Some stuff about kit, clothes, training and all that

A few people have asked a few questions so here's some information and thoughts on what I used and things I did.

Kit
I think I already wrote about much of the kit in a previous post. In the race I used only kit I'd practised with on training runs with the exception of a Light my Fire collapsible cup and a new Anker power bank. The cup was a great addition to kit and a much better option than my Hydrapak speedcup. It doesn't pack as small and it's not as light but it's sturdier so it's both easier to drink from and suitable for hot drinks. It also has a lid so I was able to walk out of CPs with hot tea without scalding myself and also on leg 4 without the cup filling up with rain.

The Anker power bank was a more powerful one than the little lipstick-sized pack I usually use. It was pretty much the same size as my phone but thinner and lighter. It was great as I had the option of being able to charge watch and phone at the same time if needed, but I struggled to get it into the side pockets of my Salomon race vest when the pockets were all full of stuff.

The Salomon S-lab Sense Ultra 8 vest proved a little more tricky to get on with in the race than I expected. I'd had no issues with it on long training runs but as the race progressed and I got clumsy I found finding and stashing stuff in the stretchy pockets increasingly awkward. I think more practise but also less stuff is needed.

I used sticks during the race: Mountain King Trail Blaze poles. They are not as fancy as ones by say Lekki or Black Diamond as they aren't adjustable and they are more of a faff to open up and fold away, but as I didn't have £££ to spend they were the best option. I've had this pair for over 2 years now and they've stood me in good stead in several races as well as days out on the SW coast path and in the Alps.
Most people think of sticks as something to use to aid with ascent. Certainly they do help with that although going up stuff is something I've always found relatively easy. Where I need them the most is for stability on descents and they also help to reduce the impact on my back. They can also really help on the flat when you're getting a bit tired- there's something about hiking with poles that can help you keep up a purposeful pace although whether it's the rhythm you get into or whether it's to do with engaging the upper body more I don't know. I do know though, that several times during the race people would comment that they couldn't keep up with my walking pace and in Hangman Ultra last year a couple of guys started calling me the Little 4 Wheel Drive as I powered up the hills!

PLEASE NOTE: simply going out and buying some poles and rocking up to a race with them won't do. You absolutely need to practise using them. A lot. Uphill, downhill, on the flat, on long runs. Practise eating when you've got them out, practise running with them- both in use for support and held in one hand because you don't need them for a bit. Fold them up and get them out whilst on the move, work out the best way of getting them in and out of your race vest. And be prepared to get a bit sore in the arms, shoulders and back. I've never had problems with arm or shoulder DOMS from using sticks until the A100 and I was unprepared for how uncomfortable I would feel after that race.

Edit: For women if you are running an ultra and you have your period, I recommend that you use the more expensive, branded pads. Cheaper ones are not as comfortable and don't always stick too well either. I used Bodyform ones without wings and had no issues with chafing or with blood going everywhere. Pads rather than tampons as you can't wash your hands except at some aid stations.
Clothes
This turned out to be a bit of a learning curve. I usually do races in a Kalenji running skirt as it has 4 pockets which is great for stashing snacks and I've never had any bother. However after A100 as I got into the shower at home noticed what appeared to be a sinister rash of big red spots around my middle. Turned out to be pressure spots from where the drawstring had pressed against my belly. Hmmm- something to avoid on my next 100 miler I think as that could get nasty and painful.
I'm a big fan of InkNBurn clothes and whilst they are VERY expensive all the items of theirs that I own are incredibly comfortable and none of the skirts have the same drawstring thing as the Kalenji one so I think I'll settle for 2 pockets and increased comfort next time.

Injini toe socks. Love them, BUT so very painful to change them when you've got blisters under the toenails and your feet are swollen. Not sure what the answer to that is- changing socks midrace was still a good move and I find Injini socks the most comfortable out of all the different sorts I've tried.

I think I wrote about my shoe nightmare in a previous post. The inov8 Trail Talons were very comfortable but are hopeless even in slight mud. I found an Ultra version of the inov8 X-Talons which are comfy but turned out to be so wide-fitting even for my hobbit feet that my feet slid about in them which caused a bit of damage. They were however nice and grippy but also quite acceptable for the long stretches of hard surfaces on leg 4.

Training
Thanks to Sensei Phil I had a really good program of strength work for the whole of my training plan for this race. The focus was mostly on posterior chain muscles and working on making sure that when I fatigued I could still keep a good, upright posture. It was hard work initially and also I really didn't like the getting a bit fat that happened to begin with- I felt big and heavy rather than strong- but after a couple of months or so I did begin to feel the benefit of it. And 6 months into my training plan I was fitter and stronger than I'd ever been before. Muscle mass did drop away leading up to the race but even so I felt strong and didn't experience any significant muscle issues during the race itself.

The  'Plan'

This wasn't a hugely detailed, prescriptive plan and I was never able to achieve the volume of running that Phil suggested but I stuck to the strength work and that really paid off. Running-wise yes, I did up the volume and was hitting +200 miles for several months, but the thing that probably had the biggest impact was consistency- just getting out almost every day and getting some miles in. I only ran 1 ultra and that was about 38 miles, I did one overnight hike of 50k but other than that nothing was over 26 miles. I'm lucky in that currently I work part-time so I have 2 weekdays to get longer runs done as well as weekends, but I did wonder how I would get on having only done what may ultra runners would call rather short long runs.

I did recce almost the entire course. Lots of people said there was no need, it would be well-marked and it's impossible to get lost. As you'll have seen if you read this blog, I found it quite easy to take wrong turns so knowing all the spots where I could go wrong meant I avoided any bonus miles on race-day. The recces also meant that I had a good idea of how to manage my pacing- I knew the stretches where I'd be slow and the bits where I could make up a bit of time. 

I kept a training diary for about 10 weeks but then hit a rough patch and couldn't face recording day after day of everything being a bit crappy and I never got back to writing things down even when training picked up again. I think at the time it almost felt like a punishment writing it all down and evaluating each session with a red, amber or green dot; if I was getting reds and ambers then I felt a failure or inadequate. Now I think that I should definitely keep a training diary again but keep emotionally detached from it. If stuff isn't going well either because I feel very tired or because I just don't get through the session I think I should have done, it really doesn't matter. Doing something is generally better than nothing, and sometimes it's fine to just move rather than train.

Mental stuff

This was hard. It was hard to keep belief in my training that what I was doing was enough, was the right stuff. How do you ever know if you've got it right? But I kept reminding myself that if I could be on that start line fitter and stronger than ever before then that was a great achievement in itself no matter how the race went.

I tried to think about how to manage myself in the race. Having twice crewed Steve at UTMB I had a good idea of how running a long way can mess you up and I've watched a whole lot of running documentaries, particularly the ones about Karl Meltzer's various FKTs and also Finding Traction about Nikki Kimball running the Long Trail. But it's hard to imagine going through something you've never experienced before. So I just visualised feeling crappy at various points in the race and what I'd say to myself to keep going. A few times I did dream about running it and getting a good time (around 26 hours was my 'dream' time) but it seemed so extremely unlikely that I didn't let that thought cross my mind much at all! 

The strength I've gained from having now run 100 miles is surprising- I feel like I'm good enough to take on more challenges now and I do have a couple in mind for 2019.

Ultimately I'd have to say that training didn't go quite to plan, but given the things that have been going on in the background this year I think I did as well as I could in the circumstances. For my next 100 I won't change anything significantly, but I think some better-focused speedwork early in the year will be the only new thing to add to the mix.

For now it's back to recovery!

100 miles, the aftermath

A week ago I was fretting a bit. Quite a lot.

Today I am feeling rather guilty because I'm feeling pretty good. I have now begun to question myself- maybe I didn't try hard enough, I should have pushed myself, maybe I could have got that sub-24, why am I not hurting and sore?

Up until Wednesday I think I was living off the fumes of euphoria. Sunday night was a fairly good night's sleep once I'd put an ice pack on my feet. Monday was ok, I pottered at home getting chores done and took a nap in the afternoon. The night was dreadful though- almost no sleep and appalling night sweats. So bad I had to change the bedlinen as everything was soaked. But Tuesday itself was fine and again I pottered about. Tuesday night was bad again. Another change of bedlinen.

Wednesday was work. No problems with all the stairs and I spent the day smiling, shoving my buckle in people's faces and having to explain that yes, it's perfectly possible to run 100 miles in one go; no, it is not bad for your joints; yes you eat on the go; no, you don't sleep; yes, you do wees (and more) in the bushes. My feet didn't like having to stand around, but other than that it wasn't a problem getting through a working day and that evening I managed a slow 2 miles around the village, more because I wanted to move in the fresh air than because I thought I should run.

Thursday was hard. I was suddenly very tired and just wanted to sleep although still legs felt fine. It was a very long and busy day too, not really stopping until 9pm when I couldn't be bothered to cook a meal. I ate rather too many biscuits for dinner, plus some leftover cauliflower!

Friday (today) I'm still sleepy but have been out for 4 miles. The autumn sunshine was so beautiful I just had to be out in it. Legs feel fine, feet a bit stiff and tired still and I need to resist the temptation to start training again. November I can start some kind of schedule but strength-based rather than running.

Being at work has been odd, jarring even. I do feel different after the weekend, not just because all my muscle seems to have disappeared, but actually changed as a person. It's as though that running experience was more real, more authentic than my usual daily life. There's no bullshit when you run that far. You are stripped back to essentials both in terms of what you have with you and as a person. Your job is to keep moving forward, to eat and drink, and to solve problems as they arise. That's it. There's nothing to hide behind, you can't fake any of it, you can't bluster or bluff your way through. As a result things feel and appear clearer, more simple. That is such a contrast to daily life even though I do my best to live a bullshit-free life. 'Real' life is still full of noise and clutter and the fact that to get by there's a lot of box-ticking and fakery.

I mentioned in the previous post about feeling outside of time and distance. That was beautiful. It was also surprising how neither time nor distance actually mattered or even felt meaningful. The sun rose higher and it set. Then it was dawn again. I had worried about managing such a long stretch of darkness but those 12-13 hours really didn't seem to last long. And actually I enjoyed being cocooned in the dark, following my little patch of light from the head torch. It could be isolating or disorientating not being conscious of passing hours and miles, but I found it made me feel far more connected to my surroundings, I felt a part of the landscape I was moving through. That's something I crave to feel again.

It's very hard to put into words what it feels like to run 100 miles. All I can say is that it is something that has the power to affect you in very deep and complicated ways.

100 Miles Is Not That Far

Friday evening

I'm so scared. Suppose I fail? Suppose I get really sick? What if I get lost in the dark? How awful is this going to feel? What have I forgotten to pack? What have I forgotten to think about? What if my training has been totally inadequate? I don't want to let people down...

You'll get round. It will be hard but you know that. Deal with the unexpected because it will happen. It's your victory lap, enjoy it.

Sleep happened but so did the worst night sweats of the week. And my period started.

Saturday, at race HQ

I'm so scared. Suppose I fail? Suppose I get really sick? What if I get lost in the dark? How awful is this going to feel? What have I forgotten to pack? What have I forgotten to think about? What if my training has been totally inadequate? I don't want to let people down...

photo by Nicci Griffin

Saw my friend Mike, also the Kilt Man, one of many ultra-Pauls and a couple of other people I've met at races before. It's always nice to see some friendly faces. The volunteers were lovely too and did their best to calm my nerves. Steve arrived having found somewhere to park the car. He was very quiet, I think because it was his first time supporting me and it was strange for him being on that side of things. I nearly forgot to collect the tracker I'd paid for but Mike, Steve and I were talking about trackers and suddenly Mike said he'd not got his yet at which point I realised I hadn't got mine either! Then there was a rather serious race briefing where we were warned to stay on top of hydration as it was due to get fairly warm that day. After that it was a little walk to the start.

The Race

I'm so scared. Suppose I fail? Suppose I get really sick? What if I get lost in the dark? How awful is this going to feel? What have I forgotten to pack? What have I forgotten to think about? What if my training has been totally inadequate? I don't want to let people down...

10:00 and we're off. Almost as soon as I start moving my mind settles and all those worries are silenced. We keep stopping and bunching up to go through some of the many kissing gates on the course. I don't worry that already my 10/5 run-walk strategy is out the window; I remind myself that if I walked at 15 minute mile pace and didn't stop I would finish in 25 hours.
Already some details are faded and other things are muddled as to when and where they happened. I don't know whether to try to write about things in as close to chronological order as possible or whether to be more general. I don't know who even reads this blog- whether people are looking for useful information about the details of running so maybe I'll just write what occurs to me.

Leg 1
I never had much of a race plan other than to get round within cutoff, use a 10/5 run-walk strategy and remember to eat something every 20-30 minutes or at the very least every hour. Almost from the start some of the 'plan' had to become rather fluid. As already mentioned there were several bottlenecks as we all queued to get through the first few of many kissing gates so a structured run-walk pattern just didn't happen. Later into the first leg I kept wondering if I should be more strict about regular walk breaks but a few times found myself running with others, chatting away and the minutes and miles flew by.

running and laughing in the sun

It became quite warm, I was drinking plenty but not weeing but I didn't worry too much at this point. My only real concern was that I felt I'd made a bad shoe choice- there were a few muddy sections along the Thames Path and I'd felt myself slipping and sliding, worried about taking a fall. I didn't want to use sticks to begin with as it makes eating more of a faff and getting nutrition right at least in the early stages of the race was vital. I've learned that if you can get things right early on it stands you in good stead later.
On the return to Wallingford CP I had to make a dash for the toilet- I wanted to change pads regularly to avoid getting sore and I was bleeding quite heavily although luckily no cramps. I doused my head and neck in cold water too as I was feeling unusually warm by now and it felt like my heart rate was way too high. I don't remember what I ate only that I bore in mind something Damian Hall had said in an interview about staying off the sweet stuff early on. After as short a time as possible I set out on the remaining few miles back to HQ. I was well ahead of even my dream time for the first 25 miles and I approached Goring knowing that Steve would tell me off for going too quick.

25 miles and all smiles

Leg 2
I had a good turnaround at Goring- I think I was there 10 minutes having changed shoes (now in the grippier Inov8 ultra version of X-Talons), had a wee, got bottles refilled and picked up a bit of food. I wasn't entirely looking forward to this stretch as after the muddy bits early on I expected parts of the Ridgeway to be quite unpleasant. How wrong could I have been? I spent much of this leg smiling, singing and generally having far too much fun.
At some point I caught up with Mike and we ran the rest of the leg together. Everything that was a bit 'up' we walked and on the way out we tried to make mental notes of the gnarliest bits so that on the return when it would be dark we could make sensible decisions about when to run and when it was safest to walk. It would be silly to risk a nasty fall along Grims Ditch and potentially have the race end there due to injury.
The woods approaching Swyncombe were so beautiful. The ground was a deep coppery orange from all the fallen beech leaves and the light seemed to glow from all the autumn colours. I remember thinking how lucky I was to be there at that moment. I also suddenly had Christmas songs in my head. That was when the craziness started...

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time

Nellie the Elephant

Lilly the Pink

Baby Shark

Mah Na Mah Na (that muppets song)

Muppets theme song

Pants

I can't remember what else although Mike decided the best way to accompany our return to HQ at mile 50 was to sing Baby Shark. So we did.

the Field of Dreams heading to Swyncombe

We returned to Goring HQ in ridiculously good time. Just about on 24 hour pace. What was going to happen next?

Leg 3

Steve was waiting for me ready for pacing duties. I'd given him a prompt list because you're not allowed to be 'crewed' only paced, but your pacer can talk to you so he had various things to remind me to do. Before any of that I was just desperate to change my clothes as I'd got so sweaty- fresh socks never felt so good! I also decided to change back into the Inov8 Trail Talons as I wanted cushioning over grip on this part of the Ridgeway. My feet had swollen though so it was uncomfortable putting them on. I got into a bit of a pickle with my watch as it needed charging but I couldn't work out how to get it into my race vest as I didn't want to wear it with the cable dangling. I'd also started to get a bit weird about food by this point- not particularly wanting to eat any of the wide range of things I'd packed- but I wolfed down one of those Mug Shots cheesy pasta things though. It was really good to eat something more like 'real' food.

  

Then it was out into the warm and dark at some point in which I would reach unknown territory.

I was in good spirits still and although a little tired there was nothing physically or mentally that was of particular concern. I didn't feel sleepy at all but it was good to know I had caffeine options if needed. I'd take a couple of Clif Shotbloks on leg 2 when I wasn't feeling like food and they'd worked a treat. What was puzzling me a lot was wondering when the wheels were going to come off and what form the inevitable pain and misery would take.

There was a lot of purposeful walking on this leg. This section of the Ridgeway is rather undulating and although people like to say it's up on the way out and down the way back, there's plenty of both up and down in each direction! The large pieces of flint meant I needed to take care moving in the dark but even so I caught my foot a couple of times quite badly smashing up my toes. Some choice words were said! However I did break into a gentle jog fairly frequently but as much to relieve the discomfort from so much walking as anything. Although I had the energy to run more I just wanted to stay as much within comfort levels as I could which sounds odd, but at this point I was waiting for the inevitable niggles to transform into pain and for my eyes to get heavy at any moment.

We reached the awesome CP at Chain Hill all disco lights and music and full of lots of lovely food, almost none of which I wanted. I'd started to get waves of nausea and knew that actually getting some calories in would help so I had some of the legendary vegan ginger cake. It was very good. 

An important conversation

For a lot of the return part of this leg Steve was looking at his watch quite a bit and I just knew he was plotting to see if he could keep me on pace for a sub-24 finish. In the end I said I knew what he was doing and that he was to stop it. I just didn't want the pressure of knowing I could get a sub-24 when there was still so much of the race left. Also although this race was really important to me I just wasn't sure that I cared enough to suffer that much for a quick time. He said ok, but maybe it was worth being in a position to have that conversation with myself again at Reading or on the return through Whitchurch. 

It wasn't a position I thought I'd ever be in if I'm honest, I'd more envisaged Steve telling me to MTFU and having to cajole me into moving at all. He did nag me a bit about food and I knew I wasn't eating enough, but I was still getting some calories in and that was better than nothing.

Into the unknown

At some point I was in unknown territory both in terms of time on feet, and distance covered, but I didn't think about that at all. For the whole race I felt outside of time, that neither time nor distance was relevant, all that mattered was moving forward. The watch was still set up with Steve's hourly food alarm so every now and then- sometimes it seemed sooner sometimes later- there was a buzz. "Oh it's o'clock now" I'd think but with no idea of what o'clock it was. 

 Anyway, the miles somehow kept ticking along. Mike had come along with us for this leg but he was having a really rough time. He wasn't eating at all and was feeling very sick. I felt a bit guilty for not slowing down for him or paying much attention but we'd never planned to run the race together. In fact in twitter conversations he seemed far more goal-oriented about the race than I was and I was convinced he was going to get a quick time. Steve was great with him, offering advice on trying to manage the sickness and gently encouraging. I think he needed something to do really as I just didn't need pacing or encouraging or any real support at all!

We arrived back at HQ around 3:30am and I saw the table at the timing mat with all the buckles laid out. 

Leg 4

"You need to swap food bags"

"Yes I know but I don't want ANY of it!"
Suddenly I put my head in my hands and started to sob. There wasn't any point in saying "This is so hard" because that was stating the bleedin' obvious to a room full of people who are all finding it really hard. It's supposed to be hard. So I ate some rice pudding, tried but failed to manage soup or anything else. Sugary tea was good though as it had been for the last 3 CPs. I sat down to change shoes as I knew it was going to get muddy and slippery out there, but suddenly felt like I was going to faint. I think I said that I felt very peculiar but Steve knew straight away what was going on and explained that because I'd sat down (for the first time all race) blood was pooling in my feet and that was why I felt dizzy. He and someone else reassured me that as soon as I was up and running again I'd feel fine. They were right.
I had a little bit of a fret about having to go out into the dark on my own- I was a bit scared of missing the gates across the fields to start with- but there was no choice but to get up, get out and get on with it. So I did.

4am and pouring with rain. It's actually quite nice being alone in the dark. I didn't even mind the rain really. There was a lot of purposeful walking up to Whitchurch as this section is a bit gnarly and I really didn't want to fall over now. Lots of gates to go through which miraculously I was able to work out how to operate- on a recce I really struggled to open some of them! I saw lights in the distance and caught up with then overtook Mike and his pacer. Suddenly I didn't want company I just wanted to run my own race and get it done.
Into Whitchurch and out again with sugary tea. It's a long haul to Reading yet. I had no idea what the time was only that I was comfortably within cutoffs. I also knew what was coming up!
The endless fields along the river are not much fun- my feet slid around in my shoes so that my right outer ankle was constantly rubbed by the shoe. It began to really annoy me. The rain was relentless- and suddenly I was aware of feeling cold. Time to get moving or I'll get hypothermia. Running happened, quite a bit of it, and I splashed, slipped, squelched and moved relentlessly on to the turnaround.
The yacht club appeared quite suddenly, the steps were really not so bad as I expected and it was wonderfully warm inside. As soon as I got inside I blurted out "WillyoudisqualifymeifIputmyemergencylayerononlyI'msocold?" Of course I can put it on- that's what it's there for. It looked and sounded as though a lot of people had come in extremely cold. I didn't want to hang around really so another quick wee, a handful of food and more tea, once again thank a fabulous team of volunteers. All the way round I've made sure to thank the people out helping as well as smile and encourage other runners.

Down the steps, shuffle a bit then RUN! Splash, squelch, run, shuffle repeat. Over and over again. I say 'well done' to every runner I pass. I don't want to know about their pain, I just want to finish now. The puddles have joined together so much of the path is a little stream parallel to the Thames. Ankle deep in places and over my knees at one point. I don't care. I'm incredulous because I now know that I am actually going to finish this race and I keep smiling despite the dreadful conditions. Splash, squelch, run, shuffle.
Into Whitchurch and out again. The hill out of the village is hard but it's just over 4 miles to go now. Keep moving, keep smiling, smell the barn. By now I am soaked to the skin. I am also struggling to see; my eyes aren't working properly, things are just vague shapes. Back to the fields near Goring. A man says I'm nearly there. He says perhaps 1500m to go and I'll see the bridge any moment. The bridge doesn't appear, not for ages but all of a sudden round a corner it's there. There's a couple of people waiting. There's a voice I know- it's Steve! He says encouraging things and is holding something at me. It might be a phone. Smiling and holding back tears I quicken my pace for the last couple of hundred metres.

It's happening. I am finishing a 100 mile race. People are clapping outside HQ and wave me through to the timing mat. I'm utterly astonished as I approach the clock- it says 24:33:something. That can't be right!
Over the mat, into the hall. Someone hands me a buckle.

I've done it!

This has been a rather prosaic account. There is so much more to say but I'm not sure how to explain it all. The most wonderful part of this race was the feeling of being outside of time and distance. I almost never knew what time it was or how far I'd run. Nothing existed but forward motion and for me that was the most liberating feeling.

I kept expecting the wheels to fall off, for the pain and misery to really hit and to want to give up. None of this happened. Yes there were a few low points but they were never overwhelming and they always went away quite quickly. I can honestly say that I have never enjoyed a race so much, never felt so good physically or mentally.

Perhaps this was my 'perfect day', perhaps every other race I run will have the usual pain, misery and despondency. I don't know. But I'm looking forward to running 100 miles again.

Thank you to:

The whole Centurion team

Stuart March

All the runners

Damian Hall

My kids

Phil Culley

Gareth Richards 

and most of all to Steve

 100 miles is not that far

A week to go...

As I type this I'm wondering how far into the race I'll be in a week's time. Leg 2 certainly, but not sure how far in.

It's been a time of weather-watching and last moment (mostly unfounded) panics. The week ahead is looking mild, settled and most likely set for a warm weekend which is great. It means less of a kit faff, fewer changes of clothes needed and, as I struggle with the cold, a mild night will work in my favour. All this suggests that as long as I keep control of eating and my mental state getting round the course is absolutely doable. But of course it's the mind games that's the trickiest part of ultra running.

As for the mind games I've been having nightmares: I'm chased round the course by hornets until I get timed out. The fear of failure is really bothering me so I guess I'll just have to not fail! It also feels so unreal. Is this actually going to happen? What is it going to be like? I have now covered almost every mile of the course so I know what it looks like, what it should be like underfoot, where the tricky turns are, yet it feels like deep, unexplored territory. Well from the mental side I guess it is.

From the practical side pretty much everything is ready now. Clothes will get sorted this evening or tomorrow. I've devised a couple of extra food options which will need bagging up: Asda do 'shots' of various berries, chocolate and nut combinations so I'm combing the cranberry and white chocolate one with the cherries and cashews one (might add in a few other nuts too). It throws a slightly different texture and flavour combination into the mix so hopefully now I will have something that I can eat at any point in the race.

All the stuff, but maybe I need a bigger drop bag!

Counting Down

I'm in a situation I've never really been in before. Proper, serious taper.

It's less than two weeks until the 100 and I am having to suppress all the fibres in me screaming to go out and run the trails for a few hours. I'm not twitchy or bad-tempered with it, rather at a loss as to what to do with myself. It's an odd feeling.

Using my UTMB run-soigneur experience I'm trying to do all the things Steve was doing- resting, eating well, getting more sleep, being prepared now so there's no last minute stress. It's not easy though. After a couple of weeks sleeping much better I'm back to struggling to get off to sleep and then waking very early. Because of work there's no chance of not setting an alarm in the morning, and the next two weeks are of the course the weeks when there's loads of after school stuff happening with my children so not even the evenings are going to be relaxing. I find myself wishing I could go away and stay in a quiet apartment and live in a little running bubble like we did in Chamonix. It was lovely even though for me also stressful, and coming back to the 'real' world has been jarring.

I did my last recce yesterday as I'd been fretting about not knowing the first part of the race at all. Despite failing to get up when I'd intended, I still made it to the Thames Path before it was properly light and had a lovely time walking (with a little bit of gentle running) from Wallingford up to the turnaround and back. It was maybe a few more miles than I 'should' have done, but as most of it was walking I figured no harm done.

Right now all the race prep I can do has been done. Miles in my legs; strength work; massages; a lot of thinking and mental preparation; remembering all the useful things I've heard on the Talk Ultra podcast; kit bought and tried out; and non-perishables packed for food bags. The thought of the race terrifies me, the thought of failure is even worse, but I'm also excited.

I'm as ready as I think I could be given my circumstances, I'm fitter and stronger than ever both physically and mentally, and I can't wait. Bring it on!

As Tim Tollefson says- the race is your victory lap so go out and enjoy every minute.