The last few weeks have been interesting to say the least. While in the desert I had plenty of time to contemplate and take stock of my life and I came to some interesting conclusions. I am very lucky in so many ways and life really is great. For the last few years I have been working for a good international company in the healthcare sector where I rose quickly to well paid management position. On reflection I decided to make some changes and work is one of them. On my return from Namibia I found myself with a choice change job within the company or leave and chase down the dream. I applied for and accepted, a place at Medical School studying for a Masters degree in Exercise for Health which starts in October.
Why would I choose to become unemployed in the middle of a recession you may ask? Because life should be lived with passion and I firmly believe that chasing down my passion is the key to success and happiness. I was very good at my job but it was not my passion, yet I would often work very long hours and have to make all sorts of sacrifices for my work. So I reasoned that if I am to work long hours and do unpaid overtime I should at least be passionate about it. So I have a plan which will unfold over the next two years.
I’m a firm believer that everything comes to you at the right time and place and so it seems to be, my decision coincided with an organisational restructuring at work and eventually it worked out well for both the company and me. Although they tempted me with a couple of other positions I have stuck with my gut feel on this one and so as of the end of Aug I’m no longer in full time employment. One by one the pieces of the jigsaw have been falling into place my favourite customer in Ireland offered me work as a Radiographer part time and my former employer in London has done the same. Having decided to become a professional adventurer I found myself being offered a place to run in next year’s Marathon Des Sables and also to join a two man team to Row in the Woodvale Challenge 2011.
The Woodvale Challenge is the toughest rowing race in the world, it is a Rowing race some 3,000 miles across the Atlantic Ocean, so on the 4th Dec 2011 Thomas Crawford Fitzsimon and I will start rowing from La Gomera in the Canary Islands to Antigua in a race we fully intend to win. We have a few challenges to overcome between now and then, firstly we need to raise £70,000 in corporate sponsorship (if any of you would like to sponsor us please let me know), Thomas has to learn to swim, we both need to learn to row, both have to pass Sea Survival courses, VHF Radio operator courses, Sea Navigation Courses and hopefully our day skipper qualification. Its a long road and full of challenge but we will get there.
The Marathon Des Sables is a self supporting 256Km seven day multi-stage race through the Sahara desert, I am lucky to secure a place as there is currently a two year waiting list for would be runners. I will be running for team Facing Africa and raising money to fight a terrible condition called NOMA. NOMA eats away at the faces of children causing horrific injuries from which the majority of sufferers die; those who don’t have their lives wrecked by the facial disfigurement and associated complications. Facing Africa raises money to send medical and surgical teams out to Africa to perform facial reconstruction on these children to give them back their lives.
I’m currently between Ireland and the UK which is playing havoc with my training program but I am back running and now starting to ramp up my training for the Marathon Des Sable in April. Its going to be quite a journey and I can promise some adventures along the way so keep checking back here for the latest.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
The ATD Namibia 2010 Ultramarathon
Can you recognise an ultra endurance athlete just by looking at them? That was the question I asked myself as I sipped my hot coffee, one eye on my Bergen and the other on the slowly filling arrivals hall of Windhoek’s international airport. As I chewed on the game biltong enjoying it’s slightly salty taste, I reflected on the last two weeks that Fi & I had enjoyed travelling around the amazing country that is Namibia. Together we had climbed mountains, become stranded in soft sand next to a shipwreck on the Skeleton coast, tracked wild elephant, hunted with leopards in the early morning, felt the ice chill of guttural fear invoked by the bellowing of a lion only feet away in the pitch dark of the African night and driven over the desert that I was soon to run across. We’d done it all together and now for the next few days we were on our own adventures. Fi was off on an adventure of her own across country to Swakopmund via the great sand dunes of Sossusvlei and I would be running the Namibia 2010 Ultramarathon; 126 km self supporting across the Namib desert in under 24 hours.
I looked at my watch it was 10:45 am and the information board across in the arrivals hall declared that the flight from Johannesburg had landed. I finished my coffee grabbed my Bergen and Aarn Marathon magic 30Ltr race pack, paid for my coffee and purchased a large bottle of cold water before heading out into the now busy arrivals hall. I checked my phone to see if I’d had any messages from Faan Across The Divide’s in country contact but I hadn’t. On the flight were the other competitors who had flown in from London but I hadn’t met any of them before. Looking around the hall I spotted a man with his T-shirted back to me, on it were the words ‘Across the divide’ with the familiar logo. Guessing this must be Faan I made my way over to introduce myself. As I approached the man was talking to an athletic looking blond woman in a cap who smiled as I came up to them. “Hi, I’m Jamile Siddiqui, I’m running in the Ultra”, the man turned and with a smile he introduced himself in a South African accent as Volker. He was wearing baggy shorts under his t-shirt and had the physique and complexion of a man who actively spends a lot of time outdoors. Over his right eye he wore an eye patch and in his left a glint that projected intelligence and mischievousness. Someone later described him as looking like he’d walked straight out of a war movie.
The lady with Volker introduced herself as Karen, a South African runner who had previously run the Comrades and had flown up to take part in the Namibia Ultra. I felt the excitement build as the reality of the situation began to slowly materialize around me. I had been training for a year, six days a week to be here and now in just two short days I would be running across the Namib Desert. Karen and I chatted while Volker went off to greet and guide the runners as they started to come through the gates one by one. Standing next to Karen was Arrant, a Namibian who was to be our driver, a big friendly guy who would turn out to be the only off road coach driver I’d ever met. As the three of us stood there chatting a thoughtful looking guy in his late forties with a dark suntan, greying beard and ‘Parkies’ cap came over to us, his name was Hentie. A local Namibian runner Hentie had decided to run the Ultra and along with Kobus (Who I’ll tell you about later) was the only other Namibian to run in this year’s race.
So can you recognise an Ultra runner just by looking at them? As the people came through I found that generally I could, they all had something in common and it wasn’t just the race bags they were carrying. Obviously you wouldn’t expect them to look like Baba Papa but there was something about their faces that gave them away. Maybe it was a certain look of excitement mixed with trepidation and determination that the other passengers didn’t possess.
Many people I speak to about Ultras are surprised to discover that women make up a good amount of the field; I don’t know why this surprises so many people as usually the women are bloody good at Ultramarathon distances.
The doors of the arrivals hall slide soundlessly open and as if she had walked out of a photograph complete with her bush hat, the race medical director Amy enter the hall with her team of medics. As everyone started picking up their bags I headed out to the coach where Arrant helpfully stowed my kit in the waiting vehicle. As everyone steadily did the same I sat on the wall next to the bus enjoying the sunny morning, another runner smiled and nodded at me and I introduced myself to him. I recognised his accent at once and asked where he was from “Ireland” Steve replied, “me too!”I said. It turned ou
t that Steve was in the Air Corp and works less than five miles down the road from me. We started to chat and found ourselves sitting next to each other on the coach, we were so engrossed in conversation that I barely noticed when we were told that there was a problem with the vehicle and we were still talking fifteen minutes later when Arrant roared the coach into life and we set off.
It is a long journey to the Brandburg Mountain where the desert camp was located and along the way I chatted to Steve as we tracked our journey on a map that Volker had given me. The dryness of the country was evident as we crossed many rivers but every one of them was now dusty sand. Baboon run across the road ahead of the bus and Steve pointed one out sitting by the side of the road as we drove on. Our first stop was Okahandja, a small town around 60 km north of Windhoek. We piled out of the coach for a quick loo stop; I headed with Steve into the local Biltong shop. If ever you find yourself in Okahandja be sure to pop in get some. Good protein never tasted better!
Having been issued a lunch pack and soft drinks we were off again for another two and a half hour stint, when we stopped I was stretching my legs and standing by a petrol pump when I started talking to Ruth, who turned out to be one of the Medics, a GP and A&E doctor Ruth had worked on other events but this was her first trip with Across The Divide, as we chatted Amy came over and introduced herself. She was just as I’d imagined her to be, exuding confidence and friendly assertiveness she is a larger than life character with flaming red hair and a big smile. No sooner had I said hello than we were getting back on the coach again; Arrant gunned the vehicle over dirt roads and through clouds of thick dust as we raced the setting sun to the Brandburg mountain.
Next to Steve sat Darren, I didn’t know it at the time but Darren was last year’s Namibia Ultra winner. I had read his blog but didn’t make the connection at first, a modest guy it was evident however that he had done several big races, it turned out that Darren had been part of Team Men’s Health and in the last year had run in events as far apart as the Amazon to Namibia and beyond. This year however Darren would be returning not as a runner but as a member of the directing staff for Across The Divide working on the event logistics.
It was late afternoon as the sun started falling from the sky, we passed through the small town of Uis which was really no bigger than a dusty village in the middle of no-where when forty five minutes later Arrant turned off the road and we started to drive in to the desert. The sun had just set behind the Brandburg Mountain. The mountain gets its name ‘Burnt (or Fire) Mountain’ as the setting sun shining off its west face makes it look as if the mountain is on fire. It’s a remarkable sight.
Slowly in the distance we could make out a speck of light appear through the dust of the two other vehicles in our convoy in front of us, as it got larger we started to make out the silhouettes what looked like a giant military lorry and a large tent, then as we drew closer many smaller dome tents. Finally the coach stopped, the doors opened and wearily people climbed down into the dust laden night to collect their bags.
It was dark and as my bags were first on they were last out, so by the time I swung my Bergen over my back and lifted my Aarn pack most people were already in their tents and unpacking their sleeping bags. I walked around for a while looking for a spot to sleep and eventually found an empty space in a tent in which someone had already taken one of the mattresses. That sorted it was time to find a brew.
Next to the large mess tent was what I was looking for, I got a cup of tea and then joined everyone in the mess tent for the greeting and briefing.
Steve Clark the race director welcomed us and briefly introduced the team it was pitch dark in the tent and I couldn’t see him very well, he went through the medics and then pointed over to a giant of a man standing in the shadows next to the giant lorry. “This is Faan” Steve told us. Faan’s reputation had travelled across the planet before him, a Namibian, ex Special Forces; Faan has an air about him that commands instant respect. A big man, I never heard him raise his voice and he always was friendly, he has an aura about him, if he asks someone to do something I doubt he has ever had to ask twice. He radiates total competence.
We were briefed on camp hygiene and shown how to use the two canvas wash basins one with water in it, the other with disinfectant, dip in one then the other and air dry... Simple!
After the brief we queued up and got some hot food and another cup of tea or coffee then most people quickly got their heads down. For many it had been a long journey, I had been in country for a couple of weeks now and was well rested so decided to stay up for a while. I chucked on a fleece against the chill night air and went and sat next to the fire that Faan’s team had built. Along the way I met CJ and Allie two young women from the UK who looked familiar. It turned out that they had both run on one of Rory’s events in the UK that I had also run in. CJ and Allie turned out to be full of surprises and it would seem to be their lives mission to break stereotypes. I would never have guessed that CJ had been an Artillery Officer or that both of them were rugby players!! As I got to know them however it became clear that appearances can be deceptive. Both of them had an amazing inner strength and tons of character and were great company. With them by the fire was Tom Adams, he came over to me as quietly confident and a good bloke with not an ounce of fat on him. Working for an Oil company Tom was heading up to Angola after the race and along with CJ and Allie had been in the country for a few days now. The conversations carried on into the night and eventually I decided to call it a night. I headed to the loo and afterwards started to make my way over to the canvas wash basins when all of a sudden Darren stopped me and turned me around, in the dark with the lights from the camp in my eyes I had not seen two closer canvas basins that I’d walked past. Embarrassed I explained that I was on my way to the ones on the other side of the mess tent.
I found my tent and opened it up, inside someone was sleeping and although I tried to be quite I managed to wake a sleeping Ryan. Ryan was from the states and was running the Marathon event. I said hi then zipped up and crashed out....
I opened my eyes and lay dead still.... There it was again, just on the other side of the canvas... “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!” “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!” Then something hit the side of the canvas firmly pushing against me.... “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!”
Shit! I had heard this noise before only a few days ago... It was a Honey Badger! Honey Badgers may sound sweet and fluffy but nothing can be further from the truth, they’re in the Guinness book of records as the most aggressive animal on the planet. When Top Gear went to Botswana Jeremy Clarkson said this of them ‘A Honey Badger does not kill you to eat you. It tears off your testicles’. Very reassuring; then again the side of the tent pushed against me “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!” They have an amazing strong sense of smell and when I was camping in Etosha they would raid the camp for food...FOOD!!! Oh no.... By the foot of my sleeping bag was a bag of biltong!!! Shit! It must be after my biltong!!! I swiftly sprang up into a sitting position “RYAN!“
“Yea?”
“Any second now a big animal is going to come through the door and go for that bag... Whatever you do DON’T try and stop it!”
Ryan was awake now... As we waited for the attack of the Honey Badger...
“I can hear it” I whispered
The silence in the tent could have been cut with a knife and we waited. Outside something pushed against the side of the tent again.
I reached for my torch and shone it through the mozzy net at the top of the tent but couldn’t see anything. Then it hit me... The biltong was vacuum packed and unopened. Surely it wouldn’t be able to smell that. “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!”
I shone the torch over to where the sound came from just as the ‘Honey badger’ turned over in their sleep.
“Err... I think that’s someone snoring next door” Ryan perceptively said.
Feeling like a prize idiot I lay down just as the tent pushed into me again, then on Ryan’s side the flap over the window lifted and slapped down hard in the wind. Oh boy!
Apologising to Ryan and feeling for the second time in one night acute embarrassment (mixed with relief) I lay back down to sleep. Maybe I was more tired than I realised after all.
Day Two....
Over the last couple of weeks my body clock has reset to Namibian time, not the actual time which is no different from the time in UK & Ireland but to the rhythm of the day. In Namibia the sunsets around 17:30 Hrs and almost immediately its pitch dark like the UK is at midnight, by 20:00 Hrs many people are going to bed then in the morning people are up by 05:30 Hrs and wide awake by 06:00 Hrs. I wake early and listen to the sounds of the camp around me, Faan’s staff is busy preparing breakfast and the occasional tent is unzipped as someone goes off to the thunder boxes. I lay there relaxing looking up at the beautiful blue African sky through the mossy netted top of the tent. I’ve been all over the world but there is something about the African sky, its bigger somehow. I want to get up but after disturbing poor Ryan’s sleep decide to keep as quite for as long as possible. A few minutes pass until I suddenly hear the sound of drums, now this may not be the deepest and darkest part of Africa but it is definitely the rhythmic sound of the Tabla that I can hear as it reverberates around the camp, the living beat gently stirring the deepest of sleepers. Ryan wakes and I apologise about the Honey badger, he’s very good about it and thankfully sees the funny side. I get out of my sleeping bag which I pack away and unzip the tent flap. The camp is now full of waking people and the sound of the drum comes from across the camp where Volker is patting the drum into a hypnotic tattoo.
I look around me and the view is spectacular, there is no place on earth I’d rather be. The Bran
dburg mountain is a couple of miles away next to the camp and away in the distance is another small hill the sky is so blue and cloudless it make you feel small. The desert is all around us and broken only by small rocks and tufts of dry grass. I get cleaned up and head off to my second favourite place in the camp, the coffee table. By night I love the fire and its my favourite place in the camp but by day I love being able to wander over to the small table with boiling water in vacuum flasks and tea and coffee and make myself a brew. I didn’t know if cutlery and plates and bowls etc would be provided and am happy to find that they are. The Namibia Ultramarathon is a very civil way to be in the desert. After a lovely breakfast it’s time for a walk, we all get ourselves sorted out and meet Volker by the mess tent before heading out on a familiarisation walk. So it’s off to the hill a couple of km away. Quickly we are spread out and I find myself walking up the front with Volker and Tamara, 
Tamara is from the USA and along with Angela has flown over to compete in the Marathon distance. Both of them are easy to talk to and good fun. Tamara and I chat as we walk along and listen to Volker as he explains everything from the geology of the area to the flora and fauna he is clearly passionate about his subject matter and fascinating to listen to. We stop by a euphorbia and wait for everyone to catch up, Volker explains that it’s not a Cacti and that is deadly poisonous. In times of old missionaries were wiped out in droves as they didn’t know about the plant and cooked their meat on it, the smoke was full of lethal toxins which then killed them. I had heard a similar story about fifteen city men who were clearing a site in Twyfelfontein in northern Namibia but the plant was different, I described it to Volker, “It’s the Impala Lilly” Volker told me, Bushmen use the sap of the Impala Lilly to poison their arrows with. The fifteen men died just the same as the missionaries. As we continue over the hill Volker tells me about his younger years in South Africa, the man has lived an interesting life through some of the most interesting pages of his country’s history. As we walk someone calls out from behind us, I turn to see the Namibian Viking Joakim laying on the floor, wondering what he is doing we walk over. Inches away from Joakim’s camera’s big lens in a horned adder. Its camouflage is perfect and whoever saw it did very well not to step on it. Sand colour with pale orange bands and two risen lumps or horns above its eyes it’s a beautiful albeit poisonous snake.
I’d been ‘chatting’ with Joakim over facebook for a while but had only met him today, a laid back Swedish guy with a great sense of humour this would be Joakim’s third Namibia Ultramarathon, he was keen to make it a good one. With some snaky snaps on the memory card we headed back to camp. It was amazing just how quickly the camp had vanished in the vastness of the desert, even the coach and Faan’s giant truck soon had become invisible. If we got lost it would be hard going for a search party that is for sure.
After lunch we gathered in the mess tent for the medical briefing, in which Amy terrified us like a group of children being told ghost stories around a camp fire. Tales of marathon runners who died from Hyponatremia, Hyperthermia, Hypothermia, Hypoglycaemia in fact anything in Latin beginning with an H. As she educated us on the terrors that could befall us Darren recorded the moment from behind her with his camera. After the very thorough medical
brief we had a race brief by Steve and a kit check then we had some time to ourselves to let it all really sink in. This event is not to be taken lightly but with the right preparation is totally possible.
As most of us relaxed in the shade and soaked up the desolate beauty of our surroundings and became better acquainted with each other there was one exception; Alex ....... I had met Alex the day before and got to know him better on the familiarisation walk in the morning. A softly spoken, tall ever smiling Canadian with a great positive outlook on life I liked him from the moment I met him. Alex had travelled to Namibia with his Mum Liz who would be helping with the directing staff, also a joy to have around, the two of them made for great company. Once we had some time to ourselves Alex disappeared into his tent only to reappear wearing his running kit. People exchanged glances, everyone thinking the same thing... ‘In a matter of hours we would all be lined up on the start line to run 126 Km, and this guy is going for a run?’ Not only that but it was near midday and the heat was getting up and the east wind brought the hottest of wind sweeping across the desert from the interior... and he was going for a run???
Off Alex went at quite a pace, it seemed a little crazy so say the least, I wondered how he would be if and when he got back. As the minutes ticked on people would look out into the desert and occasionally I’d hear someone ask if Alex was back yet. After an hour I found myself wondering if he was ok. Then a few minutes later a speck on the horizon slowly appearing and disappearing in the heat haze becoming slowly bigger until the tall ranging frame of Alex could be made out. He came back into camp and slowed down to a halt. Someone went and spoke to him and within minutes the news had gone around the camp that Alex had just run nine miles in one hour ten minutes! “Bloody hell” I wondered how he would feel the next day. Alex had really enjoyed his run and brought back some interesting feedback on the first few miles of the course. He looked as fresh as when he had started out and I began to quietly wonder just how I would fare tomorrow, one thing was for sure I wouldn’t be running anywhere near that pace.
Later on I bumped into Amy, I told her how impressed I was with the medical support available, not only was there one doctor for eight runners but we had all been assigned to a doctor for pre and post race care. On top of which the medics were all the right kind of medics. No use being stuck in the desert with an endocrinologist or an urologist. I had had a chance to speak with Chris and Rodger (who I was assigned to) and also to Dave and Paulo. Chris is a big guy and larger than life character an A&E doctor like Rodger who would be heading up to Scotland after the event to take up a Consultant position in emergency medicine. Paulo and Dave are Paramedics, Paulo a quiet thoughtful Namibian who works in emergency care in Windhoek and Dave a big guy with a big personality who is an air ambulance Paramedic, you just knew that if the last face you saw before you lost consciousness was his, you’d most likely be ok. All of the medical team were very likable, very approachable and very helpful. I don’t know who had picked them but they had done a bloody good job.
It had been quite hot during the last part of our walk and at mid day it spiked before gradually dropping from around 1430hrs onwards. As the evening approached the temperature continued to fall until by the time sunset at 1735 Hrs I was wearing a fleece again.
The camp takes on a different feel by night, people are more alone with their thoughts and the nerves of what tomorrow may bring begins to nag, tugging gently at the edge of your mind.
Dinner was great, Faan’s team were fantastic and the food was delicious, to the point where someone actually asked if the chef had published a cook book!
After dinner some people headed off to their tents and some of us by the fire. The directing staff had their meeting about the next day. I had eaten by the fire, which was lovely. Happily contented I read some of my book and drank a can of juice. The camp operated an honour bar where you helped yourself to drinks from the cooler and ticked it against your name on a sheet next to it.
Volker tried to get me to play his drum and although I tried I couldn’t help remarking on how much I sounded like the shabby hippy that used to hang out at Brixton tube station driving people crazy with his bongos. So I passed it over to Joakim to have a go. By the fire I met John Peck who was cheerfully answering questions from the Bowyer boys Gavin and Justin about his adventures. John Peck is ‘some man for one man’ as they say in Ireland; he has a youthfulness of character and spirit that makes it hard to guess at his age. He has run the MdS, rowed the Atlantic, been a high ranking Police officer and has been married for around 40 years! Inspirational is a word that fits him well. He also happens to be a very engaging speaker and he regaled us into the night by the fire with tales of his escapades.
As I turned in that night I was excited and a bit apprehensive, tomorrow morning would be the culmination of a year of hard work. I’d run 1,500 miles over that time in preparation for this race and now it would happen tomorrow morning. Sleep didn’t come quickly.
Day Three RACE DAY!
I was awake with the sun this morning; there was a tension that I could detect throughout the camp yet only Faan’s team could be heard over by the fire starting breakfast. I lay there in my sleeping bag not wanting to get up too quickly but trying to make the most of the chance to lay flat and relax knowing that once I got up I would not sleep or relax for twenty four hours. I mentally went through some relaxation exercises but was already feeling wired with excitement. As I lay there the smell of Gemsbok meat slowly cooking over the open fire played around my nostrils and teased my stomach into a growling appreciation. Eventually I couldn’t lay there a moment longer and climbed out of my bag and unzipped my tent. Another beautiful African blue sky greeted me; I in turn greeted Faan’s team in Afrikaans as I past them busily cooking Gemsbok boerwors and toast. The sound of my tent zip being undone seemed to replace Volker’s early morning drum call this morning and within minutes the whole camp was up and getting ready. I went and got a brew and something to eat. After eating we had to go through our race kit and check that we had everything. Darren issued heliographs, survival blankets and orange whistles to anyone who needed them. We had been given our race hydration cards on which a record at every checkpoint would be made of our water intake. At the race brief the evening before it had been explained to us that we would be weighed at the check points to ensure that we were not losing too much weight; if we were the medics could and would pull us.
I climbed into my tent and began to get changed into my race kit. I had trained throughout the year in Skins compression wear and would be running the race in a new type of Skins. I would actually be breaking a rule of mine ‘do not try anything new in a race that you haven’t tried in training’. These Skins were called ICE Skins and were impregnated with a chemical which allegedly would help keep me cool in the hottest of climates. They were however white, bright white. I pulled them on (contrary to rumours that I actually had them sprayed on) put a buff over my head and on to my neck to protect it from the sun and climbed out of the tent. Now if you intend to wear such an outfit you must be prepared to take the banter that will inevitably follow. “Bloody hell it’s the Silver Surfer!”... “Wow! You look like a snowman” and repeated calls of “It’s an angel” met me as I wandered over to get a drink. It was all in good hum
our and made me laugh. To top off my eclectic look I wore a bush hat on my head and a pair of Oakley wraparounds on my face. Yes, I looked proper special. But even though I may not have looked cool I hoped I would feel it. After all who the hell would see me out in the middle of a desert? (Actually everyone could see me for miles!)
I went through my race pack several times trying to make a last minute decision on my nutrition. I had brought an enormous number of gels, gloop and dehydrated Expedition Foods and now had to make some tough choices. Too few calories and I would be bonking on empty before halfway through the race, too many and I most likely wouldn’t eat them and would just be carrying more kilos. I went over and had a chat with Justin Bowyer interested in what his strategy might be. Justin and Gavin are brothers and both Ultrarunners, both were running in this year’s Namibia Ultramarathon. After a good talk with Justin and Darren and Tom and bit of a think I decided that I was carrying way to much dehydrated food. I ditched most of the expedition food taking only a Chicken Tikka for emergencies and a ‘porridge and sultana’ bag to eat at CP6 where hot water would be available. I love porridge and sultanas and so it would be a treat as well as a good motivational tool to use to propel me forwards in any dark patches I went through. I took the carbohydrate bars and some protein bars and several gels. Best of all was the pack of Jelly babies and pack of Tangtastics that I would chew on the run. My water would be laced with Nuun tablets to replenish the salts that I would lose as I sweated in the course of the run. I packed away my knife and flint and mandatory GPS; I never actually used the GPS but in case of emergency at least I had it with me. In went my first aid kit and sleeping bag. A fleece for the night and other mandatory items followed. By the time I was ready for the weigh in and had filled my water bottles my pack weighed around 10Kg. I would be running with two 1.5 Ltr bottles and a spare in the back in case I needed it on the longer sections between the night time checkpoints.
Once I was weighed I took off my race pack and having finally decided on exactly where to pin my race number ‘22’ I went over and sat in the shade of the mess tent with the others. There was a nervous energy running through everyone. The Medics and logistics team busied themselves running around completing final tasks before the off. Vehicles seemed to come and go on errands and a line of quad bikes were lined up ready for the go. The Medics would use them to traverse the field with their emergency kits on the back of them. Gradually the banter and chatter was replaced by a quietness that fell upon the runners as one by one we sat together alone with our thoughts, many staring out in silence at the start line and beyond.
That final hour before the race seemed to stretch forever. Alex sat there smiling in a blue and white race top looking as if he could run forever, Tom in his black and orange running kit still looked quietly confident with a suggestion of a smile on his face. I looked around at the others, they all looked fit and ready. I felt excitement and exhilaration, I remember thinking that I was about to fulfil a dream that I had worked hard for a year to complete. I thought about the training runs I had made, and the people who I had met along the way of this incredible journey. Rory who had beasted me into shape in the gym and given me the plan to continue the work, Thomas who had run with me on the 45/45 and again in Belfast and Tom who had hopped up and down stairs over a train track with me on a freezing morning with Rory. I remembered meeting Eddie Izzard in Dublin and our chat about ultra running... I looked at my watch and only two minutes had passed.
As the time approached everyone started to check the little bits of equipment in their kit, made final adjustments to race pack straps and shoe laces. It reminded me of the atmosphere in a plane just as we go on the jump run, excitement building. Ten minutes to the start we all get up and walk the fifty metres to the start line. Photos are taken; jokes are made as we get ready to run. I think about what happened last year, a helicopter had been present filming the event and when the shot went off everyone made off at an incredible pace to the detriment of many a runner. I remembered watching it at Rory’s house and him saying “What won’t you do when the gun goes off?”
Faan appeared to our right and silence fell, in his hand was a hand cannon of note.
“I will fire a shot to start the race” He declared in a voice that had covered many a parade ground,
“If a runner makes a false start” He pauses and looks at Joakim who in his eagerness last year had been a bit swift away from the start “I will fire a second shot.... At him!” There is a chorus of laughter with a hint of nervousness about it. Joakim laughs, it has become a tradition that he sprints off into the lead in the first fifty meters and I’m looking forward to seeing him do it. For a laugh I decide to adopt a sprinters starting position. Silence falls and Faan’s arm is pointing upwards suddenly there is a booming bang from Faan’s hand cannon, I wonder if he might bring down a satellite with the round... We are off! For the first time Joakim doesn’t sprint off into the lead, I’m not surprised after Faan’s warning. Tom, Alex and Stuart are setting a quick pace and lope off into the lead the rest of us soo
n spread out into an extended field behind them. The temptation to run off chasing the lead pack is almost too much to resist but I know it would be the kiss of death for my chances of completing the race. “Run your own race” I tell myself.
My pack rhythmically shifts up and down on my back, my water bottles shift in their front pouches and I breathe deeply and slowly trying to get myself into the zone as quickly as possible. It’s difficult as I’m so excited and the scenery is amazingly stimulating. After days of looking at the same picture it is like someone has pressed the play button on the big screen around the horizon as it begins to shift. The Brandburg Mountain to our right begins to reveal itself as we run on. I’m looking down and in front scanning the ground ahead of me to ensure that I don’t put my foot down an armadillo hole or step on a snake basking in the morning sun. Next to me I see Tamara running and I take a picture of her to add to the collection of portraits I’m slowly collecting. Tanya is ahead of me and then behind me only to pass me again a short time later. I look ahead and the field is now spread over a kilometre. I run on, I’m over the moon to be here.
Its amazing how quickly CP1 comes up on us, its a red garden gazebo with water in a jerry can on a table in the desert, next to it is a 4x4 or ‘bucky’ as they’re called in this part of the world. Sitting on top is Amy in her bush hat meeting us with a big smile. We quickly fill our water and head out again. I had already decided that I would not be hanging around the check points. My goal was to finish the Namibia Ultra in less than 24 hours; I know I can do it so long as I keep moving. I also intend to enjoy every moment of it.
The ground underfoot changes constantly, from hard packed sand covered in gravel to sheets of rock in places then back again. The seeds from the patches of dried grass come off and stick into my socks and irritate like tiny lances. Thankfully I quickly identify the worse culprits and avoid those patches. I run on feeling strong, from the moment that Faan had attempted to knock out Sputniks modern day equivalent I had been running on my own in fact almost everyone had been. I knew this would be the case and so had trained on my own on my long runs so that I wouldn’t be dependent on company, I had run without a iPod for similar reasons.
The sound of the wind lightly blowing across the desert is the only sound I can hear other than the sound of my breathing and the gentle slap, slap, slap of my race pack on my back. The second check point eventually comes up and again I go through as quickly as possible, at this one we were weighted and I had lost 1.5 Kg. I make a mental note to increase my fluid intake and head off passing again three runners who had passed me earlier on. I had worked out the optimal fluid intake for me; Rory had advised me months ago the he took six sips every fifteen minutes on the MdS. This is what I had trained to do and now it is what I do. Every fifteen minutes I take six sips from my water bottles. At first it I am tempted to drink from alternative bottles but quickly realised that it increases the difficulty in working out exactly how much I had drank between check points when asked by the Medics. Every ten minutes past the hour I eat a third of a power bar or protein bar which I really began to look forwards to. It becomes the highlight of my hour as I run on.
There is a stretch of the course just before I reach the 42.2 Km mark where I found myself running through a dried up river bed. Here the ground under foot is soft ankle deep sand; I experiment running next to the river bed but that doesn’t really help as my feet keep going through the hard crust into the soft sand beneath. The sun is high in the sky by now and the heat is rising above 40 degrees. The Skins I am wearing are working well on the top helping to keep me cool, but the leggings aren’t all that good and in all honesty I would not use the ICE Skins leggings again as I don’t feel any benefit from them over regular Skins leggings.
As I run along into the crater I meet Amy and Paulo in the bucky driving along checking on the runners. “How are you doing?” I asked her, she laughed and told me that she is supposed to be asking me that. Darren comes along on a quad bike and asked how I’m doing, I am hot and dusty and my sh
oes keep filling with dust and sand but I am happy. I’m running in God’s own country, life doesn’t get any better than this I think to myself.
At check point four I was pleased to have reached the marathon point, I get there to find a happy Ryan who had just completed his race; after congratulating him, getting weighed and refilling my water bottles I head out again. Stevie and Tanya had just headed out of the check point together as I has arrived and are clearly making a good team as they began to get a head of steam on and move up the field.
As I cross the crater and started to climb out of it the sun is beginning to sink in the sky. The stretch from CP5 to CP6 is a long slog that seemed never ending, I had been told at CP5 that it was 10K to CP6 but it actually turns out to be 12Km. I realise that it has to be a mistake as there was no sign of the check point by the time I had covered nine KM so began to go easy on my water as I am not sure how long it will have to last.
I tell the passing of the time as my shadow grows further and further away from me until at last it leaves me altogether and the sun on my left is replaced by the moon on my right. I now start to eat the Jelly babies as well as the bite of the bar every hour. Four jelly babies would meet their fate every hour until either I had finished the race or they had run out.
At first the temperature was not too cool but not more than an hour or two after the sun went down the temperature began to drop quickly. By the time I had climbed to CP6 it was freezing cold. I arrive at the check point to find big Dave the paramedic waiting there to greet me. I couldn’t believe the poor guy had pulled the short straw with this CP. It was the top of a saddle between two high ridges on the edge of the crater. “How are you doing?” I ask him, he looks frozen. I make a joke about the runners having to check the medics for signs of hypothermia as he weighs me and notes my water intake. Quickly I get my water proof smock out and throw it over the fleece that I had already put on an hour ago. As I did this Dave kindly offers to pour some hot water into the Expedition meals ‘porridge and sultana’ bag for me. I have to say that I’m chuffed to bits that he does this as my hands are having difficulty moving properly due to the cold, I would have been able to do it but it would have been a mission. I reseal the bag and leave if for five minutes to stand. I get my shoes off and knock out the sand and bits of grit that have managed to find their way in. My socks are the same colour as the earth a dusty red and are by now filthy. I take them off one at a time and rub my feet which are a bit sore; the freezing wind on them feels great. Digging around in my pack I fish out a lovely new clean pair of socks and put them on....Bliss, shear bliss. Having stowed my kit I move over to where the water heater is stood, it kicks out some warmth and its a pleasure to get close to it. Also in the check point are Jason, Karen, Hentie and Kobus. Jason is a RAF Officer and has come out to Namiba on his own he’s putting in a good show, as a mountain leader he had spent some time in the hills and was doing well working away with a pair of Nordic poles. We exchange greetings and then he cracks on.
Hentie, Karen and Kobus are looking like I feel, cold and tired but in good spirits. Kobus and I stand next to the water heater together trying to get some warmth while my food prepares and Kobus smokes his pipe... Kobus is quite a character, in previous years he worked with Faan’s team on the logistics for the race but this year he has decided to take part and do the Ultramarathon. To say that Kobus is stoic would be a bit of an understatement. He entered the Ultra having only run 10K previously, (despite urinating blood during the race just kept on going, he later said about discovering that he was passing blood ‘it was a relatively bad sign’ He would keep his spirits up by smoking his pipe. Kobus was truly heroic.)
I love porridge with sultanas it is one of my favourite pre long run foods, so as you can imagine I was very happy about the fact that I would be celebrating getting to checkpoint six with a great big 800kCal energy boosting bag of the stuff. For miles I had been thinking of the moment that I would get to eat this wonderful fare. I picked up the bag and in the dark prised open the edges of the resealed bag and looked in. What I saw didn’t fill me with warm fluffiness. It looked like plaster that had fallen into a bucket of water. I dipped my racing spoon into the bag and lifted out an anaemic looking dripping spoonful of white gloop. Hoping for the best I put it in my mouth and made the mistake of letting it hit my tongue. It tasted like wall paper paste. Even the two sultanas that I found in the bag were vile. “How the hell can someone mess up porridge and sultanas?” I wondered out loud. Oh well, it was warm and even if it tasted like something out of a DIY shop it was energy and I needed to get it down my neck quickly. In fact the quicker the better, as it was truly nasty. I found that if I stopped thinking of it as food and just as energy I could swallow it without gagging. I downed the lot and drank whatever watery plaster tasting fluid was at the bottom of the bag. I made a mental note not to buy it ever again and saying goodbye to Dave headed off.
As soon as I got off the check point and over the ridge of the crater the wind died down a bit and it felt warmer, this was also probably due to the pollyfiller paste I had just eaten as it began to get into my depleted system.
Soon I was in a good rhythm again and working away at the mileage. After twenty minutes or so I had a strange feeling that I was being watched. It was by now early morning and so initially I wondered if sleep deprivation was playing tricks on me. Then I looked over to my right and saw something lower and dark moving shadow like parallel to me about 30 metres away. I slowed to a walking pace and looked again. There was a dark shadow out there and I was certain that it was an animal. I lifted the torch from where it hung around my neck and aimed it in the direction of the shadow before turning it on. The creature ducked down and turned its head towards me its eyes lighting up in the dark. It was a cat just below knee high and powerful looking, its ears were pointed. I had seen a Caracal (a Lynx) only a few days ago. It looked too big to be a Serval which I have also seen before. Either way I would not be on its menu. Thankful that it hadn’t been a leopard or a pack of spotted hyena I cracked on. As I had been running through the crater I had seen spotted hyena tracks, you can tell them apart from brown hyena by the great difference in size between the large front paws and the small rear paws. Unlike their Brown counterparts Spotted Hyena does hunt and in a pack could be a problem. As I carried on I couldn’t help look over my shoulder the animal followed me paralleling next to me for about 50 meters or so before climbing back into the hill.
This was a long dark period as the night and tiredness seemed to magnify the distances between the check points. The light of the next check point would appear in the distance only to disappear as I ran into a dip and then reappear again, so far away. For ages I would run on towards the light of that check point my spirits raising as I approached only for them to be dashed with the realisation that it was in fact a bucky miles away in the distance checking on the runners. Amy appeared out of the dark cold night, “How are you doing?” I asked her. She laughed and said she was doing fine and asked how I was. Now that I was away from the crater I was running across flat featureless desert. “This is crap” I said, “I’m not coming here again, call this a beach? No Ice creams, no donkeys and I can’t even see the sea!” I replied; Amy laughs again, “Well you will soon” she said and with some encouraging words drove away. She was right, I could hear the sound of the sea now, and it picked my spirits up, if I could hear the sea then I was not too far away and the end would soon be in sight. I started jogging on. From check point 8 to check point 9 was very hard going. The compacted sand was as tough as concrete and my feet which had been sore at check point 6 were now developing big impact blisters, simply from the repeated action of pounding the soles of my feet for hours and hours on end. By the time I hobbled into check point 9 I was in some pain. Ruth the Medic was there with Gary, one of Faan’s team. Trudy who had been behind me came in to the checkpoint just after me and went through quickly. Having filled up my water and given my water intake details Ruth asked how I was doing, “Your time has dropped off in the last stretch” she told me “but you are still well within the time and should not have a problem here in as its only another 20Km” The news cheered me no end and I had no doubt that I would make it but also no illusion that it would be anything other than very painful. I told her that it felt as if someone had knocked the burning ends off a cigarette into each of my shoes and that burning embers were both under the balls of each foot. Ruth offered to take a look. “Yep! Impact blisters, big ones. I can lance them and tape them if you like?” I have to admit that I wasn’t overly keen on the idea, but then again I knew that they would only get worse if not. “OK, thanks” I accepted.
Ruth sat me on the vehicle and proceeded to produce a sterile scalpel from a bag, I clenched my teeth and hoped for the best as she pushed the blade into first one then the other sole of my foot. What appeared to be a straw coloured liquid spurted out and Ruth then taped the soles of my feet and I replaced my shoes. Right only 20K to go and around four hours to get it done. Lets go! I hobbled out of the check point the pain was just as bad if not worse than before, I pressed on with the knowledge that it could only get better as my mind blocked out the pain. In all honesty I was unable to run at this point, I tried and could only manage a bent kneed hobble so decided to just try and speed walk it. With every step I experimented with landing on a different part of my foot looking for a less painful way of moving. Eventually I just decided that there was no good option and I just had to go for it and man up.
I was walking down the Skeleton Coastal road heading south; I was very tired and worked hard at keeping awake and keeping moving. I thought about the children in Ireland who would use the hospice and how my pain was nothing in comparison. As I walked the sea was on my right and the desert on my left, in the early morning rock slat sellers were setting up their stands by the side of the road. I started feeling better and began to attempt to jog, I’d manage a hundred meters and have to walk for two then try again. Ruth & Gary drove up alongside me and asked how I was doing a couple of times. It was tough going. In between check point 8 & 9 I had hallucinated and had seen big elephants running around, I knew they were hallucinations though even as I was looking at them they would simply vanish, it didn’t last for very long though and had been amusing at the time. Thankfully now I was not hallucinating as it was all I could do to keep awake and moving. At one point I was jogging along by the side of the road by a roadside salt stall, all of a sudden my body jerked and jolted I was freaked out by it and realised that I was now standing in the middle of the road and the stall was about 20 metres behind me, I had been sleeping as I ran. This happened at least two or three times and was quite frankly scary. As the su
n began to rise fishermen in big powerful buckys with poles on the front of their cars would approach down the dirt road at speeds of up to 160kmh and fly past me. Ruth was so concerned that she decorated me like a Christmas tree hanging cylume glow sticks off me so that the cars might see me in the gloom of the morning.
I was aware that I was moving slower and had to pick up the pace, I had held back in the first third of the race and then in the second to conserve energy for the third where I had planned to open up the throttle but the simple truth was that I had nothing in reserve. My feet were trashed and when the time came to put on the power I had been on my feet for so long that the impact blisters had really reduced my effective speed which just made matters worse. In hindsight I should have picked up the speed in the second part of the race, but hindsight is 20/20.
About five Km from the end of the race a silver car approached, I was by this time managing to run walk again. The window wound down and a lady popped her head out, I was surprised to see it was a mature white lady and expecting an Afrikaans accent was even more surprised when in an educated English accent she said “Keep going, you’re almost there! They’re all waiting for you!” I wondered if I had started hallucinating again. Then the car drove off, wondering who the heck that was and if I had just had a really realistic hallucination or not I cracked on. It was only later that I would learn that it was Allie’s Mum and Dad in the car.
I started to run again, and I was bonking big time I started shovelling Tantastics down my neck like a kid left alone in a sweet shop. I checked my watch, the last 20Km had taken forever. I had to really get moving I started to speed march again as best as I could alternating between running and walking quickly. I could still do it but couldn’t let up now. Eventually I rounded a corner to see a car parked up on the horizon and jogged steadily towards it. As I approach Chris the medic walked towards me to greet me. “It’s another 2Km to the finish Jamile, you’re got 30 mins to get there.” There he asked if I would mind if he ran beside me, I was very pleased and said yes. Together we ran as best as I could down the final two kilometres talking as best as I could as we ran. I was totally zapped but the thought of finishing in less than 24 hours and achieving my goal gave me energy from some hidden reserve that I had previously not known about. As I entered the last 500 metres of the race I could see all the other competitors and staff gathering and as I approached I could hear them cheering and clapping spurring me on. That sight will stay with me forever and is the most motivational thing I have ever experienced in my life. Chris peeled away at the last moment to let me cross the finish line. I was in a total state of contentedness, I was totally spent. I think it was Dave who put the finishers medal around my neck. People were hugging me and congratulating me I was overwhelmed and sat there trying to take it all in.
My feet were shot, I had micro tears in my right Achilles Tendon which felt like it was made of piano wire and I hadn’t slept in 27 hours. I had been running for 23 hours and 50 minutes and had completed my goal of completing the Across the Divide 2010 Namibia Ultramarathon, 126 km in less than 24 hours. There was no feeling like it; only 35 other people in the world have ever completed it.
I looked at my watch it was 10:45 am and the information board across in the arrivals hall declared that the flight from Johannesburg had landed. I finished my coffee grabbed my Bergen and Aarn Marathon magic 30Ltr race pack, paid for my coffee and purchased a large bottle of cold water before heading out into the now busy arrivals hall. I checked my phone to see if I’d had any messages from Faan Across The Divide’s in country contact but I hadn’t. On the flight were the other competitors who had flown in from London but I hadn’t met any of them before. Looking around the hall I spotted a man with his T-shirted back to me, on it were the words ‘Across the divide’ with the familiar logo. Guessing this must be Faan I made my way over to introduce myself. As I approached the man was talking to an athletic looking blond woman in a cap who smiled as I came up to them. “Hi, I’m Jamile Siddiqui, I’m running in the Ultra”, the man turned and with a smile he introduced himself in a South African accent as Volker. He was wearing baggy shorts under his t-shirt and had the physique and complexion of a man who actively spends a lot of time outdoors. Over his right eye he wore an eye patch and in his left a glint that projected intelligence and mischievousness. Someone later described him as looking like he’d walked straight out of a war movie.
The lady with Volker introduced herself as Karen, a South African runner who had previously run the Comrades and had flown up to take part in the Namibia Ultra. I felt the excitement build as the reality of the situation began to slowly materialize around me. I had been training for a year, six days a week to be here and now in just two short days I would be running across the Namib Desert. Karen and I chatted while Volker went off to greet and guide the runners as they started to come through the gates one by one. Standing next to Karen was Arrant, a Namibian who was to be our driver, a big friendly guy who would turn out to be the only off road coach driver I’d ever met. As the three of us stood there chatting a thoughtful looking guy in his late forties with a dark suntan, greying beard and ‘Parkies’ cap came over to us, his name was Hentie. A local Namibian runner Hentie had decided to run the Ultra and along with Kobus (Who I’ll tell you about later) was the only other Namibian to run in this year’s race.
So can you recognise an Ultra runner just by looking at them? As the people came through I found that generally I could, they all had something in common and it wasn’t just the race bags they were carrying. Obviously you wouldn’t expect them to look like Baba Papa but there was something about their faces that gave them away. Maybe it was a certain look of excitement mixed with trepidation and determination that the other passengers didn’t possess.
Many people I speak to about Ultras are surprised to discover that women make up a good amount of the field; I don’t know why this surprises so many people as usually the women are bloody good at Ultramarathon distances.
The doors of the arrivals hall slide soundlessly open and as if she had walked out of a photograph complete with her bush hat, the race medical director Amy enter the hall with her team of medics. As everyone started picking up their bags I headed out to the coach where Arrant helpfully stowed my kit in the waiting vehicle. As everyone steadily did the same I sat on the wall next to the bus enjoying the sunny morning, another runner smiled and nodded at me and I introduced myself to him. I recognised his accent at once and asked where he was from “Ireland” Steve replied, “me too!”I said. It turned ou
t that Steve was in the Air Corp and works less than five miles down the road from me. We started to chat and found ourselves sitting next to each other on the coach, we were so engrossed in conversation that I barely noticed when we were told that there was a problem with the vehicle and we were still talking fifteen minutes later when Arrant roared the coach into life and we set off.It is a long journey to the Brandburg Mountain where the desert camp was located and along the way I chatted to Steve as we tracked our journey on a map that Volker had given me. The dryness of the country was evident as we crossed many rivers but every one of them was now dusty sand. Baboon run across the road ahead of the bus and Steve pointed one out sitting by the side of the road as we drove on. Our first stop was Okahandja, a small town around 60 km north of Windhoek. We piled out of the coach for a quick loo stop; I headed with Steve into the local Biltong shop. If ever you find yourself in Okahandja be sure to pop in get some. Good protein never tasted better!
Having been issued a lunch pack and soft drinks we were off again for another two and a half hour stint, when we stopped I was stretching my legs and standing by a petrol pump when I started talking to Ruth, who turned out to be one of the Medics, a GP and A&E doctor Ruth had worked on other events but this was her first trip with Across The Divide, as we chatted Amy came over and introduced herself. She was just as I’d imagined her to be, exuding confidence and friendly assertiveness she is a larger than life character with flaming red hair and a big smile. No sooner had I said hello than we were getting back on the coach again; Arrant gunned the vehicle over dirt roads and through clouds of thick dust as we raced the setting sun to the Brandburg mountain.
Next to Steve sat Darren, I didn’t know it at the time but Darren was last year’s Namibia Ultra winner. I had read his blog but didn’t make the connection at first, a modest guy it was evident however that he had done several big races, it turned out that Darren had been part of Team Men’s Health and in the last year had run in events as far apart as the Amazon to Namibia and beyond. This year however Darren would be returning not as a runner but as a member of the directing staff for Across The Divide working on the event logistics.
It was late afternoon as the sun started falling from the sky, we passed through the small town of Uis which was really no bigger than a dusty village in the middle of no-where when forty five minutes later Arrant turned off the road and we started to drive in to the desert. The sun had just set behind the Brandburg Mountain. The mountain gets its name ‘Burnt (or Fire) Mountain’ as the setting sun shining off its west face makes it look as if the mountain is on fire. It’s a remarkable sight.
Slowly in the distance we could make out a speck of light appear through the dust of the two other vehicles in our convoy in front of us, as it got larger we started to make out the silhouettes what looked like a giant military lorry and a large tent, then as we drew closer many smaller dome tents. Finally the coach stopped, the doors opened and wearily people climbed down into the dust laden night to collect their bags.
It was dark and as my bags were first on they were last out, so by the time I swung my Bergen over my back and lifted my Aarn pack most people were already in their tents and unpacking their sleeping bags. I walked around for a while looking for a spot to sleep and eventually found an empty space in a tent in which someone had already taken one of the mattresses. That sorted it was time to find a brew.
Next to the large mess tent was what I was looking for, I got a cup of tea and then joined everyone in the mess tent for the greeting and briefing.
Steve Clark the race director welcomed us and briefly introduced the team it was pitch dark in the tent and I couldn’t see him very well, he went through the medics and then pointed over to a giant of a man standing in the shadows next to the giant lorry. “This is Faan” Steve told us. Faan’s reputation had travelled across the planet before him, a Namibian, ex Special Forces; Faan has an air about him that commands instant respect. A big man, I never heard him raise his voice and he always was friendly, he has an aura about him, if he asks someone to do something I doubt he has ever had to ask twice. He radiates total competence.We were briefed on camp hygiene and shown how to use the two canvas wash basins one with water in it, the other with disinfectant, dip in one then the other and air dry... Simple!
After the brief we queued up and got some hot food and another cup of tea or coffee then most people quickly got their heads down. For many it had been a long journey, I had been in country for a couple of weeks now and was well rested so decided to stay up for a while. I chucked on a fleece against the chill night air and went and sat next to the fire that Faan’s team had built. Along the way I met CJ and Allie two young women from the UK who looked familiar. It turned out that they had both run on one of Rory’s events in the UK that I had also run in. CJ and Allie turned out to be full of surprises and it would seem to be their lives mission to break stereotypes. I would never have guessed that CJ had been an Artillery Officer or that both of them were rugby players!! As I got to know them however it became clear that appearances can be deceptive. Both of them had an amazing inner strength and tons of character and were great company. With them by the fire was Tom Adams, he came over to me as quietly confident and a good bloke with not an ounce of fat on him. Working for an Oil company Tom was heading up to Angola after the race and along with CJ and Allie had been in the country for a few days now. The conversations carried on into the night and eventually I decided to call it a night. I headed to the loo and afterwards started to make my way over to the canvas wash basins when all of a sudden Darren stopped me and turned me around, in the dark with the lights from the camp in my eyes I had not seen two closer canvas basins that I’d walked past. Embarrassed I explained that I was on my way to the ones on the other side of the mess tent.
I found my tent and opened it up, inside someone was sleeping and although I tried to be quite I managed to wake a sleeping Ryan. Ryan was from the states and was running the Marathon event. I said hi then zipped up and crashed out....
I opened my eyes and lay dead still.... There it was again, just on the other side of the canvas... “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!” “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!” Then something hit the side of the canvas firmly pushing against me.... “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!”
Shit! I had heard this noise before only a few days ago... It was a Honey Badger! Honey Badgers may sound sweet and fluffy but nothing can be further from the truth, they’re in the Guinness book of records as the most aggressive animal on the planet. When Top Gear went to Botswana Jeremy Clarkson said this of them ‘A Honey Badger does not kill you to eat you. It tears off your testicles’. Very reassuring; then again the side of the tent pushed against me “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!” They have an amazing strong sense of smell and when I was camping in Etosha they would raid the camp for food...FOOD!!! Oh no.... By the foot of my sleeping bag was a bag of biltong!!! Shit! It must be after my biltong!!! I swiftly sprang up into a sitting position “RYAN!“
“Yea?”
“Any second now a big animal is going to come through the door and go for that bag... Whatever you do DON’T try and stop it!”
Ryan was awake now... As we waited for the attack of the Honey Badger...
“I can hear it” I whispered
The silence in the tent could have been cut with a knife and we waited. Outside something pushed against the side of the tent again.
I reached for my torch and shone it through the mozzy net at the top of the tent but couldn’t see anything. Then it hit me... The biltong was vacuum packed and unopened. Surely it wouldn’t be able to smell that. “GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT, GRUNT....Snuuuffffffle!!!”
I shone the torch over to where the sound came from just as the ‘Honey badger’ turned over in their sleep.
“Err... I think that’s someone snoring next door” Ryan perceptively said.
Feeling like a prize idiot I lay down just as the tent pushed into me again, then on Ryan’s side the flap over the window lifted and slapped down hard in the wind. Oh boy!
Apologising to Ryan and feeling for the second time in one night acute embarrassment (mixed with relief) I lay back down to sleep. Maybe I was more tired than I realised after all.
Day Two....
Over the last couple of weeks my body clock has reset to Namibian time, not the actual time which is no different from the time in UK & Ireland but to the rhythm of the day. In Namibia the sunsets around 17:30 Hrs and almost immediately its pitch dark like the UK is at midnight, by 20:00 Hrs many people are going to bed then in the morning people are up by 05:30 Hrs and wide awake by 06:00 Hrs. I wake early and listen to the sounds of the camp around me, Faan’s staff is busy preparing breakfast and the occasional tent is unzipped as someone goes off to the thunder boxes. I lay there relaxing looking up at the beautiful blue African sky through the mossy netted top of the tent. I’ve been all over the world but there is something about the African sky, its bigger somehow. I want to get up but after disturbing poor Ryan’s sleep decide to keep as quite for as long as possible. A few minutes pass until I suddenly hear the sound of drums, now this may not be the deepest and darkest part of Africa but it is definitely the rhythmic sound of the Tabla that I can hear as it reverberates around the camp, the living beat gently stirring the deepest of sleepers. Ryan wakes and I apologise about the Honey badger, he’s very good about it and thankfully sees the funny side. I get out of my sleeping bag which I pack away and unzip the tent flap. The camp is now full of waking people and the sound of the drum comes from across the camp where Volker is patting the drum into a hypnotic tattoo.
I look around me and the view is spectacular, there is no place on earth I’d rather be. The Bran
dburg mountain is a couple of miles away next to the camp and away in the distance is another small hill the sky is so blue and cloudless it make you feel small. The desert is all around us and broken only by small rocks and tufts of dry grass. I get cleaned up and head off to my second favourite place in the camp, the coffee table. By night I love the fire and its my favourite place in the camp but by day I love being able to wander over to the small table with boiling water in vacuum flasks and tea and coffee and make myself a brew. I didn’t know if cutlery and plates and bowls etc would be provided and am happy to find that they are. The Namibia Ultramarathon is a very civil way to be in the desert. After a lovely breakfast it’s time for a walk, we all get ourselves sorted out and meet Volker by the mess tent before heading out on a familiarisation walk. So it’s off to the hill a couple of km away. Quickly we are spread out and I find myself walking up the front with Volker and Tamara, 
Tamara is from the USA and along with Angela has flown over to compete in the Marathon distance. Both of them are easy to talk to and good fun. Tamara and I chat as we walk along and listen to Volker as he explains everything from the geology of the area to the flora and fauna he is clearly passionate about his subject matter and fascinating to listen to. We stop by a euphorbia and wait for everyone to catch up, Volker explains that it’s not a Cacti and that is deadly poisonous. In times of old missionaries were wiped out in droves as they didn’t know about the plant and cooked their meat on it, the smoke was full of lethal toxins which then killed them. I had heard a similar story about fifteen city men who were clearing a site in Twyfelfontein in northern Namibia but the plant was different, I described it to Volker, “It’s the Impala Lilly” Volker told me, Bushmen use the sap of the Impala Lilly to poison their arrows with. The fifteen men died just the same as the missionaries. As we continue over the hill Volker tells me about his younger years in South Africa, the man has lived an interesting life through some of the most interesting pages of his country’s history. As we walk someone calls out from behind us, I turn to see the Namibian Viking Joakim laying on the floor, wondering what he is doing we walk over. Inches away from Joakim’s camera’s big lens in a horned adder. Its camouflage is perfect and whoever saw it did very well not to step on it. Sand colour with pale orange bands and two risen lumps or horns above its eyes it’s a beautiful albeit poisonous snake.
I’d been ‘chatting’ with Joakim over facebook for a while but had only met him today, a laid back Swedish guy with a great sense of humour this would be Joakim’s third Namibia Ultramarathon, he was keen to make it a good one. With some snaky snaps on the memory card we headed back to camp. It was amazing just how quickly the camp had vanished in the vastness of the desert, even the coach and Faan’s giant truck soon had become invisible. If we got lost it would be hard going for a search party that is for sure.After lunch we gathered in the mess tent for the medical briefing, in which Amy terrified us like a group of children being told ghost stories around a camp fire. Tales of marathon runners who died from Hyponatremia, Hyperthermia, Hypothermia, Hypoglycaemia in fact anything in Latin beginning with an H. As she educated us on the terrors that could befall us Darren recorded the moment from behind her with his camera. After the very thorough medical
brief we had a race brief by Steve and a kit check then we had some time to ourselves to let it all really sink in. This event is not to be taken lightly but with the right preparation is totally possible.As most of us relaxed in the shade and soaked up the desolate beauty of our surroundings and became better acquainted with each other there was one exception; Alex ....... I had met Alex the day before and got to know him better on the familiarisation walk in the morning. A softly spoken, tall ever smiling Canadian with a great positive outlook on life I liked him from the moment I met him. Alex had travelled to Namibia with his Mum Liz who would be helping with the directing staff, also a joy to have around, the two of them made for great company. Once we had some time to ourselves Alex disappeared into his tent only to reappear wearing his running kit. People exchanged glances, everyone thinking the same thing... ‘In a matter of hours we would all be lined up on the start line to run 126 Km, and this guy is going for a run?’ Not only that but it was near midday and the heat was getting up and the east wind brought the hottest of wind sweeping across the desert from the interior... and he was going for a run???
Off Alex went at quite a pace, it seemed a little crazy so say the least, I wondered how he would be if and when he got back. As the minutes ticked on people would look out into the desert and occasionally I’d hear someone ask if Alex was back yet. After an hour I found myself wondering if he was ok. Then a few minutes later a speck on the horizon slowly appearing and disappearing in the heat haze becoming slowly bigger until the tall ranging frame of Alex could be made out. He came back into camp and slowed down to a halt. Someone went and spoke to him and within minutes the news had gone around the camp that Alex had just run nine miles in one hour ten minutes! “Bloody hell” I wondered how he would feel the next day. Alex had really enjoyed his run and brought back some interesting feedback on the first few miles of the course. He looked as fresh as when he had started out and I began to quietly wonder just how I would fare tomorrow, one thing was for sure I wouldn’t be running anywhere near that pace.
Later on I bumped into Amy, I told her how impressed I was with the medical support available, not only was there one doctor for eight runners but we had all been assigned to a doctor for pre and post race care. On top of which the medics were all the right kind of medics. No use being stuck in the desert with an endocrinologist or an urologist. I had had a chance to speak with Chris and Rodger (who I was assigned to) and also to Dave and Paulo. Chris is a big guy and larger than life character an A&E doctor like Rodger who would be heading up to Scotland after the event to take up a Consultant position in emergency medicine. Paulo and Dave are Paramedics, Paulo a quiet thoughtful Namibian who works in emergency care in Windhoek and Dave a big guy with a big personality who is an air ambulance Paramedic, you just knew that if the last face you saw before you lost consciousness was his, you’d most likely be ok. All of the medical team were very likable, very approachable and very helpful. I don’t know who had picked them but they had done a bloody good job.
It had been quite hot during the last part of our walk and at mid day it spiked before gradually dropping from around 1430hrs onwards. As the evening approached the temperature continued to fall until by the time sunset at 1735 Hrs I was wearing a fleece again.
The camp takes on a different feel by night, people are more alone with their thoughts and the nerves of what tomorrow may bring begins to nag, tugging gently at the edge of your mind.
Dinner was great, Faan’s team were fantastic and the food was delicious, to the point where someone actually asked if the chef had published a cook book!
After dinner some people headed off to their tents and some of us by the fire. The directing staff had their meeting about the next day. I had eaten by the fire, which was lovely. Happily contented I read some of my book and drank a can of juice. The camp operated an honour bar where you helped yourself to drinks from the cooler and ticked it against your name on a sheet next to it.
Volker tried to get me to play his drum and although I tried I couldn’t help remarking on how much I sounded like the shabby hippy that used to hang out at Brixton tube station driving people crazy with his bongos. So I passed it over to Joakim to have a go. By the fire I met John Peck who was cheerfully answering questions from the Bowyer boys Gavin and Justin about his adventures. John Peck is ‘some man for one man’ as they say in Ireland; he has a youthfulness of character and spirit that makes it hard to guess at his age. He has run the MdS, rowed the Atlantic, been a high ranking Police officer and has been married for around 40 years! Inspirational is a word that fits him well. He also happens to be a very engaging speaker and he regaled us into the night by the fire with tales of his escapades.
As I turned in that night I was excited and a bit apprehensive, tomorrow morning would be the culmination of a year of hard work. I’d run 1,500 miles over that time in preparation for this race and now it would happen tomorrow morning. Sleep didn’t come quickly.
Day Three RACE DAY!
I was awake with the sun this morning; there was a tension that I could detect throughout the camp yet only Faan’s team could be heard over by the fire starting breakfast. I lay there in my sleeping bag not wanting to get up too quickly but trying to make the most of the chance to lay flat and relax knowing that once I got up I would not sleep or relax for twenty four hours. I mentally went through some relaxation exercises but was already feeling wired with excitement. As I lay there the smell of Gemsbok meat slowly cooking over the open fire played around my nostrils and teased my stomach into a growling appreciation. Eventually I couldn’t lay there a moment longer and climbed out of my bag and unzipped my tent. Another beautiful African blue sky greeted me; I in turn greeted Faan’s team in Afrikaans as I past them busily cooking Gemsbok boerwors and toast. The sound of my tent zip being undone seemed to replace Volker’s early morning drum call this morning and within minutes the whole camp was up and getting ready. I went and got a brew and something to eat. After eating we had to go through our race kit and check that we had everything. Darren issued heliographs, survival blankets and orange whistles to anyone who needed them. We had been given our race hydration cards on which a record at every checkpoint would be made of our water intake. At the race brief the evening before it had been explained to us that we would be weighed at the check points to ensure that we were not losing too much weight; if we were the medics could and would pull us.
I climbed into my tent and began to get changed into my race kit. I had trained throughout the year in Skins compression wear and would be running the race in a new type of Skins. I would actually be breaking a rule of mine ‘do not try anything new in a race that you haven’t tried in training’. These Skins were called ICE Skins and were impregnated with a chemical which allegedly would help keep me cool in the hottest of climates. They were however white, bright white. I pulled them on (contrary to rumours that I actually had them sprayed on) put a buff over my head and on to my neck to protect it from the sun and climbed out of the tent. Now if you intend to wear such an outfit you must be prepared to take the banter that will inevitably follow. “Bloody hell it’s the Silver Surfer!”... “Wow! You look like a snowman” and repeated calls of “It’s an angel” met me as I wandered over to get a drink. It was all in good hum
our and made me laugh. To top off my eclectic look I wore a bush hat on my head and a pair of Oakley wraparounds on my face. Yes, I looked proper special. But even though I may not have looked cool I hoped I would feel it. After all who the hell would see me out in the middle of a desert? (Actually everyone could see me for miles!)I went through my race pack several times trying to make a last minute decision on my nutrition. I had brought an enormous number of gels, gloop and dehydrated Expedition Foods and now had to make some tough choices. Too few calories and I would be bonking on empty before halfway through the race, too many and I most likely wouldn’t eat them and would just be carrying more kilos. I went over and had a chat with Justin Bowyer interested in what his strategy might be. Justin and Gavin are brothers and both Ultrarunners, both were running in this year’s Namibia Ultramarathon. After a good talk with Justin and Darren and Tom and bit of a think I decided that I was carrying way to much dehydrated food. I ditched most of the expedition food taking only a Chicken Tikka for emergencies and a ‘porridge and sultana’ bag to eat at CP6 where hot water would be available. I love porridge and sultanas and so it would be a treat as well as a good motivational tool to use to propel me forwards in any dark patches I went through. I took the carbohydrate bars and some protein bars and several gels. Best of all was the pack of Jelly babies and pack of Tangtastics that I would chew on the run. My water would be laced with Nuun tablets to replenish the salts that I would lose as I sweated in the course of the run. I packed away my knife and flint and mandatory GPS; I never actually used the GPS but in case of emergency at least I had it with me. In went my first aid kit and sleeping bag. A fleece for the night and other mandatory items followed. By the time I was ready for the weigh in and had filled my water bottles my pack weighed around 10Kg. I would be running with two 1.5 Ltr bottles and a spare in the back in case I needed it on the longer sections between the night time checkpoints.
Once I was weighed I took off my race pack and having finally decided on exactly where to pin my race number ‘22’ I went over and sat in the shade of the mess tent with the others. There was a nervous energy running through everyone. The Medics and logistics team busied themselves running around completing final tasks before the off. Vehicles seemed to come and go on errands and a line of quad bikes were lined up ready for the go. The Medics would use them to traverse the field with their emergency kits on the back of them. Gradually the banter and chatter was replaced by a quietness that fell upon the runners as one by one we sat together alone with our thoughts, many staring out in silence at the start line and beyond.
That final hour before the race seemed to stretch forever. Alex sat there smiling in a blue and white race top looking as if he could run forever, Tom in his black and orange running kit still looked quietly confident with a suggestion of a smile on his face. I looked around at the others, they all looked fit and ready. I felt excitement and exhilaration, I remember thinking that I was about to fulfil a dream that I had worked hard for a year to complete. I thought about the training runs I had made, and the people who I had met along the way of this incredible journey. Rory who had beasted me into shape in the gym and given me the plan to continue the work, Thomas who had run with me on the 45/45 and again in Belfast and Tom who had hopped up and down stairs over a train track with me on a freezing morning with Rory. I remembered meeting Eddie Izzard in Dublin and our chat about ultra running... I looked at my watch and only two minutes had passed.
As the time approached everyone started to check the little bits of equipment in their kit, made final adjustments to race pack straps and shoe laces. It reminded me of the atmosphere in a plane just as we go on the jump run, excitement building. Ten minutes to the start we all get up and walk the fifty metres to the start line. Photos are taken; jokes are made as we get ready to run. I think about what happened last year, a helicopter had been present filming the event and when the shot went off everyone made off at an incredible pace to the detriment of many a runner. I remembered watching it at Rory’s house and him saying “What won’t you do when the gun goes off?”
Faan appeared to our right and silence fell, in his hand was a hand cannon of note.
“I will fire a shot to start the race” He declared in a voice that had covered many a parade ground,
“If a runner makes a false start” He pauses and looks at Joakim who in his eagerness last year had been a bit swift away from the start “I will fire a second shot.... At him!” There is a chorus of laughter with a hint of nervousness about it. Joakim laughs, it has become a tradition that he sprints off into the lead in the first fifty meters and I’m looking forward to seeing him do it. For a laugh I decide to adopt a sprinters starting position. Silence falls and Faan’s arm is pointing upwards suddenly there is a booming bang from Faan’s hand cannon, I wonder if he might bring down a satellite with the round... We are off! For the first time Joakim doesn’t sprint off into the lead, I’m not surprised after Faan’s warning. Tom, Alex and Stuart are setting a quick pace and lope off into the lead the rest of us soo
n spread out into an extended field behind them. The temptation to run off chasing the lead pack is almost too much to resist but I know it would be the kiss of death for my chances of completing the race. “Run your own race” I tell myself.My pack rhythmically shifts up and down on my back, my water bottles shift in their front pouches and I breathe deeply and slowly trying to get myself into the zone as quickly as possible. It’s difficult as I’m so excited and the scenery is amazingly stimulating. After days of looking at the same picture it is like someone has pressed the play button on the big screen around the horizon as it begins to shift. The Brandburg Mountain to our right begins to reveal itself as we run on. I’m looking down and in front scanning the ground ahead of me to ensure that I don’t put my foot down an armadillo hole or step on a snake basking in the morning sun. Next to me I see Tamara running and I take a picture of her to add to the collection of portraits I’m slowly collecting. Tanya is ahead of me and then behind me only to pass me again a short time later. I look ahead and the field is now spread over a kilometre. I run on, I’m over the moon to be here.
Its amazing how quickly CP1 comes up on us, its a red garden gazebo with water in a jerry can on a table in the desert, next to it is a 4x4 or ‘bucky’ as they’re called in this part of the world. Sitting on top is Amy in her bush hat meeting us with a big smile. We quickly fill our water and head out again. I had already decided that I would not be hanging around the check points. My goal was to finish the Namibia Ultra in less than 24 hours; I know I can do it so long as I keep moving. I also intend to enjoy every moment of it.
The ground underfoot changes constantly, from hard packed sand covered in gravel to sheets of rock in places then back again. The seeds from the patches of dried grass come off and stick into my socks and irritate like tiny lances. Thankfully I quickly identify the worse culprits and avoid those patches. I run on feeling strong, from the moment that Faan had attempted to knock out Sputniks modern day equivalent I had been running on my own in fact almost everyone had been. I knew this would be the case and so had trained on my own on my long runs so that I wouldn’t be dependent on company, I had run without a iPod for similar reasons.
The sound of the wind lightly blowing across the desert is the only sound I can hear other than the sound of my breathing and the gentle slap, slap, slap of my race pack on my back. The second check point eventually comes up and again I go through as quickly as possible, at this one we were weighted and I had lost 1.5 Kg. I make a mental note to increase my fluid intake and head off passing again three runners who had passed me earlier on. I had worked out the optimal fluid intake for me; Rory had advised me months ago the he took six sips every fifteen minutes on the MdS. This is what I had trained to do and now it is what I do. Every fifteen minutes I take six sips from my water bottles. At first it I am tempted to drink from alternative bottles but quickly realised that it increases the difficulty in working out exactly how much I had drank between check points when asked by the Medics. Every ten minutes past the hour I eat a third of a power bar or protein bar which I really began to look forwards to. It becomes the highlight of my hour as I run on.
There is a stretch of the course just before I reach the 42.2 Km mark where I found myself running through a dried up river bed. Here the ground under foot is soft ankle deep sand; I experiment running next to the river bed but that doesn’t really help as my feet keep going through the hard crust into the soft sand beneath. The sun is high in the sky by now and the heat is rising above 40 degrees. The Skins I am wearing are working well on the top helping to keep me cool, but the leggings aren’t all that good and in all honesty I would not use the ICE Skins leggings again as I don’t feel any benefit from them over regular Skins leggings.
As I run along into the crater I meet Amy and Paulo in the bucky driving along checking on the runners. “How are you doing?” I asked her, she laughed and told me that she is supposed to be asking me that. Darren comes along on a quad bike and asked how I’m doing, I am hot and dusty and my sh
oes keep filling with dust and sand but I am happy. I’m running in God’s own country, life doesn’t get any better than this I think to myself.At check point four I was pleased to have reached the marathon point, I get there to find a happy Ryan who had just completed his race; after congratulating him, getting weighed and refilling my water bottles I head out again. Stevie and Tanya had just headed out of the check point together as I has arrived and are clearly making a good team as they began to get a head of steam on and move up the field.
As I cross the crater and started to climb out of it the sun is beginning to sink in the sky. The stretch from CP5 to CP6 is a long slog that seemed never ending, I had been told at CP5 that it was 10K to CP6 but it actually turns out to be 12Km. I realise that it has to be a mistake as there was no sign of the check point by the time I had covered nine KM so began to go easy on my water as I am not sure how long it will have to last.
I tell the passing of the time as my shadow grows further and further away from me until at last it leaves me altogether and the sun on my left is replaced by the moon on my right. I now start to eat the Jelly babies as well as the bite of the bar every hour. Four jelly babies would meet their fate every hour until either I had finished the race or they had run out.
At first the temperature was not too cool but not more than an hour or two after the sun went down the temperature began to drop quickly. By the time I had climbed to CP6 it was freezing cold. I arrive at the check point to find big Dave the paramedic waiting there to greet me. I couldn’t believe the poor guy had pulled the short straw with this CP. It was the top of a saddle between two high ridges on the edge of the crater. “How are you doing?” I ask him, he looks frozen. I make a joke about the runners having to check the medics for signs of hypothermia as he weighs me and notes my water intake. Quickly I get my water proof smock out and throw it over the fleece that I had already put on an hour ago. As I did this Dave kindly offers to pour some hot water into the Expedition meals ‘porridge and sultana’ bag for me. I have to say that I’m chuffed to bits that he does this as my hands are having difficulty moving properly due to the cold, I would have been able to do it but it would have been a mission. I reseal the bag and leave if for five minutes to stand. I get my shoes off and knock out the sand and bits of grit that have managed to find their way in. My socks are the same colour as the earth a dusty red and are by now filthy. I take them off one at a time and rub my feet which are a bit sore; the freezing wind on them feels great. Digging around in my pack I fish out a lovely new clean pair of socks and put them on....Bliss, shear bliss. Having stowed my kit I move over to where the water heater is stood, it kicks out some warmth and its a pleasure to get close to it. Also in the check point are Jason, Karen, Hentie and Kobus. Jason is a RAF Officer and has come out to Namiba on his own he’s putting in a good show, as a mountain leader he had spent some time in the hills and was doing well working away with a pair of Nordic poles. We exchange greetings and then he cracks on.
Hentie, Karen and Kobus are looking like I feel, cold and tired but in good spirits. Kobus and I stand next to the water heater together trying to get some warmth while my food prepares and Kobus smokes his pipe... Kobus is quite a character, in previous years he worked with Faan’s team on the logistics for the race but this year he has decided to take part and do the Ultramarathon. To say that Kobus is stoic would be a bit of an understatement. He entered the Ultra having only run 10K previously, (despite urinating blood during the race just kept on going, he later said about discovering that he was passing blood ‘it was a relatively bad sign’ He would keep his spirits up by smoking his pipe. Kobus was truly heroic.)
I love porridge with sultanas it is one of my favourite pre long run foods, so as you can imagine I was very happy about the fact that I would be celebrating getting to checkpoint six with a great big 800kCal energy boosting bag of the stuff. For miles I had been thinking of the moment that I would get to eat this wonderful fare. I picked up the bag and in the dark prised open the edges of the resealed bag and looked in. What I saw didn’t fill me with warm fluffiness. It looked like plaster that had fallen into a bucket of water. I dipped my racing spoon into the bag and lifted out an anaemic looking dripping spoonful of white gloop. Hoping for the best I put it in my mouth and made the mistake of letting it hit my tongue. It tasted like wall paper paste. Even the two sultanas that I found in the bag were vile. “How the hell can someone mess up porridge and sultanas?” I wondered out loud. Oh well, it was warm and even if it tasted like something out of a DIY shop it was energy and I needed to get it down my neck quickly. In fact the quicker the better, as it was truly nasty. I found that if I stopped thinking of it as food and just as energy I could swallow it without gagging. I downed the lot and drank whatever watery plaster tasting fluid was at the bottom of the bag. I made a mental note not to buy it ever again and saying goodbye to Dave headed off.
As soon as I got off the check point and over the ridge of the crater the wind died down a bit and it felt warmer, this was also probably due to the pollyfiller paste I had just eaten as it began to get into my depleted system.
Soon I was in a good rhythm again and working away at the mileage. After twenty minutes or so I had a strange feeling that I was being watched. It was by now early morning and so initially I wondered if sleep deprivation was playing tricks on me. Then I looked over to my right and saw something lower and dark moving shadow like parallel to me about 30 metres away. I slowed to a walking pace and looked again. There was a dark shadow out there and I was certain that it was an animal. I lifted the torch from where it hung around my neck and aimed it in the direction of the shadow before turning it on. The creature ducked down and turned its head towards me its eyes lighting up in the dark. It was a cat just below knee high and powerful looking, its ears were pointed. I had seen a Caracal (a Lynx) only a few days ago. It looked too big to be a Serval which I have also seen before. Either way I would not be on its menu. Thankful that it hadn’t been a leopard or a pack of spotted hyena I cracked on. As I had been running through the crater I had seen spotted hyena tracks, you can tell them apart from brown hyena by the great difference in size between the large front paws and the small rear paws. Unlike their Brown counterparts Spotted Hyena does hunt and in a pack could be a problem. As I carried on I couldn’t help look over my shoulder the animal followed me paralleling next to me for about 50 meters or so before climbing back into the hill.
This was a long dark period as the night and tiredness seemed to magnify the distances between the check points. The light of the next check point would appear in the distance only to disappear as I ran into a dip and then reappear again, so far away. For ages I would run on towards the light of that check point my spirits raising as I approached only for them to be dashed with the realisation that it was in fact a bucky miles away in the distance checking on the runners. Amy appeared out of the dark cold night, “How are you doing?” I asked her. She laughed and said she was doing fine and asked how I was. Now that I was away from the crater I was running across flat featureless desert. “This is crap” I said, “I’m not coming here again, call this a beach? No Ice creams, no donkeys and I can’t even see the sea!” I replied; Amy laughs again, “Well you will soon” she said and with some encouraging words drove away. She was right, I could hear the sound of the sea now, and it picked my spirits up, if I could hear the sea then I was not too far away and the end would soon be in sight. I started jogging on. From check point 8 to check point 9 was very hard going. The compacted sand was as tough as concrete and my feet which had been sore at check point 6 were now developing big impact blisters, simply from the repeated action of pounding the soles of my feet for hours and hours on end. By the time I hobbled into check point 9 I was in some pain. Ruth the Medic was there with Gary, one of Faan’s team. Trudy who had been behind me came in to the checkpoint just after me and went through quickly. Having filled up my water and given my water intake details Ruth asked how I was doing, “Your time has dropped off in the last stretch” she told me “but you are still well within the time and should not have a problem here in as its only another 20Km” The news cheered me no end and I had no doubt that I would make it but also no illusion that it would be anything other than very painful. I told her that it felt as if someone had knocked the burning ends off a cigarette into each of my shoes and that burning embers were both under the balls of each foot. Ruth offered to take a look. “Yep! Impact blisters, big ones. I can lance them and tape them if you like?” I have to admit that I wasn’t overly keen on the idea, but then again I knew that they would only get worse if not. “OK, thanks” I accepted.
Ruth sat me on the vehicle and proceeded to produce a sterile scalpel from a bag, I clenched my teeth and hoped for the best as she pushed the blade into first one then the other sole of my foot. What appeared to be a straw coloured liquid spurted out and Ruth then taped the soles of my feet and I replaced my shoes. Right only 20K to go and around four hours to get it done. Lets go! I hobbled out of the check point the pain was just as bad if not worse than before, I pressed on with the knowledge that it could only get better as my mind blocked out the pain. In all honesty I was unable to run at this point, I tried and could only manage a bent kneed hobble so decided to just try and speed walk it. With every step I experimented with landing on a different part of my foot looking for a less painful way of moving. Eventually I just decided that there was no good option and I just had to go for it and man up.
I was walking down the Skeleton Coastal road heading south; I was very tired and worked hard at keeping awake and keeping moving. I thought about the children in Ireland who would use the hospice and how my pain was nothing in comparison. As I walked the sea was on my right and the desert on my left, in the early morning rock slat sellers were setting up their stands by the side of the road. I started feeling better and began to attempt to jog, I’d manage a hundred meters and have to walk for two then try again. Ruth & Gary drove up alongside me and asked how I was doing a couple of times. It was tough going. In between check point 8 & 9 I had hallucinated and had seen big elephants running around, I knew they were hallucinations though even as I was looking at them they would simply vanish, it didn’t last for very long though and had been amusing at the time. Thankfully now I was not hallucinating as it was all I could do to keep awake and moving. At one point I was jogging along by the side of the road by a roadside salt stall, all of a sudden my body jerked and jolted I was freaked out by it and realised that I was now standing in the middle of the road and the stall was about 20 metres behind me, I had been sleeping as I ran. This happened at least two or three times and was quite frankly scary. As the su
n began to rise fishermen in big powerful buckys with poles on the front of their cars would approach down the dirt road at speeds of up to 160kmh and fly past me. Ruth was so concerned that she decorated me like a Christmas tree hanging cylume glow sticks off me so that the cars might see me in the gloom of the morning.I was aware that I was moving slower and had to pick up the pace, I had held back in the first third of the race and then in the second to conserve energy for the third where I had planned to open up the throttle but the simple truth was that I had nothing in reserve. My feet were trashed and when the time came to put on the power I had been on my feet for so long that the impact blisters had really reduced my effective speed which just made matters worse. In hindsight I should have picked up the speed in the second part of the race, but hindsight is 20/20.
About five Km from the end of the race a silver car approached, I was by this time managing to run walk again. The window wound down and a lady popped her head out, I was surprised to see it was a mature white lady and expecting an Afrikaans accent was even more surprised when in an educated English accent she said “Keep going, you’re almost there! They’re all waiting for you!” I wondered if I had started hallucinating again. Then the car drove off, wondering who the heck that was and if I had just had a really realistic hallucination or not I cracked on. It was only later that I would learn that it was Allie’s Mum and Dad in the car.
I started to run again, and I was bonking big time I started shovelling Tantastics down my neck like a kid left alone in a sweet shop. I checked my watch, the last 20Km had taken forever. I had to really get moving I started to speed march again as best as I could alternating between running and walking quickly. I could still do it but couldn’t let up now. Eventually I rounded a corner to see a car parked up on the horizon and jogged steadily towards it. As I approach Chris the medic walked towards me to greet me. “It’s another 2Km to the finish Jamile, you’re got 30 mins to get there.” There he asked if I would mind if he ran beside me, I was very pleased and said yes. Together we ran as best as I could down the final two kilometres talking as best as I could as we ran. I was totally zapped but the thought of finishing in less than 24 hours and achieving my goal gave me energy from some hidden reserve that I had previously not known about. As I entered the last 500 metres of the race I could see all the other competitors and staff gathering and as I approached I could hear them cheering and clapping spurring me on. That sight will stay with me forever and is the most motivational thing I have ever experienced in my life. Chris peeled away at the last moment to let me cross the finish line. I was in a total state of contentedness, I was totally spent. I think it was Dave who put the finishers medal around my neck. People were hugging me and congratulating me I was overwhelmed and sat there trying to take it all in.
My feet were shot, I had micro tears in my right Achilles Tendon which felt like it was made of piano wire and I hadn’t slept in 27 hours. I had been running for 23 hours and 50 minutes and had completed my goal of completing the Across the Divide 2010 Namibia Ultramarathon, 126 km in less than 24 hours. There was no feeling like it; only 35 other people in the world have ever completed it.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Ultrarunner
One year ago my resting heart rate was 110BPM, a normal healthy male resting heart rate is 72 BPM, today my resting heart rate is 47 BPM.
One year ago I weighed 18.3 Stone, today I weight 14.3 Stone having lost 4 Stone (22 Kg) I was stage one hypertensive, today my blood pressure is optimal.
In the last 12 months I have run over one and a half thousand miles, I have run five days a week every week in the last twelve months and since October done three gym sessions a week on top of my runs.
My body fat when I started was 33%, today its less than 9%.
In the six months since my first Marathon I have knocked off one hour, 21 minutes from my Marathon time to run a sub four hour Marathon.
I have run eleven marathons (nine training Marathons and two official)since my first one in October through rain, sun and blizzards & in driving hail across the mountains.
The longest I have run in a day is fifty five miles, just to get up the next morning to run another 46.2 the following day.
In the last twelve months I’ve suffered Achilles Tendinopathy, Stress Fractures, Bilateral Systematic Sprained Ankles, Blisters, Shin Splints, Dehydration & Idiopathic Oedema of the ankles.
What has driven me on? You. I want to thank everyone who has believed in me, supported me and sponsored me. So far the amount raised stands at €4,403.57 and there is still money pledged that is yet to be included. Your money will help make the difference to a dying child and their family at the end and at the worst time of their lives.
Thank you also to my coach Rory Coleman (www.rorycoleman.co.uk) for his guidance and advice in my training, and to Thomas Crawford Fitzsimons (www.dryingout.org) for his continued support and friendship, you are mate, an inspiration.
But most of all I want to thank one person in particular, my wife Fiona. With her immense support, love, patience and encouragement she helped me find in myself a strength that had been laying dormant for years. She has been a tower of strength and her belief in me unwavering. To her I say with all of my heart, “Thank You, I’m truly blessed to have you as my wife.”
Now bring on the race!
One year ago I weighed 18.3 Stone, today I weight 14.3 Stone having lost 4 Stone (22 Kg) I was stage one hypertensive, today my blood pressure is optimal.
In the last 12 months I have run over one and a half thousand miles, I have run five days a week every week in the last twelve months and since October done three gym sessions a week on top of my runs.
My body fat when I started was 33%, today its less than 9%.
In the six months since my first Marathon I have knocked off one hour, 21 minutes from my Marathon time to run a sub four hour Marathon.
I have run eleven marathons (nine training Marathons and two official)since my first one in October through rain, sun and blizzards & in driving hail across the mountains.
The longest I have run in a day is fifty five miles, just to get up the next morning to run another 46.2 the following day.
In the last twelve months I’ve suffered Achilles Tendinopathy, Stress Fractures, Bilateral Systematic Sprained Ankles, Blisters, Shin Splints, Dehydration & Idiopathic Oedema of the ankles.
What has driven me on? You. I want to thank everyone who has believed in me, supported me and sponsored me. So far the amount raised stands at €4,403.57 and there is still money pledged that is yet to be included. Your money will help make the difference to a dying child and their family at the end and at the worst time of their lives.
Thank you also to my coach Rory Coleman (www.rorycoleman.co.uk) for his guidance and advice in my training, and to Thomas Crawford Fitzsimons (www.dryingout.org) for his continued support and friendship, you are mate, an inspiration.
But most of all I want to thank one person in particular, my wife Fiona. With her immense support, love, patience and encouragement she helped me find in myself a strength that had been laying dormant for years. She has been a tower of strength and her belief in me unwavering. To her I say with all of my heart, “Thank You, I’m truly blessed to have you as my wife.”
Now bring on the race!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Two Marathons in a weekend
The great news was that my legs no longer ached, that was because I could no longer feel them as the freezing rain had numbed them. My face had also gone numb, which was an improvement on the stinging hail that had been driving in sideways into my face half an hour ago. I had tried experimenting with a buff over my head to ease the stinging but as it rapidly soaked through I found myself feeling like I was drowning as I tried breathing through the material eventually I just had an open face and laughed to myself as I ran on.
I was running the second Marathon of the weekend back on the Military road the R115 which crosses the Wicklow mountains. Yesterday I ran a marathon along the Grand Canal out through Kildare, it had been sunny but today the mountain weather had a mind of its own. As I carried on running the weather changed several times leaving me frozen, cold, warm, hot and back to frozen in the space of five hours. That said it was wonderful, the Wicklow national park is beautiful and although I never saw another runner (and by the looks I was getting from people in cars neither had they) there were several cyclists, one of who high fived me as we passed, both of us with big smiles on our faces.
As I ran I thought of why I was running, about the children in the Sunshine Childrens Home and about the car park at the home which was marked in yellow paint on the floor LauraLynn House, the site of where Ireland’s first children’s hospice would be built. The fact that I’m raising money for the LauraLynn foundation really helps drive me on. I thought back too to two personal heros in my life. My maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother. My grandfather had been a funny guy, a tough man who while the world was trying to kill each other in WWII he had been trying to save lives, standing on top of ladders putting out fires while the Luftwaffe dropped bombs all around him. He had been a gardener also and from him I learnt about the importance of serving society and of the value of life. My paternal grandmother had brought her family of four children up on her own after my paternal grandfather died when my father was still a baby. She was a woman of immense strength of character. From her I learnt charity, spiritual strength and the importance of family. She had no worldly goods, her entire material belongings would fit into one small case. She was very much loved by the entire family who took turns in having her live with them only sadly letting her go as we had to share her with the rest of the family. When she was 94 years old she was in Pakistan I hadn’t seen her for over a year, she was sick but no one had told me but I just knew that I wouldn’t see her in this world again. My father was going over to see her, so I wrote her a letter in which I told her what she meant to me, how much I loved her and that she was my hero. I told her that I would endeavour to live my life by the standards that she had shown me. I would be charitable and good and live an honourable life. One reason that I’m so happy to be able to raise money for the LauraLynn foundation is because it helps me to fulfil that promise I made to one of the most special people I have ever met. She read the letter on her death bed and died two days later. I felt grateful to God that I got the chance to say goodbye and make her proud.
And so run on, I have a week and a half of training left before I depart to Namibia with my loving wife Fi. In that time I intend to run four or five more marathons, three this coming weekend and two the weekend after. Its getting close and I’m looking forward to the challenge.
I was running the second Marathon of the weekend back on the Military road the R115 which crosses the Wicklow mountains. Yesterday I ran a marathon along the Grand Canal out through Kildare, it had been sunny but today the mountain weather had a mind of its own. As I carried on running the weather changed several times leaving me frozen, cold, warm, hot and back to frozen in the space of five hours. That said it was wonderful, the Wicklow national park is beautiful and although I never saw another runner (and by the looks I was getting from people in cars neither had they) there were several cyclists, one of who high fived me as we passed, both of us with big smiles on our faces.
As I ran I thought of why I was running, about the children in the Sunshine Childrens Home and about the car park at the home which was marked in yellow paint on the floor LauraLynn House, the site of where Ireland’s first children’s hospice would be built. The fact that I’m raising money for the LauraLynn foundation really helps drive me on. I thought back too to two personal heros in my life. My maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother. My grandfather had been a funny guy, a tough man who while the world was trying to kill each other in WWII he had been trying to save lives, standing on top of ladders putting out fires while the Luftwaffe dropped bombs all around him. He had been a gardener also and from him I learnt about the importance of serving society and of the value of life. My paternal grandmother had brought her family of four children up on her own after my paternal grandfather died when my father was still a baby. She was a woman of immense strength of character. From her I learnt charity, spiritual strength and the importance of family. She had no worldly goods, her entire material belongings would fit into one small case. She was very much loved by the entire family who took turns in having her live with them only sadly letting her go as we had to share her with the rest of the family. When she was 94 years old she was in Pakistan I hadn’t seen her for over a year, she was sick but no one had told me but I just knew that I wouldn’t see her in this world again. My father was going over to see her, so I wrote her a letter in which I told her what she meant to me, how much I loved her and that she was my hero. I told her that I would endeavour to live my life by the standards that she had shown me. I would be charitable and good and live an honourable life. One reason that I’m so happy to be able to raise money for the LauraLynn foundation is because it helps me to fulfil that promise I made to one of the most special people I have ever met. She read the letter on her death bed and died two days later. I felt grateful to God that I got the chance to say goodbye and make her proud.
And so run on, I have a week and a half of training left before I depart to Namibia with my loving wife Fi. In that time I intend to run four or five more marathons, three this coming weekend and two the weekend after. Its getting close and I’m looking forward to the challenge.
Friday, March 26, 2010
Gym beastings
It was a good night in the gym this evening, as part of my training I train in the gym three times a week. Friday evening is the session which I feel is the easiest as I have a rest from a distance run session. My gym routine starts with a five minute run to warm up, sometimes I use the cross trainer to mix it up a bit and to warm up my upper body muscles. Then its onto the treadmill for a two and a half minute tempo run at 12.5 Kph, straight off the machine and onto the Chest press or Fly machine currently I’m pressing 65Kg but that will go up next week, after banging out 15 reps its straight on to the Leg press for another 15 at 135 Kg. There is no hanging around between machines looking in mirrors or acting the gym junkie, the point is to work out hard with intensity.
From the leg press its up and on to the Shoulder press for 15 reps at 45Kg, pushing them out hard, fast and smoothly as possible. UpI get, next up is the Abductor machine, feet in the stirrups, knees against the pads and pushing outwards against 115Kg resistance fifteen times off and on to the Adductor machine this time squeezing the knees together against 115kg. If I’m focused as I should be, I am giving it my all and I feel it now as I get off the machine and quickly get over to the Seated Row 55Kg pulling at 15 reps, building my back muscles to be able to carry my pack over the desert for mile after mile. As I finish I jog over to the treadmill and get on it again to run at 12.5 kph for another 2.5 minutes...Then repeat the whole lot ....Then repeat again. If I am on my chin strap I give myself one minute rest after the Tempo run.
As I ran tonight on the treadmill I asked myself how much do I want this? The answer came back I want it totally, I am focused and I feel strong as I run. In 2.5 Minutes at 12.5 Kph I cover half a Km.
After the third set of this I start on my core strength work, one minute plank, one minute extended plank, 15 raised leg extension crunches, 15 V up leg raised side to sides with a 4-5Kg medicine ball or weight. By now my abs are screaming at me, then its 15 squat thrusts with ankles resting on the Swiss ball with arms extended. Then I get to rest for a minute before repeating the core workout again.
I like Friday gym sessions because a gym session is all I have to do. On Mondays I first run a five mile recovery run (recovery from the 20 mile or marathon the day before). Wednesday is harder as before my gym session I first have a seven mile time trial run.
It is good training not only physically but mentally, by the time I’m doing my core workout my body is trembling and I am exhausted, but that is nothing compared to how I’ll feel in the later stages of the UltraMarathon having run across 126 Miles of desert in extreme temperatures carrying my equipment on my back. Then is not the time to realise that I didn’t train hard enough, that I wasn’t hard enough on myself while I was training. It was Count Alexander Suvorov who said ‘Train hard fight easy’ so when I’ve just finished my seven miles time trial and am exhausted that is when its most important for me to hit the weights, and when I have done a set and my legs are wobbling and tired, when I have no energy left I get on that tread mill and crank it up to 12.5 Kph and breath and run and prove to myself that no matter how tired I am I can make my body do what I want it to. I can go always a little further.
Its been five days now since I restricted the carbohydrates and my body is using stored body fat for energy, its hard work and I’m tired but thats good mental training too.
From the leg press its up and on to the Shoulder press for 15 reps at 45Kg, pushing them out hard, fast and smoothly as possible. UpI get, next up is the Abductor machine, feet in the stirrups, knees against the pads and pushing outwards against 115Kg resistance fifteen times off and on to the Adductor machine this time squeezing the knees together against 115kg. If I’m focused as I should be, I am giving it my all and I feel it now as I get off the machine and quickly get over to the Seated Row 55Kg pulling at 15 reps, building my back muscles to be able to carry my pack over the desert for mile after mile. As I finish I jog over to the treadmill and get on it again to run at 12.5 kph for another 2.5 minutes...Then repeat the whole lot ....Then repeat again. If I am on my chin strap I give myself one minute rest after the Tempo run.
As I ran tonight on the treadmill I asked myself how much do I want this? The answer came back I want it totally, I am focused and I feel strong as I run. In 2.5 Minutes at 12.5 Kph I cover half a Km.
After the third set of this I start on my core strength work, one minute plank, one minute extended plank, 15 raised leg extension crunches, 15 V up leg raised side to sides with a 4-5Kg medicine ball or weight. By now my abs are screaming at me, then its 15 squat thrusts with ankles resting on the Swiss ball with arms extended. Then I get to rest for a minute before repeating the core workout again.
I like Friday gym sessions because a gym session is all I have to do. On Mondays I first run a five mile recovery run (recovery from the 20 mile or marathon the day before). Wednesday is harder as before my gym session I first have a seven mile time trial run.
It is good training not only physically but mentally, by the time I’m doing my core workout my body is trembling and I am exhausted, but that is nothing compared to how I’ll feel in the later stages of the UltraMarathon having run across 126 Miles of desert in extreme temperatures carrying my equipment on my back. Then is not the time to realise that I didn’t train hard enough, that I wasn’t hard enough on myself while I was training. It was Count Alexander Suvorov who said ‘Train hard fight easy’ so when I’ve just finished my seven miles time trial and am exhausted that is when its most important for me to hit the weights, and when I have done a set and my legs are wobbling and tired, when I have no energy left I get on that tread mill and crank it up to 12.5 Kph and breath and run and prove to myself that no matter how tired I am I can make my body do what I want it to. I can go always a little further.
Its been five days now since I restricted the carbohydrates and my body is using stored body fat for energy, its hard work and I’m tired but thats good mental training too.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Doing the hard yards
Well it has been six weeks since the back to back (b2b) UltraMarathon. When I embarked on this endeavour I expected to experience many things, physical exhaustion, mental exhaustion but the one surprise that hit me hard has been emotional exhaustion. After the b2b I was left with a nasty ankle injury, a doctor friend had a look and suspected (along with me) that it was a stress fracture of the distal tibia. So for a week I had an ankle like an elephant but I still needed to train so I switched to the cross trainer to allow the injury to heal, I’d hate to see the state of my kidneys at the end of that week as I was knocking back the ibuprofen like smarties to bring down the inflammation. On the Sunday following the b2b I managed ten miles on the cross trainer the Sunday after I was up to twenty miles again and the swelling was down somewhat. In fact in the last six weeks I have run 257.2 miles. One cross trainer marathon 26.2 miles in 3:40 hrs. The following weekend was a 15 mile run on the Saturday followed by 30 Miles on the Sunday. It was very difficult to get back in to the zone and overcome the emotional effect of being injured. But I’m back in the saddle, very focused and fully committed to my training.
Its just over ten weeks to go now and its time to do the hard yards. I’ve got to burn down the remaining body fat to be able to run across the desert and manage the heat, if I’m carrying any fat it will be like running in a thermal jacket and I’d brew up; I’m aiming to drop down another 4Kg to be ripped for Namibia so that I’ll be able to dissipate the heat efficiently.
Today is the first day of being back on my burn down diet, the complex carbohydrates are off the plate for the next few weeks and the training regime is in full swing. For the last few weeks my dietary needs have looked something like this:
Target weight is 88KG which is 194 Lbs
Multiply target weight by 10 (Add 1 for every additional hour of exercise you do per week over 1 hour)
I do 13/14 hours of training a week. Therefore multiply by 22 for non marathon weeks and 23 for marathon weeks.
Therefore my calorific intake per day is 194 x 22 = 4268 Cal
Eat 1g of protein per lb of target body weight (1g is 4 Cal) therefore 194g of protein per day which is 776 Cal.
Eat half a gram of fat for every lb of target weight; therefore I need to eat 97g of fat a day. 1 gram of fat is 9 Cal therefore fat supplies 873 Cal per day.
Carbohydrates: Add the protein and fat Cal totals and subtract the total from my total daily calories. Therefore 776 Cal + 873 Cal = 1649 Cal
Daily Calorie total is 4268 Cal – 1649 Cal = 2619 Cal of Carbohydrates a day. (1g of Carbohydrates has 4 Cal; therefore 2619 Cal = 654.75g of Carbs per day.
Summary: Grams per day Cal per day
Protein per day: 194g 776 Cal
Fat: 97g 873 Cal
Carbohydrates: 654.75g 2619 Cal
Total: 4,268 Cal
Actually its surprisingly difficult to eat enough good food in the correct proportions regularly every day, now on my burn down I’ll be on a restricted diet of 1850 Kcal a day.
I’ve ordered my sleeping bag and backpack which I’m looking forward to getting packing and running with. Now the intensity steps up and I’ll be running more back to back marathons and beyond to get as many miles in to my legs as possible, when that is accompanied by a restricted diet it is quite stressful on the body. I can feel the fat melting off as my metabolism fires up, its most likely stress but it feels like a cross between anxiety and fear, that strange physical feeling you get just before you skydive for the first time.
To help with the fat loss I supplement my diet with Conjugated linoleic acids (CLA )
CLA is also known for its body weight management properties, which include reducing body fat and increasing lean muscle mass. Over 30 clinical studies have been published investigating the effect of CLA on weight management. The trials have quite variable designs, which leads to inconsistency. However a meta-analysis conducted in 2007 clearly shows that CLA does indeed have an impact on fat mass.
I’m also trying Maximuscle Thermobol which has been shown in research to mobilize and burn body fat, each capsule contains:
Per 1 capsule
Bitter Orange Peel (Citrus Aurantium) 325mg Vit B12 - Cyanocobalamin RDA - 20,000% 200µg
L-Tyrosine 300mg D-Biotin RDA -117% 180µg
Caffeine 153mg Chromium RDA (From Chromium picolinate) 83µg
Green Tea extract(90% polyphenols) 100mg Capsaicin extract from Hot Cayenne pepper 120µg
Guarana seed power 12mg Vit B5 (D-Calcium Pantothenate) RDA - 500% 30mg
Bioperine® (Black pepper extract) 5mg Vit-B1 (Thiamin Hcl) RDA - 1786% 25mg
One of the things that I enjoy about preparing for my UltraMarathon is that there are some many aspects that are involved. Physically its hard work, mentally it requires training to cope with the mental stress that running for hours on end can induce, it develops discipline to keep focused and it allows me to put in to practice everything I learnt when I studied Nutrition and human physiology. I’ve met some great people from every walk of life and have the deep satisfaction of being able to raise money for chronically sick children and their families...
the adventure continues
Its just over ten weeks to go now and its time to do the hard yards. I’ve got to burn down the remaining body fat to be able to run across the desert and manage the heat, if I’m carrying any fat it will be like running in a thermal jacket and I’d brew up; I’m aiming to drop down another 4Kg to be ripped for Namibia so that I’ll be able to dissipate the heat efficiently.
Today is the first day of being back on my burn down diet, the complex carbohydrates are off the plate for the next few weeks and the training regime is in full swing. For the last few weeks my dietary needs have looked something like this:
Target weight is 88KG which is 194 Lbs
Multiply target weight by 10 (Add 1 for every additional hour of exercise you do per week over 1 hour)
I do 13/14 hours of training a week. Therefore multiply by 22 for non marathon weeks and 23 for marathon weeks.
Therefore my calorific intake per day is 194 x 22 = 4268 Cal
Eat 1g of protein per lb of target body weight (1g is 4 Cal) therefore 194g of protein per day which is 776 Cal.
Eat half a gram of fat for every lb of target weight; therefore I need to eat 97g of fat a day. 1 gram of fat is 9 Cal therefore fat supplies 873 Cal per day.
Carbohydrates: Add the protein and fat Cal totals and subtract the total from my total daily calories. Therefore 776 Cal + 873 Cal = 1649 Cal
Daily Calorie total is 4268 Cal – 1649 Cal = 2619 Cal of Carbohydrates a day. (1g of Carbohydrates has 4 Cal; therefore 2619 Cal = 654.75g of Carbs per day.
Summary: Grams per day Cal per day
Protein per day: 194g 776 Cal
Fat: 97g 873 Cal
Carbohydrates: 654.75g 2619 Cal
Total: 4,268 Cal
Actually its surprisingly difficult to eat enough good food in the correct proportions regularly every day, now on my burn down I’ll be on a restricted diet of 1850 Kcal a day.
I’ve ordered my sleeping bag and backpack which I’m looking forward to getting packing and running with. Now the intensity steps up and I’ll be running more back to back marathons and beyond to get as many miles in to my legs as possible, when that is accompanied by a restricted diet it is quite stressful on the body. I can feel the fat melting off as my metabolism fires up, its most likely stress but it feels like a cross between anxiety and fear, that strange physical feeling you get just before you skydive for the first time.
To help with the fat loss I supplement my diet with Conjugated linoleic acids (CLA )
CLA is also known for its body weight management properties, which include reducing body fat and increasing lean muscle mass. Over 30 clinical studies have been published investigating the effect of CLA on weight management. The trials have quite variable designs, which leads to inconsistency. However a meta-analysis conducted in 2007 clearly shows that CLA does indeed have an impact on fat mass.
I’m also trying Maximuscle Thermobol which has been shown in research to mobilize and burn body fat, each capsule contains:
Per 1 capsule
Bitter Orange Peel (Citrus Aurantium) 325mg Vit B12 - Cyanocobalamin RDA - 20,000% 200µg
L-Tyrosine 300mg D-Biotin RDA -117% 180µg
Caffeine 153mg Chromium RDA (From Chromium picolinate) 83µg
Green Tea extract(90% polyphenols) 100mg Capsaicin extract from Hot Cayenne pepper 120µg
Guarana seed power 12mg Vit B5 (D-Calcium Pantothenate) RDA - 500% 30mg
Bioperine® (Black pepper extract) 5mg Vit-B1 (Thiamin Hcl) RDA - 1786% 25mg
One of the things that I enjoy about preparing for my UltraMarathon is that there are some many aspects that are involved. Physically its hard work, mentally it requires training to cope with the mental stress that running for hours on end can induce, it develops discipline to keep focused and it allows me to put in to practice everything I learnt when I studied Nutrition and human physiology. I’ve met some great people from every walk of life and have the deep satisfaction of being able to raise money for chronically sick children and their families...
the adventure continues
Sunday, January 31, 2010
95 Miles in two days
It had been raining for several hours now, it was dark, and the mud under my feet squelched and sucked at my every footstep, the pain in my right ankle was severe. I was beginning to shiver hard and clenched my teeth together to prevent them from chattering, trying to generate some more determination to keep moving. “Yep, a lovely Kebab! I’m going to get one and eat it in the car on the way home” said the dark figure a few steps in front of me in a mixed Belfast/Wakefield accent.
I smiled, “last time I had a Kebab was a couple of years ago, damn near killed me with campylobacter poisoning” I replied, “ I was puking and shitting bloody for a week” I laughed as Tom groaned in front, “ You’ve gone and put me right of the idea now”
We had been on the move since nine am that morning, it was now half eight at night. We had run a marathon and then had to start walking as we were drained of energy and both in pain, it had started raining at mile thirty and simply hadn’t stopped. Over the last two days we had covered ninety miles, I had run just under 50 miles the day before and Tom a couple less as he had managed to stick to the correct route where as I had made a mistake which had added three extra miles to the (just over) 46 miles that it should have been. We were now both wet and cold and pushing on through the mud covered water logged tow path of the Grand Union Canal. In an hour we would cross the last few miles to complete two back to back Ultra-marathons.
I had met Thomas Crawford Fitzsimons or ‘Tom’ only the day before but already it seemed like a lot longer; some people you just click with. We’d both started the morning before running from Northampton to Tring a distance which we’d been told was 45 Miles but turned out to be just over 46 Miles. Tom had gone hard the previous day and had really given it tons of spirit and had run far and fast, I’d run the first few miles with him then he’d pushed on but we met up again around 26/27 miles and I’d pushed ahead, but generally I thought we are around the same fitness level. The day before (Saturday) had been a great day; it was my first Ultra-marathon and today was my second. I’d run strong the day before with few problems. My biggest problem had occurred at 13.1 miles. I was in the middle of nowhere; I had been running along when suddenly I felt a piecing pain in the ball of my left foot. After a couple of paces I stopped as the pain was persistent and sharp. I took off my shoe and on closer inspection discovered inch and a half long hawthorn that had penetrated the sole of my shoe, gone through my insole and speared my foot. What was more annoying was that I couldn’t get the thing out.
I looked around to see if there was anything that I could use to secure a purchase on the offending piece of wood but there was nothing. Eventually in desperation I wiped off as much of the mud from the area around the puncture as I could and holding my shoe with both hands tried to get my teeth around the offending foreign body. It was whilst engaged in this act of desperation that the next two runners came around the corner; the look on their faces was I suppose what you’d imagine if you can picture two people who have just come across a man in the middle of nowhere during a race eating his muddy shoe!
I had been unable to get the thorn out so eventually knock off as much as possible of either end and carried on running. Every now and then the ground underfoot would hit exactly the point on my shoe to jolt the thorn up and back into my foot; of course I had no way of knowing when that might be so it was always a surprise. Eventually I managed to get the worst of the thorn out at a check point at just over the 26 mile mark using tweezers that one of the crew had with them. I thought about Shaka’s Zulu’s who he made run over thorns with bare feet, he killed those who complained or couldn’t do it; So I guess I was a lot better off than those men had been.
By the time Saturday evening had come I’d completed the distance, all I’d wanted to do was eat and sleep. It had been a long and tiring but great day. In all honesty I wasn’t sure how I was going to managed the next day but I knew that whatever happened I would not DNF (Did Not Finish) I had no idea though just how I would feel in the morning or if I’d even be able to walk properly.
This morning had seen Tom myself and a handful of racing snakes start the race; early on Tom and I had agreed to run the day together and that for us completing the distance would be the victory. Throughout the day we had motivated each other along when each of us in turn had dark points the other would crack a joke or come out with something motivational. As the marathon check point had come up we stopped for a quick five minute rest. I’d packed a pair of running socks in to a zip lock back along with a load of talc and used this as a chance to change my socks and talc my feet. It felt fantastic and the motivational lift afterwards was tremendous. When I had removed my right sock I had noticed that my right ankle was pretty swollen. I had had this problem once before just after the Dublin City Marathon, and it had led me to get MRIs done on the injury. Still there was no way I was about to DNF so I pushed on.
Once we had got to 30 miles the rain had started and as the darkness fell along with the temperature the rain appeared like snow as it fell in to the circle of light that our head torches flared around us. The psychological effect was to make us feel even more cold. I’d always said that ‘If you’re feeling cold its nature’s way of telling you to pick up the pace’ unfortunately by this point there was nothing left in the tank and no amount of energy bars or gels seemed to make any difference. Jointly we had decided to speed march the last 15 miles as neither of us was up to running any further; we tried to run but it simply took up more energy for no more speed and aggravated injuries . So we stuck at it grinding out the last few miles. We had talked a lot in the preceding hours about everything under the sun. Tom is training for the Marathon Des Sables (MdS) just three years ago he had been over weight and alcohol had blighted his life, he had drank fifteen pints a day everyday for fifteen years. Then he had decided to change his life and turned it around, he also started to train other people and started a charity to help alcoholics to reclaim their lives. He is running the MdS to raise money for charity and to show others that they can also reclaim their lives.
We were both pretty tired when the lights of Northampton turned the clouds in the sky above us orange, Tom’s feet were giving him some serious pain and my ankle was bordering on agony. Somewhere along the last 40 miles the mantra ‘I am a focused individual who wants to achieve’ had come out and now we used it both in jest and in sincerity to push ourselves onwards in the cold rain and slippery mud. I kept reminding myself that this was a training run for me, in Namibia I will be on my own in the desert and will have to motivate myself. The day before I had hit a low point in the night and mud and had decided that the best way to deal with it was by finding my song for the day, who knew but it turned out to be ‘The walk of life’ by Dire Straits!! I had forced myself to start singing it out loud and as the tune slowly unwound from within me it lifted me up out of the dark place and raised my spirits, and my feet had followed and the next I realised, my speed had picked up to. That was it then, for the rest of the run the song was on loop in my head until I had finished.
Tom and I push on and eventually were happy to see the exit point from the canal path, Tom had a religious moment and right then and there got down on his hands and knees and kissed the ground in a pontiff like manor; I was really impressed as I’m pretty certain that if I’d got down on my knees I’d have never made it back up again!
We finished the day together and were welcomed by Rory and Jen who were there to give us our medals. I was chuffed, I had completed ninety five miles in two days.
People have told me that I have inspired them, I’m grateful for hearing this as it means that maybe what I’m doing can help others as well as the children and families who need to Paediatric hospice that the Laura Lynn Foundation is building. For me I find others inspirational, people like Tom, Rory and Bethany. Bethany has also had to fight her personal battle with alcohol and also with mental illness, yet she competes as an Ultra runner for the Isle of Man and works for several charities including homeless charities. She also ran both days of the weekends Ultra-Marathons and ran well.
What inspires me about these people isn’t that they can run very fast or very far but that they are ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Even the general public inspire me, during the weekend people both ways stopped to take time to encourage total strangers to do something that most thought mad. Some people even took it on themselves to go and buy some jelly babies or mars bars to give to us as they saw us running past.
Ordinary people doing something extra ordinary, people are fantastic, we can all accomplish so much all it takes it the decision to do so.
I smiled, “last time I had a Kebab was a couple of years ago, damn near killed me with campylobacter poisoning” I replied, “ I was puking and shitting bloody for a week” I laughed as Tom groaned in front, “ You’ve gone and put me right of the idea now”
We had been on the move since nine am that morning, it was now half eight at night. We had run a marathon and then had to start walking as we were drained of energy and both in pain, it had started raining at mile thirty and simply hadn’t stopped. Over the last two days we had covered ninety miles, I had run just under 50 miles the day before and Tom a couple less as he had managed to stick to the correct route where as I had made a mistake which had added three extra miles to the (just over) 46 miles that it should have been. We were now both wet and cold and pushing on through the mud covered water logged tow path of the Grand Union Canal. In an hour we would cross the last few miles to complete two back to back Ultra-marathons.
I had met Thomas Crawford Fitzsimons or ‘Tom’ only the day before but already it seemed like a lot longer; some people you just click with. We’d both started the morning before running from Northampton to Tring a distance which we’d been told was 45 Miles but turned out to be just over 46 Miles. Tom had gone hard the previous day and had really given it tons of spirit and had run far and fast, I’d run the first few miles with him then he’d pushed on but we met up again around 26/27 miles and I’d pushed ahead, but generally I thought we are around the same fitness level. The day before (Saturday) had been a great day; it was my first Ultra-marathon and today was my second. I’d run strong the day before with few problems. My biggest problem had occurred at 13.1 miles. I was in the middle of nowhere; I had been running along when suddenly I felt a piecing pain in the ball of my left foot. After a couple of paces I stopped as the pain was persistent and sharp. I took off my shoe and on closer inspection discovered inch and a half long hawthorn that had penetrated the sole of my shoe, gone through my insole and speared my foot. What was more annoying was that I couldn’t get the thing out.
I looked around to see if there was anything that I could use to secure a purchase on the offending piece of wood but there was nothing. Eventually in desperation I wiped off as much of the mud from the area around the puncture as I could and holding my shoe with both hands tried to get my teeth around the offending foreign body. It was whilst engaged in this act of desperation that the next two runners came around the corner; the look on their faces was I suppose what you’d imagine if you can picture two people who have just come across a man in the middle of nowhere during a race eating his muddy shoe!
I had been unable to get the thorn out so eventually knock off as much as possible of either end and carried on running. Every now and then the ground underfoot would hit exactly the point on my shoe to jolt the thorn up and back into my foot; of course I had no way of knowing when that might be so it was always a surprise. Eventually I managed to get the worst of the thorn out at a check point at just over the 26 mile mark using tweezers that one of the crew had with them. I thought about Shaka’s Zulu’s who he made run over thorns with bare feet, he killed those who complained or couldn’t do it; So I guess I was a lot better off than those men had been.
By the time Saturday evening had come I’d completed the distance, all I’d wanted to do was eat and sleep. It had been a long and tiring but great day. In all honesty I wasn’t sure how I was going to managed the next day but I knew that whatever happened I would not DNF (Did Not Finish) I had no idea though just how I would feel in the morning or if I’d even be able to walk properly.
This morning had seen Tom myself and a handful of racing snakes start the race; early on Tom and I had agreed to run the day together and that for us completing the distance would be the victory. Throughout the day we had motivated each other along when each of us in turn had dark points the other would crack a joke or come out with something motivational. As the marathon check point had come up we stopped for a quick five minute rest. I’d packed a pair of running socks in to a zip lock back along with a load of talc and used this as a chance to change my socks and talc my feet. It felt fantastic and the motivational lift afterwards was tremendous. When I had removed my right sock I had noticed that my right ankle was pretty swollen. I had had this problem once before just after the Dublin City Marathon, and it had led me to get MRIs done on the injury. Still there was no way I was about to DNF so I pushed on.
Once we had got to 30 miles the rain had started and as the darkness fell along with the temperature the rain appeared like snow as it fell in to the circle of light that our head torches flared around us. The psychological effect was to make us feel even more cold. I’d always said that ‘If you’re feeling cold its nature’s way of telling you to pick up the pace’ unfortunately by this point there was nothing left in the tank and no amount of energy bars or gels seemed to make any difference. Jointly we had decided to speed march the last 15 miles as neither of us was up to running any further; we tried to run but it simply took up more energy for no more speed and aggravated injuries . So we stuck at it grinding out the last few miles. We had talked a lot in the preceding hours about everything under the sun. Tom is training for the Marathon Des Sables (MdS) just three years ago he had been over weight and alcohol had blighted his life, he had drank fifteen pints a day everyday for fifteen years. Then he had decided to change his life and turned it around, he also started to train other people and started a charity to help alcoholics to reclaim their lives. He is running the MdS to raise money for charity and to show others that they can also reclaim their lives.
We were both pretty tired when the lights of Northampton turned the clouds in the sky above us orange, Tom’s feet were giving him some serious pain and my ankle was bordering on agony. Somewhere along the last 40 miles the mantra ‘I am a focused individual who wants to achieve’ had come out and now we used it both in jest and in sincerity to push ourselves onwards in the cold rain and slippery mud. I kept reminding myself that this was a training run for me, in Namibia I will be on my own in the desert and will have to motivate myself. The day before I had hit a low point in the night and mud and had decided that the best way to deal with it was by finding my song for the day, who knew but it turned out to be ‘The walk of life’ by Dire Straits!! I had forced myself to start singing it out loud and as the tune slowly unwound from within me it lifted me up out of the dark place and raised my spirits, and my feet had followed and the next I realised, my speed had picked up to. That was it then, for the rest of the run the song was on loop in my head until I had finished.
Tom and I push on and eventually were happy to see the exit point from the canal path, Tom had a religious moment and right then and there got down on his hands and knees and kissed the ground in a pontiff like manor; I was really impressed as I’m pretty certain that if I’d got down on my knees I’d have never made it back up again!
We finished the day together and were welcomed by Rory and Jen who were there to give us our medals. I was chuffed, I had completed ninety five miles in two days.
People have told me that I have inspired them, I’m grateful for hearing this as it means that maybe what I’m doing can help others as well as the children and families who need to Paediatric hospice that the Laura Lynn Foundation is building. For me I find others inspirational, people like Tom, Rory and Bethany. Bethany has also had to fight her personal battle with alcohol and also with mental illness, yet she competes as an Ultra runner for the Isle of Man and works for several charities including homeless charities. She also ran both days of the weekends Ultra-Marathons and ran well.
What inspires me about these people isn’t that they can run very fast or very far but that they are ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Even the general public inspire me, during the weekend people both ways stopped to take time to encourage total strangers to do something that most thought mad. Some people even took it on themselves to go and buy some jelly babies or mars bars to give to us as they saw us running past.
Ordinary people doing something extra ordinary, people are fantastic, we can all accomplish so much all it takes it the decision to do so.
Friday, January 15, 2010
A day with Mr Coleman
The alarm went off, I’d slept like a baby; a baby with a very painful knee. It was time to get up, get to the airport and get my plane. Yesterday had seen me run the snow marathon and today would see me run another with my coach Rory and Tom Aikens who is training for the MdS. Fi very kindly got up and drove me to the airport where I waited for my flight, and waited and waited. Eventually the plane arrived and I managed to board it. I had taken some ibuprofen last night and early this morning to reduce the inflammation in my legs and to a degree it had worked, but the pain was still there nagging away, I’d just have to deal with it as it was bound to get worse later on.
Rory had text me and would be picking me up from the airport, I was flying to East Midlands and as the plane came through the cloud I looked out of the window to see the ground covered in snow and as the plane landed it began to snow heavily outside.
I came through security and after a few minutes saw through the window Rory coming across from the car park. I walked out to meet him, my North Face jacket done up and my hat pushed down on my head. As I walked out from the terminal building the cold air slapped my face and large snow flakes brushed against my cheek and eye lashes. “Turned out nice again” I greeted Rory who laughed and shook my hand. We chatted as we walked to his car and I was grateful for the car’s good heating system in it as we turned out of the airport and headed to Rory’s place.
Due to the fact that the flight had been delayed it was now doubtful that we’d be able to do the Marathon we’d planned as Tom had to get back to London ready for work that evening. But run we would and Rory had something just as tough in mind.
We got back to Rory’s place and I met Tom, I was wondering what to expect as Rory had told me that he was phenomenally physically fit. He had beasted Tom in the gym the day before and was impressed with his level of fitness. So was I when I found out that he could run 3040 meters in 12 minutes and his VO2Max gave him a potential Marathon time of 2:30Hrs! Tom turned out to be a nice guy, quietly well spoken and as fit as a butcher’s dog as my friend Nick would say. Before taking up endurance running he had been a cyclist having completed some serious mountain races in France. Now he had set his sights on the Marathon Des Sables a six day endurance race of 151 miles across the Sahara desert.
After a coffee we got our kit ready and headed outside, Rory had a surprise for us as he came around from the back of the house with a shovel in either hand, “There you go” he said as he handed one to me and the other to Tom. The ground near to Rory’s place was icy but it was better than it had been by the airport and the snow had stopped falling. “You’ll need those to clear the bridge” Rory gave by way of an explanation. I’d heard about Rory’s bridge work out and as we started running with our shovels in our hands I wondered just how much this would hurt.
After a couple of miles we got to a desolate area by some railway lines, over which was a large pedestrian bridge. “Ok, warm up time, clear the ice from the ground” Rory instructed as Tom and I began to shovel the dirt and Ice away from the bottom steps of the bridge. When we had finished Rory took us up the three flights of steps, across the long bridge and down the three flights of steps to the other side of the bridge, “ok we need to clear this side too”. Duly Tom and I started shovelling again, throwing shovel loads of ice and mud off the area at the bottom of the steps to expose the concrete beneath. Eventually Rory was satisfied with our labours and took the shovels from us both.
“Right, we’ll start with one ups!” Rory said. “Climb one step at a time to the top, then turn around and come back down again and repeat until I say” Tom and I began climbing to the top of the steps, turning around and coming down again. After a few sets of ‘one ups’ came ‘two ups’ Yep, you guest it, two steps at a time. This of course was followed after several sets by ‘three ups’ the pace escalated as we advanced through the reps. After the three ups came bunny hops, which involves jumping up the steps one at a time with both feet together. When Rory deemed that we had had enough of the bunny hops Tom and I were introduced to the ‘one up ‘sprints. Climbing the steps in multiples of one followed by a sprint across the bridge and down to the other side repeatedly. This was naturally followed by ‘two ups’ sprints and… Well you get the picture.
We were rested by giving us dynamic rest periods which meant that instead of running down the steps we were allowed to walk down followed by running up. Eventually Rory gave us some close handed push ups from the hand railings to do, followed by some more sprints this time with him standing on the bridge and us running to him and back down, as we ran down he would move back across the bridge a bit further away.
Finally with our quads straining and the breath burning in and out of our lungs Rory announced that we were ready to run a half Marathon “with some obstacles”. Thankfully we stashed the shovels and ran on, the ground was like an ice rink and staying upright was no mean feat as I slipped and slided all over the place. We ran across an area which used to be a silver birch copse which some environmental terrorist had taken a bulldozer to and cleared. This also meant that we had to climb over a substantial amount of timber that had been placed in unsightly piles at the edge of the cleared area. Then we were off climbing a long ice covered hill, Rory got us doing shuttle runs much like he had on the bridge. This hill work was tough going, I’d run for twenty seconds up the hill in front of Rory then turn around and run down, around him and back up the hill as he walked slowly up the hill, Tom was doing the same and we were working hard. My legs were burning from the exertion, more so than usual after yesterday’s snow marathon. By the time we reached the top of the hill I’d run it several times over, but no rest for us, we pushed onwards towards our next obstacle without stopping. We hadn’t far to go; just over the other side of the hill we came to a steep embankment about five metres high. Rory ordered us both down the embankment I made it about two metres down before slipping and falling down the embankment on my backside and got to the bottom covered in mud. Up on my feet right away I had to attack the hill and get back to the top as quickly as possible Tom was already at the top of it and running across preparing to hurl himself back down again. I ran as fast as I could up the hill my Camelbak smacking around on my back, my arms swinging hard forcing my body upwards with their momentum while digging my feet in to the hill side. I crested and sprinted across to my right, looking down I tried to figure out a better route down, picked one and went for it. Half way down I slipped and fell again, this time sliding down to the bottom of the hill in a mudslide of icy mud. Up I got and went for it again sprinting up the hill, my lungs bursting and my heart banging hard against the inside of my ribcage as it worked hard to supply my muscles with oxygen. Tom was whippet-like on the assent and I dug deep and was determined not to let myself fall behind. By the time I’d completed five reps I was ready for a break but it wasn’t to be and we began to run again. The area is very hilly and Rory cheerfully mentioned that he thought the route was much harder this way around. I had to agree with him, I’d run this route with Rory before over a marathon distance and we were defiantly hitting the steep sides of the hills this way around. We settled into a rhythm as we ran on, I was aware that my Skins leggings and running shoes were soaked through with freezing mud; I’d landed badly on my left hip and it was quite sore. Tom was also feeling the pain as his knees were giving him reminders that they had taken a battering the day before in the gym. We pushed on over hill after hill, across fields’ coloured grey and white with snow and ice, some of them were ploughed and were quite hard going. The slippery frozen ground felt more like running on polished metal than earth, it was so hard under foot. Eventually we came to a grave yard on a hill side and Rory decided that it would be rude not to do some hill work, so once again Tom and I began our shuttle runs up and down the steep hill before once again continuing our run. As we ran we talked, I asked Tom about his life as a Chef and his restaurants in Chelsea, I asked him about the type of cuisine that they make and how he comes up with new recipes I was please to find that he is interesting to talk to. Rory was also talking about food, beans on toast to be exact. I must admit that the thought of eating beans on toast when we got back put a smile on my face and I eagerly anticipated tucking into a plate of hot beans on toast, washed down with a nice cup of tea… But we still had several miles to go. As we ran back the lead runner alternated naturally and we found ourselves making good time. The strength had returned to my legs and my heart had had a chance to recover dynamically over time. When I decided to do the Namibia 24 Hr UltraMarathon last June my resting heart rate had been 110 BPM. A fit adult should be between 60-80BPM, today my resting heart rate is 52 BPM. Since June I have also lost 21Kg (about 3.5 Stone) and today as I ran I felt stronger than I have ever done before.
We eventually got back to where we had stashed the shovels, and then ran back to Rory’s place, and I have to tell you, Tom may be a Michelin Star Chef, but Rory makes beans on toast to die for!
The day was rounded off nicely as Rory had a client to train in the evening so I went along with him to the gym and went for a good swim to shake out the running. Over the last three days I have run 50 miles; including a Marathon, just over a half Marathon and a ten miler.
As I sat back in the plane seat that evening I contemplated the fact that in just over two weeks I will be running my first Ultramarathon, a ninety mile race over two days from Derbyshire down to Hertfordshire and back, 45 miles a day for two days. Tom has entered too, and I look forward to seeing him again. We have decided that we will celebrate completing our respective desert Ultras by going Skydiving this summer, I look out of the window of the plane as we climb into the sky, I close my eyes sit back and smile, its been a good day.
Rory had text me and would be picking me up from the airport, I was flying to East Midlands and as the plane came through the cloud I looked out of the window to see the ground covered in snow and as the plane landed it began to snow heavily outside.
I came through security and after a few minutes saw through the window Rory coming across from the car park. I walked out to meet him, my North Face jacket done up and my hat pushed down on my head. As I walked out from the terminal building the cold air slapped my face and large snow flakes brushed against my cheek and eye lashes. “Turned out nice again” I greeted Rory who laughed and shook my hand. We chatted as we walked to his car and I was grateful for the car’s good heating system in it as we turned out of the airport and headed to Rory’s place.
Due to the fact that the flight had been delayed it was now doubtful that we’d be able to do the Marathon we’d planned as Tom had to get back to London ready for work that evening. But run we would and Rory had something just as tough in mind.
We got back to Rory’s place and I met Tom, I was wondering what to expect as Rory had told me that he was phenomenally physically fit. He had beasted Tom in the gym the day before and was impressed with his level of fitness. So was I when I found out that he could run 3040 meters in 12 minutes and his VO2Max gave him a potential Marathon time of 2:30Hrs! Tom turned out to be a nice guy, quietly well spoken and as fit as a butcher’s dog as my friend Nick would say. Before taking up endurance running he had been a cyclist having completed some serious mountain races in France. Now he had set his sights on the Marathon Des Sables a six day endurance race of 151 miles across the Sahara desert.
After a coffee we got our kit ready and headed outside, Rory had a surprise for us as he came around from the back of the house with a shovel in either hand, “There you go” he said as he handed one to me and the other to Tom. The ground near to Rory’s place was icy but it was better than it had been by the airport and the snow had stopped falling. “You’ll need those to clear the bridge” Rory gave by way of an explanation. I’d heard about Rory’s bridge work out and as we started running with our shovels in our hands I wondered just how much this would hurt.
After a couple of miles we got to a desolate area by some railway lines, over which was a large pedestrian bridge. “Ok, warm up time, clear the ice from the ground” Rory instructed as Tom and I began to shovel the dirt and Ice away from the bottom steps of the bridge. When we had finished Rory took us up the three flights of steps, across the long bridge and down the three flights of steps to the other side of the bridge, “ok we need to clear this side too”. Duly Tom and I started shovelling again, throwing shovel loads of ice and mud off the area at the bottom of the steps to expose the concrete beneath. Eventually Rory was satisfied with our labours and took the shovels from us both.
“Right, we’ll start with one ups!” Rory said. “Climb one step at a time to the top, then turn around and come back down again and repeat until I say” Tom and I began climbing to the top of the steps, turning around and coming down again. After a few sets of ‘one ups’ came ‘two ups’ Yep, you guest it, two steps at a time. This of course was followed after several sets by ‘three ups’ the pace escalated as we advanced through the reps. After the three ups came bunny hops, which involves jumping up the steps one at a time with both feet together. When Rory deemed that we had had enough of the bunny hops Tom and I were introduced to the ‘one up ‘sprints. Climbing the steps in multiples of one followed by a sprint across the bridge and down to the other side repeatedly. This was naturally followed by ‘two ups’ sprints and… Well you get the picture.
We were rested by giving us dynamic rest periods which meant that instead of running down the steps we were allowed to walk down followed by running up. Eventually Rory gave us some close handed push ups from the hand railings to do, followed by some more sprints this time with him standing on the bridge and us running to him and back down, as we ran down he would move back across the bridge a bit further away.
Finally with our quads straining and the breath burning in and out of our lungs Rory announced that we were ready to run a half Marathon “with some obstacles”. Thankfully we stashed the shovels and ran on, the ground was like an ice rink and staying upright was no mean feat as I slipped and slided all over the place. We ran across an area which used to be a silver birch copse which some environmental terrorist had taken a bulldozer to and cleared. This also meant that we had to climb over a substantial amount of timber that had been placed in unsightly piles at the edge of the cleared area. Then we were off climbing a long ice covered hill, Rory got us doing shuttle runs much like he had on the bridge. This hill work was tough going, I’d run for twenty seconds up the hill in front of Rory then turn around and run down, around him and back up the hill as he walked slowly up the hill, Tom was doing the same and we were working hard. My legs were burning from the exertion, more so than usual after yesterday’s snow marathon. By the time we reached the top of the hill I’d run it several times over, but no rest for us, we pushed onwards towards our next obstacle without stopping. We hadn’t far to go; just over the other side of the hill we came to a steep embankment about five metres high. Rory ordered us both down the embankment I made it about two metres down before slipping and falling down the embankment on my backside and got to the bottom covered in mud. Up on my feet right away I had to attack the hill and get back to the top as quickly as possible Tom was already at the top of it and running across preparing to hurl himself back down again. I ran as fast as I could up the hill my Camelbak smacking around on my back, my arms swinging hard forcing my body upwards with their momentum while digging my feet in to the hill side. I crested and sprinted across to my right, looking down I tried to figure out a better route down, picked one and went for it. Half way down I slipped and fell again, this time sliding down to the bottom of the hill in a mudslide of icy mud. Up I got and went for it again sprinting up the hill, my lungs bursting and my heart banging hard against the inside of my ribcage as it worked hard to supply my muscles with oxygen. Tom was whippet-like on the assent and I dug deep and was determined not to let myself fall behind. By the time I’d completed five reps I was ready for a break but it wasn’t to be and we began to run again. The area is very hilly and Rory cheerfully mentioned that he thought the route was much harder this way around. I had to agree with him, I’d run this route with Rory before over a marathon distance and we were defiantly hitting the steep sides of the hills this way around. We settled into a rhythm as we ran on, I was aware that my Skins leggings and running shoes were soaked through with freezing mud; I’d landed badly on my left hip and it was quite sore. Tom was also feeling the pain as his knees were giving him reminders that they had taken a battering the day before in the gym. We pushed on over hill after hill, across fields’ coloured grey and white with snow and ice, some of them were ploughed and were quite hard going. The slippery frozen ground felt more like running on polished metal than earth, it was so hard under foot. Eventually we came to a grave yard on a hill side and Rory decided that it would be rude not to do some hill work, so once again Tom and I began our shuttle runs up and down the steep hill before once again continuing our run. As we ran we talked, I asked Tom about his life as a Chef and his restaurants in Chelsea, I asked him about the type of cuisine that they make and how he comes up with new recipes I was please to find that he is interesting to talk to. Rory was also talking about food, beans on toast to be exact. I must admit that the thought of eating beans on toast when we got back put a smile on my face and I eagerly anticipated tucking into a plate of hot beans on toast, washed down with a nice cup of tea… But we still had several miles to go. As we ran back the lead runner alternated naturally and we found ourselves making good time. The strength had returned to my legs and my heart had had a chance to recover dynamically over time. When I decided to do the Namibia 24 Hr UltraMarathon last June my resting heart rate had been 110 BPM. A fit adult should be between 60-80BPM, today my resting heart rate is 52 BPM. Since June I have also lost 21Kg (about 3.5 Stone) and today as I ran I felt stronger than I have ever done before.
We eventually got back to where we had stashed the shovels, and then ran back to Rory’s place, and I have to tell you, Tom may be a Michelin Star Chef, but Rory makes beans on toast to die for!
The day was rounded off nicely as Rory had a client to train in the evening so I went along with him to the gym and went for a good swim to shake out the running. Over the last three days I have run 50 miles; including a Marathon, just over a half Marathon and a ten miler.
As I sat back in the plane seat that evening I contemplated the fact that in just over two weeks I will be running my first Ultramarathon, a ninety mile race over two days from Derbyshire down to Hertfordshire and back, 45 miles a day for two days. Tom has entered too, and I look forward to seeing him again. We have decided that we will celebrate completing our respective desert Ultras by going Skydiving this summer, I look out of the window of the plane as we climb into the sky, I close my eyes sit back and smile, its been a good day.
The Snow Marathon
I opened my eyes; the room was still dark, time to get up. As I made my way down the cold stairs and into the kitchen I turned on the radio, the presenter on Q102 was talking about the weather, he informed me that today the Leinster area would be the worst hit with heavy snow fall of eight to twelve centimetres brought to us by blizzards. Well that was just too bad because today I'll be running a Marathon.It had been several days now in which I had been unable to run outside and on occasion unable to leave the house at all because of the heavy snow fall. The roads were compacted snow and ice and deadly. As I quickly ate my breakfast of porridge mixed with strawberry flavour protein shake and a dollop of honey, the radio informed me that my area was a road hazard no less than three times. I washed the remnants of my breakfast down with a protein carbohydrate drink and started putting together my kit.
I always run Marathons and long runs with a backpack called a Camelbak, it contains my water with electrolytes, I also carry some cereal bars to eat on the run and a couple of energy gels just in case I get in to problems. Part of the reason for carrying it is to get used to running with a weight on my back as in Namibia I will have to run 128 Km carrying all my kit on my back.
I say goodbye to Fi and head outside, once my GPS find the satellites I begin my run. Today I am running the Grand Canal Way, the white silent roads are deserted and as I turn in to the entrance of the Grand Canal I am met by pure soft virgin snow. No one has ventured along the canal path today. As I run the shin deep snow gathers in front of me as my feet rhythmically pushed down on the powered snow it replies with its own crump as it impacts below me. Soon the sound of the snow and the birds is all that can be heard. As I run I looked down at the snow and can see the tracks of all the different types of animals that live near the canal. Birds have hopped across the path and over the snow covered frozen canal, foxes had done the same. I run for a mile or two in the tracks of a fox and marvel at how ergonomically it had moved through the snow with its feet one behind the other to save energy as it ran through the snow. I come across the site of a kill where a fox had caught a pigeon, a few feathers and a couple of spots of bloody testament to the violence that had taken place. Occasionally as I run I surprise a black bird in the hedgerow or brambles along the side of the canal and they franticly try to get away singing loudly in their panic. Suddenly a pheasant breaks cover in front of me and takes off noisily and it is my turn to be surprised and startled.
As the miles pass I come across a group of brightly coloured boats, from the grey wood smoke curling in to the air from their chimneys the people inside are doing their best to keep warm. Some of the boats list in the frozen water at funny angles evidence that their upkeep had not been all that successful in some cases. I run on and it begins to snow, ice cold flakes fall in to the gap between my collor and my neck and melt upon my skin, the hair on my neck stands up as the freezing water trickles down my back. I look up at the sky, grey and pregnant above me. While I run I find myself thinking about things, sometimes silly things sometimes matters that were more serious. Eventually I land upon a thought that led to a question. As I run the snow against my feet and lower legs slowly feels heavier as I became tired from the running and trying to remain upright in places. Snow weighs a fair bit I thought, how many tons of snow is in the cloud above my head? More to the point how much does that great big grey cloud weigh…and what the hell keeps it up there?... and on I run.
I reach the half way point my feet are soaked through I became aware of the fact after mile eight, I am tired and in need of some energy so decide to have one of my cereal bars, as I opened it a couple of frozen looking hungry swans pushed their way through some broken ice to where I am standing. Taking pity on the swans I split the bar into three and share it with them. Once the last piece has gone the larger swan looks at me and hissed loudly, ‘well so much for being polite’ I say then realising that I am admonishing a swan decided to start running again.
The clouds above me block out what watery light the sun was giving earlier this morning and I can feel the temperature dropping fast, I don’t know exactly what the temperature is but I suspect its around the minus two mark. I start to feel the cold and decide to pick up the pace to warm myself up. Its difficult going, the stretch I am running on has had some 4x4’s diving on it since the morning and the snow is now compact ice below my feet. I find myself with the choice of either running in the virgin snow which is very tiring or in the tracks on the vehicles which is like trying to run down a toboggan run with no grips on your shoes. As the miles go on I find that my hips are in pain, for every step forward I am taking I’m also taking one side ways. A couple of times I slip and land heavily on the ice bellow. I am tired now but still have many miles to cover before I get home. This is the struggle. This is part of my training, not just the physical endurance that I’m building but the mental resilience to be able to cope with what awaits for me in the desert.
I push on, no one is around me now and the wind whistles as it blows through the giant snow covered bulrushes that grow along the side of the water. The winter scenes in the film Doctor Zhivago come to mind I smile and I push on ignoring the pain in my knee and hips. At times it is hard to tell where the edge of the path ends and the snow covered ice begins; other times the path seems to disappear and I push on over rough ground and water rushes every step taking me closer to home. I need to be able to run however I’m feeling, to just keep going.
I think briefly about tomorrow I am due to run another Marathon with my coach Rory Coleman but force the thought from my head and focus on the here and now.
Eventually I see the exit to the road that will take me back to home and I take it the ground on the road is sheet ice and slows me down but I only have to push on for another half hour and I am done. As I turn the corner into my road I pick up the pace a little and push on until I reach my house. I have done it, its been painful, cold and exhausting but I have done it; 26.2 miles in the snow at minus two.
To stop the pain in my legs I walk in to my front garden and lay down in the deep snow which I then use to bury my legs and then lay back in to the soft freezing snow until my legs go numb. After ten minutes I get up and open my door and fix myself a warm bath, I have another Marathon to do tomorrow, I need food and sleep, its going to be an early start.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)