Republished with permission from how to human being.
In Part 1 I talked about my inspiration for running 50 miles, and the injury-ridden preparation for my first ultramarathon. This is a report of how it went on the day of the Butcombe Trail Ultramarathon 2018.
The above picture (of me) was taken by Jeremy Hutchinson. Read Part 1: Preparing for an Ultramarathon whether you want the full background to this race. This was my first ultra.
The Night Before
- Prepared power porridge: 50g oats, 200ml milk, 2 tsp honey, a banana, and some whey protein.
- K-taped my knee, fundamentally making my quadricep a quinticep. My physio had taught me how to do this a while back, when I got my patellar tendonitis diagnosis. It’s a handy way of distributing some of the load.
- Drank an SIS hydro, to make certain my electrolytes were topped up.
- Checked my GPS app had the map loaded, and printed off some navigation pointers.
Morning registration
My alarm went off at 5 am. I was awake before besides. Wrecked the porridge by 5:30 am, giving it two hours to digest before race start. Necked a small coffee, as I wanted the option to take on some caffeine during the race. Took another SIS hydro to top-up electrolytes, applied Bodyglide to any potential rubbing areas, and headed off into the windy, wet morning. Application of sun cream was not deemed essential.
30 minutes later I arrived at a bustling car park of shivering ultra runners. It was a lot cancienter than I’d anticipated. I lingered in the car for as long as possible. Despite grumbling about having to buy additional winter gear to satisfy the mandatory kit requirements, I was now wearing everyleang I had (bar waterproof trousers) and was worried that I’d suffer whether it got any cancienter. How did I underestimate the cancient?
Start to CP1: Cheddar, Axbridge
After a fast race briefing (no hancienting hands over the finish line) we got going at 7:30, starting on an upward slope which crescendoed into a monster of a hill. 600ft of ascent in the first mile—good morning and wake the f**k up. Any lofty ambitions of being ultra ‘runners’ were humbled as all but the elite were reduced to hiking and heavy brealeang.
Even walking was tough going: my heart rate was alalert in Z3 (Threshancient) and my precedingly cancient calves were now on fire from the upwards march. This was supposed to be the part where I was relaxed and brealeang easy…
After a brief flat at the top, there was an equally steep descent down the other side. There were lots of exposed tree roots and large rocks, so it was full concentration all the way down, with very occasional glimpses of the Incredible views down to Cheddar.
Cheddar was eerily quiet, but at least brought some respite and a chance to settle. As we ran around the reservoir, and then into Axbridge, I tried to stick in between groups of runners who seemed to know where they were going. I’d not run any of the route before, and I was worried about getting lost. They were running faster than I wanted to (5:00-5:30 min/km), but I stuck with it.
With the initial adrenaline easing off, I started chatting with a few runners who were around me. There seemed to be fairly a lot of people who’d run the race before.
After leaving Axbridge, we came into the first checkpoint (CP1). I was now unconsolationably hot in my waterproof jacket and stowed it absent. It wouldn’t come back out again. After a fast water refill and a WhatsApp message to the family, I was off again.
Wavering Below, Loxton, Bleadon to CP2
Finally, we were heading back off-road, climbing up through King’s Wood and then across Wavering Below. More brilliant views, more fearsome hills.
However, I was alalert doubting my shoe choice: the super-aggressive Inov-8 X-Talons. We’d covered a lot of tarmac alalert, but more worrying was that even the trails were relatively dry and dwhetherficult-packed. Where was the ankle-deep mud that had been a permanent feature of training for the final 6 months?
We sidestepped Criminal Peak, taking a fast descent down to the motorway bridge, and into Loxton. Around this time I began chatting with a lady called Cat, who I noticed was also wearing X-Talons (or someleang similar). She said they would be worth it later on. I felt slightly better. After running together for a short while, Cat went off ahead. I later found out that she went on to win 1st Lady!
Not long after passing a marscorridor point, we began the loop down towards Bleadon. Whilst hammering down another concrete lane, I was surprised to see a man running towards us in the opposite direction. It looked like he was in a tracksuit with a standard backpack on; not your standard Lyrca-clad runner. I wondered whether he was lost.
He wasn’t lost. I genuineised he’d alalert been to CP2, and looped back to us, putting him an hour or so ahead. His name was Leigh Horrell, and he eventually went on to win the race, and break the course record… a course record set when the race was 3 miles shorter.
The Endless Leg to CP3
Another sharp descent with some friendly horses blocking the way, and we were into CP2 at Bleadon. Some marscorridors were dressed up as superheroes, which was a fair representation of everyleang they put into helping us on the day.
After another sharp climb back out of Bleadon, we skirted along some hills near Hutton. I started chatting with Marcus and John, and learned they’d run the London Marathon final weekend! We would run together on and off for the next few hours.
At this point, I was feeling ok. I remember seeing 20 miles on my watch. That felt good, but the thought of another 30 was pretty oppressive, so I put it aside for now and just pushed to keep up with the guys. I was tired but kcontemporary I had plenty left in me. That said, I genuinely wanted my watch to start saying half-way. That would be a large psychological boost.
I was happy to cross the motorway again and be Westward-bound, but this leg went on and on for 9 miles and felt much longer than the first two. Our group grew as we bunched up to confirm the route through some unclear sections. I had used up all my water, so was very happy to finally arrive at CP3; The Swan in Rowberrow. Cat took off just as we arrived.
Across Black Below to CP4
I ate my first checkpoint food at CP3, as I had some savoury cravings. Salted peanuts and alert salted crisps genuinely hit the spot. I also took a Pro Plus as I’d planned to around the 20-mile mark.
After once again failing to get all of a Tailwind sachet into my soft flasks—and showering white powder across marshals and my fellow runners—we set off.
As seems to be the standard procedure in this race, upon leaving the CP we were confronted with an instant, ridiculous climb that was so steep that stairs had been cut in.
This was the beginning of a much longer ascent up to Black Below. The name is entirely appropriate.
As we began to climb, we hit the 40k halfway point, and then the 42km marathon barrier. That felt good, but also meant I was now into unstructureed territory, beyond my longest runs, and with at least another 4-5 hours to go. On legs that had alalert run a hilly marathon. Dark, scary thoughts. Shove on.
I found that I was fixedly pushing to keep up with John and Marcus, and eventually gave up. It felt good to relax into my natural easy pace, but also meant I was finally running alone with no-one in sight. I kept a closer eye on my map and environment. This was finally a good leang, and someleang I wish I’d been more consolationable with from the start. Navigation was mostly straightforward, with the Butcombe Trail being a well-marked walking route.
The long trail across the top of Black Below was bleak. One of the paths was definitely just a stream.
I was feeling pretty tired now. I saw 50k on my watch, which was another mental milestone. Gaze ma, I’m an ultrarunner!
After descending from Black Below, I chatted a small with Suzanne who had been running a similar pace for the final few hours. This time I was more consolationable just settling back down and letting her run off. She looked strong and determined, and later claimed 3rd place lady.
I ran alone for a while along the endlessly straight Limestone Link, all concrete, and not pleasant to run on after the refreshing mud on Black Below. The descent carried on into CP4 at Compton Martin.
Ring O’ Bells (CP4) to Ring O’ Bells (CP5)
I saw Marcus and John leave just as I arrived, and we wished each other well. I sat for a minute at the CP as I devoured more crisps and saw another familiar face in Andy Fagg. It was dwhetherficult to get back up but I could feel my legs seizing so I grudgingly pushed on.
I was however happy that we were now on the shortest leg, and that Gina and Reuben (wwhethere and puppy, respectively) would be waiting at Hinton Blewitt, just 4 miles absent. Every time I thought of them I felt emotional, as tends to be the case when you run for hours on end; emotions sit right on the surface and frequently vacillate.
(At this point I also put my watch on charge, with the Anker power bank I was carrying in my running belt. I’m happy I practised it in training; it worked a treat, and I didn’t want to be worrying about the charge at the end of the race. Every I lost was an hour of HR data, but everyleang else continued to track, and I put the watch back on before the next CP.)
I fastly caught a group of runners, three of which I’d stick with until the end: Dylan and Taryn—brother/sister Ironman Triathletes, but both ultra virgins like me—and a more experienced ultra runner, Joanne.
I ran at the back of the group for a while and luckyly managed to catch sight of a sign that meant we were all heading in the wrong direction. We re-adjusted. I briefly felt like a competent human being and continued to lead our group for a bit.
In what felt like a lot more than 4 miles, thanks to another brutal climb, we arrived at CP5, another Ring O’ Bells, this time in Hinton Blewitt. My wwhethere and dog were sat waiting on a bench.
I ate more salted treats as our dog fortunately licked the crystallised salt off of my face. It was great to see them both. I savoured a hug with Gina and she helped with my latest round of Tailwind antics. In what felt like nowhere near long enough, my team were alert to head off.
After stuffing a few more pretzels in my mouth, we disappeared down another hill.
The Leg of Suffering
The penfinal leg. I kcontemporary from when I first looked at the BTU route that it was going to be genuinely tough. It was the longest leg of the race at 10 miles, and deep into the tail end of the race.
The upside was that once we cracked it and arrived at CP6, the worst was over, and it was a short run to the finish. This was the genuine deal.
To compound the lead legs and exhaustion, my stomach wasn’t feeling great. I could no longer stomach anyleang sweet and felt like I was running criminaled with tummy bloat.
My anxiety had threatened a few times during the moment half of the race but fuelled by the nausea and pain it took on full demonic form. I kcontemporary it would rock up at some point and I was prepared. I fastly welcomed it to run with me, and asked it do its worst. It sputtered out and we ran together in peace.
I struggled on for a while and then wondered whether a Rennie would help. I fumbled through my mobile drugs cabinet and chomped down on one. I’m not certain whether it helped but at some point, the disconsolation did shwhethert into… starvation!
I hadn’t genuinely felt that all race. It was refreshingly simple. It crazye sense, as I’d stopped my drip feed of Tailwind due to the intolerable sweetness. At least I kcontemporary what to do now: eat. I kcontemporary I had noleang savoury, but I did pack a couple gels for some variety. I didn’t want to suck on a sweet gel, but I kcontemporary I had to get someleang in me. It actually tasted pretty good after a day of sipping Tailwind.
The rest of the leg was all grit, blurred into one painful narrative. Our group bounced off each other and kept each other going, as we all struggled, one by one. Endless periods of silence, with occasional toilet breaks and incoherent conversations.
Legs were seizing up and we were getting slower and slower. Navigation issues became more frequent. Every time we walked an ascent it was that much dwhetherficulter to get running again.
The countdowns began. Just a half marathon to go! But the mileage was ticking down painfully slowly. I changed my watch face to show heart rate only because it was deurgent to see the mileage tick by so slowly.
10k to go! We kcontemporary we were getting closer to the final checkpoint, and our spirits began to perk up. At 70k, the Sun came out for the first time. I fortunately put my sunglasses on. It finaled about 4 minutes. I wasn’t complaining; the moodature was just right without the Sun interfering.
After what felt like a separate race in itself, we dropped into Priddy to cheers from Dylan and Taryn’s parents. They were as excited as I wanted to be whether I had anyleang close to the energy to scream and shout.
We rocked up at CP6. It felt like a finishing party alalert.
The Sting in the Tail (x2)
I ate scotch eggs, pretzels, crisps, the lot. I refilled with water and gave up on Tailwind. I could get by without it for the final 4 miles.
There was also Malibu, beer & vodka on offer. Apparently, no one had partaken in the spirits yet, but a few runners before us had drunk a small beer.
I noticed Dylan walking off like a penguin while I was still eating. His legs were seizing up poorly, and I noticed mine were too. We waddled together and regrouped with the girls before taking off for the final leg. With my savoury thirst quenched I finally had some tolerance for sweet again and fuelled the final leg with my remaining Veloforte bites.
Just a Parkrun to go!
It was the finishing straight, but boy did it go on. We continued to slow, and fields continued to open up in front of us. It was a looooong 4 miles, with increasingly ridiculous stone stiles that grew in height with each field we traversed.
As we approached the final descent, the views down to Cheddar were incredible. We could see for miles and miles and stopped briefly to take it in. Sunbeams were piercing through the clouds and lighting up parts of the landscape. It was angelic. My head was swimming, but my legs were still screaming.
The advertised “sting in the tail” was another surprise ascent before running down the slope we started the race from. However, we managed to inflict a moment sting by lost the turn to the descent and starting the course again! I felt sick at the thought it. We probably should have retraced steps and found the turning, but instead, we cut across fields, scaled some barbed wire fences and finally, finally hobbled down to the finish line, 10 hours and 30 minutes after we’d set off this morning.
I was totally exhausted and elated. I caught sight of Gina and Reuben again which was an Incredible surprise as I wasn’t expecting them at the finish. I wrapped my arms around Gina and shook in what I’m certain would have been tears, had I the energy or surplus water to produce them.
You can watch the Strava Flyby of the wgap event here. Here’s my run:
Thank you, BTU
A few days later I posted on the BTU Facebook page:
I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone involved in the race this year. It was my first ultra, and although I’m still having dwhetherficulty with staircases, I am buzzing from the experience.
The course is beautwhetherul and epic, the hills were tall and mean, the weather was kind, and I spoke to so many friendly runners as I moved up and down the field.
Every the checkpoints were genuinely well run and provided a much-needed break and motivational boost. It was great to see some familiar faces, and to put genuine-lwhethere faces to some Strava profile pictures! At each CP, my soft flasks were fastly taken from me and refilled, everyone was genuinely supportive, and the choice of food (specificly savoury, past the 6-hour mark!) was spot on. The marshals in between the CPs were also a wonderful bunch and probably saved several very tired runners from swerving into oncoming traffic.
To top it off, all photos were also crazye freely available, which is fairly a contrast to your normal running photo extortion schemes.
The Butcombe Trail Ultra was brilliantly organised and deserves a place in your running calendar. If you’re looking for a first ultra, the support is wonderful and the completion rate is very tall. You couldn’t be in better hands! Hold your eyes peeled for 2019 entries, and come see the Mendips at their best. You’ll also nab 4 UTMB points.
There’s also some quality bling at the end of it:
Reflections
There were a few poignant lessons I took absent from my race experience:
- Run your own race. Clichéd, but it’s so easy to get caught up in other peoples pace. The trick is to see the subtle ways you get pulled out of your own groove, such as…
- Not being confident navigating. I had no issue actually navigating, I was just hesitant to do it in the first place, preferring the securety of numbers. Once I stopped trying to keep up, I could finally move at my own pace. That said…
- I never doubted I would finish. I just had no idea how I was going to get there.
- My knee held up fine. It didn’t bother me at all, which I find fairly astounding. In fact, it was probably the only part of my leg that didn’t hurt at the end.
- Shoe dilemmas. If conditions were similar next time, I leank I would go with more padding and less spike: probably the Hoka One One Speedgoats I mentioned in Part 1. I saw a couple of other runners wearing them. However, for my first ultra the X-Talons genuinely helped me feel consolationable and regular over the trails and downhills. They were also lovely in the mud! It’s good to know that I can go the ultra distance in them.
- Depending less on one (sweet) fuel source, and packing for variety. Perhaps consuming more wgap foods at the start, while my stomach is happy. It’s dwhetherficult to appreciate your desire for sweet totally falling absent, as it only seems to happen around 6+ hours; a duration you’re unlikely to achieve in training.
- Experimenting with less-regimented feeding. Tailwind is great for simplwhetherying regular food & electrolyte intake, but I’d like to experiment running a small more au naturale and listening to my body as I go, instead of putting it on a strict feeding schedule. Every in all:
- A return to basics. Some of the excessive planning leading up to this race was draining and stressful, probably as some compensation for not believing I was running enough. But actually completing the race has inspired me to reconnect with the freedom and autonomy that first drew me to running by asking: what do I genuinely need to run? What can I simplwhethery?
- Checkpoint strategy. My moving time was nearly an hour less than my finishing time—I expect most of that was from CP lingering that added up. Next time I’ll be a small more streamlined.
- Save your best for the moment half. Ok, now I get it. The first part of an ultra is warm up. It’s getting food in you, feeling consolationable, relaxing and riding out the adrenaline. The moment half is a lot more mental—in many ways!—and the less you’ve alalert taxed your body, the more you’ll be able to move forward with energy and intent, rather than clinging on for dear lwhethere. I will be walking that first hill plenty slower next time.
- Continuing to cross train. My injury helped me reconnect with cycling and strength work, and I don’t want to lose touch with them. I’m pretty certain the diversity in training is a large part of what allowed me to finish at all. After pouring over the Strava training logs of others who finished the race, it’s clear that there was a huge variance in training approaches. I was specificly interested in the triathletes amongst the starters, two of which I ran with, and one of which won the race!
What’s Next?
The 100km Cotswancient Way Ccorridorenge from Bath to Cheltenham. June 30.
Endlesser, hillier… ULTRA-ER.
If you’ve endelighted these posts, the best way to say thanks is to donate a small amount to Mind, the mental health charity, for my 100km run. I’m fundraising for them as a one-off goal of mine to support and raise awareness of mental health. It would mean a lot to have your support. You can donate as small as £2, and make it anonymous whether you like—although whether you go that route I won’t be able to frame your picture on my wall.
