Christmas miles part 2: end of a year

Last week I did a lot of walking. 36 miles in 4 days. It was good to be moving slowly and take in more of my surroundings and it felt nice to just walk with no purpose. I went out each time with my rucksack (an OMM Ultra 12 which I love for hiking but can't get on with in races) and a snack, drink, extra layer and binoculars. A couple of times I took sticks too as it's easy to get out of practise using them and end up with pretty sore shoulders after a race. My next race is in less than 4 weeks and it is a fairly flat route so I think it'll be another one to 'jeff' but with sticks this time. Hopefully all the walking last week will stand me in good stead.

Yesterday it was back to training. A first attempt at 800m reps followed by a strength workout. I didn't get the effort right on the intervals- to begin with I don't think I pushed hard enough and it was only the last 2 that felt about right. But interval training on the road is tricky: it's harder to gauge distance and therefore pace yourself correctly and there are numerous hazards that impact on both speed and effort: it's not flat, there are roads to cross, horse poo and litter to dodge... My running club has a track session once a week but it's at an inconvenient time for me and I don't really want to do someone else's workout. These days I have to listen to what feels right for me.

Strength work is easier although again I could probably push a lot harder than I do. But training at home with minimal equipment (and no dedicated space to train in) means the priority is to stay safe. With my crumbly spine, trying to lift properly heavy is something I shouldn't do unsupervised and unfortunately I don't have a PT to train with. Maybe one day I will be able to rejoin a gym and get to train with someone.

2019 has been a truly awful year. I don't hold out hope of the next one being better because I no longer believe things will improve. I'm worse off than when I was unemployed and newly divorced 10 years ago. A combination of heartbreak and the rapid onset of the loopy hormones has left me fragile and no longer sure of who I am. Hopes and dreams have been well and truly shattered.

But I will keep on moving...

...keep baking...

...keep stitching...

... and keep blogging.

And maybe I will try running 100 miles again. I have unfinished business with that distance.

Christmas Miles part 1

Christmas miles started with the Portsmouth Coastal 50k Ultra on Sunday. Not being what I would call race fit I decided I would jeff it- 10 minutes running then 2 minutes walking- for at least the first 20 miles, and as long as I got round without breaking then it would be a good outcome. It's a good race to jeff as it's pretty much flat and about 50% of the terrain is quite smooth making power walking relatively easy.

It's a while since I properly jeffed anything and it was dispiriting after the first 10 minutes to be overtaken by the majority of the runners as I hit the walk break. But I stuck to it and found that after a while I was easily making up the distance I 'lost' each time I walked. The walk breaks weren't rigidly 2 minutes each time- I often started jogging with about 30 seconds left and once, towards the end as I left a CP, I got mixed up what I should have been doing and walked when it should have been running. A costly mistake as it turns out...

Anyway, the race was nice although I was pretty much on my own all the way round. My fuelling strategy wasn't very sensible- mostly shots of mulled wine- and almost none of the CPs had any savoury snacks so I managed on a bit of chocolate, some Jaffa Cakes (which I hate) and a few tortilla chips. I kept putting off the moment to stop jeffing;  I felt not too bad most of the race although the mile or so along the beach at Hayling Island to the turnaround really sapped my energy and was probably the low point for me. But mentally I really lacked belief and strength: I doubted my ability to finish and didn't trust my body to stay strong, so I kept saying to myself from about 20 miles 'just one more walk break then I'll run in'. I didn't keep running until probably 3  or 4 miles left and even then didn't push it because I kept expecting to blow up.

I sort of missed the finish line- I couldn't see where it was so didn't really pick up the pace for the last bit- and then it took me probably half a minute to stop my watch once I'd finished! I didn't even look at my finish time. But the not-fella (who'd also run the race) was at the finish and said "If you'd gone 23 seconds quicker you'd have finished in the top 10 and come in under 5 hours". I was pleased- astonished- at first as I'd never had any goal other than to finish and as it turned out I got myself a 50k PB of 5hrs 22 seconds. But then disappointment and the 'if onlys' set in. It shouldn't make any difference where I placed, especially as I was just aiming to complete not compete. But it really did take the edge off what is a pretty decent achievement particularly given how this year has gone in terms of health, impact repeated illness has had on training, and all the heartbreak. And when you think about it, I must have walked something around 45 minutes of that race but still finished 2nd in my age category, 11th female and 99th out of 277 finishers.

The race went far better than I thought it would but it shows I have a lot of work to do. I need to get back to a level of fitness that will make it easier for my mind to trust my body, and somehow I need to build mental resilience. This will be hard when events of this year have undermined my (often fragile) confidence, left me without love and emotional stability, and have made me question my identity and worth as a person, but somehow I need to find a way.

Every day is watered with tears and every day my heart aches. I am too old and too hurt to reinvent myself yet again but perhaps I can find a new strength and purpose in running.

Merry Christmas and may your feet enjoy many happy miles

A camera up my nose

A little update for anyone who follows this blog.

Today was hospital day. I was unexpectedly subjected to one of those examinations with a camera on a bendy stick. It'll be fine they said, the nasal cavity is really quite big. We can take a look at the back of that nasty tonsil and tell you if there's anything to be concerned about.

4 attempts by the registrar to shove a camera up my nose and down my throat, and a lot of tears and whimpering from me later...

There doesn't seem to be anything cancerous going on. So that's good. But it's back to square one in terms of having no answers as to why I keep getting ill and why I'm experiencing horrendous fatigue.

It was a truly horrid experience- it turns out I don't have a big nasal cavity and it would have been better if they'd had the paediatric nasal camera to use. My nose and face still hurt somewhat, 10 hours later. If you ever have to go to ENT with the chance of needing a nose camera then please 1) take a friend with you and 2) take a dose of painkillers before you go.

The state of the NHS is such that funding for things like tonsillectomies is very limited. This means that you have to tick quite a lot of boxes before you can even be referred for the consideration of such an operation. Because it has been almost impossible to see a doctor each time I've had a throat infection this year, and when I have been able to see any kind of healthcare person they have 5/7 time refused to prescribe antibiotics (it'll get better eventually on its own), it means that despite 7 episodes of throat infections I do not tick a single box. Not that I want a tonsillectomy; in adults it's an horrendous procedure and results in at least 2 weeks off work plus dreadful pain. But from now on every time I get a bad throat I have to somehow get seen by a doctor to ensure it's properly assessed and documented because if the coming year is as bad then getting my tonsils taken out is probably something that ought to happen.

Fun times.

Slipping and Sliding

I've wanted to write for a while but have been struggling to find the words. Trying to be honest but not let a public blog become too personal is not an easy line to tread. But this is not the only line I'm finding it hard to stay on the right side of. I am back training regularly but having to take things very carefully since these days it's proving hard to work on my fitness whilst not taxing my immune system. So often it feels as though I'm on the verge of yet another tonsil infection, and added to that  the mid-life hormones plus a perfect storm of life-stresses is making me extremely tired.

I've had all my bloods done and it's all come back within normal ranges. Next week I have an urgent appointment with the ENT consultant because the recurring infections are a concern. I also have a permanently enlarged tonsil and few lumpy bits in my neck. There's the small possibility of a cancer but my GP has referred me more to have the consultant confirm his opinion that it's not cancer than because he's very concerned it might be the big C. It still feels like a huge weight on my shoulders and although life has been utterly miserable and I'm desolate, I'm really not ready to have a life-limiting diagnosis: my kids need me to be around for another 5 years at least until they are both adults and able to fend for themselves.

Training is going ok, although I'm only in my 2nd week of consistent work since CTS Gower last month. I've decided to keep proper running to 3 or 4 times a week, and not on consecutive days and to do two strength sessions a week, both on days when I run so that the days off are properly that. It's not easy fitting in double days as it were but I think it's the best way to manage things for now at least. The week's long 'run' is more of a hike with bits of running. Last Sunday I managed about 15 miles and because I'd hiked most of the first 8 miles I was able to jog most of the way back along the canal. Days off I try to get a 3-4 mile walk done but that's not always possible. It's too early to say if this new approach to training is working or if it's the right way to be going about things, but I have to start somewhere and give it a few weeks before reviewing the situation.

The strength work I'm doing is the stuff I was doing when training for the A100 last year. It worked well for me then as I felt fitter and stronger than ever at the start of that race and I'm hoping that if I can maintain consistency it will do the same for me again. For now there's no aim of trying to increase weight or reps- I want to regain my fitness levels first then carefully and slowly improve. Whilst the battle to keep what little figure I've ever had is probably one I'll lose due to the loopy hormones, a soft and saggy tummy doesn't have to mean I can't aim to run a 45 minute 10k again. The hormones will do what they do and no one but me will care what I look like anyway.

Life itself is desolate. There is a gaping hole that was once filled with love. Running gives me little pleasure but I'm doing it because I have to do something and anyway my bones need to run in order to slow down their crumbling. As for Christmas, I'm dreading it. I'm not a Christmassy person really and although I'm used to being on my own during that week it can still be lonely and bleak. This year it will be all the more so. I had made plans for a 2 day hike and wild camp but given the current state of my immune system that's probably not a great idea.

A plan B is needed but I've no idea what that will be yet.

Sand, Sea and Stress

Last weekend I went and did a race in Wales. It was one of the Endurance Life Coastal Trail series in Wales on the Gower peninsula. Stunning weather driving down on the Friday, lovely weather driving back on the Sunday. Race day itself was not so good and conditions underfoot were horrendous. Sand is never easy running but the mud was apocalyptic- I have never been in such conditions before. However, the views were beautiful and for a short while the sun did come out.

It was always going to be a 'just a day out' kind of race, and given the appalling weather from the start I'd decided that if I really wasn't having fun I'd stop at the marathon distance and call it a day. I actually wasn't having fun by then but had forgotten I'd said that to myself so did the whole 34.5 miles anyway! The last loop was mostly pretty pointless though as it included a loop within the loop and a miserable plod along the beach to the finish- one of those stretches where you can see the finish but it just doesn't get any nearer.

From the start location looking round to the final loop of the ultra

I had a vague notion of wanting to get round in about 7 hours but once the mud got going I knew that was out of the question. And anyway that left hip flexor/quad tendons gave up on me again. It didn't get as bad as at A100 but it did get bothersome and after attempting to run into the finish along the beach I just gave up and walked it in.

The route was mostly super- but the '10k' loop (make that more like 7 miles) added at the end to make up the ultra was mostly pretty unimaginative and pointless. I got a bit sweary as my mood dropped especially when we were directed to do the mini loop within that loop. A couple guys running near me were a bit surprised to hear a small, quiet woman start shouting expletives. Anyone who's run in races with me will know I do have a potty mouth during a race, either because I'm over-excited or I'm really, really pissed off with it all.

I did smile a bit though!

Anyway, I've got ill yet again since the race. Another (probable) virus affecting the same tonsil but this time with more widespread inflammation (neck, ear), more pain and a lot more general fatigue. Eventually got to see a healthcare person today and they said 99% likely a virus, more than likely because what with everything that's been going on* I'm completely run down and that ideally I should be doing some complete rest. No training or anything until I'm all better. I don't really know how to stop being so run down- unless there's a sudden and dramatic upturn in my circumstances nothing is going to change- but I'm 5 weeks into a 6 week wait to see my GP so I think rather than using the appointment to discuss what next with loopy hormones it will have to be figuring out what's going on with my immune system and what if anything can be done to help me stay healthy. Being ill and missing work and therefore not being paid is simply an additional stress so resting up at home whilst losing money isn't actually very restful.

* there's been a lot

I will take this time to think hard about running in particular, training in general, and how to get the right balance with work, training, life and diet. My weight has been fluctuating more than is healthy this year (mostly losing weight and not quite gaining it all back before losing more) and although I know a lot about nutrition it's been incredibly hard following a properly nutritious diet because of lack of money, time, being poorly so much, not being home at meal times. 

Somehow there has to be a way out the mess I'm in, but I sure as heck can't see it right now.

Baking, Making and Running

I've been baking quite a bit recently in an attempt to make the time pass and because the children like cake. So far I have tried a few new recipes, tinkered with others and had a few disasters. I like baking but it's an expensive habit.

As far as making goes it's been of the knitting sort of making. Specifically, blankets in super chunky yarns. I can't sit still for long and get impatient so this suits me well. The thick yarn knits up quickly and easily and blankets don't require too much concentration. The only thing is the yarn I'm using at the moment is all colours that are very much those of the not-fella and this is making me sad.

Running is happening as is strength training. Neither give me any joy. Nothing is if I'm honest- I feel numb and as though all the colours have gone and my senses are operating on 1% power. But I know that exercising is important especially as the loopy midlife hormones are becoming increasingly loopy and exerting an ever more visible effect on my body and mind. So probably 6 out of 7 days I run and/or power walk (trying to get back in the habit of early morning sessions too) and 3-4 days a week do some strength or core work. It's made my appetite return which is good, but I'm not even enjoying eating.

There has been a lot of what a friend calls 'toxic positivity'. Being told that if I think happy things then good things will happen, that all this bad shit has happened because I'm so negative, that I should get out there and make changes, that there are plenty of other guys out there etc. ad nauseam.

Firstly it's not easy being happy when you're heartbroken, when you're trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe you really are a nightmare and impossible and that no one could ever think you're worth really loving. It hits particularly hard when you're older and already bruised and scarred, and know time is short. It's also not easy to be happy when dealing with the circumstances I've been in for the last 10 years. Circumstances that came about precisely because I took a leap of faith and tried to change things for the better. Something I did this year too, which has resulted only in even less security and rather more stress.

Secondly, when you are in such circumstances and for so long it really does get you down. The tunnel gets longer and darker and you don't see any end to it; maybe it doesn't end.

Thirdly, I don't care about other guys out there.

So for now I'm going through the motions. Run, lift, knit, stitch, bake, work. None of it really matters. Perhaps one day I will run and feel at peace again.

Knots and tangles

At the weekend it came into my head that perhaps I don't want to run any more. I don't mean race- the last couple of years I haven't done many races- I mean I'm not sure if I ever want to run again.

It's complicated and I don't know if I can untangle this particular knot.

Firstly, I realise it is still very soon after the A100 disaster and whether I am conscious of it or not it is likely still influencing my thoughts and feelings. But I also know that what happened out on the Ridgeway that night isn't the root of it. It was horrible hurting that much, no head-torch, moving at less than a shuffle, and I wonder if I had been in a better place leading up to the race whether I could have dealt with all that and got myself to a finish. But I'll never know so there's not much point in wondering. However, the act of quitting really hurts. I'm not a quitter.

But I quit my job at Easter without anything else lined up. I had got to a point where it simply made me miserable and I couldn't see a way to carry on. It was possibly a stupid thing to do and everything has been a monumental struggle since then, but people say if you don't like where you are then change it and that's what I did. Except it hasn't worked.

In my training this year I've not put in the focus or commitment that I have in previous years. Early morning long runs haven't happened- I've just not wanted to get out of bed.  In fact I haven't really done any kind of long runs at all. It's all felt like too much and I just gave up on trying to get the training done.

So maybe this year I've turned into a quitter.

And then the other stuff. I don't know if there are any ultra-runners reading this who are also perimenopausal. I cannot explain how big an impact those loopy hormones seem to be having on everything. It is akin to what it's like dealing with those early teen hormones except that you have to do all the adult stuff and people just expect you to cope. They could be responsible for training feeling like it's too much, for feeling so anxious about stuff, for struggling to cope with simple day to day things. But then again I don't know how much is hormonal or whether I'm simply trying to find excuses. I know I haven't feel like me for quite some time but it's been a very difficult year and up to a point there's been residual fatigue from last year's 100 miler too, so unpicking what is causing what seems impossible.

Whatever the cause, me not quite being me anymore has contributed the most painful breakup. And that's a big thing feeding into the not wanting to run any more. I was running before we met but all the trails I run are too full of my not-fella and I simply can't bear it. There's no joy in them any more and stumbling around through the mud half-blinded by tears is a pretty stupid way to spend my time. (As a side note it's worth mentioning that a lone woman, wandering about sobbing, attracts precisely zero attention from passing walkers. I am an expert in creating a S.E.P. Field.) Finding new trails means getting in the car in order to run and that's not practical.

So the act of running is making me miserable. My heart isn't in it.

My heart isn't in anything.

Head, shoulders, knees and toes

Let's start with the toes.
A bit of blister surgery went on last night as two toes resembled painful balloons rather than toes. A few toenails will probably go over the coming weeks or months but that's ok. I can't wear my Fivefingers shoes at the moment as they don't go well with blisters and post-race feet but no one has told me off at work for wearing an old pair of race ultras.

Knees.
They are sore. Left one is complaining although I could manage the stairs at work yesterday albeit slowly. I think I'll try some gentle mobility stuff in a day or two but absolutely no running of any kind for a while. Recovery is likely to take longer than usual given I started out depleted so the focus should probably be on improving mobility and rebuilding muscle. I do have a little 50k booked for just before Christmas. It was going to be a short break with the fella- but obviously it won't be now. I still want to do the race but it's too much to drive down to the coast, run 50k and drive home all in one day so I'll have to see if I can figure out logistics.

Shoulders.
And back and upper arms. All a bit sore and achy. My back feels bruised although it's too far down from where my pack would have been so I'm not sure what that's all about. I hadn't run with sticks since OCC so I was expecting to be a bit sore in the arms after over 30 miles using sticks to power hike but it's a reminder that even though I don't need to practise with them as such, I should do more training with them leading up to a race.

Head.
This bit is in the biggest mess. I do tend to go over and over any race and I always look for what I could (or should) have done better or differently, even races where I'm happy with how it went. That's just me and I can't help it. I guess something in my nature combined with something in my upbringing means I feel I never quite live up to expectations, that I'm never good enough.

I wonder if I could have pushed on and completed leg 3, and that if I'd done that maybe I could have finished the race. But I'll never know. The fact that after resting my legs for 2 hours at Chain Hill and then several more hours back at HQ and I still couldn't walk suggests the race was over at 62 miles, but by the late afternoon on Sunday I was able to walk the quarter mile to the shop without too much pain. It's that complicated thing of pain being in your head: how do you know how much of the pain was genuine brain saying stop in order to protect a part of the body and how much was purely emotional?

I was running when my heart wasn't in it. So much of that race is mixed up with my not-fella. But so are my every day trails. So much of my life is. What running is to me has changed, evolved over the few years since I started. As others have said ultra running in particular is as much about the relationships with fellow runners as it is about the physical and mental challenges. The people we meet along the way become good friends- sometimes just for the duration of a race or a few miles shared but sometimes they become part of your life. I can't untangle what I do from the not-fella and sometimes a run feels like sticking needles in myself but I don't think never running again is the answer either.

Various types of hallucination accompanied me during the race but also in the runs leading up to it. I'd hear footsteps and turn only to see nothing; feel that someone was running close, just behind my shoulder; hear a voice... Plus the usual giant cats, turtles and such.

I had an idea of an ultra every month next year, but just little ones. It's not going to work out that way due to cost but perhaps a year of not trying to challenge myself is what I need. Everyone else can do their big shiny races, ones that are super-hard, really long, big profile, in lovely places abroad... Perhaps I've had delusions of adequacy and have forgotten my place. I'll go back to plodding in fields on my own.

Loser, Quitter, Coward, Failure

I'm not long home from A100. Yes, it's a bit early. No, it's not because I smashed it.

I quit.

The only defence I can offer is that I didn't quit when I wanted to. I pushed through that several times. In the end I quit because I literally could not move another step at a pace that would keep me safe.

After weeks of uncertainty I decided to start this race because I believed I had a reasonable chance of getting at least close to my goal and I was as sure as you can ever be with a 100 miler that I would finish no matter what. If I'd had doubts about finishing at all then I would not have put myself out there. But within a few miles of starting the race I knew something wasn't right. My quads felt oddly tight and there were twinges in my hip flexors. But you know how it is, you think it's early days and it can take a while to warm up and settle in to a long run or race, so I didn't worry.

I pushed through the first 25 miles in a very decent time, 4 hours 14 minutes, and although I was still feeling stiff I was confident that my legs would settle down. I kept reminding myself that it doesn't always get worse. I was efficient at HQ and got back out onto the second leg. Within 3 miles of setting off I found I couldn't run much. No panic, I thought, a sub 24 doesn't really matter and I can just power hike and run little bits. I've worked a lot on my hiking and can go at a pretty good pace now- faster than a lot of people can ultra-shuffle. So I hiked. Every time I tried to run it hurt a bit more so after a while I was resigned to a 70 mile hike to finish the race. Not what I wanted but given the good start I'd had I would still finish comfortably within the cutoff.

Then things really started to take a turn for the worse. I'd somehow lost my electrolytes. Then about 3 miles out from the turnaround at Swyncombe my right knee gave out. Suddenly my leg wouldn't hold me up any more and I couldn't even walk down hill. I was bent over on my sticks just sobbing. I'd had a few cries before then- inexplicable body-heaving episodes of sobbing- but I mostly put it down to the weirdness that happens in ultras. One of those things which will ebb and flow over the course of a long race. A guy ran in to the turnaround CP with me at which point I just burst into tears again. But I wasn't going to quit. I quite like leg 2 and although it is hard going in the wet I like that bit of the Ridgeway very much. I knew I just had to get back to HQ, have a sit and get myself out on leg 3. I felt that if I got out onto leg 3 I'd have the finish somehow.

At this point I should probably mention the mud. It barely stopped raining the whole time and the mud was just horrendous. Slidey, sticky, energy-sapping, muscle-breaking, sock-caking mud everywhere. I think it was the mud that was responsible for my messed-up legs as the constant micro-adjustments that go on when you're moving through mud really do take a huge toll. A bit like when you first do exercises on a Bosu or balance ball. But I'd had about 7 hours of it by this point.

Anyway, I had company on the way back from Swyncombe which helped a bit. My left knee decided to give up on the way and although I could manage a decent power hike on the flat, down hill was becoming very painful. The guys I was running with decided we'd all go out on leg 3 together as a team approach would help us all get through.

We eventually set off on leg 3 but very soon I was dropped. My power-hike was not as purposeful as it had been. But I plodded along on my own. My knees were becoming increasingly painful; uphill was now a struggle and downhill was simply unbearable.

Then my headtorch failed. No matter, I put the spare battery in. A few minutes later the light went out again. It wouldn't turn back on. Shit. It's very dark on the Ridgeway at night, there was no way I could do this without a light. I stumbled on for a while then saw some runners who were heading back and stopped them so I could use their light to get my back-up torch, they also gave me a spare light they had although I had no idea how long it would last. I started to panic a bit as I knew I still had probably 9 hours or so of dark to get through. I decided to save their torch for later and put on my backup light. It wasn't very bright but it was enough. After about half an hour that torch failed.

Then my legs just gave up. I was no longer marching along at 15 minute miles, I was stumbling, shuffling, barely able to put one foot in front of another because the pain in my knee and hip flexors was now excruciating. I reminded myself over and over that it was nothing to worry about as I hadn't done anything to injure myself, that it would pass but it just got worse and worse. I was moving slower and ever more slowly and I was shivering uncontrollably, tears streaming down my face. That last mile or so to the turnaround took an eternity. I approached the friendly lights knowing that my race was done. Voices said well done, but I just burst into tears again and said I'm done. Es ist genug.

After that it was several hours of sobbing, shivering, being forced to drink weak tea and stay at race HQ because they didn't think I was safe to drive home. I just wanted out of there- I couldn't bear to see the T-shirts, buckles, people getting their finish photos. But the medic wouldn't let me go.

I had a big hug from someone I'd looked after when they quit at CCC (they were doing the overnight shift as a volunteer at HQ) and it was strange being on the other side of things. But I remember how my heart went out to the runners on that bus who'd quit and how I did what I could to console them. People were very kind to me but all I could do was cry.

In the end I was allowed to leave. The 5 minute walk to the car took me about 15 minutes as my left leg wouldn't work and every time I made it move waves of unbearably sharp pain shot through me. It was a relief to get into the car, get dry socks and shoes on and start driving. But it wasn't a relief to walk away from the race.

I failed. I wasn't tough enough and maybe I quit because I was scared of making myself hurt even more.

                                                             

Raining in my Heart

The weatherman says clear today rain. Strong likelihood of rain throughout the race this weekend. So that's nice. I mean, 7 hours of torrential rain on leg 4 last year was so much fun and I especially loved wading thigh deep through flood water in Reading.

The rain means I've had to reassess my kit and drop bag contents- there's no way of knowing how much or how heavy the rain will be and so I need to be prepared to be drenched for the duration and have a change of clothes each leg. My inability to eat properly for the last few weeks has also made planning nutrition difficult. I'm so depleted I don't know how that will affect my energy levels or appetite during the race. Being lighter will mean my body will use even fewer calories than usual but I don't know if, being malnourished, my body will rebel and start demanding lots of high calorie snacks. In any case, my drop bag started out as compact and light but is now bursting with stuff to try to cover every eventuality.

It's a cliche but it's raining in my heart too. The days aren't getting any easier. There's a gaping wound where my fella used to be. I'm going to miss him every step of every mile.

The sun is out, the sky is blue

There's not a cloud to spoil the view

But it's raining, raining in my heart.

The weatherman says clear today

He doesn't know you've gone away

And it's raining, raining in my heart.

Songwriters: Boudleaux Bryant / Felice Bryant

Game face

I've disappeared from social media. Things keep tripping me up and somehow I have to be ready for the coming weekend.

Running an ultra with the knowledge that it will be a suffer-fest is new to me. Running an ultra knowing that there will be no one waiting or caring is new to me. Running to numb pain isn't new but this pain is like nothing I have ever experienced. It is my intention to leave it all out there on the course, to finish with nothing left. I don't know how hard I can run 100 miles or whether I can finish it if I push myself like that. I guess as long as I keep forcing calories and drinks down my throat then I can keep going. The pain won't matter.

Day breaks

Salt-grey

Another day

Chasing the ghost of you.

Sun sets

Bitter dark

Another night

Aching for the feather of your touch.

I hear the whisper of your smile

The gentle tread

Of sure feet 

Running

Vanishing

Out of reach.

Running Solo

Well. It's all been pretty rubbish. I've been very unwell with yet another bout of tonsillitis, things really haven't settled down in my new job, the kids are having a nightmare getting to school most days, I won't get paid until the end of October...

And then the fella dumped me.

Plans for A100 are all in the bin. If I can make it to the start then I'll give it a go but with the aim simply of getting round. I've been too unwell and lost far too much weight to be fit enough to try to achieve what I wanted. Running it with no friendly face waiting for me at the finish will be so hard but I've run plenty of races alone before. I just hope I don't kill myself driving home afterwards.

It's completely floored me; the plans I'd had for the coming months are all in tatters and I feel adrift and lost. I have been trying to think ahead to next year but without knowing how much A100 is going to take out of me it's not easy to plan races. These days it seems so many races sell out so quickly and I don't want to be under pressure to enter things if I'm not sure if I'll be fit enough to be on the start line. There are lots of races I'd like to do, but there are also now quite a few I'll never be able to run.

I guess it's probably just as well I've been ill and that it's now taper time too because otherwise I'd be out there literally running myself into the ground. Running has helped me cope with bad times before but now every step on my local trails reminds me of what was, of a time when there was light and love. Healing, if it comes at all, is going to be painfully slow.

After thoughts on OCC

A few bits and pieces have come to mind since writing my race report. So here are some more ramblings.

🌄Altitude:
For some reason this year I really struggled with adapting. Last year my first little run around Chamonix was hard, but that's all it was. I just felt slow and heavy. This year I struggled to get my breath at anything more than walking pace. Arriving on the Sunday I didn't get out for a run or hike until the next day and it was just horrible. I came back really quite alarmed at the difficulty I'd had breathing and was very concerned about how I'd manage at nearer 2000m during the race. I went out again on the Tuesday and again found running extremely hard going. I might have got up to 1400m for a short while but that was it. It felt like this race was going to be a disaster.

👟Kit:
Shoes have been a nightmare ever since Inov8 changed how they size their shoes and trying to find a trail shoe that is wide enough, grippy but not too aggressive has taken up far too much of my time. A random visit to the Climbers' Shop resulted in my introduction to the La Sportiva Akasha. It's like a more comfy version of a Roclite really- pretty much an all-purpose trail shoe that will see you through most things except proper mud. The sizing is a bit weird- the shoes come up short so my size 5 feet are in a 6.5, but the fit is great and I really can't fault them at all. I finished OCC having kicked  a few big stones and all my toes (and nails) are intact! No blisters, no hotspots either.

Race pack/vest was interesting. I'd managed to get all the normal conditions compulsory kit into my Salomon Sense Ultra 8 but I was concerned that if we had a call for cold weather kit or to take additional water I wouldn't be able to get it all in so I bought a 10l pack from Decathlon just in case. I went out with it a couple of times with kit in to see if it would be ok and it seemed fine as long as it was fairly full- unfortunately Decathlon don't do female-fit packs and I find that unisex ones can be a bit too long for my already short torso.
The day before the race, packing for registration and the kit check, I kept missing the pocket in the Salomon pack when I tried to put my phone in. Only it turned out I wasn't missing the pocket- an entire seam on one side had just gone! Seriously unimpressed as that pack has only done 3 races and a few training runs and it cost a small fortune. I am so glad I had the Decathlon pack with me! It was fine through the race and it even just about held those rather long 500ml Salomon bottles.

🍪Nutrition:
Nutrition didn't go to plan at all. I was fine for about 3-4 hours eating from my snack stash but after that I just didn't really want to eat. However I've learned the hard way that if you get to that point you just have to force food in, even if it's only a bite or two at a time. So at the CPs where there was food I'd eat a piece or two of fruit; I tried some kind of cake but I really didn't like it and the cheese looked all sweaty. Once again it was the sugary goodness of full-fat fizzy Coke that saved the day! Interestingly I didn't see other runners eat on the trail at all- I know OCC is only a short race in terms of distance but a lot of runners will have taken more than 8 hours to finish and if you're out that long then surely you need to eat more often than the couple of aid stations where snacks were on offer.

Mental stuff:
Mind over body they say. They also say that running an ultra is as much about the mind as it is about physical fitness. In this case I don't know what the truth is. I definitely hadn't done the training I'd hoped to do and although I felt reasonably strong I was not happy with the lack of miles and hills. Because of the Wales disasters I had zero confidence in my ability to tackle a mountain race. And yet I still finished. You could argue that I must have felt a least a bit ok about it all because otherwise I wouldn't have been on the start line and I guess that's a fair point. But I felt like I had to show up and at least try. I have failed at so much this year and the idea of failing by not even showing up and having a go really didn't sit well with me.
I honestly had no goals other than to see what happened and try not to die, fall over on a descent and break something or fall off a mountain. I actually didn't care if I came in last although I thought it would be a bit sad to have put all that effort into finishing and then come in so late no one would be there. As the race went on and I kept finding it a lot less technical than I'd dreaded, I did relax a bit. I still had to spend 99% of the time focusing on my feet and not falling over but it was a relief to find I could actually run!
At the end, I seemed ok. Endorphins, the utter astonishment of finishing in daylight and a good 3 hours quicker than I'd expected kept me going for a while as did knowing I had to crew the fella next day in CCC. But mentally that race took so much out of me. I didn't really have time to recover because of crewing the next day and night, then the disastrous 2 days of trying to get home and then being straight back into the kids, school, uncertainty about work and an emotional maelstrom of things.
I don't think my mental state before the race was what made the aftermath so hard- it's so difficult to explain what it's like to run but be in fear of every step. I heard Hilary Allen talk about her return to running after her horrific accident at the race in Tromsø and she mentions very early on having a run on some nice smooth road whilst her brain screams at her constantly: don't fall over, don't fall over. That is the reality of every run for me, particularly anything vaguely technical. I can't describe how exhausting that is. Maybe I could try to retrain my brain and thought patterns. But the reality is that although working hard to get strong has seen improvement in my hips, my spine remains fragile and continues to deteriorate. If I don't concentrate every step and end up falling over I might not walk again or worse.

Well, whatever crap this year has thrown at me (and there's been rather a lot of it) although I've not got the training done that I would have liked, I think I'm mentally ready for the next race in a few weeks. In fact at the moment I feel like I'll welcome the inevitable pain and darkness. I've never run an ultra with a goal in mind (other than finishing) so it's going to be a new experience and I know I'll have to deal with some tough times if I want to achieve what I have in mind. Let's see...

An Imposter

Quite a bit has been going on over the last few months. As far as running goes I've had two dreadful sessions up in Snowdonia where I discovered my vertigo is a significant problem and that anything involving even slight exposure, high up scrambling or very steep technical descents leaves me unable to move through fear and dizziness. I was moving slower than an arthritic tortoise in those Welsh mountains.

So OCC loomed huge and terrifying, confidence levels were at zero because of Wales and I was so scared I seriously considered not going to Chamonix at all. Even when I got there thought I wouldn't bother registering for the race and I'd rather jump off the Christ the King to make it all stop. The railings around Christ the King are too high for a short-arse like me to climb so that bit didn't happen.

But I did register for the race.

In the few days before OCC I wasn't nice to be around. I was consumed with fear, doubt and the feeling that I was an imposter which always settles on me in my visits to Chamonix. I'm not a mountain runner and I felt a fake being there at all. There was also the matter of making sure I was ready for crewing duties the night after my own race. The fella didn't seem too concerned about running CCC other than wondering if his knee would play up, after all he'd basically done it all before last year at UTMB. But I was unsettled because of the lack of prep I'd had for it. I take crewing very seriously because you have the potential to make or break a race for your runner. Ultimately of course it's down to the runner but if you get stuff wrong as crew you can really mess things up. So I was stressed because of fear, stressed because I felt under-prepared as crew and stressed because I felt I hadn't been able to properly focus on my own race. A perfect storm of messy stuff really and it's taken its toll in various ways.

However, 4.15am alarm on 29th August followed by tea and coffee then head torch on to walk to catch the bus to Orsieres. I was anxious about walking unfamiliar roads alone in the dark but Paul had heard me get up and walked down with me before heading up for sunrise on Brevent; I was even fretting about having to use my head torch before the race as I knew I'd be finishing in the dark with a nasty technical ascent and descent- suppose the battery ran out and the spare failed?

Horrid bus journey on narrow switch backs up and down and  I arrived at Orsieres in daylight. There were almost 2 hours until the race started and it was hard to know what to do. I wandered about a bit then found a church near the start line and popped in to ask St Jude Thaddeus to look kindly on me. An early morning service was happening so I stood and listened to the singing. Although not religious now, I suppose I will also be a bit of a superstitious Catholic and also hearing prayers sung in Latin is a sound of my childhood so oddly reassuring. I felt a little more peaceful when I left and found a spot to wait for the race to begin.

The race started and I let everyone hare past me. Although I wanted to be near the front to avoid too long a wait to begin the first climb I knew if got my heart rate up very high straight away I'd be toast so I gently plodded along to the sound of cowbells, cries of "Allez allez" and "Courage!", and the noise of thousands of feet. All I could think was somewhat akin to Arthur Dent: so this is it, I'm going to die.

Huge queue to begin the first proper climb. It was so frustrating because the ascents are my strong point and I hated losing so much time knowing that so many people would overtake me on the downhill. I found a few places to pass people but the queues and pushing and running poles shoved in my face were unfortunately the story of the first 2 big ascents. 

The sun was out and it was already warm. La Giete is a lovely ascent- pretty steep and awkward underfoot in places but I was never scared by being too close to steep drops. There were gorgeous black cows and the magical clonk of cowbells. One cow was quite friendly and came up and nuzzled me as I went past so I stopped to stroke its forehead and it followed me for a short while after that.

About halfway up to La Giete

I'm not going to write about each checkpoint or much of the race in great detail- most of it is already a fuzzy memory because of the mental effort I needed to sustain to stay safe whilst trying to cover such terrain as fast as I could. However I do remember getting to the top of the first proper climb grinning wildly and saying loudly "That was easy" which made the spectators there laugh. It wasn't easy but it had been nowhere near as difficult as I'd expected and the sense of relief that I'd completed the first ascent was enormous. 

All the descents except the final one from La Flegere have got muddled in my head but I remember doing ok, running quite a bit although often rather faster than I wanted due to the pressure of people right on my heels and trying to push past- I wasn't trying to stay in front but rather I was so scared of being pushed over. This is probably a good place to mention that the feel of OCC was that of a city road race. People had no pole etiquette, there was a lot of running too close to others, a bit of elbowing going on and it was crowded most of the way round. Other than myself I didn't hear a single runner say please or thank you in any language to the volunteers. As a race experience it wasn't much fun.

A lot of the Swiss side of route was really quite pleasant with a lot of runnable bits on the descents. I hated the interminable zigzags into somewhere (probably Trient) and had to sing to myself to get through them but mostly I was just waiting for it to get really hard and have to negotiate steep bits on my backside. 

No recollection of where this is or even of taking the photo!

I kept staying well ahead of cutoffs and I kept being able to run far more than I'd expected. It never took much time to get through the checkpoints but I was careful to eat something at each one as after the first 3 or 4 hours I wasn't finding it easy to eat on the move- I just didn't really want to eat anything I had with me. Fizzy coke was going down well though!

Reaching Vallorcine felt like an important point- I was familiar with a few stretches from there and somehow I got there about 3pm, 35km into the race and around 21km left to go. This was way way ahead of the schedule I had in mind. However I really didn't feel complacent- I didn't trust how well it was all going.

                                            

At some point my fella messaged me and said he'd come out to Argentiere to see me. OCC has no crewing because it's such a short race but people can come out and spectate. However I saw lots of runners receiving aid and support from friends and family all along the route. It's cheating- don't do it. Anyway, Argentiere appeared. It was still daylight and although I was finding the heat quite intense I still felt ok and was looking forward to seeing my fella. I couldn't see him as I went into the aid station, nor as I left. He wasn't there. 

I didn't give myself time to be upset although I did feel angry. I used that to power me up the first nasty, gnarly part of the ascent to la Flegere. I stormed past people and it looks like I made up a lot of places on that stretch. But my heart rate got higher and higher. The fella phoned me but I couldn't really talk as breathing was now painfully hard and I was starting to feel a bit rough.

La Flegere is the most tortuous climb because once the gnarly bit is done you're out on a wide gravelly track which is a ski slope in winter. It goes on and on and is really pretty steep. You can see where the check point is yet it doesn't get nearer as you don't approach it directly. This was the low point for me. I felt so sick and tired and my heart was pounding as though it would burst out of my chest. I saw people stopping, bent double over their sticks and all I wanted was to curl up on the bare gravel and die. I didn't want to finish, I felt too dreadful. 

A quiet voice spoke to me: just keep moving, get to the check point, you can't stop before then.

I kept going although at times it felt as though I was barely moving at all. I fell into that checkpoint and burst into whole body heaving sobs. 

A guy next to me asked in broken English if I was ok- was I crying because happy or sad. The only kind words I had from a fellow runner all day. A volunteer made me drink some noodle broth from a bowl made of the bottom of a water bottle. She said it's good if you feel sick. It tasted awful- but I dutifully sipped at it. I phoned my fella then, told him I was in a bad way and that he shouldn't hurry to the finish line as I was going to be hours away yet. 

But I realised I was at la Flegere in daylight. It was around 5.45pm and I was there about 3 hours before I thought I would be. Ridiculous. Quite impossible. I must have missed part of the route or else my watch was broken.

I was suddenly beginning to shiver from sitting still so after a little more broth and some fizzy coke I set off. Maybe in Chamonix they heard me roar as I took the first few steps. I really bellowed. Probably caused an avalanche somewhere. Certainly I scared the runners nearby. 

The first tiny bit of that descent is really nasty. Just a few metres, but it's super steep and loose stones and gravel. A lady nearby didn't like my gingerly edging down so she rushed past- and fell over. That bit negotiated it was quite gnarly but mostly through the woods and a little more comfortable underfoot. A couple of times the trail seemed familiar but I put it down to fatigue. Earlier in the week I'd tried to recce the last bit and followed the trail part way to la Flegere, but it didn't match my GPX of the race route so I gave up. But then I saw a sign saying 'La Floria'. It was familiar! I knew all this bit and I knew that it really wasn't going to be too awful as long as I wasn't silly and tried to run too fast. It's an endless descent and if you want to run you really need 100% focus as it's rooty and stony and uneven.

I could hear the finish line even though it was still about 3 miles away. I ran every bit I could. Down the landrover track, over the foot bridge, I'm by the river. Now I'm running along the cordonned off bit. The streets are packed with people and they are all watching runners coming in. The shouts of "Bravo" and "Allez!" and the cowbells are faint and distant in my ears even though it's all around me. I keep running. Running and smiling. Running, smiling and mentally giving the finger to the Alps. 

You don't take a direct route to the finish- you loop around the streets first. And then I turn the last corner and it's there. I am actually going to finish this race, I'm not last, I'm running not crawling, I leap over the finish and am on my knees sobbing. 

OCC and all things Alpine are done. I'm through with that place and the whole UTMB thing. I'm a fraud there, I don't belong. The place and those races have taken too big a toll.

I won't be back, but for a moment you could hear me roar.

   

Midsummer malaise

Midsummer has been and gone, plans have been made and ditched, job applications sent and rejected.
I've been in the exam hall pretty much full-time which is exhausting even though I enjoy it.
I'm making myself go running even though I don't really feel like it. The loss of desire to run is such that I have put in my diary the date by which I need to withdraw from Autumn 100; I'm not sure I have any business on a 100 miler race this year.
It's hard going at the moment.

On a positive note the results from my last DXA scan show there is some improvement in my hips although my spine continues to deteriorate albeit more slowly. My GP says keep running as it seems to be having a beneficial effect on my hips at least.

I've stopped thinking about trying to focus on this year's races. OCC is now a day out in the mountains rather than an A race to seriously prepare for. I'm such a long way from being physically or mentally in the right place there's simply no point in having any goals other than to get round.  Instead I'm looking ahead to next year: perhaps 2020 is time to attempt some challenges rather than enter races. In light of which I'm off to some mountains to assess whether something I have in mind is achievable. Hopefully a couple of days away from everything and doing something challenging will help reset mind and body too.

onwards and upwards

It's never easy

I meant to write a lovely post about Eco Trail Florence. I started it but just couldn't seem to capture what that race meant to me. All I'll say is that it is a fantastic event, lovely route, well-organised, good aid stations and a joy to take part in. I didn't race it, just bimbled round and took in the sunshine and scenery.

Here's the Eco Trail in no particular order:

Since then a lot has been going on. I've struggled to recover from recurring tonsillitis, left my job and  discovered that osteoporosis makes me unemployable. I do have casual work to do until the end of the exams season but something regular needs to turn up soon.

Training hasn't gone to plan at all. Motivation and focus seem to have disappeared and although I'm keeping things ticking over I'm not in great shape. That's despite an intensive 6 week block of strength work. OCC is preying on my mind- it's looking like I'll be going into it somewhat under-cooked- and compared to how I prepared for A100 last year, I'm just not in the the zone at all for it. Mileage is well down compared to last year, and other than the 50 miles of the Eco Trail race I've run nothing really over 10 miles this year. Although it's nice once I get out on the trails, running more than about 6 miles feels much harder than it should.

I increased my strength work and tweaked my diet to try to shift the extra fat that's accumulated since A100 but it doesn't seem to have worked so I might as well try upping the mileage again and see what that does. A bit of me is thinking that it's a losing battle against age and hormonal changes. Women younger than me complain about how bad periods really affect their training; this is far worse because it's all the time. I'm tired, unfocused, struggling to maintain fitness; I don't recognise this new body or feel like it's me at all.

I don't know how things are going to turn out for the rest of the year. Watch this space.

A leap into the unknown

Quite a bit has been going on since the last post. So here's a quick catch-up:

I quit my job.

Work has been a struggle for a long time. If I'm honest, from the very first day I started working in secondary school. I moved into secondary as I had made a poor choice with a primary school job and needed to move on and start afresh before the wheels came off. Anyway, I've stuck at secondary for three and a half years. In all that time I have never come home feeling like it's been a good day at work. That is not a sustainable way of living, especially when the salary as a TA is way under what even a single person can live off let alone me bringing up 2 kids. So after an awful lot of soul-searching I've jumped. With no job to go to. Which is, quite frankly, terrifying.

I have several ideas of what to do next so I'm applying for jobs as well as deciding on some courses that might allow me to turn doing things I love into things that will earn me some money too. At least it's exam season coming up and there will be invigilating which should see us through until July if nothing else works out.

Running.

As far as running goes, the roller coaster continues but I suspect it's been like that due to the enormous stresses caused by the work situation. My weight has been all over the place, I haven't been eating well or recovering well from training sessions, I've developed a few slightly concerning niggles and now ended up 6 days out from the first big race of the year very run down and with viral tonsillitis. This week I've run twice, 8 miles in total.

The lesson there is that you absolutely MUST include the 'bad' stresses from life, work etc with the 'good' stress from training. Both raise cortisol and both need adequate recovery. If you're using one form of stress to mitigate the other load of stress then eventually it's all going to go wrong. And so it has with me. Lesson learned.

Ageing.

I'm also facing the stark reality of having to completely rethink how I train in order to be as fit and healthy as I can whilst the inevitable changes of age begin to make a significant impact. The really tricky bit is how to find that balance between staving off the midlife fat and weight gain (which you do by shorter, sharper, harder workouts) and maintaining/ improving endurance so that I can continue to enjoy running ultras without losing lots of muscle and becoming fat and slow. I may need to dump the goal of a sub 24 100 miler this year and instead just focus on a new plan of attack for training.

Injury.

My fella has spent the start of this year injured. Whilst it's been understandably miserable for him I've also found it really hard. We don't run a lot together but being unable to run together at all has really affected me and taken away some of the enjoyment of a long Sunday run. Usually I have no problem training alone, often I prefer it, but without his company to look forward to some of my longer weekend runs have been very hard going. He's just back on his feet now and we're supposed to be running a 50 miler together this coming weekend. With the state we're both in it could be an interesting race...

Times they are a changin'

I'm not especially a Bob Dylan fan but right now times are most certainly changing in the Runningstitsch household.

Something isn't right with my training- I was really enjoying doing lots of strength work and getting some muscles but the last couple of weeks I've struggled to train at all and have just been generally exhausted. Even my appetite has gone wrong and I'm not managing to eat enough. So despite the fact- or perhaps because of the fact- that I have a 50 miler in less than three weeks, I've decided to ditch any semblance of a training plan and just take it easy. No pressure to run or lift, just do it if I can and not worry if I can't. Let's see what happens at the Eco Trail and then reassess in April.

This year has also begun with several DNS. One down to logistics, another because I'd had such an awful week at work I simply couldn't face the preparation, three hour drive, then running 50k in a storm the three hours driving home again. That's not like me- usually a race is an escape, a chance to get away from all the stresses and enjoy being outside with no distractions.

So I've reached a point where I find myself taking stock and looking for a new way forward. I think I have found one but it's a big risk and it could all go horribly wrong. But life is too short to be this unhappy and dealing with so much stress, all for an income that doesn't quite pay the bills. Being poor doesn't scare me- I've never had loads of spare money- and I'd rather be poor but happier with what I'm doing than where I'm at right now.

In many respects I look at my life so far and see failure after failure, never living up to expectations or potential. There have been so many mistakes. But one thing I've got right is that I've always kept trying. If something doesn't work then I'll see if I can change it or if not try something else. I guess a bit like running ultras- stuff happens and you just have to find a way of managing so that you can get to the finish.

But it's spring and even though March has definitely come in like a lion, there are flowers in the garden, seedlings on my window sill and there's still a pair of stinky muddy trail shoes by the door, so all is not lost.

(You really don't want a photo of my trail shoes 😁)

Decision Time

I slept on it (sort of slept), then nearly slept on it again. Then I just thought like Archy the cockroach and said to myself 'wotthehell' and took up my place for OCC. It will be my third time in Chamonix, but my first as a competitor there. I use the term 'competitor' very loosely- I really will just be aiming to get round safely within the cutoff!

So although I haven't even started this year's training it's already time for a bit of a rethink although it won't really affect what I've planned for to take me up to Eco Trail Florence. After then I think I need a decent recovery and then aim to be getting a serious climb session in once a month May-July plus whatever hill-reps I can manage here. I'd still like to do some decent back to back runs but I didn't manage a lot of those in August last year so hopefully the fact that I won't get many this August either won't be a problem for A100.

Mileage this year is likely to be lower but that doesn't matter- I think it will be good to have more of a focus on higher quality stuff and hopefully the climb work will benefit me in A100 just in terms of being stronger and more efficient. The lumps and bumps of the Ridgeway and TP will seem very small in comparison!

Motto for the year is onwards and upwards, one day at a time.

Grumpy New Year

Not the best of starts to a new year. I pretty much had to write off the day as random fireworks into the small hours plus DOMS from a workout meant sleep didn't really happen and I've been too tired, unfocused, and growly to achieve anything.

Last year was pretty darn good, running-wise. It was also damn hard work. I got strong, gained and kept on weight (with a couple of blips along the way), and ran a 100 mile race. Even snuck in a little bit of sewing over the last few days of the year!

This year the plan is to get stronger still, keep the weight on, and run some more. Hopefully get going with a little sewing project I have in mind too.

The first main target I'm aiming for is the Eco Trail in Florence. I've never run a 50 miler before, and neither have I raced abroad so it's doubly exciting. It's got more ascent than I've done in a while so the focus for the next three months is some quality hill reps, strength work and also a speed session of some kind each week as the biggest goal of this year is to get under 24 hours for 100 miles.

I am still contemplating revisiting the 100k distance looking to go a bit quicker. It would be interesting to see how what I've learned, and the fitness I've gained, over the last 18 months impacts on my ability to complete that distance a bit quicker.

The only thing niggling at me is the fact I have a place for the OCC race in August- as long as I sign up by 3rd January. I haven't signed up. Yet. Maybe won't. It seems silly to throw away a place as likely it would be another 3 year wait before I could have another go (all depending on how the UTMB ballot process evolves) but it's not a cheap trip to make and I'm shit at going down mountains. If it's a nice day I'd be ok and get round, but if the weather was wet and cold I think there would be no certainty that I'd finish. My fella says it all depends on how much the race means to me, but that's where we differ. No race has ever meant that much to me. Not the way UTMB was to him. It's just another race. Sure it would be great to say I've run it, just like it's great to say you've done any other race. But no race has ever been everything to me.

So I guess I'll be sleeping on that decision yet another night...

Whatever you do this year I hope it's fun!

Eco Trail races

OCC