80k - Chile - 6th December<div style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 12px;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHNzmp5pssjZ2c_5WNJW9NIFDgBViJeWNEVil_UjkDFYwKnn2CsWo41WdgXV11tDFUeQQgWAv5HrTRDk5JNzgVQ-mJFzDfxrqOsBC8luxjIOI5dnacGnEDVagirWsXiFneSG6pThvYbc/s1600/DSCF9233+-+Version+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyHNzmp5pssjZ2c_5WNJW9NIFDgBViJeWNEVil_UjkDFYwKnn2CsWo41WdgXV11tDFUeQQgWAv5HrTRDk5JNzgVQ-mJFzDfxrqOsBC8luxjIOI5dnacGnEDVagirWsXiFneSG6pThvYbc/s1600/DSCF9233+-+Version+2.JPG" height="404" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Volcano Orsono sits brooding on the northern fringes of Chilean Patagonia. Glaciers hang preposterously from its upper, impenetrable flanks, occasionally calving-off and trundling down the lower skirt into the surrounding lakes. Ancient Mapuche legend tells how the local Huilliche people tied up a god and left him exiled on the volcano. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Since then it appears that no-one has been back. </span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">A few trails do weave half-hearted inroads into the mountain but quickly fizzle out altogether. Beyond, lie virgin beds of verdant moss and tongues of once-molten lava and scree. An hour and a half into the 50mile event, at 4:30am, it became obvious, however, that this lack infrastructure was not a concern of the race organisers. Wherever you saw those reflective strips, that’s where you were going. </span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">I had followed the markers out onto what I began to sense was a long narrow ridge, covered in loose volcanic scree. My head-torch revealed nothing to either side. The moon was high though and led me further out onto an increasingly thin and windswept areté. The thin reflective strips stopped. At my feet, the scree stopped too, replaced only by the hollow sucking sound of air being pulled violently into a precipice.</span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSiWyAurgEc_PQAqv-BVBoJa5ITYXav80rvjdYvfm4NJgf_MInbXvkFR_FdnNXbGyZja4_wTbmDWVynOmVz8rSksXunRQoXZZvxqxKF0KbMwvHJl7GAh9NuYBltyEiWezsWEBh3TEsk4/s1600/DSCF9262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSiWyAurgEc_PQAqv-BVBoJa5ITYXav80rvjdYvfm4NJgf_MInbXvkFR_FdnNXbGyZja4_wTbmDWVynOmVz8rSksXunRQoXZZvxqxKF0KbMwvHJl7GAh9NuYBltyEiWezsWEBh3TEsk4/s1600/DSCF9262.JPG" height="269" width="640" /></a></span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">The ultra scene in South America, especially Chile right now, is being shaken up by a Richter ‘9’ earthquake. This October, in the surrounding cordillera of Santiago, the first 100mile distance was run at the North Face Endurance Challenge. Patagonia will also get its first 100 at the Ultra Fiords in April. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">The end of the calendar is firmly bookmarked with the legendary 'Andes Infernal' which records the highest altitude of any running event on the planet at 17,795 feet. From the summit of El Plomo, competitors must then descend to the thick air at 10,000'. These events are being made possible by shorter races that are held simultaneously, which are pulling in the crowds, and developing the sport at the grassroots level. (The VUT this year additionally held 10, 22 and 40mile races.) </span></h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3fNs9eh1NsLK3EuG6JFEVjatTa_egymFgjQxwCXjkS2uoKxDp0Je4sLkxWREDtC-WCh8WCjGIkWqYF4IVKJXBxcVvpT8Uo5mhkl68Ufn5VV0rh7AE6PYNwd-_4zyoNur0Hf_1AmV3fs/s1600/DSCF9268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3fNs9eh1NsLK3EuG6JFEVjatTa_egymFgjQxwCXjkS2uoKxDp0Je4sLkxWREDtC-WCh8WCjGIkWqYF4IVKJXBxcVvpT8Uo5mhkl68Ufn5VV0rh7AE6PYNwd-_4zyoNur0Hf_1AmV3fs/s1600/DSCF9268.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a><span style="font-weight: normal;">I narrowed the beam and stared way down into it. One of these markers had blown off course and beamed fluttering back at me, from fathoms below. But then I saw another. And another deeper still. And then, like a morbid joke you shouldn’t laugh at, I got the sense of humour of Chile's Volcano Trail. And plunged interminably into it.</span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Dawn came, and with this, the realisation that we would be blazing new trails over the majority of the 50miles. The 14,000’ of ascent and the loose cheese graters underfoot added to the challenge. This race also involved your hands a great deal: on your knees, pulling on ropes, clawing at rocks. And then in the later stages, well, with them just spread out wide across your face in despair. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">After sunrise, swirling shrouds of cloud swept in. The dry riverbeds of antipodean summer, that carved down from the summit, were obscured again. Their walls of loose rock and sand reared up unexpectedly once more, bringing you to your hands and knees.</span><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></h3>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0d7H5xwKc_WlTE0hSLlFP7t0PRE1-_ZEQWK-WJF8KuJIryBjCTPg6ElzNn-XcJNy58TPZSNDQejLE7bM38oZRrayxJukwUrVw7FNwZu_1q8JAwVSE7YJ7e1FjeJRsqKjoruMEzq5WJw/s1600/DSCF9232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ0d7H5xwKc_WlTE0hSLlFP7t0PRE1-_ZEQWK-WJF8KuJIryBjCTPg6ElzNn-XcJNy58TPZSNDQejLE7bM38oZRrayxJukwUrVw7FNwZu_1q8JAwVSE7YJ7e1FjeJRsqKjoruMEzq5WJw/s1600/DSCF9232.JPG" height="262" width="400" /></a><span style="font-weight: normal;">This is still most definitely a running race, though. It’s a technical and highly challenging one, which explains why the field was so spread out and only 64% of the 50mile runners finished. In the men's race, the internationally successful Argentine - Gustavo Reyes - took first place after a very close battle with his North Face teammate, Enzo Ferrari. In the women’s race, Chilean hero Marlene Flores beat the Uruguayan - Andrea Fabiana - to top of the podium. Undoubtedly next year we will see even greater depth in the elite field. </span></h3>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Whilst it’s not a race for PBs, the VUT is all there. It’s extraordinarily creative and has that rare flavour, like a good spicy Chilean Pevre, of something dangerously refreshing. If you do head down here to run it, you might well get scared and you might not know if you are going to finish. But when you make that same step into t</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">he precipice at 4:30 in the morning, you will be going very deep into a South American adventure. And you will be smiling. </span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 12px;">1st place male - 10:30:31 - Gustavo Reyes (North Face, Argentina)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 12px;">2nd place male - 10:52:37 - Enzo Ferrari (North Face, Chile)</span><br />
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3rd place male - 11:25:46 - Fernando Etcheverry (Chile)</div>
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6th place male - 11:53:19 - Matt Maynard (TBAC, UK)</div>
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1st place female - 12:36:25 - Marlene Flores (NorthnFace, Chile)</div>
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2nd place female - 13:00:33 - Andrea Fabiana Montana Laudisio (Uruguay)</div>
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3rd place female - 13:43:56 - Fernanda Andres (Argentina)</div>
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<span style="color: blue;">Musical Pairing - <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xd5NLaKYPY" target="_blank">click here</a></span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-9ljeWPDSQZK4IhmPGbeH3d-QebMV57iv_GLCGjMFYEc1Gw_1FD2La3PKD8KBBfPjgJkHEHXvAek3DKObgCi_-MOa8EceT9mFJ0mnjX5iQbpFtft8ZXI1P63LqVPqB116WzgklfXV4Q/s1600/IMG_1637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-9ljeWPDSQZK4IhmPGbeH3d-QebMV57iv_GLCGjMFYEc1Gw_1FD2La3PKD8KBBfPjgJkHEHXvAek3DKObgCi_-MOa8EceT9mFJ0mnjX5iQbpFtft8ZXI1P63LqVPqB116WzgklfXV4Q/s1600/IMG_1637.JPG" height="148" width="200" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SK6V7fPifkfNQgfZciAuXKHgIxSRsNcRUJs5T5Ib1zy-kDw-35sAFTzFAEImw4DiKUONVGqNScUOeLKvGYpFzzHp7T_khoNvQSPpdMIejeQPtBrY1upoDgL4JTOsVmfmuAlsDsGpFqc/s1600/IMG_1675.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SK6V7fPifkfNQgfZciAuXKHgIxSRsNcRUJs5T5Ib1zy-kDw-35sAFTzFAEImw4DiKUONVGqNScUOeLKvGYpFzzHp7T_khoNvQSPpdMIejeQPtBrY1upoDgL4JTOsVmfmuAlsDsGpFqc/s1600/IMG_1675.jpg" height="200" width="149" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">I hitched a ride out of Jackson Hole from a stoplight on the outskirts of town. It been hailing whilst I had been waiting, and the windscreen on the jacked up pickup slowly began to mist up. </span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">The snow was close and it was time to get out of Wyoming and get as far south as possible. I had fallen out with the bike which bobbed around in the rear view mirror now, accusingly, from it’s precarious position on the bike rack.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYsKu5NYD8DiEI_n3tQwbsXSdgS2L3kASgJqTtru8HEulJLz-IDP9OlXe03T4qO3JsWiSYtPRHEHocj6dXfwi-jb87DUKmKDcrLlwUoJpfggQ-UQXuFQgt0OG2BWAo2Jnsihyphenhyphenqlspce0/s1600/DSCF9212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYsKu5NYD8DiEI_n3tQwbsXSdgS2L3kASgJqTtru8HEulJLz-IDP9OlXe03T4qO3JsWiSYtPRHEHocj6dXfwi-jb87DUKmKDcrLlwUoJpfggQ-UQXuFQgt0OG2BWAo2Jnsihyphenhyphenqlspce0/s1600/DSCF9212.JPG" height="196" width="400" /></span></a></h4>
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Pete Maniaci was driving 600miles in my direction and he said he would take me all the way with him. I was off the Divide trail after a month in the mountains and now sitting there in the sprung sits, pulling the grey smudged scenery towards us at 100km/h, it felt easy. The day slipped away and we drove on, adjusting our conversation to the time that spread out for hundreds of kilometres infront of us.<br />
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In the early hours of the morning we crossed the state line and I stepped out into Colorado for a toilet stop with the engine rumbling away behind. I had left my shoes in the car and my wallet. I looked over my shoulder into the blinding headlights towards the invisible driver and imagined the pickup rolling away for a moment. And what I would do next.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />But the headlights burned steadily through the darkness until I climbed back in. And we drove on.<br /><br /><br />I took possession of the car in Denver the next morning and promised to drop it off in Boulder for Pete who was flying out to a job in Santa Fe.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnMFV6F74JXSujrm84c7j9DtQS0ZqtJYCTZycveym2T8mbqE9Cms1Qu9c1aaMKSJzCsmvkVkQhwGYTBYdM4wHfkfY-xJyrTZXCyZSOhikTXLZb7sVwocTm8vuxUTiJ2Rc58KtVK8zzpZs/s1600/IMG_1643.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnMFV6F74JXSujrm84c7j9DtQS0ZqtJYCTZycveym2T8mbqE9Cms1Qu9c1aaMKSJzCsmvkVkQhwGYTBYdM4wHfkfY-xJyrTZXCyZSOhikTXLZb7sVwocTm8vuxUTiJ2Rc58KtVK8zzpZs/s1600/IMG_1643.JPG" height="390" width="400" /></span></a></h4>
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I spent the night in the Downtown streets exploring the heady dive bars and playing pool with heavy drinking strangers. It was enough to remind me of how little I had missed. I shook it off over the first few kilometres of the Flatiron Mesa Trail the following day and my first run on the American continent.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br />I shared my reflections so far on Boulder’s Trails that evening with Simon from the running store after he caught me idling with Ultrarunning magazine and invited me into the back room for a beer. The weight of responsibility for explaining Boudler’s story and the runners it has produced fell heavily on Simon as he detailed the achievements of individuals and created a picture of this town at the foot of the mountains as a hub for training and serious endeavour.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiHdNNv1b4iiE8fZiGDVXpmZceKN0PCR1ngmqEq5WVmpiN6I4ZbdoDVnVnlkM2daMhzMC6gTLmr8BZfqjlfQkGnyZlfHMlaAKeRTU8oGHszjRaox89fLFc1aOBGjz9lmu-szjjj73zXM/s1600/IMG_1669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpiHdNNv1b4iiE8fZiGDVXpmZceKN0PCR1ngmqEq5WVmpiN6I4ZbdoDVnVnlkM2daMhzMC6gTLmr8BZfqjlfQkGnyZlfHMlaAKeRTU8oGHszjRaox89fLFc1aOBGjz9lmu-szjjj73zXM/s1600/IMG_1669.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></span></a><span style="font-weight: normal;">Two more days of adventures on mountain trails and then I made the journey up into the Nederland ski area. I walked up narrow gravel roads from the bus stop to the remote house of Paul Maude; surrounded by limber and lodgepole pine - shrouded this evening in a cool Autumn chill.<br /><br /><br />Further still from Denver, this household runs in synchronicity with the passing day rather than artificially continuing it with electric light bulbs. I interrupted their routine however for an hour or so as we stood talking. Paul, his housemate Jenny and I, took quiet pleasure in welcoming mutual strangers into our lives over hot tea in the dim light of the final dregs of the day.<br /><br /><br />And then with the light again, Jenny and I were out of the house and into the morning, driving deeper into the Eldora mountains and towards the Great Divide. ‘Lord Huron’ played on the stereo and it was a moment where the music not just enhances the experience but describes it.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zOVCZz8wcwH1egLcYUC73sjo3njvRpPIAWEqDEfafxymZbH_i4a8b_oVou_uuLpj-3iqug2fwalug1FwkvU3V01le_tgLxrIQUjk71Mfv7TaJKUxQFWDDxrnjnOE5dam11EPUXP9VLE/s1600/IMG_1728.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8zOVCZz8wcwH1egLcYUC73sjo3njvRpPIAWEqDEfafxymZbH_i4a8b_oVou_uuLpj-3iqug2fwalug1FwkvU3V01le_tgLxrIQUjk71Mfv7TaJKUxQFWDDxrnjnOE5dam11EPUXP9VLE/s1600/IMG_1728.JPG" height="356" width="400" /></span></a><span style="font-weight: normal;">As the sun came higher and the road ended, we worked ourselves into a jog in the thin air, and the deepening snow. After an hour or so of effort we had climbed above the tree line to a desolate lake at the foot of a startlingly steep ridge that led the final few hundred feet up to the Divide. Hunkering down beneath a rock, we put on more layers and considered breaking trail up to the high point. It felt good to be out - to be feeling the cold - to be in the Rocky Mountains - to feel comfortable in the surroundings. It felt good too, to have conversation again. We saved a brave face adventure on a slippery icy ridge for another day and ran instead down the valley again, wooping and breathing in the steadily thickening air. </span></h4>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-36467451190971600302014-11-08T10:48:00.002-08:002014-11-08T11:51:29.682-08:00The Great Divide - A thousand miles from Banff to Yellowstone - September 2014<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDclEXpUZId_mR203Ob3P6ZR_axDmwQql9dH0QOLoCiD5WByAC3wanSV8e6G__bldH5a-fiqzI9pWjoIeQv5yqdS8mjXUtvd2zwBjOEAc1fkRRS1SE8hiAlA0XDn8PA2zjv15TN7HPis/s1600/DSCF8543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDclEXpUZId_mR203Ob3P6ZR_axDmwQql9dH0QOLoCiD5WByAC3wanSV8e6G__bldH5a-fiqzI9pWjoIeQv5yqdS8mjXUtvd2zwBjOEAc1fkRRS1SE8hiAlA0XDn8PA2zjv15TN7HPis/s1600/DSCF8543.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YJNHaopepxob3OVNAdci8u72j_LClAKwIPX1xNHQ5k3gBpFxbO08QSfIYd-py0XMMju26annjOSiLZnQTwtB8IHBnGPriMuWhvHhjfpD-wfEf7kt09tCXUIlRvyNJbiiQt-kOzzm7K4/s1600/DSCF8634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YJNHaopepxob3OVNAdci8u72j_LClAKwIPX1xNHQ5k3gBpFxbO08QSfIYd-py0XMMju26annjOSiLZnQTwtB8IHBnGPriMuWhvHhjfpD-wfEf7kt09tCXUIlRvyNJbiiQt-kOzzm7K4/s1600/DSCF8634.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/index.html?doc_id=14879" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Words at CrazyGuyonaBike</span></a></h2>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmmKLrW0wbA" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">And a video story below</span></a></h2>
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmmKLrW0wbA"></a><br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HmmKLrW0wbA"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6IZISmGirpDi4gsUGHBbgFoTuJPuJtUKHz0q7UMyRm57AhgYBpRV5oo0N22SU9Qj4-xye7axHPTOolUI9PmkFL29EKZzHS4PlovAWEaK9OTYmQKuVr7rMV6fK8NcUbdV1-B-0aQaOzp0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-11-08+at+16.17.04.png" height="400" width="640" /></a></div>
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When I was much younger, but still old enough to know better, we used to play a game involving bicycles and trespassing on private land. We would head out from my parents' house to the top of a hill in Kent somewhere and pick a point on the horizon. We would then spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get from our starting location to our chosen one via the most direct and uncompromising line possible. Why we took bicycles I do not know. More often than not we would spend far more time carrying the bikes than riding them; passing them between one another, over fences and prickly hedges. I have memories of lying in wait on the margins of fields, studying the movements of agricultural vehicles and industrious looking farm wives hustling around hen pecked courtyards. When the moment was right, we would make our move and dash out across the prohibited expanse before diving for cover and beginning the process all over again. Hours would pass in this way. And we thought we were ever so clever, sneaking around, going where we knew we shouldn't. It was our game and we played it with all the zest and enthusiasm of children experimenting with the forbidden pleasures of the adult world. We called it 'Ultimate Bearings.'</div>
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About this time, we started an afterschool road running club on Wednesday nights. The official aim was to train for a mountain marathon in the Brecon Beacons, Wales (which we did go on to subsequently complete and remarkably win!) But what kept us meeting midweek I think was the same feeling of rebellion that we enjoyed in our game with the bicycles. We would always run with our tops off you see - 3 or 4 scrawny boys bouncing along the A21 trunk road in rain and dusk - and we revelled in every disapproving honk of the cars that passed us. </div>
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Recently I have discovered a new game. It doesn't grip me in the same enchanting glow of merriment as these other childish adventures but it does have a similar feeling of miscreant pleasure and perhaps also of the absurd. Strava - (if you haven't heard of it yet then some would say you've never been on a run at all - "if it's not on Strava it doesn't count") is the most recent way I have found to satisfy those unfortunate penchants for naughtiness and narcissism that have hung on from years ago. </div>
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This App. offers the user the ability to create a 'segment' of a completed run which they believe to have been particularly taxing and which they ran well. This can vary from a 400m sprint section or the entirety of the session. They can then share their stats online, complete with a map, so that others can find it and give it a try. This is a great benefit for runners visiting new cities or trails as they can just follow a local runner's route. Anyone subsequently completing a 'segment' is automatically ranked (see below) against those who have already completed it. The current leader holds the Tour de France borrowed title "King of the Mountain!" until that is, someone comes along and knocks them off by going even faster.</div>
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'The Eiger Downhill' is an off-road 'segment' above the Roman spa town of Bath. It is the last in the line of a hundred miles of hills that mark the Cotswold chain. Earthy smells of agriculture and cattle jostle here with the quaint, polished chic of 'Aquae Sulis.' The slope angle makes for a real rib rattler and the line is littered with tussocks of grass and rock which haven't seen a plough since the tree clearance. To engage in combat, the runner needs to bring the requisite tools of recklessness and a strong sense of balance. And as they descend, they must continuously evaluate how to draw on these competing resources: risking ankle crunching leaps of wild faith for potentially sliding downhill on their face. It is not for the faint hearted. </div>
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So on a warm Sunday evening, my running partner and I weaved our way through the tourists and wafts of real ale and roast dinners and climbed out of the city to have a look at it. We ran it once downhill as a practice to find the best line. And then we disengaged the brain and went for it. Whilst his GPS device, to his great frustration, didn't work mine had me down as "King of the Mountain!"<br />
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Some call this kind of session where you go out deliberately to snatch a record: 'Strava Bombing' - others might call it an act of flagrant self publicity and adoration. Either way, the world would be a pretty sad, and serious place without a bit of fun like this ever so often: and after all, it's probably a whole lot better than trespass and partial nudity. Relatively speaking.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-24711759946046709072014-07-31T14:23:00.001-07:002015-05-19T08:16:22.760-07:00Lakeland 50 / UK Ultra Trail Championships <div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My preparation for this race was a mixed bag and for quite a while I was not even going to run it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I ran the Ultra Mallorca Serra de Tramuntana 112k back in mid April - Mallorca’s answer to Palma’s higher profile Transvulcania – and spent a long time recovering. This was the longest race I had done and still is, and I decided to rehab myself properly after it. There is the school of thought that a mile raced needs a day of recovery (67 days recovery in this case) and there are those who would run another race the following weekend. Different things work for different people. I erred on the side of caution and listened to my body and I quickly got use to the idea of taking it preeeety easy for a few months. I was also a bit disappointed with my performance in the race I realise in hindsight and I think this hampered my motivation for a while. </span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Besides the flat 6.5mile bike commute to work and back and the very occasional short jog, I did very little other exercise. I enjoyed having more time at home in the evenings after work. I did a spot of circuit training and had a mega week with Sof on the tandem cycle touring in Wales in and around the Hay on Wye literature festival.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizy9D1rEYWtBJxkZ6bNpLHbvJlsu1rAOwJQ0i_Zo74bVxTwngDKIProQIqP8hSy8K8SVIA1rDVYemnrSUR7esMWsON6xWk-mp2hfjUBIdxeS66vkdyjYS7jVje9O8J9ZglSfpNLELy7gg/s1600/Westbury+with+James.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizy9D1rEYWtBJxkZ6bNpLHbvJlsu1rAOwJQ0i_Zo74bVxTwngDKIProQIqP8hSy8K8SVIA1rDVYemnrSUR7esMWsON6xWk-mp2hfjUBIdxeS66vkdyjYS7jVje9O8J9ZglSfpNLELy7gg/s1600/Westbury+with+James.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Westbury White Horse Challenge with James Donald</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was well into June before I ran over 15miles in one push and did anymore than 25 miles a week again. It was probably the spectacular 3-4 hour night session on the trails with Guy Landon in preparation for his South Downs Way 100mile race that got me going once more. We skipped over trails that night in Cotswold fields flooded with moonlight and I surprised myself about how easy it all still felt. I allowed myself to make unfair comparisons with Guy (who already had over 100miles in his legs from trails that week alone!) and saw that I</span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was moving pretty well. As I got into bed well after midnight, I had wildly inflamed welts on my legs from a </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">mile of stinging nettles that we had waded through but I flirted with the idea of competing in the Lakeland 50 </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">still, and trying to run it well. A few weeks later I ran to the white horse on the hill in Westbury and back with my running buddy James – 42 miles round trip from the abbey in Bath – and topped out that Sunday with my first 90mile week – almost all of them having been run on trails. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt released once the end of the school term came about with work out of the way for another era at least in the UK, and exciting preparations were afoot for our move back to Chile in mid August. The following Wednesday morning after breaking up and with three days still to the race, we made our way up to the Lake District from Bath. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From our BnB in Ambleside, generously paid for by Sof’s visiting mum, I headed out, perhaps rudely, as soon as we got there. I wanted to recce as much of the route as possible and thought that if I took it easy I could make it the 10miles to the Wynrose Pass road crossing without putting too much fatigue into the legs. I used the Road Map pace notes that I had saved on my phone and found them worryingly fiddly but I don’t know what I was expecting from written instructions about footpaths over open fell - and really - they are very good indeed. Other runners had been making visits for months and had the route locked down. If I thought I was going to benefit from the same advantage as them from a quick read of the notes and the map before the race, I had another thing coming – do your recces kids.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnIQW_qPdIfSZ4LJ4KBzxm1HmaCCDA-_w7xHVhllqhECnRvQOsc2LYge1niF098b-67yylOIoWcVr7u5HAeaRKpLj6Hxlw-5v0mN2DEU2C4ZLSF4Sb4wP9ojFvVoSjc-DmfetbfIcvyg/s1600/recce+night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="475" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAnIQW_qPdIfSZ4LJ4KBzxm1HmaCCDA-_w7xHVhllqhECnRvQOsc2LYge1niF098b-67yylOIoWcVr7u5HAeaRKpLj6Hxlw-5v0mN2DEU2C4ZLSF4Sb4wP9ojFvVoSjc-DmfetbfIcvyg/s1600/recce+night.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back nostalgically on Wednesday <br />
recce night in the Langdale Valley</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got to the Wynrose Pass on the recce after a stella rundown off Blea Tarn through pine forests and fast, good track, skipping stepping stones occasionally over the meandering tendrils of the outlet brook. I felt fresh and invigorated and overwhelmed by the scale of the landscape now that I was back in the Lake District compared to the Cotswold Hills. I had rock climbed many times in my early 20s on the north faces of the Langdale valley that stand guard over the Old Dungeon Ghyll. That evening, as I climbed out on the steep sided valley to the south, I looked across at the gnarly crags. I had gazed at the same path I was on from belay ledges nearly ten years ago and had marveled at how steep it was and what it must be like to hike up it – I’m sure that if I had seen any climbers that Wednesday evening I would have wondered at how precipitous and exposed their own position was.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On Thursday Sofia joined me for another evening adventure from Wynrose to Tiberthwaite - the last aid station - and then onto Coniston. We walked most of the 5miles with its 500m of elevation but ran down the back of the climbs. We had done the same in Mallorca days before the race and it felt mega to be moving in the mountains together again.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Race day, with its 11:30 kick off was a calm build up with none of the headtorch eaten, mouth scolding experience of 1am porridge that accompany other such all day mountain endeavours. The race organisers by putting it at this time (with a touted 1.5% of finishers completing the course in less than 9 hours I had read the week before in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Trail Running</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> magazine) had every intention that the 50miler event would be run at night for the vast majority of people. There was therefore no reason to ram it forward into the early hours, which suited me just fine. I don’t like porridge anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If I had known my who’s who within the goldfish bowl of UK ultra running, it would have been a moment of pant wetting excitement at that start line on Saturday. As it was though, I was blithely ignorant and chatted away to Damian Hall as you can see <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_bkR7KnWds#t=162" target="_blank">here</a> in our moment of stardom for all the seconds inbetween 2:39 right up to 2:41. I did have the chance to wish Stuart Mills the best though– winner of the 100 miler last year – who I recognised from his blog I sometimes enjoy reading.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Off they all went and I sat in behind in about tenth place for the lap around the Dalemain Estate. The pack started to pull away and I decided to hold back and not try to match the sub 7:00 mile pace they were setting at this early stage. I fingered my Road Book nervously anticipating a long journey navigating by myself.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the first proper chug uphill to The Cockpit, just beneath High Street, I was surprised to overtake Damain who was struggling with the heat a bit. He is a very seasoned ultra runner now (despite his ever more farcical claims at being otherwise in his self deprecating articles for magazines) and I wondered whether I was going well or pushing too hard. My breathing felt good though and my chest felt light; I had started my hat dipping strategy at every river crossing as well and as the water evaporated rapidly in the 26degree heat it cooled me beautifully. I had my big wrap around sunglasses on lock down setting and tried to keep my face relaxed too.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Howtown checkpoint came and went and I used my ‘party bag’ strategy for the first time; filling a ziplock bag with nuts from the aid station as I went through and then trying to get them down on the long climb back up onto the ridge and High Kop. I overtook Matty Brennan here, another Kiwi alongside Stuart Mills, who let me go saying ‘I can’t do hills’ – but it was not the last I would see of him. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nuts in, water in, more water in, more nuts in. Top of High Kop. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The run off down to Haweswater was an aggressive pace as I was trailed through it and coached along very kindly by John Butters who knew the way. The banks of Haweswater was the heat trap that had been anticipated and I was low on liquids and high on anxiety about keeping hydrated. It was techy and rolled up and down the flanks of the hillside along a rock strewn sheep track that allowed none of the time to switch off that I had hoped for. As I closed on the Mardale aid station, the figure who had been gaining on me for the last 4 miles drew up alongside. Jo Meek.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">'How you going?' I ask.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘I dunnknow…I’ve got some rocks in my shoes and I’m very thirsty.’</span><span style="color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eating had already settled in at that 1/10 perfunctory level of enjoyment that seems to be synonymous with ultra distance running. Peanut butter sandwiches were in the party bag now on the way up to Gatesgarth and as it steepened I did some housekeeping by getting three mouthfuls in.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Longsleddale valley next, where you have to push hard. The landscape is big and imposing; the tracks are rock strewn but demandingly runable. Kentmere comes after and there are Girl Guides with smoothies. I hit them, the smoothies that is, like shots lined up on a bar: one, two, three and young caterers stand by horrified. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘It’s weird this running business ey?’ I say.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">They nod, their woggles bouncing up and down in agreement, and spoon their lovingly made pasta into the maniacs food bag. I walk briskly out of the aid station and Matty Brennan jogs past me as I begin to gouge sweaty tomato stained carbohydrate lumps out of my party bag with bare hands. </span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> …………………………………………………………………….</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Kentmere is the halfway point and during the 7.3 miles to Ambleside, I try to have a bit of a look at myself and see what I am going to need to make it to Coniston as fast as possible. Water is still the number one priority judging by the yellow syrup I manage to squeeze out of the pipes as an extra piece of housekeeping. As well as this, my legs tell me they are a bit tight </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">on the run off from the Garburn Pass </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 1; white-space: pre-wrap;">when I broach the subject of there being 25 miles left : we strike a compromise and take small quick strides and stop to check the Road Book when confused to limit the damage of taking a wrong turn. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Troutbeck next,, then a contouring traverse down to Ambleside through dry stone wall flanked tracks and woods. In town it’s my team Chile support crew on the side of the road for high fives. 'Yes!'</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘Okay.’ I know this from here I think. I put the Road Book away very deliberately, open the taps just a little more and start to get the first dividens of those complex carbs from early on in the race, just starting to dribble through now into the blood stream. Fill me up! I’m coming home!</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Skelwith, Elterwater, Chapel Stile. The Langdale valley yawns open again as it had done at the same time of evening the previous Wednesday. It’s very fast through here and you have to push on a lot because you know everyone else sure will be. I’m looking over my shoulder a lot like some kind of sponsored hero to see if anyone is sneaking up on me. I had seen Lizzie Wraith’s boyfriend Ed in Kentmere and he told me I was in sixth. I wasn’t sure. I had lost a place since then but had also overtaken Martin Cox who was limping along with an injury. I had a fair idea I was still in the top ten and I was keen to hold on to it for as long as possible. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the High Tiberthwaite car park and last checkpoint the clouds have rolled in, the temperature has dropped and it’s threatening to get real nasty. That 'Trail Running' statistic about 1.5% of runners going sub nine is going through my head as it’s already 8:12 on the race clock and there’s 3.5miles to go with 385m of elevation. Ian Coreless is there snapping away and I tell him how much I like his ‘Ultra Talk’ radio show whilst taking on a reservoir of water to stave off the cramps and help sluice down the last push caffeine gels I have been saving. Open the flood gates. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The rain touches down on the climb out of the quarry and up to the Yewdale Fells, momentarily: before thinking better of it and saving itself up for the full onslaught an hour later. It’s only me up there on the plateau above Coniston and I can see I am not going to get caught before the winding descent to the finish. The track becomes a trail which become a path and then a road and I feel good and cramp free and stride out down into Coniston. Crossing the line I have to take deep gasping breaths as if I have just finished a 5k; so loudly did the crowds cheer in the high street and so enthusiastically did I push on. I finish in 8:55 and in 8th place. I'm pleased with that.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I spent the evening also feeling very pleased about finishing before the darkness and the rain which washes the car across the road on the drive back to Ambleside. Sofia and Consuelo and I eat good curry and I offend the mother in law by taking my stinky shoes off to examine my ballooning feet.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…………………………………………………………………………………………</span></div>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Just before getting into bed as I walk across the BnB hallway in my dressing gown I hear shouts and screams and applause from the town. It’s midnight and raining hard still but I swap the bed wear for a waterproof and let myself quietly out of the front door into the now silent streets again. I walk back up the road to the centre of town and then down to the Ambleside aid station: mile 34 of the 50 mile race and 89 of the 105 mile race. Bodies and coffee cups; bandages and ginger biscuits; damp socks and blister plasters stretch out, </span>infusing steadily with the smells of deep heat and body odor in a gently shifting mosaic across the Parish Centre floor. This is live race coverage and it is the picture of determination and grit. I try to enthuse and pass out coffee but neither are really needed as their eyes are set on the goal of completing within the 24 hour time limit. I feel like an imposter into the private solidarity of the back-of-the-pack-runner and slink towards the door after an hour. I reflect back over the day on the way out and how my experience was over so much quicker than theirs and how I spent a lot longer looking at my feet than the views. I try to comfort myself with the thought that I had put in a really good showing and had even beaten some of the sponsored guys today.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
‘Some of those guys get free stuff’ I tell myself! I fantasise about getting a free Cliff Bar through the post one day and let the Parish Centre door swing shut on the mountains of cake and ginger nut biscuits.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3011988822996687626.post-78710506258726325622014-07-06T15:55:00.000-07:002014-07-16T10:55:49.832-07:00The Cotswold Relay Race 2014/ conversations with the inner black self-doubt cloud<span style="font-family: Calibri;">School Sports Day is one of the greatest
forums for excellence and humiliation that still exists for the C21child. This
Tuesday I was on starting duty for the 100m end of day climax as well as the
‘long distance event’ the 800. Whilst a few select students awaited their
event, plucking pensively at blades of grass, the majority of the school sprawled
along the home straight, turning rosey coloured in the sun. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What was unexpected, or I
should say poorly remembered from my own childhood, was the level of self-doubt
that was being expressed. ‘I can’t do it’ - ‘I’m going to vomit’ – ‘This is a
terrible idea’ and ‘Everyone is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way</i>
faster than me.’ As I gave them the starting orders, I admit that I envied my PE colleagues for the spell bond attentiveness that I momentarily caught them in. It was with callous
satisfaction therefore that I dismissed desperate plea after plea, with each wave
after wave of children who I mercilessly ‘Ready, Steady Goed’ through the start
line. And with each protest, I began to hear echoes of the same self-doubt that
I had heard just the previous weekend with a group of adults in a very similar
situation…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLoM45gM5I33enlZHyuIFguV_0LqXje3nNEBQIjo-79oujuJPWucoqH6zsMNcuRrK73hiotWbbVT1oWs5oxV4E33RRXHaGjQSLQXEuzwONpz7jcC9s0oqMWDDkQ0yD5m61jclmvC50vY/s1600/CotswoldWay+signpost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieLoM45gM5I33enlZHyuIFguV_0LqXje3nNEBQIjo-79oujuJPWucoqH6zsMNcuRrK73hiotWbbVT1oWs5oxV4E33RRXHaGjQSLQXEuzwONpz7jcC9s0oqMWDDkQ0yD5m61jclmvC50vY/s1600/CotswoldWay+signpost.jpg" height="214" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Cotswold Relay, in this, its 22<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">nd</span></sup>
year, saw a record ninety teams of runners wiggle their way down the 100mile
off-road route of the Cotswold Way from Chipping Sodbury to Bath Abbey. It’s
not a traditional baton exchanging relay, as each stage has a predetermined
start time - regardless of whether your runner has come in yet –with a mass
start at the next chocolate box village every hour or so. This format allows
runners to follow the race once they have completed their own leg. Inevitably spectators
snowball in number in proportion to the pant wetting levels of anticipation
experienced by the later runners who they voyeuristically turn up ‘to support.’
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf69zHbzXy9pq1V6FlTRrnXXmOZoFP70kNollDRDnTBwfDR4EIuXUuZSNqEZOhfNXp3MZZsE0S6mCWeDsZQ_k23yj3wAWWeeWnf4qaVso1ilJvTyRkpYhgXKvrzIfRGmoCxeyl6oZsLDw/s1600/paul.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf69zHbzXy9pq1V6FlTRrnXXmOZoFP70kNollDRDnTBwfDR4EIuXUuZSNqEZOhfNXp3MZZsE0S6mCWeDsZQ_k23yj3wAWWeeWnf4qaVso1ilJvTyRkpYhgXKvrzIfRGmoCxeyl6oZsLDw/s1600/paul.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MId-week recce with Paul</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A ‘recce’ run is de rigueur on a
weeknight preceding the race. With another club mate Paul Griffiths, I scoped
out a 12 mile leg that took in the infamous Cooper’s hill of cheese rolling
fame, near Gloucester. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Questions were
asked and eyebrows were raised about whether such a gradient was even runnable.
Later the same evening, whilst rehydrating with a packet of crisps and a
pickled egg, I could see these hills begin to reach mountainous proportions in
my club mate’s mind and the sweeping curves morphing into vertiginous drops. Indeed
the inner dialogue of self-doubt had begun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The morning of the race we travelled
in a bigger group in a Team Bath car and the excuses and the self-criticism
really began. ‘My shirt is too floppy,’ ‘my leg is too hilly,’ ‘my body is too
old,’ ‘my feet are too clumbsy.’ And yet all members of this chorus came in the
top ten of ninety odd competitors over their leg. More on this in a minute.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Cooper’s Hill leg is the
fourth one. It’s everything <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you can ask
from a perfect trail run. Great views, good steep climbs, rutted rock strewn
descents, fast open common, banked trails through woodland. At 12 miles in
length it was enough time to get into the race and the pace was never going to
be gut wrenching. I set off with the front pack which whittled down to a
stretched out three in the first few miles with me at the back. I needed to
keep visual contact as we had not had time to recce all of the route and I
would lose time following the Cotswold Way signs otherwise. It quickly
transpired that the others knew as little as I however and their double backing
helped me keep contact a couple of times. I don’t like to run close behind
others on trails and I would ideally keep a good 5 or 10 metres back so that I
can see clear ground infront and plan my footfalls. This lasted for the grand
total of the 45 seconds that I led the race where I enjoyed clear footpaths as
we whistled down through woodland, weaving our way between meaty branches of
Oak. I was quickly put in my place by Garry Hughes of Stroud AC, who seemed to have recced the second
half and from mile 7 we didn’t seem him until the end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Cooper’s Hill was always going to
be that climb at the end of a run that you are measuring your efforts against
and saving energy for and being a bit afraid of. The air temperature was rising
outside of the woods but the soil was soft underfoot and we plunged regularly
through cool air pockets and brushed against low hanging Beech leaves. I had Anthony Glover<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from Westbury Harriers in my sights in second place as we started up
the path that contours – thank heaven – around the cheese rolling hill. On the
recce I had run it at a manageable pace but as<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Anthony </span>started walking, I walked it too. There is
a bit to save here for another post (and lots of others have already expressed
it well) that walking is a good tactical move in a race as you conserve energy
and, here I think, I went<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>faster for it.
So I reeled in Anthony a
bit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then the end was coming and
it was taps open. I managed to squeak past my man on a rocky narrow patch. Anthony<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>looks like a really strong runner and he
probably should have finished ahead of me if I hadn’t caught up when he stopped
frequently to find the route.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to
run strongly up the next rise to put some distance between us…and to feel less
bad if I did finish infront<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The familiar closed in now from
our Wednesday recce but I tried not to concentrate on it being over. Maybe in a
road race when you are running for a time. But in the woods, on a dry sunny
summer’s day in the middle of the Cotswolds it has got to be fun, at least a
bit, or it’s not worth doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Garry Hughes was relaxing at the finish line with his first
place bubbly in hand and looking very relaxed compared to the runners of leg 5
who had been ‘ready steady goed’ just minutes before. The day expanded from
here into a glorious afternoon of clapping and cheering and manic driving between
the remaining 6 stages to see all the remaining 600 runners off. At stage 7
Luke Sturgess-Durden handed me the starting horn after issuing his race
briefing and then took his place with the rest of the runners. As I counted
them down and then sent them off on a mid-afternoon arc around Dursley to Wooton under Edge, I even got to wear
the starters’ sombrero: one of the entirely appropriate eccentric touches that
Luke has added to his brilliantly restyled and idiosyncratic race over the last
three years. And of course, 50 minutes later, with a grand total of two hours
sleep the previous night (2hours more than the previous year he reassured me
afterwards) Luke was the first runner home.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9qAIF7XqztEZioN_txSB_Mt5YRw5uzlXg-a07envfJF7Sz0woNuEQ5BHPvRXa2RVKjbE8Zw8RELEZ63wbOwTSPm61JzHEWE9sMYsGUU5SGdnXRANPkBL3YXj1mxalJG1gIyeMkd0WSI/s1600/luke.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv9qAIF7XqztEZioN_txSB_Mt5YRw5uzlXg-a07envfJF7Sz0woNuEQ5BHPvRXa2RVKjbE8Zw8RELEZ63wbOwTSPm61JzHEWE9sMYsGUU5SGdnXRANPkBL3YXj1mxalJG1gIyeMkd0WSI/s1600/luke.jpeg" height="640" width="478" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The one and only Luke Sturgess-Durden</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Team Bath had 4 podium places by
the end of leg seven. Other great runs were had by Dan Jones 1<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">st</span></sup> place on leg 2 and James
Donald - 3<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup> on leg 5. But as the afternoon drew on, it slipped away
a little bit and when we reached Bath Abbey we finished in 3<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">rd</span></sup> of
the ninety teams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Prize giving for the Cotswold Way
was at Bath Rugby club. Anxiety was completely absent and had long since
dissipated amongst the leaf mulch of the Cotswolds. Pints were raised and
runners from Birmingham to Bristol fell into leisurely conversation. Plans were
hatched to run again next year and to see a different part of the Cotswolds
over a different leg. The most prestigious prizes of the evening were the King
and Queen of the Cotswolds: runners who have run the entire length in nothing
short of ten years. It’s a good effort that, but then there’s always the
Cotswold Century where you run the entire 103mile length in a oner!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There had been nobody really out
there watching us, unlike at Sports Day. But there were undeniably a lot of
nervous people lacing up their trail shoes throughout the day. This nervousness
was aired in many of the shared cars en route to the start line no doubt.
Telling others how little faith you have in yourself does seem like a good
self-effacing, group therapy strategy for managing nerves. And if it is entered
into lightly, it can be reassuring to know that other people are anxious too.
Perhaps this nervous energy, if properly addressed, can even be productive if
repackaged at the start line into something more broad minded and rational
about the difficulties that lie ahead. Whatever race you enter however, it
seems like it’s always going to be there no matter how experienced a runner you
are. So remember those feelings in the pub, toasting your success and the pleasure
you derived afterwards from giving it your best. Package them up, and fold them
away neatly with your Cotswold Way t-shirt, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to be unpacked deliberately the next time the
doubt cloud starts to roll in.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07944642378663976508noreply@blogger.com0