It’s all true, kind of… (Lakeland 100M)

Stats first:

 

I am not sure how this happened, but it has been exactly three months since I ran this amazing race, and sitting in front of a blank page (OK, screen), everything I remember feeling and thinking while running and after finishing seems awfully trite. Maybe this is a sign of having spent too much time reading ultrarunning blogs, but hopefully it just means that I need to find a way to delay my race reports a bit less. I any case, my memories have now been condensed to the confirmation of the following clichés about running 100-mile races (and no, I am not going to mention the joke of how even driving this distance makes some people tired):

1.     Gotta train! I realize this is not exactly a revolutionary idea, but I guess what I mean here is that my decision to sign up for a 100-miler was a bit of an experiment whether I could do this well (by my standards, obviously) on training of 60-70 miles per week. The answer is yes, I think I ran a very good race. But the main reason I was not able to compete for the win, or at least a podium spot, was that I was not quite fit enough for it. I think I will train a bit more next time I decide to run this distance. So make the answer to this one “yes, kind of.”

2.     Gotta do hills! This one is easy and the answer is “absolutely.” The main change in my training this year is that I probably doubled the amount of elevation gain in my runs. This has made me fitter, stronger, and more patient. I think I can also translate the hill training into better speed, but that is still just a guess. The Lakeland 100 presumably has about 6850 m (22500 ft.) of vertical, and I felt great on most of the climbs. This is where I caught and passed people, which is in stark contrast to what was happening in 2010 and 2011.

3.     Gotta take care of your mind and body! Yep, it’s an expedition alright, and attempts to ignore this would probably result in a disaster. But I don’t really know – I didn’t dare try that. Staying positive and eating/drinking continuously are obviously even more important than in shorter races. One thing I have changed recently is to drastically cut the amount of salt/electrolyte drinks that I take while running and not worry about drinking too little. Thank you, Dr.Noakes! 

4.     Patience, patience, patience! Another easy one. I was finally able to pace a long race well, running a nearly even split! This is probably the single thing I am most happy about. I honestly didn’t think I was physically and mentally capable of doing this. Of course, having a relatively early low point (7-8 hours in) probably helped with that.

5.     The darkest hour is just before dawn. I was particularly skeptical about this one because some of my worst patches in the Vitosha 100K over the years have been right after sunup. But this time was just like in the proverb. Around 4 am, I was trotting down the road after the Dockray checkpoint, mentally scanning my body for the slightest trace of serious/unusual pain and feeling distinctly miserable. I just wanted to quit and was looking for an excuse. It is funny what games our brains are playing with us though - even after more than 10 hours of running and more than two hours of having felt pretty lousy, there wasn’t anything in particular I could point my finger on and psychosomatically blow out of proportion! Then Alan Lucker appeared literally out of the blue, and his company and encouragement rescued my race. One of the first things he said is that we would feel much better after day break, but the (silent) response of my negative mind was “yeah, right.” Turns out he WAS right. The guy had done this quite a few times, including some really solid finishes at UTMB and the classic UK fell-running rounds, so he clearly knew what he was talking about. It probably helped that the sunrise came during one of the most beautiful sections of the course (contouring Gowbarrow). In any case, I gradually started feeling much better and started thinking that I still had a chance to finish in under 24 hours, my pre-race goal. So after running  with Alan for a couple of hours, I decided to keep going while he was making a long stop at Dalemain to change shoes. I feel a bit ambivalent about this – I was happy to just barely sneak under 24 hours in the end, but part of me wishes that I had just run it in with Alan, whatever the finishing time.

6.      It ain’t over till it’s over. After running well for a few hours, it finally occurred to me to ask about the gap to the runner in front of me. “Stuart Mills left about 40 min. ago” is what I heard at Kentmere. “Alright, nothing to get worked up about then, no way I am going to close that.” I also knew that I was pulling away from Alan and Kevin Perry, so I just proceeded without worrying about my position too much, if at all. But when I got to Ambleside, I was told that I was now only 20 min. behind Stuart, who was apparently having a bit of a rough time. “It’s a race, remember?” Here I was again calculating speeds, strategizing, and pushing hard after 20 hours of running. So it came to me as a bit of a surprise when I heard “half an hour” at the next check point. Really? And all of a sudden, things took a turn for the worse, I sat down and didn’t even want to finish. Fortunately, the thought that stopping at that point would be nonsense somehow got through the haze in my head, and I got up and started running again. Catching Stuart was not at all important to me, but letting go of that idea really made things a lot worse. So I decided to chase him down as hard as I could, which is pretty much the main reason I did manage to break 24 hours (even if I didn’t quite catch him). I felt like it was either that or just taking a nap by the trail. It is silly what things can motivate a depleted brain, and lesson learned – stick with your motivators, no matter how delusional they may seem, and never fully trust people about gaps in a race! 

A final footnote about the event: This has to be the best race organization I have ever seen, and the atmosphere was amazing throughout the weekend. I would love to go back and do it again, but the one thing that will make me think twice about it is the fact that the race course and rule enforcement allow for substantial shortcuts, which I am fairly sure at least some runners used. 

Finally got him! Well, almost. Stuart finished 3 min. ahead of me, although his gap 
at Howtown (mile 66) was 1h22! The actual gaps at the last four checkpoints were 
47, 31, 23, and 9 min. Photo courtesy of Nick Ham.

 

A world of pain: Vitosha 100 km, 2012 (long)

How many years will it take me to figure out how to run this thing well? Fifteen so far and still counting! Or is 100 km a distance that I, being as stubbornly impatient as I am, can never run comfortably? Well, I won’t know the answers of these questions for at least another year. But first things first…

My training in the 4-5 months leading up to the race might have been the best I have ever done. No injuries and good consistency, except for a 15-day setback caused by a nasty chickenpox infection, which was immediately followed by some pretty intense field work. The key change I made relative to the previous two seasons (a whole lot more hills) seemed to be paying off, as I had a very good race at the Brecon Beacons 40M and completely exceeded my expectations in the leg of the Welsh Castles Relay that I ran in early June. My only concern, having to run the brutal Welsh 1000m Peaks race only two weeks before the Vitosha 100 km, was resolved through demonic intrusion in the form of torrential rain and flooding that prevented me from even starting the race.

Аfter a longer than usual taper, I was raring to go and had to work hard to keep my emotions in check. Meeting old friends at the start and chatting with them definitely helped, but I was still relieved when we were finally off and running. I was feeling great, despite my complete lack of heat acclimation, and ran the initial climb pretty hard. Iliya Kutsarov and Bojko Zlatanov made it clear that they had no intentions of letting me go, so we ran together for a good hour, with Dimitar Davidov lurking not too far behind us. Running and chatting with these guys was probably my favorite part of the race. I had literally run into Iliya in Sofia’s North Park last Christmas break, and we had several excellent sessions on the ice- and snow-covered alleys and trails. I was very impressed with his athletic ability, but even more so with his extremely positive outlook and enthusiasm for running, so seeing him in the race and sharing some time with him and his friend Bojko was awesome!

Both of these guys, however, had turned up with inadequate lights and the inevitable eventually happened. At a rocky stream crossing, Bojko stumbled and took a pretty hard spill, Iliya gentlemanly stopped to wait for him, while Dimitar and I kept plugging away (not so gentlemanly, but after making sure Bojko was not seriously hurt). The two of us ran the following 8-9 miles of flat(ish) single- and double-track to Kladnitsa fairly fast by ultramarathon standards, probably averaging around 7:30-min. miles, and that still felt pretty effortless. We even had a little chat, before I started pulling away ever so slightly. The rough section around Studena Reservoir also went pretty quickly for me this year, and I got to the Studena checkpoint (~21 miles) in 2h49, by far my fastest ever split for the first third of this race, and about 13 min. faster than last year!

The long, gradual climb from Bosnek to Chujpetlovo is often the crux of this race for me. It started out well enough – I was feeling strong and calm. But then my stomach quickly started going south and, although I tried every trick in my bag for turning it around, it kept getting worse. I had experienced this before, but things had always improved after no more than an hour. This time was clearly different, and I had no idea what to expect. I knew I would slow down a lot – there is no way to hold pace after four hours of running hard and with no chance of getting any calories in. The question was just how much I would slow down and how many people would catch me.

The rest of the race was a strange combination of extreme physical pain (running 100 km will do this to you, even without the severe stomach cramps I was experiencing) and a manic-depressive state of mind. I would go through bad patches during which the stomach cramps were so intense, I had to slow down to a crawl, or even stop, and I felt like I wanted to cry. But then things would improve temporarily and I would pick up the pace substantially, incredulous that I could still run so fast. I would then get very optimistic and try to eat something and make the effort more consistent…which would immediately lead to closing the cycle. 

Under different circumstances, I would have quit as soon as I was certain my stomach would not turn around. But with so many friends and relatives supporting me the whole way (my mother-in-law volunteered all night and most of the day at a checkpoint, without getting any sleep or rest!), this was simply not an option. I was committed to running until I fell in a ditch and could not move anymore. So I ran, walked, drank a cup of Coke at each checkpoint if I could, and prepared myself mentally for seeing Dimitar turn a corner and catch me. Strangely, the thought of that was not entirely negative. I knew he was going to run well this year, and I was happy for him and for the race atmosphere this was creating. I was just very pragmatically preparing myself for one last push when/if that happened.  In the end, I didn’t find out if I really had that in me, and cruised to a surprisingly stress-free finish.

All is well that ends well, they say. But I am not so sure I agree on this occasion. Yes, I won the race and finally broke the 9-hour barrier, something I have been dreaming of for a long time. But the way this happened leaves a lot to be improved. Like running for more than five hours on three cups of Coke and a handful of pretzels! And once again fighting demons through the entire second half of the race. What did I do wrong this time? No heat acclimation (new problem)? Starting too fast (permanent problem, and seemingly hopeless)? Or is this just the way it is when you are pushing yourself close to your limit? 

I am writing this literally minutes before jumping in the car and driving off to Coniston for the start of the Lakeland 100M. So, hopefully, I have at least subconsciously figured it all out (very doubtful ;)

Finally, here are a few pictures from the finish (courtesy of Krasimir Metodiev, Geotrade-Ivanov, Garmin Bulgaria):

 Looking better than I felt.

 This is about right – never again!

Best part of ultrarunning?

I really enjoy and value the way Dimitar and I have pushed each 
other in the last two Vitosha 100 km races.

Left to right: Dimitar, myself, Plamen Tsukev, and Iliya. 

Can’t wait to race these guys (and many others) 

again – it will take a huge effort to keep up 

with their improvement.

Vitosha 100 km, 2012 (short)

It will be a few more days until I get around to writing a proper race report, so here are the highlights and a few pictures (I am not sure whom I should credit for these – please let me know):

• Record turnout (200+ for the foot race and 600+ mountainbikers), the best course marking I have seen (heck, even I had no trouble anywhere!), and very well stocked checkpoints. Overall, a world-class race – mark June 21-22, 2013 on your calendar and come to find out for yourself!

There were often only about ten of us at the start line
in the early 2000s, and I thought this wonderful
event was going extinct. Boy, was I wrong!

• The field is getting increasingly competitive – five people ran under the previous course record (including at least two, who had never run this distance before), and 26, including two women, broke 12 hours. I am not sure when this trend of massive improvement will plateau, but my gut feeling is that we are nowhere near that point.

 Top three women: Maria Nikolova (left, 11:28),
Hristina Kozareva (middle, 10:18!!!),

and Malina Vatskicheva (right, 12:28).

 Hristina’s time would have been good enough to win the race
outright between 2000 and 2009! She finished looking really
strong, so I am sure she will be much faster next year.

Top three men: Dimitar Davidov (left, 9:02 - 32 min. improvement!),
yours truly (middle, 8:44), and Plamen Tsukev (right, 9:22 – 100 km debut!).
This does not even include the two runners who pushed the pace
early on: Iliya Kutsarov (9:23 – another 100 km debut!) and 

Bojko Zlatanov (11:50 after taking a nasty fall). I am guessing that, with
better headlamps, we will see at least one of these two on the ‘podium’ 

next year, and probably in the middle.

• I finally broke nine hours, and even won the race, but it was far from smooth sailing. More details on that soon (the traffic stats for this blog have convinced me to write my race report in both English and Bulgarian – thanks for the attention!).

Welsh 1000m peaks (DNS)

Have you ever wondered what it would feel like to get up very early in the morning on race day, not even have to look through the window to know that the weather is horrendous, and then (bailing out obviously being out of the question) have the divine/demonic intervention that the weak and negative side of you has been hoping for all along? Well, it happened to me today, and it sucks! 

I hit a road closure just a few miles into my drive to Llanberis early this morning. Incredulous, I opened the road atlas, looked at the long detour that I would need to take and calculated that I would definitely miss the bus to the start, quite possibly the start as well. So I turned around and drove back home. Now I can definitely relate to the images of crying runners after the cancellation of the 2010 UTMB, even if the scale of my disappointment is obviously quite different. So it goes…

On the positive side, I was definitely a bit worried about having to run an undoubtedly gruelling 4-5-hour race only two weeks before the Vitosha 100K, with the Lakeland 100M only a month later. And I am kind of curious to see how the involuntary long taper will work out.

Running with the Bulls (Cader Idris 2012)

No, not the one in Pamplona. This one takes place in Dolgellau (N Wales), and the ‘bulls’ are actually quite agile:

 Matt Roberts (top) and the Jones brothers (Andrés - middle and Felipe - bottom). I am not quite ready to hang with these guys, but have halved the gap relative to last year.

This was much less of a kick in the teeth relative to 2011. 

 But it still hurt and highlighted my lack of
specific training for fast hill running. 

 I did, however, manage to hold my position on the downhill,
and even passed one runner.

10th overall in 1:39. Not bad, but maybe I should
take this more seriously next year…?

In case you were following Zegama and are wondering who Lauren Jeska is. Six days after running an amazing race in the Pyrenees, she said she was tired,
but I couldn't really tell.

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Welsh 1000m peaks tomorrow, and more running with the bulls. This time over a longer distance and rougher terrain. Course knowledge is apparently key for this one, and mine is limited to the last 800 m. Not a good sign, but I am still looking forward to it. Should be a half-decent day too, after a week of ‘unsettled’ weather, even by British standards.