By Martin Ilott

The Virgin Forest Ultra Trail (VFUT) is a relatively unknown race outside Greece but offers an extremely challenging trail race through the virgin forests of Northern Greece as far as the Bulgarian border.

The 40 hour time limit may appear generous for the distance of 162 km. However, with nearly 7000m of ascent and some technically demanding sections, many seasoned ultra runners may find themselves battling the cut offs. 

The trail courses through two beautiful forests: the fir forest of Fraktou and the virgin forest of Central Rhodope, a fairy tale land of dense deciduous oak trees and firs, impressive views, rushing streams and picturesque stone bridges covered in moss.

The VFUT is a perfect race for those who enjoy mountain trail races such as the UTMB and I would encourage the use of trekking poles to negotiate the terrain and support fatigued legs in the latter half of the race.

The easiest and quickest route to Paranesti is via Thessaloniki, a wonderful city with many historical and cultural highlights which is famous for its food. I flew directly from London Gatwick, picking up hire car to complete the 180km journey to the start village, preferring the slower back roads to more direct high roads with tolls. 

Buses and trains serve the village and prices start from around 20 Euros return from Thessaloniki. I stayed at the Little Big Hostel in Thessaloniki, a charming and friendly hostel in the old part of town hidden in the narrow streets.

Greece is blessed with so many wonderful ultra races and I have been very fortunate to have run some of the classics including the Spartathlon, Olympian and Doliho and can now add the VFUT to this elite list. 

As with the former races, the VFUT is well organised with superb aid stations, dedicated supporters and route signs of a quality and frequency that would impress any race director. There are 12 aid stations which are essential given the absence of villages on the course and the limited access any crews would have supporting their runner(s).

Two drop bags are permitted, and I placed night gear at the major checkpoint – checkpoint 6 at 60.7 km that offers warm fires, warm food and a marquee for shelter. The morning drop bag was placed at Checkpoint 10 at 127.8 km, although my arrival time was actually early afternoon as the climbs began to take their toll.

The start village, Paranesti is a good tourist location to visit the waterfalls and thermal springs in the area and is approximately 180km from Thessaloniki. There are two hotels and I stayed in the very comfortable Philoxenia Hotel, situated on a hill overlooking the village. 

Runners of both the VFUT and 110 km NTR (Nature Trail Race) can benefit from free accommodation in a number of small houses on the outskirts of the village that can accommodate 6-7 runners and are available from the Thursday of race week through to the Sunday: an extremely generous offer that must be unique to ultra races in Europe. 

Small grocery shops, a nice bakery and cafes and restaurants can be located in the village centre.

The race briefing took place on Friday evening and I spotted several runners from other Greek ultras. Rucksacks were carefully checked given the remote parts the route would reach. Essential equipment included two torches, a weather proof jacket, survival blanket and capacity to carry 2 litres of water and 2000 Kcals of food. 

Mobile coverage is very poor in the region with signs nailed to trees where access may be possible (usually on the top of a painful climb!).
  
October temperatures are perfect for running. The days are warm, with T-shirt and shorts the only requirement, but the nights can be cold in the mountains as one ascends to nearly 1800m close to the Bulgarian border. The region has the nickname, the Siberia of Greece, with temperatures falling well below zero during the winter.

A good head torch is required for some Night sections with narrow foot-bridges! 

Another fairy-tale bridge.
  
The routes of the various races were well marked but given the figure-of-eight route of the VFUT and the overlap with the shorter distances there is a possibility to follow the wrong race or reverse direction. 

Please NOTE: when sat down always stay looking forward to the next route sign and don’t follow runners out of the aid station without first checking the direction of travel of the VFUT!

Route well sign-posted but ensure you know the direction of travel.
  
Typical of many trail races, the first climb of the day began with a 27km climb to the third checkpoint at 1200m. Gentle slopes on good trails became technically challenging steep ascents that reminded me of some of the trail races of the Chartreuse region in France. 

A 10km steep descent followed before the next long climb of 40km that peaked at the high point of the trail, close to 1800m on the Bulgarian border. The 60.7 Km aid station is a good location to place night clothes and gear and to take in some warm food before a gruelling ascent over the next 20 Km. 

A high-quality head torch is essential to traverse the route, cross narrow bridges and identify hazards on the course. The climb is lit with red beacons that point towards the stars, with only a race marshal and bonfire to interrupt a 4-hour ascent.

Close to the Bulgarian border.

A native saxophonist.
  
From 80km, a descent followed to 100 Km before a punishing climb and steep descent to the next major check point at 127.8 Km where there was an opportunity to freshen up: a change of clothes back into shorts and T-shirt, wipes, clean socks and toothbrush. 

With less than 40km to go I had hope that the finish time would be close to 6 pm before darkness descended for a second night on the course. However, I exited the aid station in the wrong direction and pursued the 112km course for some kms, before being forced to retrace my steps back to the aid station when apprised of the situation by a race marshal. 

Two further steep climbs and I was depleted of energy and fatigued as the hours crept by and it soon became apparent that I was going to be closer to the midnight cut-off than expected. The head torch was required for a further stretch as daylight faded. 

Even as the finish approached, a testing river bed section slowed the pace to a crawl. Finally, dim street lights directed runners back to Paranesti. 

There were fifty-four finishers inside the 40-hr cut-from 84 starters. I placed 47th in 38:53:31 hr (13th in the 50+ category). Greeted by the local major and race officials I sat wrapped in blankets, reflecting on one of the most exhausting and exhilarating races that I have had the pleasure to complete. 

In summary, a superb ultra trail race in a beautiful part of the world. Highly recommended.

The VFUT started on Friday 12th October at 8 am with a finish cut-off 10pm Saturday 13 October. 162 km, 6887M of ascent Time limit 40 hours. Additional race distance of 110 km, 46 k 10km)

High-quality finishers medal to be treasured and a gift of seeds of local flowers.

All images Martin Ilott.

The post Virgin Forest Ultra Trail (VFUT) Race Report appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Alice Morrison

Got your bucket list out? Good. You are going to need it. If you aren’t clicking here by the end of this piece, then I have not written the race up properly.

The 8th edition of the Everest Trail Race has just taken place in Nepal from Jiri to Lukla and I was lucky enough to be one of the 44 competitors that took part. It is a 160km semi self-sufficient stage race over 6 days that takes place at high altitude and has – wait for it – over 15,000 metres of positive ascent.

Click here for a race report.

The stages are:

1. Jiri-Bhandar. 21.5km. 1,975m ascent. 1,820m descent
2. Bhandar-Jase Bhaniyang. 23.9km. 3,486m ascent. 1,796m descent (highest point Pikey Peak 4,068m)
3. Jase Bhaniyang-Kharikhola. 37.4km. 2,521m ascent. 4,110m descent
4. Kharikhola-Phakding. 27.5km. 2,479m ascent. 1,975m descent
5. Phakding – Tyangboche. 20km. 2,224 ascent. 1,022m descent
6. Tyangboche – Lukla. 29.5km. 2,105m ascent. 3,138m descent

I hope those numbers have got your brain working and your legs twitching ever so slightly at the thought. The race is organised by Adeaventura based in Barcelona and the racers were from Nepal, Spain, UK, Italy, France, Germany, Ukraine and the USA.

We had four nights in tents and three nights in lodges and food, tents and sleeping mats were provided by the ETR team. The race is brilliantly organised and the team are absolutely fantastic. The food is good and plentiful and everything that can be done for your comfort, given the conditions, is done.

It’s very, very, very difficult. What surprised me was that it was much less about stomping on forever and much more about brutal cardio. Anthony Dunkels.

What I like the most is to see how the people of a country live in places that are so difficult  to get to but so beautiful at the same time. Aleix Olivé.

The challenge of this race is the climbing at altitude so that although the days aren’t long, they are tough. Most of the race takes place over the 3000 metre mark and the highest point comes on stage 2, Pikey Peak at 4068 metres. 

That means thin air, pumping hearts, cold air and nights when sleep doesn’t come easily.

It was physically harder but mentally easier than the MDS. I enjoyed the camaraderie. I liked the challenge and the sense of achievement. Mark Burgess.

The best thing about the race is to be able to share a great experience with people from all over the world. Oleguer Torrents.

Stage 1: Jiri-Bhandar. 21.5km. 1,975m ascent. 1,820m descent

We all set off together for the first day, quickly up on a dirt road and onto the forested hill. A 500 metre ascent and a short descent took us to checkpoint one where there was the one and only DNF of the week, Fabio, who fund the effects of altitude too much.

A single track path descended through small clusters of houses flanked by terraced fields and ended in Shivalaya village and after that a steep climb of a thousand metres gave intimations of what was to come.

4 kilometres downhill brought us into camp where luxury was awaiting: soup, spicy potatoes and hot tea. There was time to go and find a bar in Bhandar and join in the festivities for the Festival of Diwali.

It was the boys’ night when the men of the village dance and sing and the women are meant to give them gifts: national differences emerged as the Spanish and Italians joined in with gusto and the British looked on pints in hand.

There’s this theory that your goals affect the weight that your pack should be. I disagree. Whatever your goal, you should have the lightest pack possible. If the fastest person can get away with a 3.5kg pack, so can the slowest. Ian Caldwell.

Stage 2: Bhandar-Jase Bhaniyang. 23.9km. 3,486m ascent. 1,796m descent (highest point Pikey Peak 4,068m)

I’d been having nightmares about this stage ever since I signed up for the race. 3,486+ in one push is not my idea of fun and I was worried that I wouldn’t make the cut off and would be disqualified.

The day actually started with a brief downhill but then it was time for the climb: relentless, steep and enclosed by forest for most of the way. This was a head down, poles out, keep it going experience.

The organisers made it as easy as possible for us with a cut off time of twelve and a half hours and an alternative slightly lower and longer route for the slower runners if the afternoon weather turned bad on the Peak, which would incur a time penalty of 45 minutes.

That was to be my route and actually it was hellish. It undulated steeply and seemingly without end through a section of bleak, blasted forest shrouded in thick fog and punctuated by sections of sheet ice.

It was still a lot easier than the alternative push up to 4,068m though, where the racers were met with shrouded peaks and minimal visibility. No bars for us that night, but the craic in the mess tent was still pretty good and spirits soared when the ETR team lit a giant bonfire and we went out to warm hands and feet at the flames and watch the sparks rise up to the stars.

I really enjoyed the climbing on the second day. I climbed really well and we got higher and more remote. I felt the altitude when we came out of the trees to get up to Pikey’s Peak but it still felt amazing to get to the top. Lou Staples.

Stage 3: Jase Bhaniyang-Kharikhola. 37.4km. 2,521m ascent. 4,110m descent

The views from camp as dawn broke were magical. We were on a high moorland with ice-tipped grasses and wide skies above. Today was all about the descent, starting again down forest paths then with a long, flattish section where you could see the miles of terraced farmland punctuated by what looked like dolls’ houses.

The last part of the descent after CP3 was a horror. Big boulders meant you couldn’t get any rhythm going and you had to keep the concentration at 100%. The sting in the day’s tail was a final 500m push up steps to the monastery where we were camped out.

I was worried I wasn’t going to make it before cut off and had an hour of hell with the threat of failure shrouding every thought. But finally it was over and, as always, the ETR team was there with Race Director, Jordi Abad, at the line, ready to cheer me in and make me feel that even though I was the last runner, I was just as important as the elites.

Supper had been kept and when Kami, the Head Sherpa, saw me shivering, he magicked up a bucket of hot water so I could have a shower. That act of kindness summed up the amazing care that the team took of all of us all week.

A fantastic experience but the highlight was the people. The organisers and competitors felt like one big community. It felt like everyone was pulling for each other. I am a very competitive person but this was 40+ people all saying let’s get across this finish line together. Bryan McClure.

I would recommend to someone who wants to do the race that they carry the least weight possible and train with a lot of descent before going there.” Jose Barrachina

Stage 4: Kharikhola-Phakding. 27.5km. 2,479m ascent. 1,975m descent

Our first three days had been off the beaten track but today we joined the route for the commercial Everest treks and suddenly the paths were not dedicated solely to us anymore. In the briefing, we were told to Beware the yaks, which I didn’t take too seriously. I should have.

Rocky descents are not improved by piles of yak shit and long trains of pack mules shoving you into the rocks. If you overtake on the down, you better be sure you can keep the pace going on the up.
One great thing though was the feeling of superiority that flooded over us as we pounded past the hikers. Ahhh, super mensch, I heard one German group say.

We’d been told that today was an easier day, and in fairness it was, when compared to stages 2 and 3 but it was still hard and high and the constant rolling nature of the ground took its own toll.

I like the routine of it: up early, bag packed, set up, ready, gear out. I know exactly what to do. Mentally, I deal with it like going to work. I’ve got an eight hour job to do. Perry Wade.

Stage 5: Phakding – Tyangboche. 20km. 2,224 ascent. 1,022m descent

Wow, wow, wow, wow. Today we ran round Everest. Nothing prepares you for that feeling as you run along a long ribbon of a road and there ahead of you are Everest, Lhotse and Ama Dablam soaring into an impossibly blue sky.

This was the definitive moment of the race for me, that moment when you think, I am running round Everest, I am truly, completely and intensely alive.  We were in a lodge in a monastery that night and a fire was lit in the wooden stove in the dining room where we congregated to drink hot chocolate and dry out sweaty, stinking kit.

Lou, my tent mate, had declared my socks and trainers a national health hazard the day before and they were banished to outside the room where their delightful odour could be shared with the entire corridor.

I didn’t do the best preparation and got through it more by mental strength than by physical prep. If I did it again, I’d bring poles. Gavin Barrett.

Advice for future runners? Come with an open mind and on the practical side seek advice from previous runners on logistics etc. Carlos Lourenço.

Stage 6: Tyangboche – Lukla. 29.5km. 2,105m ascent. 3,138m descent

The last day always comes too quickly and too slowly but this day began with a clearing in the clouds so we could once again see Everest before we set off. I’m glad we had that moment because the day soon closed in and the first long ascent was clouded.

We dropped down into Namche Bazaar. This was a really intense descent, almost like a narrow, blocky, stone ladder where you could potentially dive hundreds of metres down on to the blue roofs of the houses below.

We were going against the stream of hikers who were plodding up in a long stream. After Namche Bazaar it was really the home straight. The mule and yak trains were back, with long queues at some of the bridges that crossed the river gorges, Don’t try to pass a laden yak on a narrow, swaying bridge, was my learnt wisdom for the day.

It started to rain and this last part of the run took on that bittersweetness where you are desperate to finish on the one hand and desperate for the experience not to finish on the other. Then, suddenly, it was over.

There was the line at Lukla and Jordi and the team waiting for us. For me, personally, it was an unbelievably difficult goal to accomplish and I felt not only joy but enormous relief that I had done it. I was the last runner in the race but I felt nothing but pride at the achievement.

I was the only Englishmen there when I crossed the line, They were all Spanish. It happened so quick. I felt relief but I didn’t want it to stop. It was an adventure as well as a race. Tim Gardner, 7th overall.

And that is why you should do this race. It is an Adventure. It tests you and hurts you but it rewards you in equal measure. It is about the common experience with your fellow runners and the ETR team, the magic of the world’s highest mountains, and the good will and strong spirits that surround you.

My advice to that runner thinking about going to do it is – do not think about it, do it and go enjoy it like never before. Sergio Alfonso Arias Esteban (2nd overall)

The last word has to go to Jordi Abad, Race Director, In this race, you have allowed us to meet and know you… special and exceptional people on the sporting and human side. For us it has been a true privilege to share with you this Everest Trail Race 2018.

For more information and to sign up (go on you know you want to) … click here.

The post The Everest Trail Race appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Dan Stinton

Ambleside has become the new Garden of Eden. It’s all we have left to keep our minds focussed as we clamber down another set of slippy rocks. 

We’re progressing slower than expected but time has become irrelevant – there are clean shoes and dry socks at the checkpoint and the thoughts of hot pasta, pizza and somewhere to get re-focussed has become the primary aim after being buffeted around the hills in the Lake District for the preceding 10-11 hours.

We discuss the current condition of our bodies and Michelle reports a 7/10 pain-level for one hip and 6/10 for an ankle. This isn’t great news at all, as even once we eventually arrive in Ambleside there’s another 20 or so miles to the race finish in Cartmel. 

We’re running as a duo and are well over half-way through Lakes in a Day – a 50-mile race from Caldbeck to Cartmel covering the length of the Lake District from north to south. The route takes in the summits of Blencathra, Helvellyn and Fairfield before descending to Ambleside and following the western shore of Windermere. 

Runners take on 4000m of ascent along the route, predominately in the first half.

As we carefully descend towards the checkpoint we see a small group huddled around a man wrapped in his survival bivvy. 

The situation is under control with help on its way, so there’s not much we can do other than carry on but it reminds me that I see lots of chatter online about ways to minimise kit, or if certain items are actually needed, so this is a stark reminder of what can happen and how rapidly conditions can deteriorate.

Much earlier that morning, we’d caught the coach from Cartmel and I was full of interesting conversation – after a few minutes about mortgages, Michelle politely asked if she could go to sleep, so I took the hint and went back to mentally debating which waterproof to wear throughout the day.

The start of the race at the Oddfellow Arms is bustling with queues for coffee, queues for the toilets and lots of frowning at the weather.

Bags are being unpacked and re-packed and looking around, some runners have packed the mandatory kit into the smallest possible of spaces, whilst others appear to have packed for a weekend of camping. 

Storm Callum is forecast so everyone already knows that we were in for a tough day facing heavy rain and high winds, but some racers are braving it with shorts and fully exposed thighs and others are more cautiously sporting full body waterproofs from the start.

Before we know it, we’re streaming over the start line at a nice comfortable pace but it’s not long before we’re huffing and puffing towards High Pike.

I look at the long path in front weaving its way into the mountains and see a continuous snake of soggy ultrarunners – I start to contemplate how popular these events have become and if there is a point when the remote beauty of running in the hills can be saturated by too many people. 

I understand the hypocrisy of being one of those people myself, but on most of my training runs in the Peak District often I barely see anyone for hours on end and this is an entirely different experience. 

After a bit of heather bashing downhill we arrive at the Caldew river crossing – complete with rope and marshal in attendance to help you across. Whilst this seems to be quite a feature in the race, it later turned out that wading through varying depths of water was to become a common theme all day.

We climb to Blencathra and then descend down Hall’s Fell, a ridge requiring new skills in clambering down rocks whilst holding poles and attempting to bum slide whenever possible. I also witness a true tragedy as a box of fudge falls out of a lady’s rucksack and scatters irretrievably down the ridge!

After the first checkpoint at Threlkeld, we know that it’s a long stretch (28.5 km) to checkpoint 2 at Ambleside, so I make sure I stuff down as many sandwiches as I can. 

Leaving in high spirits, we’re soon facing a very steep climb up to Clough Head and the wind and rain becomes more and more extreme – at one point I jabbed my walking poles into the ground and just hung on so as to not be blown over. 

Visibility was poor and progress slowed right down and any attempt at conversation between Michelle and I became a shouting match of What!? and Pardon?! as our hoods flapped manically around our heads.

We eventually arrive at Ambleside and I change into a fresh set of clothes and get some much needed caffeine. 

Michelle decides to call it a day at this point due to her hip and ankle problems (but I also suspect she remembers that the pubs are still open) so I realise that I’ll be tackling the final 20 miles alone. 

I’m disappointed for her as I leave Ambleside, knowing the effort that goes into being prepared for an ultra and how difficult a decision it is to DNF.  

As a new mental strategy, I pretend that the preceding 11 hours hasn’t happened and decide that this is a new 20-mile race from Ambleside to Cartmel. 

Headtorch strapped on, I leave the checkpoint but within 5 minutes I arrive at a flooded road and laugh to myself about how long my new dry shoes and socks lasted as I wade through. 

After the previous hilly-delights I’m not too sure what to expect, but to try and keep my brain focussed I decide to push as hard as I can and gradually catch up with various torchlights flickering along the path in front.

The route follows the western edge of Lake Windermere and large sections of the path were completely flooded – at a couple of points deep enough to get to areas of the body that don’t like being dipped in cold water. 

Wading through the woods alone by torchlight was an amazing experience and completely different to the earlier battle up on the tops.

The last of the checkpoints was in Finsthwaite and the volunteers were very hospitable but I had no desire to stop for soup or anything else at this stage so stuffed down a bit of bread and crisps and made my way out with just 12km left.

Tiredness was now setting in, my watch battery had run out (with the GPS route on it) my torch light was fading and the battery back-up I had was malfunctioning, so I did have a small panic about what to do if the lights went out!

The thought of being submerged in blackness spurred me on so arriving on the road section for the last couple of km was quite a relief. Some 16 hours 16 minutes later I crossed the finish line. 

To provide some kind of comparison, I’d completed the Lakeland 50 in July in just over 11 hours which shows what a difference the terrain and weather can have on a finish time.

With a 37% DNF rate this was a tough year to get through Lakes in a Day. The first 30 miles could be considered a race in itself with the bulk of the elevation and difficult terrain before you arrive at Ambleside. Many runners pulled out at this point but I’m sure will be back next year to try again.

Being held in October, the weather is likely to be against you and the terrain is hard going for much of the route. The checkpoints are great but there aren’t many of them (three over fifty miles) so you need to be well prepared and largely self-sufficient particularly if you’re not at the sharp end of the race. 

The weather made this an unforgettable, and in some ways better, experience. But we don’t enter these races because they’re easy though do we?

All images Dan Stinton.

About the writer: Dan is a member of the Glossopdale Harriers and spends most of his training time escaping into the Dark Peak and then writing about how difficult it was at www.allhailthetrail.co.uk. He ran Lakes in a Day with Michelle Edye, a great running buddy who now resides in London, runs with the Clapham Chasers and has largely forgotten what it’s like to run up a hill.

The post Lakes in a Day Race Report appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Dan Stinton

You do realise we’re running sub-7.5 minute miles don’t you? says Helen, my new ultra-running buddy, as we pass through Coniston. 

A fantastic crowd is cheering us along, many standing outside the local pubs clearly making the most of the evening, some probably puzzled as occasional exhausted looking runners trot through the village. 

It’s dark, the rain has finally stopped and the waterproofs have been stuffed into our packs an hour or so ago once it got to the point that we just stopped caring about the weather. 

Predictably, so close to the end of a race, the chat for the last 30 minutes has generally been about the beer tent back at race HQ. We turn the corner and looming in front is the large Montane-branded finish line…

I’m getting ahead of myself – some 11 hours and 12 minutes ahead of myself to be precise, which is when this journey started in the bright sunshine in Dalemain for the Lakeland 50. 

The race route covers the second half of the Lakeland 100 which starts from Coniston and completes a clockwise loop which takes in the Dunnerdale fells, Eskdale, Wasdale and Buttermere before arriving in Keswick. From here the route heads to Matterdale and continues over to Haweswater before returning via Kentmere, Ambleside and Elterwater to the finish at Coniston. The pre-race briefing warns us that there should be no thoughts of this being only the 50. 

With a large proportion of the Lakeland 100 runners dropping out of the race before 50 miles, this isn’t the kind of distance anyone should take lightly, especially considering the elevation, terrain and (as we’re about to find out) the variable English weather.

Dalemain is buzzing with activity – carefully packed bags are being unpacked and re-packed, queues snake away from the plastic portable toilets with runners giving a final push before they set off and occasional Lakeland 100 runners enter the checkpoint and are cheered past, the enormity of their undertaking well understood. 

They’d started at 6pm on the Friday evening and are now some 17 hours into their race with a further 46 miles back to Coniston (we’re about to do a 4-mile loop to make our race up to 50 miles).

We’re ushered into the starting pen and after a few blasts of rock music and a bit of microphone banter the race starts. Hundreds of ultrarunners stream across the line, mandatory kit cups swinging on their packs behind them. 

The first section around the Dalemain estate is pretty easy going but there’s clearly a pile of enthusiasm and many pick up the pace immediately. Speaking later to fellow runner, David Fort from Padiham, he claims that he was in first place for at least 3 seconds! 

It’s easy to get caught up in a fast start but I decide to really try and hold back on the effort – my first aim is to finish and secondly, whilst I’m nowhere near competing for a top spot, I want to achieve consistency and finish strongly which is a great mental boost.

Around 11 miles later I run out of the first checkpoint at Howtown. I know the biggest climb of the race is coming up so decide to avoid thinking about it. Instead I chat to various people on the first stage of the climb. 

I hear an unmistakeably Dudley accent (town in the Midlands) which isn’t far from where I grew up. I found out this was Jon Cadman, who said that he’d been persuaded into this by a friend who for some reason was nowhere to be seen! 

Further along I spot an ex-work colleague who was on the Lakeland 100 so would have ran somewhere between 60-70 miles. I wonder if the ideal greeting would be a slap on the back along with “Pick up the pace a bit lad!!. 

I consider for a brief moment whether this may be a bit inappropriate, insensitive or both, but do it anyway… best to try and keep spirits high, eh?

The weather began to worsen during the long ascent to High Kop. This became generally single file hiking but I decided to start giving it a bit of a push after holding back at the start and managed to move through the field a bit. 

The path was relatively good underfoot but the weather got worse and worse with a barrage of wind and rain from every angle. 

In true childlike form, I tried to take advantage when the wind was behind me by outstretching my arms to make myself as big as possible and let it blow me along which was good fun. It was quite a different story when the wind is against you and you’re your hunched over gripping your hood wondering just when the next cup of tea will happen.

Whenever I’m stuck in poor weather I always try to look on the bright side, more often than not, things pick up so I pushed on waiting for a moment of magnificence. The trail down and along the edge of Haweswater certainly delivered. 

It was a beautiful moment and one of those times when pretty much nothing else matters and I became totally absorbed in the moment. I soon remembered the small business of getting back to Coniston some 30 miles away before the bar closed, so pressed on.

Bashing through some rather challenging English weather, including a loud thunderclap and inside-your-hood hail, I arrived at the checkpoint in Kentmere and, after climbing some stone steps, I was greeted by what can only be described as a shirtless man in a grass skirt. 

A very friendly man he was too, as he welcomed me in to the building and offered me anything from the array of treats within. I stood firmly next to the watermelon section and start gobbling down slices like they were the last melons on earth. 

I’m sure any runner who ran this course will offer their heartfelt thanks to all the checkpoint marshals/volunteers – they were brilliant throughout, really enthusiastic, fun and helpful and really made the runners feel special and they really help make this type of event possible.

Leaving Kentmere the racers were well spread out but as I entered Skelghyll Wood I saw a friendly looking face and said hi. The face in question was Helen Etherington and we ended up running the rest of the race together. 

Helen falls firmly into the category of runners that are good fun to run with and we soon started happily chatting away, about life and how to make loads of money – crime, apparently (Note this approach is not endorsed by RunUltra).

We do, of course, talk about running and it turns out Helen is an amazing runner currently embarking on a leg-aching string of ultras culminating in the race that needs no introduction, the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc (UTMB) at the end of August.

Having done the Snowdonia Trail Marathon, GB24, now the Lakeland 50 and then Peak Skyline the following weekend, she was certainly getting the miles in!

I like to stay positive and have a laugh on all these runs and Helen is the ideal candidate running with enthusiasm, positivity and maintaining an infectious grin for the whole way. As we descended into Ambleside the support was amazing. There are cheers from every angle, clearly many there to support the race, but others who just happen to be in Ambleside that weekend. 

I even spotted a group of grumpy teenagers who seem mildly impressed that something quite exciting is happening in the town. The support here was so good that we almost felt like we’d finished the race but there was another ten long miles to go.

The final checkpoint at Tilberthwaite is a mere three and a half miles from the end, but believe me, you are going to know about those miles. 

This year, the checkpoint is themed to fundraise for the Manchester Children’s Hospital, so the steps leading from the checkpoint are renamed Jacob’s Ladder after young Jacob Willett who has been diagnosed with cancer and had made an appearance the night before to start the 100-mile race. 

The initial climb reduces us to a hands-on-knees hike and, as we dare to look up, we spot flickers of torch light steadily spreading out into the distance cruelly marking out the climb ahead.  

We know this is just a matter of pressing on and, after the tough ascent, carefully descend down a rocky path into Coniston deciding that risking an injury to gain a few minutes just isn’t worth it at this stage.

That brings me back to the beginning of this report, the final celebratory run through Coniston and stepping over that finish line… hugs, medals, sports massages, t-shirts, photos, chilli and beer ensued. Sometime later I hobbled back to my tent to complete a quite fantastic race day.

This race is brilliantly organised, with all race information clear and available well in advance, regular updates during the build-up and then everything went smooth on race day.

A few more camping facilities would have been welcomed, especially to those of us in the overflow field, but nothing too concerning. 

The reputation of the Lakeland 50/100 clearly make it a crowd-puller with well over a thousand entrants over the two distances. The winning times for the 50 miler of 7:36:11 for Oliver Thorogood and 8:12:19 for Katie Kaars Sijpesteijn are phenomenal and show the quality of runners out there on the course.

If you want to enter, get your fingers on the laptop ready for early September as it’s bound to be another sell-out!

About the writer: When not in the doghouse for long hours of training, Dan likes nothing more than escaping into the Dark Peak and then writing about how difficult it was at All Hail the Trail.

All images Dan Stinton.

The post Lakeland 50 Race Report appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Dan Stinton

“I hope you f***ing die tomorrow” came the angry reply. I stare up at the temporary canvas roof and try to work out how much sleep I need to prepare for tomorrow’s challenge. I realise there’s not enough hours left. The argument in the field outside escalates with other campers also concerned about their lack of sleep. However, the group of lads singing at the top of their voices at 1am the night before the Conti Thunder Run clearly think it’s an entirely reasonable thing to do.
 
Half of the team (Michelle and I) had arrived on site earlier, battled with a rather large pop up tent, registered, cooked and sung around the campfire (probably not true), then called it a night and attempted to get some sleep.

Running wellies at the ready

For the uninitiated, the Conti Thunder Run is a 24-hour running event consisting of an undulating 10km trail lap. You have the choice of entering solo, duo, male, female or mixed teams of 3-5 or mixed team of up to 8. You simply have to do as many laps as you can in 24 hours. We contemplated running as a duo but realised it would probably be quite lonely, so thought we’d better rope in some friends. I floated the idea to a couple of work colleagues after they’d sunk enough beers for them to agree to anything, and the team was complete.
 
Trying to ignore the shenanigans (and the very intense rain) of the previous night, I emerge out of the tent to a rather glorious morning and get the stove on whilst we wait for the rest of the team to arrive. Karl and Dave get there fully fresh and ready for action, bringing all the supplies I’d forgotten and a whole load more.

Before we could say “homemade beetroot and pistachio nut cake” it’s 12-noon and Karl bursts out from the start line with a few hundred others at what could be described as an optimistic pace. A mere 43 minutes later and he hands the baton to me for my first lap. Having had a bit of a slow year due to injuries, a recent DNS, at an ultra and a paltry 16km run in the last six weeks, I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen, but confidently trotted out on my first lap trying to mask the terror inside.
 
In stark contrast to what was to come, it’s a scorcher. The kind of sunny moment when you could easily be stretched out on a sun lounger rubbing the condensation off the outside of a glass of lager, but instead I have decided to run up and down hills for 24 hours. The course is a technical affair with a couple of short sharp hills but mainly various slopes across grassland, soft trails and woodland. 

Much of the trail weaves its way around the campsite, so there is a huge amount of support and cheering along the way. I put a final burst of speed to pass the baton to Michelle who is bouncing up and down like a jack-in-the-box in the changeover pen, bursting to get out on a run. After her lap she passes over to Dave and once he’s completed, we’ve done our first round in around 3.5 hours.

The mud bath.
 
By now, the rain is getting heavier but we all press on. With several thousand runners passing over the same route again and again, the course (and our legs) are becoming increasingly muddy. I stare around the chaos of our temporary home. It’s a total state with someone out running, someone else attempting to peel off muddy clothes, others either eating, resting, moaning about the rain or glaring at whoever roped them in to this (I’m the guilty party here!). 

We were in such a mess that whilst I was cooking the group a chilli I discovered a safety pin lurking menacingly between a kidney bean and a slice of onion!
 
It was right about now that disaster struck. Dave is out on his third lap, and the rest of us are generally hanging around, when suddenly, he pokes his head into the tent and announces he’s going to have to pull out due to a knee injury. I glance over at Karl and see the realisation wash over his face that he’s up next. And next is right now.
 
We carry on through the night with three runners. It becomes a mud bath out there, and soon resembles a zombie apocalypse as competitors shuffle along with tiredness setting in. Many are covered head to toe in mud, slipping and sliding and frantically grasping tree branches to stay upright along the trickier parts of the course.
 
It’s 3:30am and I’m somewhere around lap 5 when a Christmas tree runs past me. Given that I’m sleep deprived and had a few more ibuprofen than I should have, I ask the person next to me if they saw the same thing. I strongly suspect there isn’t a person next to me but they reply anyway. It turns out I’m not dreaming and someone has decked themselves out with a body suit of fully flashing lights. 

The range of people on the course is fantastic and very unlike a normal race where you find yourself grouped with runners of a similar ability. There are epic solo entrants, club runners darting past you, groups of friends chatting and you generally have no idea of where they are in the race – but you realise it doesn’t matter. It’s a relentless march of determined mud-soaked bodies each with their own aims and hopes for the race. Some may be happy with a couple of laps, other will be facing 15 or more, but everyone is supporting each other and offering encouragement.

As light begins to bathe the campsite I set off on my sixth lap and start to forget a time when I did anything other than run around the woods at Catton Park. I’m feeling quite euphoric that I’ve managed this kind of distance after a rocky 2017 so far, but I’m also quite aware that I’ve had a load of painkillers, my leg is tightly strapped up, and I’m still in some considerable pain, so I resign myself to the fact that this needs to be my final lap. 

As I run the final few hundred metres I get a big boost from knowing that even with limited training I have managed to push through in tough conditions. With some relief, I hand over to Michelle for the final time, who looks happy but not quite as bouncy as some 20 hours earlier as she disappears off around the course.

Once she’s back, Karl musters up the energy for a 7th lap and crosses the line with the most team laps under his belt. We’d collectively ran 210km and by around 10am decide to call it a day.

Look like a winner I said.  This is what I got.

Despite the first night’s disruptions, the Thunder Run is a well-organised and highly regarded event.  You have to be quick off the mark to even get a place, as its usually sells out within an hour. With plenty of gear and food stalls there’s enough to keep you occupied during any downtime. You’ll learn a lot about yourself and your team mates and how to encourage and support each other no matter what you’re going through yourself.

I do still wonder if that guy way back in paragraph one managed to actually survive the run!?

Team All Hail The Trail (Michelle, Dan, Dave, Karl)

About the writer: Dan is a Peak District-based runner who once ran a 50km race in the wrong direction, he likes nothing more than escaping into the Dark Peak and then writing about how difficult it was at www.allhailthetrail.co.uk

All images Dan Stinton.

The post Conti Thunder Run 2017 appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Cees van der Land
 

This is it, four months of specific training all for this moment, to toe the start line of my first ultra race, the 60 van Texel. A new adventure, away from the marathon and into the unknown. Got to love the anticipation while waiting in the start area of a big race, feel all the runners buzzing, roaring to go. I spotted the two podium finishers of last time, Dutch ultra-running experts Pascal van Norden and Huub van Noorden and made a note to try and stay with them. Their vast experience meant they would start out at a sensible, conservative pace, right?

And we’re off! 572 runners starting their 60km loop. Immediately, Pascal and Huub pulled away from the pack. Decision time, spend some energy now to keep up, or save energy and risk being alone on the beach? OK, I’ll try and keep up. 50 meters into my first ever ultra and the sensible pacing plan was gone already… Fresh legs meant the first 5km didn’t feel too hard, but we were flying at a 3:35min/km pace. Now, that’s a pace I can hold for a half marathon, not for three times that distance. Despite knowing that I would regret the blistering starting pace at a later stage, I was happy to be here, starting the sand section in the lead group.

Well, that was the case for the first 200m of sandy dunes when I lost contact with the other two runners. Right, change of plans again, try and find my own pace as I had 8.5km of beach ahead of me, with wind force 5 blowing straight in my face. The pace dropped to about 4:30min/km, the two lead runners pulled away, but stayed within reach. Towards the end of the first beach section I caught up to them, we left the beach together, slowly climbing the steep sandy dunes.

The trails were a lot easier to run on. After 15km, we passed a crowded spot and all the cheering made me forget the struggles on the beach. By now Huub and Pascal must have realised that, despite their best efforts, they were still stuck with me, so we started chatting a bit and all refuelled while out of the wind in the forest. The longest beach section was done and we were settling into a reasonable relaxing pace. Relaxing enough to prompt a little toilet break, initiated by Pascal, and soon followed by Huub and me. Being an ultra-first-timer and never having had a mid race toilet break I somehow found this hilarious, leading the race, pushing the pace and then just stopping for 30 seconds!

The final beach section was only 4.5km long, so that should be slightly easier? Unfortunately, for the third time already in this race, theory didn’t quite match with reality. With the incoming tide, only a narrow ridge between the soft sand and sea remained. Whoever was leading our group had to run in the sea while the other two were running in the soft sand. Hard work, but between the three of us we all did our part, it was good to have some respite from the wind.

Coming of the final beach section, my spirits were lifted by seeing my wife (I missed Becki at our first planned meeting point) and I was looking forward to the upcoming easier section. Running down the dunes towards a packed trail I felt strong. 22.5km done, 37.5km to go, only 13 remaining with a head wind. The kms ticked away on rolling trails, never really settling for a constant pace. The chatting was over, we were all waiting for the turning point, followed by tailwind along straight roads parallel with the dike. I was looking forward to seeing my wife again as you can see by the picture!

Yes, the lighthouse, only 25km to go and tailwind! This is where Pascal and Huub’s experience in ultra-running showed. While I was happy to hold the pace and maybe even relax a little, their plan was to pull away at this stage. Huub went off and Pascal followed him at a slightly slower pace. I tried to stay within reach of Pascal, but the legs reminded me of that fast start pace and those beach sections. My pace dropped from 4:00 to 4:15min/km but with the tailwind I felt like I could hold this pace. With over 35km done, this would normally be the part where I could smell the finish of the marathon, so the prospect of another 25km did not seem very appealing. With the two leaders pulling away I started to ask my friend Furu (who was with me on her bike) if she could see anyone behind me, this question would be repeated multiple times towards the finish, always met with the same answer: not a soul in sight, very reassuring!

At 46km the route ventures away from the dike into a small village, with tailwind turning into a side wind, this is where I hit the wall. Normally a very lonely, introspective moment, experienced by all long-distance runners, the moment to find that little bit of extra and when the mind needs to stay strong.

With support from Furu and Becki I never felt lonely, knowing I would see Becki two more times before the finish and having someone to chat to all the time was great support. The pace slowly went down to 4:40min/km but coming back to the dike with only 10km I realised that the suffering was almost over.

After passing the village of Oudeschild, including a climb out of the harbour, there were signs every km, counting down. One parkrun to go. The course turned towards the NW, straight into the wind again, followed by the only climb of the entire race. Many years ago, I started training for my first marathon in these surroundings, the roads were familiar, even if the state of my legs wasn’t. By now Lorendz had also joined us by bike, to have two people cheering you on at the end of an ultra was a great experience. The final gentle descent towards Den Burgh was exactly how I had imagined it for the last hour, a big relief. Made it, third place!

Here’s a link to my Garmin upload: Thou shalt not stop the Garmin for mid-race toilet breaks

At the lighthouse, tailwind from this point onwards. From left to right: Serious ultrarunners Huub van Noorden and Pascal van Norden, an idiot saying hi to his wife and Furu Mienis on bike support. Photo credit: Becki van der Land.

The post Wind, sand and ever changing plans – racing my first ultra appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Andrew Coull

I chose the Glasgow to Edinburgh race (G2E) as my first ultra for a number of reasons. Firstly, as an Edinburgh resident, it’s local; secondly, as it’s flat, it is a relatively quantifiable challenge for a first-timer; and finally, at under £50 to enter it’s good value and doesn’t create a big sunk cost if injury prevents you making it to the start line (a real possibility for me given the step up in mileage).

The race has been staged by Edinburgh-based Resolute Events for a number of years and has become well established in the Scottish ultra calendar, averaging around 115 starters per race in recent years. The route follows the Forth & Clyde and Union Canals for 55 miles (54 in 2017 due to works in Edinburgh) and finishing times range from around 7:00 for the winners through 9:00-11:00 for most of the field and up to 12:00 for the back markers.

After entering in late 2016, I gradually built up the miles over Christmas and into the new year averaging 50 miles a week but clocking 60-75 every second week. Individual runs included a number of 25 miles +, peaking at 30 miles, so with a busy family schedule, dark early morning running became standard practice.

Fortunately, training went well and a strategy of mixing long road runs with trails and hills meant that the usual marathon-style repetition injuries were avoided. With body and mind ready, attention switched to fuel. Having suffered from sickness during marathons in the past, I chose to avoid energy gels and drinks in training, relying instead on water, flapjacks and dried mango all taken early and often. Ramping up to include peanut butter wraps by the race itself, the only “products” added for the extra distance were Nuun tablets for electrolytes and Clif Shot Bloks for a caffeine boost when needed.

As there were only around 40 other entries when I signed up, it was surprising to see 160 names on the final entry list although it turned out only 116 arrived at the start line. After a straightforward briefing from the race director – keep the canal on your right and run until you get to Edinburgh – we headed out from the unglamorous start line just north of the centre of Glasgow. The early ‘driech’ conditions were good and no doubt familiar to the mostly British field but would be less so for the small group of runners from Florida who brought some much needed colour to the early stages. Other nations toeing the line included Germany, Belgium, Norway, Sweden, Hungary, Latvia and Italy.

After 3-4 miles, the urban landscape faded into more rural surroundings with, refreshingly for the city based runners, only one road crossing in the first 10 miles. The first checkpoint (CP1) at 13 miles was a friendly but brief interruption as we happily worked through the early miles, perhaps growing a little conscious that the temperature was beginning to rise.

CP2 at 22 miles was at the Falkirk Wheel, an interesting piece of canal engineering to lift boats up a step between the two canals. As the location for food drop bags delivered by the organisers, some runners stopped longer with family and friends but we chose to briefly refill camelbaks then eat while walking through the long, dark Falkirk Tunnel (hewn from rough, damp rock and a potential trip/slip hazard for those running through it). Emerging into the sunlight 500 metres later it was clear that the unexpectedly increasing temperature would now need to be managed, particularly along the longer open stretches to come.

In the sunshine, however, the 11-mile stretch from CP2 to CP3 in the small town of Linlithgow was quiet and pleasant with some brief, heavy rainfall providing a welcome opportunity to cool down. With legs showing the first signs of tiredness, it was a relief to be welcomed into CP3 at mile 33 by a small group of supporters and helpful volunteers whose encouragement that we had “done the hard bit” was almost believable.

G2E veterans had warned that the 12 miles to CP4 and CP5 would be tough and that proved to be the case with long straight stretches seemingly going on forever and, towards CP5, exposed sections winding round the industrial spoil tips of Broxburn. Conditions also worsened around CP5 with wind and a heavy downpour but, again, the race volunteers worked hard to replenish supplies and keep us moving without getting cold.

From CP5, the weather improved and conditions were ideal through CP6 at Ratho and on into Edinburgh. Having run alongside people most of the way, I found myself alone through the setting sunshine for miles 48-51 and began to relax in the confidence that I was going to finish. Those miles were covered quickly but, inevitably, the final few to the finish were slower and it was nice to see the 500m to go sign then, emerging from under the last bridge, the finish line and family. I finished in just over 10 hours, placing 43rd from 103 finishers.

I would thoroughly recommend G2E as an introductory ultra, especially for Scottish runners, or a relatively fast 50-miler for more experienced competitors. Do not be fooled by its flatness however, putting in the miles beforehand is still key to enjoying the day. What did I learn from my first ultra? Apart from drinking and eating early and often, relax and take the opportunity to meet interesting, like-minded people. I ran and spoke with some great people during the day which helped me keep going and definitely added to the experience. Not everyone has the desire or determination to commit to an ultra training schedule so if you’re running alongside someone at 40 miles there is a very high probability that you have something in common.

For more from Andrew, follow him on Twitter @andrewcoull1973

The post Glasgow to Edinburgh Race Review – Who knew flat could be so interesting? appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Anne-Marie Lord 

Congratulations to Anne-Marie Lord who shares the ups and downs of her first 100 miler on the White Rose Ultra (WRU) on 5th and 6th November 2016. Anne-Marie enjoyed a bird’s eye view of the fireworks on Guy Fawkes night, whilst slogging over the Yorkshire moors and bogs on this tough and challenging event and finds a surprise at the finish line.

I got the place for the White Rose Ultra 60 mile transferred to me by fellow runner and trucker Paul Speed. I soon upgraded to the 100 to achieve my goal of running 100 miles before I’m 50 on 3rd December this year.

I recee’d the route with my pal Allan Parkin and Sue Clapham two weeks before and realised that it was 60% road and hills so needed to rest and be strong. Allan found an old smurf that had fallen off a car and gave it to me as a good luck charm. He had the top of his hat ripped off and was dirty and old but he was a gift and I duly carried him that day. 

I was less nervous at the start of the WRU than I was at the Hardmoors 110 which I DNF’d earlier this year. It was very cold and forecast to get colder and the Sage of the Weather Andy Connell had predicted snow! I mocked him on Facebook but of course, he was right!! 

Off we went and I felt comfortable on the first lap. Spent some time with Anna Gilmore who went on to be First Lady and it was great chatting with her about her return to running from triathlons.

The 30-mile route was very hilly with steep roads leading up to steep rocky paths. There were a few boggy passes including the ‘ Bog of Doom’. If there is a bog on route then I will find it and I did! There was lots of stepping into mud above my ankles, and a tumble on a rocky path. My knee bears the bruise of that one! There were some steep downhill sections that you knew would sap energy from your quads on later laps. But all in all, the route was tough and challenging in both terrain (road and trail) and elevation.

Then the familiar trail for me, King of the Hill route up Wessenden Moor. This is another race that Team OA put on the first Wednesday of every month and it is a great just over 5k challenge to the top of Wessenden Moor. I have run it a few times and love the challenge of trying to beat my time from the previous month. I knew the route well and could pace myself, knowing what was coming at the top. Then last five miles mainly downhill and past the reservoir to the end. 

Quick change and out again on the second lap. It’s dark now and noticeably colder with a bitter biting wind in the tops. A friend, Colin Green, ran with me for a while for some company then I was off on my own as I was for the majority of the race. Met up with other runners at some points and had a chat but the majority of the race I was running in quiet contemplation from checkpoint to checkpoint ticking off the miles.

The fireworks that night were incredible and it felt like the whole area were celebrating everyone’s attempt to beat the distance. Running up the hill before Wessenden, I looked into a field of sheep and their eyes glinted back in the light of my head torch and they looked like evil vampire sheep. Yikes! I talked to them on the way past but I didn’t even get a cursory baa or bleat just silent staring. I had gone wrong on the first lap but quickly righted it, but in the second lap followed the route to the letter and ended up in a massive bog climbing up a dark hill. I realised halfway up that this was really dodgy but battled through almost on my hands and knees. Scary stuff totally on my own in the dark!

Apparently Wane Law (Team OA) had checked it before the race and thought it was too risky to use and advised going straight on. Well it was a challenge and I got through but bypassed it on the third lap! 

Then after the last checkpoint on the second lap, I slipped on black ice on the road landing heavily on my bottom of my back. That smarted and was painful for the rest of the race. But I was determined to get this race done and carried on into the sports centre for the third time and out again. The third lap went well with the sun coming up for a beautiful but cold morning.

My legs were sore and I could feel a build up of tension and twinges in my lower back from my fall but knew I needed to carry on to achieve my goal. I met another runner near checkpoint 1 on the third lap who was clearly struggling. He asked how he could drop out as his ankle had gone. I told him to ring Wane and he said he would need to look for the email to find his number. It was freezing cold and the checkpoint was unmanned so I phoned Wane for him as I didn’t want to leave a fellow runner out there any longer than he needed to be. Steve Randall (Team OA) was there just as I left the checkpoint to pick him up. It was literally five minutes, a great response. 

Onwards and upwards and the start of the day was cold but bright but that soon changed to rain, sleet then snow. I had lost time and knew I wasn’t going to achieve a time I wanted but just wanted to crack on and finish. I had good kit and was warm and dry and my Ron Hill Bobble hat with the glow in the dark bobble drew some comments from the odd person I saw! 

Finished the third lap and after a pep talk from Paul Craddock at the last checkpoint changed my trainers and I was back out. I aimed to finish before it was dark again! The last 10 miles were brutal and the hills were killers but I kept going, running when I could be walking the hills! And there were quite a few! The last few stiles were a challenge but soon I was back on the top road looking down at the finish at the school not quite believing that I had done it, I had run 100 miles!  

I was with Julie Luckman and Nikki Green running alongside me. I came down the hill and ran in over the finish line with my husband Ian waiting for me, which is always a great sight for me! It was my son’s first appearance at a race finish too to celebrate my achievement which was a fabulous surprise! Allan Parkin was filming me, and Phil and Maria Craven, Angela and Mark Oliver were waiting to congratulate me.

I was overwhelmed but also feeling a little dizzy and sore. What an event and even when out there in the dark on my own, I was secure in the knowledge that Wane Law and Steve Randall had an eye on us all through the trackers so didn’t feel quite as alone. Tough first 100 but loved it and a great event. Well worth a go be it on the 30, 60 or 100. Even though I did not get the time I wanted, I still came in as second woman! 

To add to a great weekend, my fifth grandchild was born on the 6th November! Quite a story to tell him about his grandma’s exploits on the day of his birth. 

All images Anne-Marie Lord.

The post The White Rose Ultra 100 – Fireworks, vampire sheep and black ice appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Ian Corless

A down jacket protected me from the cold wind and the low temperatures, amongst the dunes of the Simpson Desert, the sky was not dark, it was black. A lack of light pollution, a lack of people, I was remote and alone in the outback of Australia. Above me the sky glowed with a series of glitter balls. It was like a child’s artwork creation, you know the ones I mean – black card, some glue and then throwing glitter at the card until it sticks. To say the sky was amazing would be a complete understatement. I could see all the constellations, I could clearly pinpoint stars and for a moment I was lost, overwhelmed by the enormity of my location and my insignificance within the world in which we live.

I love running, the simplistic and uncluttered approach of moving from one place to the next under one’s own power. I doesn’t have to be fast, on the contrary, I often think a slower approach is more rewarding. Here in Australia, the home of the ‘walkabout,’ I can think of no better place for a multi-day race.

Now in its 4th year, the Big Red Run (BRR) is Australia’s only multi-day 250km event and it has grown from humble beginnings into a premier event. It follows in the footsteps of iconic events such as Marathon des Sables (Morocco), The Coastal Challenge (Costa Rica) and the Richtersveld Transfrontier Wildrun (South Africa). BRR was created by Greg Donovan and it was his participation in Racing the Planets 4 desert series (which he completed in one year) that inspired him to create and complete a 5th multi-day event. Thus, the Big Red Run was born. Greg is a passionate fundraiser and has a son with type 1 diabetes. From the off, BRR has always been about raising money to help find a cure and to date, Greg and his team have raised over 600,000 Australian dollars.

A dedicated and passionate guy, Greg wears his heart on his sleeve and it’s this openness that the runners love to see. From the first to the last runner, Greg stands on the finish line and welcomes them all home day-after-day. It’s no easy task, especially when one takes into account everything that must happen to make an event like the BRR function. That is where volunteers come in and boy-oh-boy does the BRR have volunteers.

Australia is a BIG place and this comes into real perspective when one talks to the volunteers – they travel 1000’s of kms to come and work on the event. They themselves endure their own ultra but this in many ways is normal here in Australia. The ‘walkabout’ spirit is clearly personified when one looks at the vehicles that everyone drives. They are not cars; they are rigs of ingenious extravagance – they bring a whole new meaning to ‘mobile home.’ Four-wheel drives transform into rooftop tents and boots or cabins open and expand with tables, fridges, cookers and a plethora of equipment that makes outback life not only functional but pleasurable. I was a little jealous.

BRR is a lifestyle event, here in the outback, without a doubt it is an extension of daily life, the only contrast comes with 100 runners who travel light and fast over six days to endure a simplistic hark back to aboriginal roots; a way to explore on foot. The race format is also unique, it mixes up the best of many other multi-day events and in doing so, it creates its own unique format.

Runners are semi self-sufficient. They are allowed a 14kg allowance which is stored ideally in a waterproof holdall. Within this they must have food for the duration of the event (usually freeze dried), spare clothes, sleeping bag, sleeping matt and then any luxuries. A pack is required whilst running and this must have the capacity to hold mandatory kit that can change based on weather conditions and three litres of liquid. Tents are provided and in most scenarios they hold three people. Bags are transported from camp to camp as required. It’s a great format that allows the runners to run light and, unlike Marathon des Sables for example, recovery is not compromised because the runners have their 14kg of kit waiting at the finish line. There is also unlimited hot water, a foot care team and medical support. The BRR is a great race model that so many other races could learn from. Safety is also a key feature and each runner has a tracker so that they can be monitored throughout the race.

Birdsville is a hick town. It’s a stereotype of what I expected a town in the outback to look like. A scattering of houses, a bakery, a general store, a gas station, a caravan park, a small airport and of course the famous Birdsville Hotel. Imagine a scene from Crocodile Dundee, the scene where he is in a bar drinking a beer – that is Birdsville. No worries mate!

The BRR and the 150km ‘Little Red Run’, which runs alongside its bigger brother (designed as an entry level event with more manageable daily distances), start and finish outside the Birdsville Hotel and once underway, the outback journey begins through the Simpson Desert. ‘Big Red’ is a key feature of both races as you can see from the names. Big Red is a dune section that stretches for several kilometres. Camp 1 and 2 are located next to the Big Red dunes and then camp 3 and 4 are in a new location before the final camp 5 which is located just outside the town of Birdsville. This allows the untimed final day fun run of 8km into the town.

The BRR has three marathon distance days: 1,2 and 3. Day 4 is 31km and then the final competitive day is 84km. For the LRR day 1 and day 5 are marathon distance. It’s a format that works well and the terrain for much of the race is flat with very little technical running. Day 6 for both races is a non-competitive 8km jog/ walk back to the town of Birdsville. The BRR suits a ‘runner’ and the LRR is designed for the runner, jogger or walker who’s looking for an entry level challenge in multi-day racing. Don’t get me wrong though, as one would expect, both races get fast runners, joggers and walkers – anything goes and the daily cut-offs reflect this.

2016 may well go down in the race’s history as one of the most memorable and challenging due to heavy rains that arrived during night 1 and persisted throughout day 2. Rain in the desert, I know, who’d have guessed it? But these rains brought with them unexpected flooding and the desert turned into a quagmire of puddles and thick, sticky clay that bogged vehicles, turned camp into a mud fest and made just walking an almost impossible task. Shoes doubled, trebled and then quadrupled in size and the weight increased from ounces to kilograms. It made the day 2 marathon much more of a challenge, not only for the runners but the race team. Conditions became so bad that camp could not be moved and racing on day 3 was cancelled.

Of course it’s never nice for a day’s racing to be made null and void but just as flooding disrupted Marathon des Sables years ago, rain and flooding caused disruption at BRR. Greg and his team did all they could and in all honesty, they did a remarkable job redesigning race routes for days 4 and 5. They made the tough call not to move camp until the final day when ground conditions had dried out.

Day 3 in camp became one of action as all the runners worked together to dry clothes, make a fire, clear a pathway and basically just bond in true Dunkirk spirit. It’s these moments of adversity that brings out the best in people and now on reflection, the hardships of night 1, day 2 and the clear up process of day 3 may well be a highlight of the race.

Racing sure did happen and the 2016 BRR will be remembered by the dominant and outstanding performance of 2015 MDS ladies champion, Elisabet Barnes. Elisabet broke away on day 1 to win the stage outright, on day 2 under the harsh wet conditions she repeated the process and this scenario was echoed on day 5. The 84km day was a tough one as 3rd placed runner, Andy Dubois applied the pressure in a hope to break Elisabet and 2nd placed runner, Jamie Hildage. It was a tactic I applauded, an all or nothing scenario that resulted in a faster than normal first 40km. Andy unfortunately paid the price for his efforts and then Elisabet took over, went into auto pilot and once again pulled away from the men to win the stage by over 30 minutes. Stage 4 was the only one she lost.

Behind the fast-paced efforts at the front, the rest of the race was one of running, walking, survival, pain and tenacity as so often is the case in any ultra event. What’s great about BRR is its ability to cater for all and offer a course that can be tackled by any runner, irrespective of ability or speed. You just need to hone one supreme endurance tool to complete – the brain. Races of 250kms or 150kms are completed in the mind, get that right and the legs and lungs will follow.

Roaring fires, nightly slide-shows, starry skies, laughter, music, group banter and chilly nights under canvas make the BRR an experience. An outback experience second to none. As the 2016 edition came to a close, talk was already beginning about who would return in 2017. Despite some hardships, the 2016 BRR was a cracker!

But wait, it’s not over… a man of ideas, Greg over the years has developed an event that coincides with the end of BRR – the Big Red Bash. The Bash is an open air music event that lasts for several days and this year, over 7000 people will travel to Birdsville to experience the ultimate outback concert experience with a line-up of Australian music legends.

Let the Bash begin!

Results:

1. Elisabet Barnes 19:47:39
2. Jamie Hildage 20:54:34
3. Andy Dubois 21:25:02

Top 3 ladies:

1. Elisabet Barnes 19:47:39
2. Helen Durand 23:35:04
3. Anna Bennett 25:54:10

Top 3 men:

1. Jamie Hildage 20:54:34
2. Andy Dubois 21:25:02
3. Braddan Johnson 22:29:18

The post Big Red Run 2016 – Birdsville, Australia appeared first on Run Ultra.

By Ian Corless

Situated in the remote /Ai/ Ais/ Richtersveld Transfrontier Park in the most north western part of South Africa, the Richtersveld Transfrontier Wildrun is the perfect race for a wild adventure.

A supported race, base camp each day is leap frogged to ensure that runners have maximum comfort in small individual tents, food is provided before and after each day’s racing and bags are transported. This is no easy race. The Richtersveld Transfrontier Wildrun is a run through time in an environment that has been millions of years in the making. It is an ever-changing landscape that personifies remote and wilderness in the same breath. Navigating via GPS over five days, participants cover 200km on a route that starts on the Orange River at Sendelingsdrif and on day four, the race crosses over into Namibia for an ultimate transfrontier experience which concludes in the Fish River Canyon on day five.

Including the oldest desert in the world, the /Ai/ Ais/ Richtersveld Transfrontier Park is home to an abundance of flora, wildlife, nomadic tribes, sulphur springs, archaeological sites and the stunning Tattasberg boulders. Pieter Van Wyk, an ever-present on the race and arguably one of the most knowledgeable people on the Richtersveld has experience and an outlook on life that extends far beyond his 28 years. Pieter is an attraction of the race and his nightly talks under African skies, accompanied by a roaring fire are one of the many highlights of race week. He clearly explains to everyone who enters the Richtersveld that it is not a right to be there but a privilege. How right he is!

Cool nights follow hot days; no two days are the same. In previous years the race has remained in South Africa but in 2016, the race crossed the Orange River and an incredible two days of remote running followed in the mind-blowing Fish River Canyon – the 2nd largest canyon in the world behind the USA’s Grand Canyon. Yes, this race truly is transfrontier!

Weathered by millions of years of change, the landscape has been formed by water, rain and volcanic activity, it is a masterpiece of geology and botany, worthy of the most acclaimed art gallery or museum.

The /Ai /Ais/ Richtersveld Transfrontier Park is a tough environment and few have had the privilege or the opportunity to experience this region. This is what makes this race so special. Owen Middleton (race director at Wildrunner) visited the area for the first time in 2006 and he was inspired. Working in conjunction with Nick de Goede (Park Manager) and Roland Vorwerk from Boundless South Africa, a dream became a reality and in 2014 the first edition of the race took place.

To experience this landscape on foot, to see wild zebra, kudu, ostrich and an abundance of flora, fauna and bird life really does take participants back to their primal roots. Remoteness challenges the mind, the legs and the lungs of all, but each night a roaring fire, good food and huddles of tired runners telling camp fire stories compensates for the fatigue, and the experience is enhanced. Richtersveld Transfrontier Wildrun is so much more than just a race! A lack of modern technology and connection provides a release and a re-birth; it provides an awareness and an understanding of what really does matter in the world in which we live – freedom!

For the first time in the race history, 2016 had an outright female winner in Joanna Williams who resides in New Zealand. From day one she ran a smart race and the small time gains made on the opening stage were held all the way to the line. Tobias Mews from the UK may well have offered a challenge to Jo, but ultimately he ran side-by-side preferring to experience the race instead of blasting through with no opportunity to stop, look, listen and let the environment absorb.

People talk about the loneliness of the long distance runner, but the Richtersveld is to be shared. Mutual gasps of wonder should be appreciated with others, it’s lovely to make friends as we run and in Jo I have found a bond – it’s great to run with someone else and share the journey.–Tobias Mews

South African trail running pioneer Linda Doke and 2015 Marathon des Sables female champion, Elisabet Barnes placed 2nd and 3rd respectively in the ladies’ race. Both ladies summing up their experiences with a similar thought process, What an incredible privilege it was to spend 5 days running through this magnificent part of the world on the Richtersveld Transfrontier Wildrun®. Sometimes it takes experiencing places like this to remind us how just how fragile and yet so powerful nature is, and how unbelievably insignificant we are in the bigger scheme of things. – Linda Doke

Local runner, Dawid Kaswarie, was to many the true winner of the race. He had no GPS, his map reading skills were negligible and an error on day one gave him a one-hour time penalty. Had he had the autonomy to run alone, the race would have been his. It’s something that Tobias acknowledged at the awards ceremony. Standing with a huge trophy, Tobias thanked the race, the other competitors and acknowledged his gratitude for being the first male runner, however, in the true spirit of the race and the Richtersveld race, he called Dawid up to take his trophy, ‘this is the true champion’ he commented and we all agreed… A few tears were shed!

In the men’s race, the final podium place was taken by Daniel Meyes and what a story he had. Travelling from Europe, he had planned to travel to the Richtersveld by motorbike after arriving in South Africa. Hiring a bike, he set on his way for the 9+ hour plus journey only to find that the bike would break en-route. A 20km walk for help and a late arrival just before the race start was not the best preparation but somehow he came through running a very solid race.

But like all races, it was in an amongst the line-up of finishers where some real grit and inspiration could be found, for example, 70-year old Larry Classen who completed the race with his daughter. Or Hayley Coles (UK) running her first ultra, fighting for the finish line and achieving it.

Every runner has a story, and they all provide an insight into why the Richtersveld Transfrontier Wildrun is THE must race to do. Yes, you can race, but to do so and not embrace those around you, to not embrace the landscape and the environment, to not disconnect and reflect would ultimately mean that despite winning you will have lost.

This race is so much more than a race – it’s a life changing, life affirming and life waking experience that made all those who witnessed it re-evaluate and leave with a new perspective on life.

Travel is not about escaping life; it’s about not allowing life to escape us!

Results:

1. Jo Williams 22:23:01
2. Tobias Mews 22:42:00
3. Dawid Kaswarie 23:07:34
4. Daniel Meyes 25:18:20
5. Linda Doke 25:43:52
6. John Cuff 26:41:19
7. Ryno Bakkes 26:52:04
8. Elisabet Barnes 27:01:56
9. Christiaan Vorster 27:23:19
10. Stephen Cunliffe 28:23:19

Full results HERE.

Daily race summary posts and images HERE.

Race Images HERE.

The post Richtersveld Transfrontier Wildrun 2016 appeared first on Run Ultra.