On Saturday morning Bernard and I took the train to London and went to Parliament Hill Athletics Track to take part in the first edition of The Spiral, a 6 hour track race put on by the Underground Run Club. I was not feeling particularly confident as I'd been under the weather at the start of the month and although I was training fairly consistently, my running volume was not high and I'd only managed a couple of 'longer' runs (10 and 11 miles). However, for once my Garmin was being positive, telling me that during my taper week I was actually peaking!
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| Here's actual evidence of the Garmin device! |
My fellow runners were neither grey nor chilly, and it was nice chatting before the race with several of them. There was a lovely lady with fab Happy Stride shorts who had been battling injury to make it to the start. There was also MDS man who I just knew was going to have a solid race. A lovely guy with a bright long-sleeved top had set up his bag next to me and he kindly said I could have some of his snacks as he'd brought loads of food just in case. I had brought a fair bit too as I never know what I will be able to eat on the day.
The volunteers were welcoming too, very laid back. I wonder if the RD was feeling as anxious as I was- it must be nerve-wracking putting on a new race and wondering if people will turn up or whether things will go wrong. But she needn't have worried as it was such a fantastic event.
After a short briefing the race got underway. I was near the front at the start but was overtaken almost straight away by runners sprinting off. I hadn't really put together a race plan but found myself trundling along a little over 9 min/mile (5:35/km) pace and for the first 4 hours I was running pretty consistently.
Quite early on (maybe 2 hours in?) I was told that I was leading the women's race. I did my best to put that information out of my head to focus on maintaining a consistent pace and taking on fluid and calories regularly. I really didn't want to blow up from wasting energy worrying about being overtaken and losing. I'd not gone into the race with any though of winning- just of keeping going for all of the six hours. However, I did pretty much run scared for the rest of the race.
But I've jumped ahead a bit. The laps and time seemed to fly by. I felt so grateful for the opportunity to participate in the race, to be with such lovely people and to be healthy enough to run. And it felt good to just run, no need to carry anything other than a small water bottle in my hand. That really was like a luxury! The simplicity of running round the same short loop also meant that senses other than sight came into play. I was listening out for trains and those little rosellas or parakeets that are all over London now and remind me of my time living in Australia. And I really noticed a distinct change in temperature in the final bend, where for some reason it felt much warmer than anywhere else on the track.
We were given countdowns at various points, after the first half hour, hour, two hours, and a 15 minute warning at 2:45 as the change of direction approached. By then I felt ready for a change as it felt as though I'd gone a bit lopsided and was feeling a little dizzy. My right hip flexors had begun to grumble by then too but I was ignoring that very hard. Just before the change of direction I hit a 20 mile PB but I wasn't too bothered about collecting PBs along the way, I just wanted to be able to keep running.
At the change of direction my legs felt suddenly energised and I think I picked up the pace for a few laps. I reached marafun distance with something like a 5 minute PB- at last the elusive sub-4 hour time!- but at this point I wasn't feeling so great. It's hard to describe the discomfort I was in. I wasn't able to eat or drink so well, not even the liquid calories from Mountain Fuel, and I didn't feel quite human. My legs didn't feel like legs any more. I felt more like a robot- although running was hurting, I couldn't stop. Or at least, I was too scared to stop or even take short walk breaks in case I couldn't start running again. And I was haunted by the fact that I was possibly still leading and I thought I'd let people (I don't know who!) down if I didn't win.
So the usual ultra-bargaining went on in my head: "well just hang on for 5 hours then see", "5 hours is too far away, get to 4 hours 30 then it's nearly 5 hours", "don't take a break yet, do another few laps first", "well you've just done 10 more minutes of running so you might as well do 10 more"... all the usual little mind games and tricks I play to keep moving. Up until now it had been easy to pay attention to my fellow Spirallers and offer encouragement and cheery words but I was retreating into my head now, needing to focus as much of my energy as I could on the battle with myself. But at 4:46 I hit a huge 50k PB- taking off over 15 minutes!
One hour to go.
The floodlights came on. I liked the change of atmosphere that came with the lights, and it made me feel more serious about what I was doing. I had now made the decision to win no matter how much it hurt. Running to win was new territory. I'd never done anything like that before, never even thought that way before. Sure, ultras hurt. Copthorne broke me in ways I didn't think were possible, but even that race was only ever about finishing. This time it was different and I meant business.
However, at this point I did stop briefly. I hurt so much, I was feeling the pressure to win and physically and emotionally overwhelmed. Time for a quick Power Sob. I tried explaining that to a couple of young women who were there supporting another runner but I was probably more or less incoherent. Anyway, the Power Sob done, I forced myself back onto the track and to run.
At this point my lap splits had definitely slowed, but actually not by as much as it felt. This last hour did feel so long! The minutes hardly seemed to pass- each time I ran past the clock I was willing the time to have moved on more that it had. The ultra-bargaining continued and I tried really hard not to think about finishing, let alone winning. I didn't want my mind to do something stupid and stop telling my legs to move- I remembered reading about an American runner (at the end of Western States I think) who, upon reaching the track for the last few hundred metres of the race, had his body just quit on him because his mind saw the finish line. Instead I borrowed Courtney Dauwalter's pain cave image and chipped away at that cave, practising gratitude for having this opportunity to really push myself and expand what I was capable of.
Other runners were really struggling out there too, and I tried to offer some support. It helped a little to run beside others for a short while as we acknowledged our pain before one or other of us would move ahead and retreat into silent determination. At this point, big thanks to red shirt red shorts guy. You inspired me!
We were all living for the countdown to the end now, and at some point (maybe around 30 minutes from the end) I dashed over to my bag and grabbed Bernard. I don't know why, I just needed to run with him and there was something comforting about holding a small pink monster. The music started up in the last minutes and it was both motivating and overwhelming because suddenly the end of the race was actually going to happen. But when it came, it felt unreal.
In some strange way although I hurt so much, I wanted to keep running.
I went through the finish for the last time at 5:59:38 having run almost 39.5 miles.
Post-race is a bit of a haze. I was very emotional, utterly drained, and in disbelief that I'd covered 155 laps, won the women's race AND got prizes.
What I mostly remember is everyone standing together and the wonderful sense of community and celebration at everyone's achievements.
It was the most awesome experience and I am immensely grateful that I got to take part. Next year I will return, but to volunteer not run. Probably not run...
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| Bernard with his hard-earned race mementos |
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