2010 was fun

Now I've run my last race for the year, I thought I'd quickly sum up some of the highlights.

Last weekend I was meant to run the PCTR Rodeo Beach 50k, but about halfway through (when walking up yet another hill), I realised that my legs just weren't trained well enough for the hills and finishing would have just left me a bit crippled during the week. So I stopped at 30k having got some good flat and downhill practice in and having realised that zero hill training outside of races is a bad idea and will be remedied.

So, what were the best bits of 2010 (I'm going to exclude my wedding and stick to races or the list would be too long, too personal and even less interesting for anyone except myself)?

Well, it was basically a successful year. The main target was to break 6h at Comrades, and 6h01m may seem like a failure, but I ran near to a perfect race on the day and am very happy with how I kept shifting to a higher gear to finish strongly. I want to keep a streak going there for as long as possible since I love it, so it's a shame it takes about 40 hours to get to.

My next biggest highlight would be the number of really enjoyable runs I had, with several great events that felt easy and had me smiling the whole way through (not even a hint of a grimace). In particular, Two Oceans, Boston and Miwok spring to mind.

One thing I didn't expect on moving to the Bay Area was to find a gem of a race series in the Pacific Coast Trail Runs. These always have a great atmosphere for beginners to elites, as well as showcasing some spectacular scenery. I've been able to meet the local running community through these runs and I definitely like it.

There are too many other races to mention, but Western States was the other main event for the year. It was both a great experience and slightly overhyped but there's no doubt that the battle at the front of the men's race was something which will go down in history. I'm really looking forward to running it in 2011, possibly even more than 2010, especially now I know what I'm letting myself in for.

I've got a lot of great memories from 2010 on the trails and roads so I hope 2011 can live up to it. Unless I get injured, it should. A few other recommendations for ultrarunners are below, since these produced moments which brought home what a cool sport ultrarunning is:

1. Do some kind of Fat/Mad/Bad Ass race in the New Year. There are loads around and are so relaxed and so a perfect way to start 2011.

2. Finishing up the Eiffel Tower made the Eco Trail de Paris really worth entering. I think there'll be plenty of Serpie vests at the 2011 version.

3. Run one of the South African major ultras at some point in your life. Two Oceans is prettier and has the bonus of a trip to beautiful Cape Town, but Comrades is the daddy. Bigger, harder, older and basically more epic. I'm so glad I got to do both this year, however, it's too far to fit them both in every year so I'll have to wait for another chance to run Two Oceans again. And when I do, I'll be really excited about it. There's something special about a country that venerates ultrarunning above shorter distances.

4. Do a triple marathon or other multi-day race since there's no better way to get an instant 'we're all in it together' atmosphere. In the UK, the VOTwo events are perfect (Jurassic Coast and Atlantic Coast come highly recommended). But the best one has to be the Transalpine 8-dayer (and so I'd love to try the Trans Rockies 6-dayer too) and I'm gutted to have missed it this year. Luckily for Californians, Tahoe has options with PCTR organising some new stuff (including a 2-dayer) as well as the classic Tahoe triple on the roads. Or there's the numerous Marathon des Sables-type events in deserts around the world. But in general, these are some of the best events around and don't need to break the bank (except the desert races).

5. Run in the Marin Headlands. There are so many races there and many are extremely competitive, especially Miwok 100k and TNF Endurance Challenge Championship 50-miler. PCTR has loads of runs there too, and these have the benefit of not requiring lotteries to enter (like Miwok) and not always being in December (like TNFEC). On a clear day, there's probably nowhere I'd rather do a training run and even in the rain, it's hard not to smile even on the umpteenth huge hill.

Merry Christmas and good luck in 2011 with whatever your running goals are.

Western States Endurance Run - The last 38 miles (the hard bit)

Downhill all the way...kind of (right to left).

Green Gate aid station at 79.8 miles when I'd just started to feel ok again.

Highway 49 aid station at 93.5 miles, just after darkness.

Do I look fresh with 6.7 miles to go?

Thank f*&@ that's over!

This very accurately reflects how I felt at the end.

So I got through to 62 miles and the Foresthill aid station ok. Everything was going well and I felt fine, plus I thought the hardest section was done after the famously hot canyons had been traversed. But accidentally leaving my timing chip at Foresthill was nothing compared to how much I didn't enjoy the last 38.2 miles.

I never expected the race to be easy but as I headed downhill towards Dardanelles at 65.7 miles I started to feel odd in my stomach. Then dizziness also hit me and all I could do was jog the easy downhills instead of running them. At the aid station I told them about my lack of timing chip and tried to eat and drink as much as I could, making sure to not just drink pure water but have electrolyte tablets too. I think I'd skipped putting the tablets in my water the previous time so maybe that was the cause, but I can't be sure of the timings as the time from Foresthill down to the Rucky Chucky crossing of the American River at 78 miles is a bit blurry.

I know I kept leap-frogging Dan Barger over this sun-soaked trail (I didn't know his name until I saw the results) as we both went through better and worse patches. It was the sun which really hit me since the previous hot canyons had been generally shaded by trees, but this easy trail was exposed. I've no idea how hot it was but the results show that I ran those 16 miles between 3:21pm and 6:10pm so if it had cooled down, it wasn't by much. This is where I was meant to really eat away at the miles but instead I was going slower than before.

It felt like I was crawling along even though I think I managed under 11 minute miles. I even had to walk frequently on flat sections, never mind anything uphill. This was the least enjoyable running experience I've ever had, tied with the sand dunes on the long day of the Marathon des Sables. At least it wasn't as hot as the Sahara but it felt like I was being cooked inside my head.

It's at these times that you really question why you're doing a race and how important a finish or a good time is to you. I needed motivators to force me forward and at first I struggled to find them. Usually it's that I really want a good time to prove something to myself or to justify the training and hard work. But I was having so little fun that I couldn't even slightly appreciate the great views along the river valley, never mind focus on driving myself forward. But I did come up with a few reasons to keep pushing and these are what stopped me walking to the finish line:

1. Amy would be waiting at Green Gate at 79.8 miles and had to hike there in the blazing sun, so I didn't want to keep her waiting or force her to walk back uphill for a mile and a half in the dark.

2. If I walked it would take forever and I'd be forced to endure the fatigue and hell for many extra hours.

3. I'd already put in over 11 hours of running so I'd better not waste that by a really weak finish.

I have to admit I was also motivated by the thought that if I had a slow race I'd have to come back again so by making this one respectable I could avoid the hell again next year. At this point I swore to myself that I would never do Badwater. Never. It would just be like this the whole time and I'd rather have some fun in my races (even WS had been fun for the first 62 miles). I also questioned whether I want to do many other 100 milers or whether it'd be better to stick to slightly shorter races which I can enjoy the whole way through. Besides, I can do as many marathons and doubles as I like but a 100 miler requires a chunk of time before and after where I can't do as much running or racing, so that's a big sacrifice.

Almost disappointingly I didn't have any hallucinations (still never managed that), just lots of negative thoughts. It was also harder to judge distances as I felt I was going faster than I was.

But I eventually got to Rucky Chucky and looked forward to an easy dingy ride across since the snow meant more melt water and no foot crossing of the river. I stuffed my face with food and drink at the near side of the crossing, then enjoyed the 30 seconds of sitting down in the dingy while thanking the volunteers profusely for their help - I was so genuinely grateful that they were taking me 200ft closer to the finish without me having to do anything.

I'd had my race number on an elastic belt, which had snapped many miles before so was carrying the number in my hand instead. Therefore I almost went through the far side aid station unnoticed. I think almost everyone has a pacer by this point so when they saw me on my own they must have assumed I was someone else's pacer, just waiting around. I told them my race number so they could check me in and out and I had to repeat it several times since my neutral English accent seems to be impenetrable to most Americans. This became very wearing when I had to do it at the start and end of every single aid station. I spoke as clearly as possible and enunciated very clearly but only about once did people understand me on the first time that I said my number was 'four-zero-seven' (that number is firmly etched on my memory now). Obviously I'm thankful for the volunteers giving up their time but the officiousness of many of them plus the need to constantly repeat my number is not ideal when I was very tired and feeling like death.

I was out the aid station as quickly as possible and hiking up the trail towards Green Gate and Amy. Almost immediately I passed Hal Koerner, the winner of the previous two races, who was walking uphill slowly with a slight limp. He said he'd had some injuries coming into the race but it was a shame to see him drop.

Over the 1.7 mile climb to where I'd see Amy again (I really needed a familiar face), I somehow gained five positions to get into 9th. I didn't know that at the time and this was partly because a couple of those positions were due to people dropping. I think the food and drink from the last few aid stations was paying off, plus there was more shade. I came back into the more conscious world and was through the worst of the day, although I couldn't be certain at that point. Amy perked me up although she'd left the timing chip in the car as she didn't realise I'd take it off when changing my socks and shoes. At least my mind was put at rest because she said she'd give it back at the Highway 49 Crossing aid station at 93.5 miles, the last time I'd see her before the finish.

I'd planned to pick up my headlamp here but forgot. That meant I had to get to Highway 49 by 9pm when the twilight would have turned to pitch black. 2h30m for 13.7 miles, which looked like being tight, especially with at least one nasty climb left before 93.5 miles.

The next aid station was 5.4 miles away but I had a second wind and was able to run well over the undulating forest trails. The shade really helped and made me feel almost fine again. Either I was more screwed up than I realised or that 5.4 miles is actually a lot longer because I was running really smoothly yet supposedly averaged over 11 minute miles. I'm pretty sure I was only going that slow on the uphills and that I was going much quicker most of the time. Anyway, this section was enjoyable again and I had the new motivator that if I didn't get to Amy before dark then I'd be forced to walk slowly until I got my lights and that could force me to be out a lot longer.

Then there was a real gem of a boost for me at Auburn Lake Trails aid station at 85.2 miles. As I came into the station a volunteer jogged with me and acted just like I needed. He said all the right things and was really focused on getting me through the station fast (more so than I was). Also, he had a disposable hand flashlight which I could take. This was such a surprise that I was taken aback and it gave me piece of mind to know that I'd be ok even if it got dark before I reached Amy...not that it'd allow me to slow down.

All of the miles from 80-90 went by fast with one more position gained and there was still light as I started the climb up to the Highway 49 Crossing. I ran when I could, which was a big improvement on earlier climbs and I got there at 9:02, just a few minutes after darkness and 16 hours into the race.

I still didn't know what position I was in but hoped it was at least top 10, so I asked and was happy to find out it was 8th. Amy gave me the chip but I didn't even take any food or drink from her, just from the aid station. I'd not eaten much in the past couple of hours because the sugary gels and treats were just becoming sickly. That wasn't due to stomach issues, just the fact that I'd eaten about half my weight in sugar so far that day and probably wouldn't have any teeth left by the end. They weighed me at around 150 pounds, so I'd maintained around my starting weight of 149. I think the highest was around 151 at Foresthill, so I probably had taken on the water previously to that and not absorbed it, leading to my horrible 16 miles.

I didn't even take the headlamp from Amy but just kept the hand-held one I'd been given. Only 6.7 miles to go but I was going to make sure I'd jog and get through it. I don't like night running much, usually because it only happens when I've been running all day and am too tired to focus well. But the circle of light in front of me was mesmerising and I kept putting one foot in front of the other. Time lost any meaning and I'd sometimes look at my watch to find 20 minutes had flown by and sometimes that two minutes had crawled by. It was also difficult to know if I was going up or down unless it was steep, which was a weird experience.

Would I get to the finish and break down with emotion? Would I collapse from exhaustion? I really didn't know, but just kept staring hard at the track and looking for every piece of yellow surveyor's tape and the infrequent glow-sticks. I rarely got lost during the whole day but have to admit that the course markings weren't always frequent enough. I liked the Eco Trail de Paris 80km race where you could always see a piece of surveyor's tape. At WS, I'd sometimes go minutes worrying that I'd missed a turn or a fork, especially at night. Even in the light much earlier on there were at least a couple of turns that weren't marked and where I stopped, looked around with another runner and found no markings within sight. At these points I chose the likeliest looking turn but often didn't see tape again for a couple of minutes. It's only a small issue and most of the trail was well marked, but I expected more from this race, especially for a $300 entry fee.

The last aid stations at No Hands Bridge and Robie Point were in a party mood and seemed surprised to see me with no pacer (well, I've never needed one before). I didn't spend much time at them as I wanted to finish and get the ordeal over with, although I was feeling generally ok.

Even over those last 6.7 miles there's plenty of up and down and the last 3.4 miles from No Hands Bridge (which was beautifully lit up with outdoor Christmas-style lights) is virtually all uphill. All I could see outside of my circle of light was the full moon, which provided no helpful light on the tree-covered paths. At any other time it would have been a stunning stroll, but I still couldn't fully appreciate the scenery. Then I saw two lights in the distance behind me, probably five minutes back. I certainly wasn't going to let anyone catch me now so I sped up and powered on to the road into Auburn, wanting to avoid a sprinting race for position. People were sat outside their houses cheering, although many only cheered after I passed and they realised I was in the race and not just some strange guy jogging on his own at 10:20pm (the lack of pacer again made me look like I wasn't in the race).

Finally I entered the track at Placer High School and ran a solid victory lap into the finish for 17h26m19s. It was great to finish, really relieving. There wasn't euphoria, just exhaustion, but I shook the race director's hand and refused the chair as I wanted to walk around to keep the blood moving and avoid stiffening up immediately. Well, I avoided the stiffening for a few minutes anyway.

What was my impression from my first 100 miler? Well, I have more respect for those who are out for longer than me. No matter how slow you go, it's a hard, hard slog. And the slower you go, the longer you have to suck it up.

WS was great but also disappointing in some ways. The course is spectacular and a real challenge, plus it's generally organised very well. And if you want a race against the best trail ultra runners in the world, it's the place to go. But running 100 miles is a lot less fun than running 50 for me. Plus I can actually run 50 rather than walking or shuffling and I prefer running.

At 63 miles in and for the remainder of the day, I was convinced I'd never return and that I wouldn't use the automatic entry from getting top 10. I've never finished a race and sworn to never do it again, but I did say that immediately after the finish...before changing my mind 30 minutes later. I know for certain that I don't want to do Badwater or any longer races, but I've already entered Rocky Raccoon 100 in February and would like to have a shot at the course record of 13h16m (at least that's all running). UTMB in 2011 is not a certainty, but I'm coming round to it now. And although I didn't enjoy much of the day, it is VERY satisfying to finish and good to know that I didn't cave in when it got tough, even when I stopped caring about the race.

I think I learned a few things out there on the trails and I definitely pushed myself in a new and interesting way. 8th wasn't bad for a first attempt, although the time and place were worse than I'd hoped for. One thing I'll definitely not do wrong again is getting lazy with taking my hydropack off and not putting Nuun tablets in. I'd also want to do more mountain training and heat training for WS for next year. UTMB would probably be more fun since the only issue I had was heat/hydration related and it's definitely not as hot there. But I couldn't get away with the lack of uphill training that I had this year.

WS won't overtake Comrades as my focus and 2011 will definitely be all about nailing Comrades with a gold. But a month later I'll be lining up in Squaw Valley like a drug addict waiting for his fix. Besides, I have to check out the normal course after doing a snow year.

Ultras have inspired me and driven me for the past five years and now I can branch out into 100s as well. Not exclusively, but I'm definitely up for throwing in a couple of them each year.

Congratulations to all the finishers and especially to Geoff Roes for smashing the course record by 29 minutes, finishing in a mighty 15h07m. Anton Krupicka led most of the way with Kilian Journet but they finished in 15:13 and 16:04, respectively, after Killian dropped off the pace with 20 miles to go. Mind you, if he'd not run 1,000km across the Pyrenees three weeks earlier then he would have been a bit fresher and maybe the heat got him too. Those three ran really impressively, but there was plenty of hot competition behind them too. And fellow Brit (now Colorado-based), Nick Clark, almost pipped Kilian for 3rd with a sprint over the last couple of miles and a time of 16:05. Not bad to have five of the top 10 (those four plus me) doing their first WS.

Miwok 100k in the sun

The Golden Gate Bridge just after sunrise

All ready at the start but with a lot of sports drink all over me

Worth getting up early for

I had a big grin as soon as I started seeing stuff like this

Great trails to complement the weather

Just one of many great coast line vistas

Up and down the whole way - barely any flat sections

Running through the narrowest path through the high grass

More of the narrow paths

Got to stop to pose for a photo when a marshal offers to take one

The aid station around 28 and 44 miles where Scott Jurek showed up to help out

I'm 5'8" but feel like a dwarf here

Fellow Bend resident Kami Semick running along in the last few miles

The finish, plus my nose

Yesterday I had the hardest single day race of my life, on paper anyway. The Miwok 100k is longer than any race I've finished before. I have entered two road 100ks before but turned up to one very injured, stopping at halfway, and decided to stop at the marathon mark of the other since I was off par and didn't want to post a time outside the qualification mark for the British team. Plus I DNFed the Rocky Raccoon 100 miler in February after two months off due to injury. I've generally had injuries just before the longest races, but it's been coincidence rather than over-training.

So, although I covered 80 miles of the 100 miler in February, I didn't finish. I've also had plenty of races from 50-56 miles but none as tough as Miwok, given the 10,000ft of ascent on the trails north of San Francisco. That meant Miwok should have been the toughest single day race I've ever done.

Yet somehow I may be getting blasé about ultras under 100 miles. I didn't get my logistics sorted out and treated the race partly as a necessary hassle (awkward to get to but essential training for Western States). I wasn't really looking forward to it because I had several things on the go right beforehand - moving house down to San Jose two days before and starting a new job two days afterwards.

In the end I opted to leave the house at 3am, drive a U-Haul truck for 90 minutes to the start then do the race on the tired legs due to spending the previous days shifting all my furniture up and down stairs and driving from Oregon. It also didn't help that I managed to spill my sports drink over myself when I parked at the start in the dark. I also forgot to pack the sun-screen even after seeing the forecast of blue skies and heat. I regret that now as I write this...

Luckily it's an incredible race and after just half an hour I was completely into it. Miwok was the perfectly timed and style of race for Western States, but it's also just four weeks before Comrades. I had a clear game-plan, to go easy and not race it, ideally with an even pace and running as much of the uphills as possible. So I started near the back of the pack and took a camera. During the day I took photos frequently because there were so many picture-perfect vistas. I kept doing that the whole way through which surprised other runners, but was useful for keeping me from slipping into a competitive mind-frame.

As the sun came up it was great to see the leaders come back along two consecutive out-and-back sections and they were really hammering it downhill. I didn't feel any need to try to go with them since they were already far ahead and it was good to just take in the course and stay at a comfortable pace.

The views along the coastline were very impressive, helped by the perfect weather and rising sun. I managed to spot several top ultra runners and legends so could tell that the race was a major event on the calendar for the best Americans. I got a chance to chat to plenty of other runners from all over the country and learned more about the course from those who'd done it before.

After about seven miles I caught up to Kristin Moehl, the winner of the Ultra Trail de Mont Blanc last year who also runs in Bend every now and then and who I'd been on a group run with just a few days earlier. It's great that now I've been in the US for a few months I'm starting to get to know enough runners to recognise people at races. It's like the UK had been for me for the last few years.

A few hours into the race it was getting hot and my legs muscles were warming up nicely but not feeling too bad. The pace was gentle so I was still way back in the field, but I went through the half marathon around 1h50m, then the marathon around 3h54m after a long uphill from sea-level to 1,800ft (always handy to have the Garmin with me). It was surprising how easy I was finding the uphills given I've never been good at them, but it seems the last few months of training have really paid off. I found such a contrast to running the 50-miler in Paris which had smaller hills but really drained me and stopped me having any pace on the climbs. It certainly made the race more enjoyable.

Around halfway I felt fine and the course was undulating around the highest point for several miles through the woods. I ran up to a large group of local runners out for a 10k and chatted to a few of them as they ran. They were really encouraging to all the racers and left me with a boost. Then the course had a steep downhill for about 900ft over 1.7 miles to a checkpoint before turning round to run back along about 15 miles (that's a complete guess) of the course. I'd spent the past few minutes watching the leaders go past me in the other direction, with two big guns out front - Anton Krupicka followed by Michael Wardian. That 900ft climb was daunting but went better than expected and I noticed that I was just behind Kami Semick who was leading the women's race and adding to the roster of famous runners.

Running back to the checkpoint at around 44 miles, I stopped for a good feed and drank a lot, as I'd done at each of the other aid stations. The difference was that it was ultra-legend Scott Jurek who offered me the drinks. The race had turned into the equivalent of a red carpet celeb-fest for ultrarunners and so I made sure I said hi to Scott and got a photo with him. He thought it was a bit strange that I had time to stop for a photo shoot given I'd risen to just outside the top 10 at that point. But even that didn't make me switch from my game-plan and so I got some more food then jogged off at the same gentle pace.

That's one thing I do love about ultras, that tactics make the difference of hours to your time. Even though I wasn't going quickly, the fact I'd stayed at a slower pace from the start meant I hadn't burned out or slowed down. Some of the guys ahead of me had zoomed off and were paying for it so I was catching them. I'll definitely have to come back and race it as well, but for the first run it was good to think of it purely as a long, hilly training run. Plus I didn't want to jeopardise Comrades by getting over-enthusiastic towards the end of the race and wrecking my legs.

Around this point I had a great comment from a runner still on the out leg of the race as she went past - 'Don't get chicked!' I'd only learned the phrase recently, meaning to get beaten by a female runner. I like that phrase and I think that being beaten by women really plays on some men's minds. I admit that I'd rather not be behind any women, but it's definitely more important for me to beat the guys at the front :) However, not at this race.

As I wound back through the course I'd already run once, there was a real feeling of camaraderie as the runners coming the other way shouted encouragement or just said hi. It was just another uplifting aspect to an already brilliant day.

Given runners were coming the other way, I got several updates of where the people ahead of me were, especially Kami since she was the only woman and also the next position. I wanted to chat to her anyway so it was convenient that I was gradually catching up at my current pace. I lived in Bend for about eight months, which is where she also lives, yet I never met her there. A real shame since it's not every day you get the chance to chat to a world champion plus she's running Comrades this year.

I caught Kami a few miles later then spent most of the rest of the race running and chatting with her. The time flew by and suddenly Michael Wardian and another runner ran up to us, coming from the other direction. They'd gotten lost and turned round so had given up on racing hard. Mike said he'd wasted 27 minutes but had been in fifth so had stopped caring about the position any more. Still not a bad run after a 2h25m marathon in Boston two weeks previously and second in 2h26m at Big Sur just a week before.

So now I found myself running with the current US 100k/50k champions as well as Kami being the world champ at both those distances (someone correct me if I got any of that wrong). Not bad for a training run. Mind you, Mike was lost and jogging and Kami had such a huge lead that she was basically jogging too and not wanting to over-exert herself.

Another hill came up with switch-backs and I went slightly ahead just due to everyone's pace being different on the hills, plus Mike was out of water and really taking it easy. The next checkpoint was at 7.5 miles to go, with one more checkpoint halfway to the finish from there. I loaded up as usual and Kami caught me up as I chatted with the volunteers. Then we both set off to continue climbing.

It was a hot day by this point and I'd run out of water so was glad it was only a short distance to the next aid station. After the peak of that hill it went steeply down to almost sea-level and I ended up going ahead of Kami again as I tried to limit the shocks being absorbed by my thighs. As we approached 60 miles I was tired and starting to feel sore so was certainly glad to be near the end. But if there'd been another 38 miles to go, I think I'd have been no worse off to continue than people generally are at that point of a mountainous 100-miler. That was a comforting and also worrying thought - i.e. it will be a long, hard slog to finish Western States. But I can't honestly say I ever thought otherwise.

With just 3.8 miles to go, I had a couple of drinks then couldn't quite see Kami behind me so set off and immediately got lost going into a farm instead of taking a right back on to the trail. It certainly helps to be running with someone who's run the race four times previously and won it each time. It was well marked generally and this was about the only point during the whole day where I felt the route was slightly confusing.

The race has an evil finish to it, with one of the steepest climbs of the race going up from about 100ft to 800ft then coming back down sharply to the finish. As on the last few harder climbs, Kami and I were jogging at our own comfy paces but were out of breath more so weren't chatting as much and split up. I didn't want to just race her to the finish as that felt almost rude after chatting and running together so long, but I also wanted to run everything that I could uphill, so I just happened to end up ahead of her at the top, even after some short walking sections (it really is a bitch of a finish). Then I cruised down the other side, or rather I just focused on taking it easy and saving the legs. With the finish in sight I had to vault over a snake on the track, which shoved a load of adrenaline into my system. Don't get that kind of thing back in London.

I finished in 9th, I think, in 9h08m and had run it fairly evenly, with about a 4h30m/4h38m split for the two halves and a personal best, given it's my first completed 100k. So at least I hadn't needed to slow down, other than when the terrain was too steep. It was a well organised and spectacular event with huge support in the ultra community. Anton Krupicka won and I'm sure there were several other well-known ultrarunners there who I missed in the crowd of running stars. I felt like I'd really joined the US ultra community with that race, with it being the first proper ultra I'd done over with there (I don't really count the 50ks and the rest of my American races have all been marathons).

All I can say is that I'll be entering the lottery for this again next year and I'd recommend any ultra runner to do the same. These days lotteries dictate which races we can and can't do to some extent, so I've got the general philosophy of entering every lottery for races I want to do at some point, then I can do them the year I get in. Of course, if I can qualify or get in via another route then that makes it simpler, but some races just don't allow that.

Now I can get down to starting work again and sit back knowing that I've done the heavy lifting for both Comrades and Western States. A rule of thumb I heard is that if you double your Miwok time, then that's your Western States time. Given that would spit me out at just over 18 hours, it's yet another confidence boost for that race (and I need as much mental help as possible). And if you allow for the fact I had something left in the tank, then it's not unreasonable to aim for top five this year. Just so long as I can get my tactics, logistics and resting correct. None of this deciding how to get there at the last moment after knackering my legs with house moving again. I didn't pay enough respect to Miwok in advance and got away with it, but I doubt that would be the case in a longer, hillier and higher altitude race.

50 miles then run up the Eiffel Tower

Starving at CP2

View from the final CP

CP2 while James went through

Typical trail, but less muddy than most of it

The start

James trying his best not to look English and failing as usual

My impression of a Frenchman

If someone told you that you can go up the Eiffel Tower without having to queue you might assume it'd cost a lot or that you'd need to be a visiting dignitary. But about 3,000 people were able to do just that last weekend (not at the same time or there would have been a queue, obviously) thanks to a very cool event, now in its third year - the Eco Trail de Paris. With an 80k, 50k and a shorter 18k, I had to choose the main event and do the longest one.

I decided that March is unofficially mileage month. After the lack of running up til February, I managed to get 60+ miles/week in through that month, just so I'd be able to take the strain of lots of very long races and basically no tapering through the entire month of March. The slightly odd-sounding mileage target for the month is 406.1 miles, worked out as an average of a half marathon per day.

Anyway, following the race this weekend, I'm three weeks into it and have managed to stick to my plan religiously. Obviously, I had to factor in that an ultra means lower mileage for at least a couple of days afterwards, but I've done the hard part now I've finished the second ultra of the month and I'm still feeling fine with the knee injury well and truly in the past. It's meant I haven't got as much speed as before, but in a few months that'll come back. This is the base building phase for both Comrades (end of May) and Western States (end of June) so as long as my legs get used to running longer, they should be able to take some faster training in there too.

The Parisian race was a mixture of fun and things going a bit wrong (for me only - the race was generally well organised even if the communication from the organisers wasn't always perfect). I'd expected a big group of Serpies when I signed up many months ago since it sounds great on paper - 50 miles of undulating trails, finishing with a sprint up to the first floor of the Eiffel Tower and with 1,500 entrants. So many Serpies are getting into trails and ultras that I assumed they'd all be entering...but in the end it was the usual two who do every race they can get their hands on, James Adams and myself.

For a while it looked like it'd just be me due to James' lack of organising any transport to Paris until about a day before, plus his St Paddy's Day food poisoning due to a dodgy late night burger. Then we even had issues overnight at the hotel when I realised there were bedbugs in my bed and that I was being eaten alive and therefore not getting any sleep. I opted to sleep on the floor while James made various noises from various parts of him. Luckily I had ear plugs.

On race morning it seemed like a genteel start given kick off was at 12:30pm. We weren't 100% sure how to get to the start so went to the expo under the Eiffel Tower. Many other runners were there, mainly to register, so we managed to work out that a train from a nearby station went to the right place and that we had been given the correct ticket in out good bag. It wasn't as easy to work out as you'd expect and the actual trains had no identifying numbers or a screen on the platform to show where they headed making us (and about 200 other runners) get on, then quickly off again, several trains before the right one came.

Hoards of lycra-clad Frenchies got off the train with us and we piled into coaches to take us to the start at a place called Trappes, somewhere east and a little south from Paris. There was cake and also muesli bars to eat at the start but it was cold and windy enough to make us both a tiny bit uncomfortable while we waited about 90 minutes for the start. I stuffed my face while James was being more careful and crossing his fingers that his stomach would hold up and that the tiny quantities of food he'd eaten for the past two days would be enough.

After a quick race briefing in French then in English, we were off and the day had warmed up to make us all feel overdressed in our cold weather gear. But gear is a very important thing in this race. Not because you need it (it's Paris in Spring so you aren't exactly going to get lost on a mountaintop for days on end), but because the compulsory item list is long and partially pointless. For example, does everyone really NEED two headlamps with spare batteries as well? Or a very long strip of bandage in case you burst an artery and no medical help is around? Running tights/leggings were also compulsory so I was feeling hot in them. And, like every French race, a medical certificate, signed by a doctor, was compulsory. The one compulsory item I didn't have was a reflective armband, but my hat had reflective strips and my sleeves were bright white. I hoped this wouldn't be an issue.

The course record was a reasonable 6h02m so I had my sights on that but the entire field zoomed off like they all wanted to break world records. I got caught up in it, but was actually running around the right pace at first, covering the easiest and flattest section to 21km in 1h29m. Unfortunately, I felt bad and that I was going too fast. I made the error of running other people's races rather than my own and also didn't want to get too far behind the lead pack. But I wasn't fully fresh after the 56-miler two weeks earlier and in-between I'd run high mileage so my tapering had basically consisted of only doing a 5-miler the day before. Not ideal, but I thought I could get away with it. Even if I couldn't, the training benefit of March meant I couldn't prioritise any of the races unless I wanted to take something away from Comrades or Western States.

I decided to forget about the course record and settled down to a slower pace as the course got harder and prettier. It was very muddy for much of the distance and the hills weren't big, but often steep (1,500m, or about 5,000ft, of total ascent over the whole course but it felt like more) and required walking up. Some stomach problems and too much stuff latched on to the back of my water pack (and therefore falling out) caused a few minutes of stoppages and a group of runners overtook me, including the lead woman. I reckoned I was around the top 20, but couldn't really tell. I'd been running just ahead of them for about 10k, so it was annoying to drop positions without a fight.

A relatively long, but gentle, climb took us up to an observatory and the first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, 35km away along the course. It was a nice surprise to see it, but I'd only gone a few kms over half way so it wasn't time to start thinking of the finish line. Soon after, at 46km, there was a random checkpoint, with no food or water, which we hadn't been told the location of. Annoyingly, the one item of kit they wanted to check was the reflective armband, which I didn't have. So after a couple of minutes of me trying to pretend that it must have fallen off my waterproof jacket which was tacked on to the back of my pack, they let me go but took down my number. I was annoyed for the next few minutes because it was broad daylight, I had no intention of finishing in the dark and I had plenty of reflective stuff on. But I kept jogging along, wondering whether I'd get to the end and be disqualified.

The next checkpoint was a long way, at 53km, and a lot of people struggled with the 32km gap. But by the time I got to it, I'd been running on my own for ages and hadn't seen the people ahead or behind me. I'd overtaken a lot of people since CP1 and they had a lot of film crew and even an MC getting the reasonable crowd and large number of volunteers excited. Everyone before me had been French and there was no other runner in the area so the MC started interviewing me. He knew I was English from the info he had on the runners and it was an interesting experience to try out my French while eating as much as possible. At least my French was good enough to understand when he said I was seventh, but I wasn't sure if that was overall or just in the men's race. With 27km to go, top five overall seemed like a good aim, especially as I'd been taking it easier and felt fresh again.

After a good few minutes of eating and refilling my water bladder, I was off and had more motivation. Even if the time would be slower than I wanted, I could still get a great day's training and top five on an off day with tired legs would be a definite success. Even more so after starting off too hard and then losing heart at the effects of my purposeful overtraining.

I'd ask spectators along the way "Ou est le prochain coureur?" which was imperfect French for "Where's the next runner?" I got a variety of answers, some too long for me to understand, but one guy was very clear and told me I was only a minute behind and that he was going slowly. That spurred me on, but he must have seen a jogger, not one of the participants because I still hadn't caught anyone by the next checkpoint at 60km and I'd sped up.

The day had stayed cool and rain free, so even by this point I didn't need extra layers. The checkpoint was empty of other runners and I now suspected that there was a big gap behind and ahead of me. It meant I had to keep concentrating on not getting lost, but the trails were well marked with tape, some orange arrows on the ground and marshals dotted about on road crossings.

The final checkpoint was at 70km and I finally caught up to the next position just before it. He was struggling badly and hobbling at a slow speed. I asked if he was ok, but his response in French was unintelligible. However, his sullen face said it all - race over. I felt bad for him but it did show me the contrast with how I was feeling, which was fine. In fact I was feeling better than at any other point in the race. It also helped that the second viewing of the Eiffel Tower was at this checkpoint and it looked a lot closer.

Only 10k to go and it would mainly be flatter and along the river after the biggest downhill of the day. I was on track for around 6h30m if it was exactly 10k to go, but that checkpoint was early according to my GPS, so I expected a slightly longer run in to the finish. 10k is nothing as long as you feel fine, so I happily sped up and started throwing in 4-minute kms. The course followed a skanky section which looked more like the canals in the UK than the beautiful Seine river, but it soon switched to the more familiar Parisian landscape.

I caught two more guys along the river and they were both going at a slow jog, so didn't even try to stay next to me. It seems the fast pace at the start ruined a lot of people's races and I'm sure most of the large group who started off with close to 6-minute mile pace could have gotten a better time and had more fun if they'd ignored the rush.

I assumed I was in fourth at this point but still hadn't caught the lead lady so that meant fifth overall at worst. I'd managed to scrape into the top five and it didn't look like there was any chance of gaining more positions - one marshal told me I was 10 minutes behind and I was within the last 5k.

As the Eiffel Tower approached, it gradually looked taller and taller. It wasn't dark yet so the lights all over it weren't lit up. I realised that one of the best things about the race would be to run up to the glittering tower with the lighthouse-style lamp swirling about on the top. But I could always see that later after the finish.

As I came into the final sections and jumped up the stairs from the water-side to the base of the tower, there were large crowds cheering. It was a fitting end to the race...but there was still the best bit to come. As I ran under the tower, the course snaked into the expo tent, along a stage and out the other side. There were staff members and 50k finishers sat down eating and they cheered every runner through, including myself. Then there was just the final climb up the tower to come.

I was given a ticket and they stopped me to check my bag (for bombs?) before letting me loose on the stairs. I started off bounding up them but soon slowed to power-walking two at a time and using the handrail. There was a cameraman just below the entrance into the first floor, so he saw me at my slowest, then he also saw me catch up to the lead lady on the very final turn on the stairs. She was walking slowly and I hesitated for a second about overtaking her on the narrow staircase. However, she kept going at the same speed, so I ran up the last few stairs and popped out to a throng of paparazzi photographers who'd been expecting the winning woman to come through next. They quickly redirected their cameras when she appeared behind me, but I felt exhilarated to have finished and to have recovered from many tough and slow miles in the middle. 6h32m32s and fourth overall, but well off the podium who were bunched together around 6h08m. Over 1,000 of the 1,500 entrants finished within 12 hours but I'm not sure if the slower ones after that time were counted as finishers.

I chatted to the race director and some of the staff but was keen to get down to the bottom again since there was only Coke and beer at the top, with all the food at the bottom in the tent I'd just run through. I also wanted a shower and to get back into a viewing position for when James would come through. He'd optimistically said 7h30m, but his illness meant I expected him to come through slower than this. He finished in 9h20m after some torrential downpours, which I luckily managed to completely avoid in the marquee.

Overall we were both happy to have got round without injury and I was amazed he managed to do it after being ill. James does know how to push himself, which is why he's had finishes in races of 145 miles and 153 miles - sheer guts and determination are the main success factors in those races. I had to face the reality that if I train hard I can't also race hard at the same time with no taper at all. It would be good to retry that race but it's just too far to go from the US.

So, five days to recover and to fit in a slightly lower mileage before the Jurassic Coast triple marathon on Friday-Sunday. Based on how my legs are 48 hours later, I should be fine to run those three races reasonably hard. I don't get to rest properly until a week later, after completing the Two Oceans 56k race in Cape Town, South Africa. Then I can hopefully look back at a great month and allow myself an easy week to soak up the benefits of the training. The proximity of Comrades and Western States isn't really a worry, but I know I need to train very hard, particularly on hills, to nail these races. I can't wait for the challenge I've set myself but there's also a significant chance of failure just because my expectations are set high. Sub 6h at Comrades (2h50m marathon pace for 55.5 miles) and top 10 minimum at Western States as long as I'm not fried from Comrades.