How to train for...the Marathon des Sables

I thought it'd be a good idea to follow up on an idea from James Adams about doing a series of blog posts on how to train for some of the world's most iconic ultras. The idea is I can give tips and advice on what the courses involve and some idea of the general principles that would help, given these are often races that people look forward to for years and have very specific, and different, challenges to what you may have run before.

I've also written posts on how to prepare for Comrades, Western States 100 and a flatter 100 miler like Rocky Raccoon. But first the Marathon des Sables or the MdS for short. This is a race I've trained several people to successfully complete, including back-of-the-packers through to Danny Kendall who got the highest placing ever by a Brit at the 2013 race (10th) while training in London.

This race got me into running in the first place and I started in 2006 when the weather was about as extreme as ever, in terms of being hotter and more humid than usual and having sandstorms in the first few days where you could barely see five feet ahead. I didn't finish, as I drank too much water, having never realized that could be an issue, and got hyponatraemia, having to drop out on day three.

It wasn't fun on those first three days thanks to the illness, but then I felt fine as I was driven around from camp to camp then sat around each day. So I signed up for the next available MdS and ran it in 2008 (more details here), placing 13th and the highest position ever by a Brit (since beaten by a 12th from James Cracknell with some slightly more scientific training). So I learned a lot and found out how to run this race effectively, even when living in a cold climate in the months preceding the race and having no hills or sand to practice on locally.

Here are the key things to bear in mind in general when training for and racing in the MdS:

What's the race like?

• Seven days in the Moroccan Sahara, self-supported and running with a backpack for the week's food, cooking equipment, clothing, medical kit and sleeping bag, but water and the Berber-style tent are provided for you

• Six stages of about 10 miles up to about 50 miles (courses vary), totaling around 150 miles, with the long day having a cut-off of almost two days long
• Over 1,000 international runners in the middle of nowhere with sand dunes, rocks and a 'road book' with maps to help you if you miss the pink-sprayed rocks
• 400 support staff of doctors, local Berbers and other race organization people
• Temperatures up to around 50 degrees Celsius (122 degrees Fahrenheit) and no shade during the day
• Most people walk almost all of it and only those at the very front get a large proportion of running in

How on Earth do you start training for that?

• Firstly you look through the kit you'll need as there's a lot of compulsory gear (full rules are here and Article 24 shows the long list)

• Then you need to find a backpack that feels comfortable to run in when full and isn't to big - 35L is about the largest you want to consider and the front of the pack will be more like 20L (note that a front pack add-on is helpful for weight distribution and accessing food etc on the run)
• Trying fitting the kit in to see how much you'll need to leave out - it won't all fit in and you'll have to be frugal
• Having the kit and backpack will give you a better focus for your training as it's important to train for the specifics of the event
• Road running may be all that's easily available to you, but make sure you can get in regular trails too - hills and mud or snow are probably the best bets in winter and give a better preparation for sand than roads
• Practice power-walking/hiking within your long runs as you will be doing this a lot, guaranteed, and it uses slightly different muscles to running
• A great way to strengthen the muscles for the hiking and the backpack carrying is hiking even short distances, but regularly, with a weighted vest or backpack - ideally much heavier than the full weight you'll run the race with (2-2.5x the weight is a good guide)
• Do runs as often as possible with the backpack, gradually filling it up over time to closer simulate the race conditions and muscular requirements
• By running with the backpack fully weighted you'll get an idea of where it rubs and can practice taping (zinc oxide tape is good for this)
• Have at least six months where you commit a good portion of your training to the MdS - even fast road runners who don't train for it specifically are usually very bad in the desert
• Heat training in winter isn't easy but it's only the last two or three weeks that matter most for acclimatizing so that's when 30-60 mins/day in a sauna can help (be very careful with this as it's dangerous and gradually build up to longer exposure)
• If you don't have a sauna, doing your runs in multiple layers of clothing to look like the Michelin Man can work just as well
• If you can find races that include back-to-back days then these are great training, especially if you treat them like stages of the MdS in terms of kit - in the UK races like the Jurassic Coast Challenge and Pilgrim's Challenge are ideal, but just long 20+ mile days on trails back to back on your own or with friends also work

What mistakes should you avoid doing in training?

• Not training with the backpack you plan to use in the race
• Not running on similar under-foot conditions - soft mud/snow are good substitutes for sand even if you're not near the coast or other sandy area
• No heat training - this would make it impossible to run and slow you down very significantly and therefore mean even more time in the baking sun in the race which will drain you even more
• Not practicing power-walking - you will do this more than you expect no matter how fit you are
• Not including hills - the local word for a mountain is 'Jebel' and there several Jebels in the race, no matter which route they use

• Try out the food in advance - freeze dried food doesn't always taste good and you want food you can look forward to at the end of each day so you don't want nasty surprises with a meal that tastes like dog food
• Practice hydration in your training runs and try to get an idea of which sports' drinks you can stomach best, even though your hourly liquid requirements will be much higher in the desert - under- or over-hydrating could end your race and be very dangerous (trust me, I know from experience)
• The correct shoes are important and maybe half to a whole US/UK size bigger is helpful to allow for your feet expanding in the heat, but no more or they just won't fit and will rub immediately
• Choose shoes that are very comfortable as the main criterion, but bear in mind the desert is rocky and some protection in the sole and front is advised and may save a few of your toenails
• Wear those shoes in with at least one 20+ mile run where they feel fine the whole way
• Don't get shoes with a mesh-like exterior that allows sand in easily
• Don't underestimate how important gaiters are for keeping the sand out - home made ones from parachute material that cover the entire top of the shoe and up to below the knee are best

• Learn to use the compass as in the dunes there are no course markings and people ahead can often go wrong

What about tactics for the race itself?

• Take day one very easy as it's for getting used to the race and is short, so not much time can be lost no matter how slow you go - pace the race for seven days, not one
• Look after your feet and see the medical staff for blisters as they will help stop infections by popping, cleaning, sanitizing and taping blisters and have seen over the years that this is the best tactic
• Eat early and often each day while you run
• Vaseline everywhere that's covered (groin, arm-pits, nipples etc) even though it may get a little sand attached to it - given the heat and sweating it's very easy to get rubbed raw and this is not pleasant
• Get the hydration right based on your training and it's best to include electrolyte powders or tablets in every drink instead of just water
• Rest in-between the running as much as possible, although a little, light walking around helps to speed the recovery - a good excuse to socialize
• You don't need a stove (which is heavy) as you can use four rocks instead - there're plenty of them around the campsite
• It's a multi-day race so you need to be eating and hydrating each day not just to get through to the finish but also to build up reserves for the next day
• Each morning the camp is filled with zombies lurching around but your body is very resilient and after a mile or two your legs will be less stiff and you may even find by around day four that you're feeling better than on the previous couple of days
• Most importantly, make sure you enjoy the entire experience and don't be too focused on times or rankings - this is a huge challenge but also something you'll remember for your whole life

News - Spiderman, deserts and a cunning new training tactic

Photo courtesy of Darbaroud.com

I'll mention the three bits of news in the order of the title. So, firstly is the ultra hardcore, extremely serious attempt to break the Guinness World Record for...the fastest male superhero to run a marathon. That's coming up on Sunday at the Napa Valley Marathon (weather forecast: wet). The current record is 2:43, set in New Zealand by a guy dressed as Robin, Batman's buddy. That costume is laughably easy to run in so I'm dusting off my old Spiderman costume to scare little children again as I run by. It's not an ideal running costume given it didn't even have a slit for my mouth until I made one, but it should make for a fun tempo run.

However, Mike Wardian may only allow me to hold this record for seven days since he's also thinking of dusting off an old Spiderman suit to go even faster the following weekend. Maybe I should do a race with a stroller and see how he likes that :) (he previously held that record).

The next topic is the Marathon des Sables in the Moroccan Sahara Desert and it also features Mike. I won't go into the race in detail, but here's the official website: http://www.darbaroud.com/index_uk.php and my race report from 2008: http://sharmanian.blogspot.com/2009/05/marathon-des-sables-2008-note-each-day.html

It's a six-stage, seven-day, 150-mile race in the desert against the best desert runners around and it's what got me into running in the first place. So I've always thought I'd do it again but had no idea when, especially since you usually have to enter years in advance. But there's currently some momentum behind a team of super fast North Americans heading over there to teach those desert dwellers a thing or two (maybe) in 2012. This looks like it'll happen but it's still being planned so I'll say more when we have some concrete details. But I'm really excited about the prospect.

And my final news item is I think I've cunningly worked out a neglected way to train harder and better. It's called walking. Ok, so not all that revolutionary, but for someone like me who can't sustain high mileage of 100 miles+, I think this is the perfect way for me to add in an extra 30+ miles per week without breaking myself and in a way that actually AIDS recovery. It won't all be flat stuff, either as I plan to do a lot of hiking in the hills around the Bay Area. Will see how that pans out when it gets to Comrades and WS100.

That's all for now. Better check I can actually find my Spidey suit since I'm not sure where I hid it.

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.

Two marathons, three days - SLC/Boston

Start of the SLC marathon

View from the Prudential building in Boston at sunset

The 5k race using the Boston marathon finish

Looking strong a whole mile into Boston

The leaders at Boston - Hall and Meb lead the US charge

Still looking ok in Boston with my Fukuoka gloves on show

This last weekend could have gone badly. I'd run ultras or multidays for five consecutive weekends (including a very cool 60k of trails last weekend as I swept the course for the local Peterson Ridge Rumble course in Sisters, OR). I had the Salt Lake City marathon on Saturday then the Boston marathon on Monday. I booked it a long time ago before the preceding ultras with the intention of using it as a fitness test for Comrades. If I could run both under 2h45m then I'd feel that I could run Comrades at 2h50m marathon pace (i.e. sub six hours). It also has the benefit of being 'speed' work compared to the ultras.

However, being injured for almost two months meant I'd lost some speed even though the endurance seemed fine after the last few weeks. I really had no idea how it would go and wasn't even sure I could knock out one marathon at 2h45m (6m18s/mile), especially since SLC is at slight altitude (between 4,200ft and 4,800ft) and hilly.

I arrived in SLC on the Friday, went to the small expo and got an early night. I still felt sore from sweeping the previous week. Even though it was very slow being at the back of the race, bending down to pick up all the course markings had left me aching in new places.

The race had a an early start at 7am so the sun had only just risen over the university start-line when I warmed up. The athletes didn't seem too keen to push to the front so I knew there wouldn't be too many speedsters there. It also had a half marathon at the same time so most runners had bibs for that race, with around 1,000 in the full marathon. I started comfortably and decided to use my heart rate monitor to stop myself trying too hard, given the need to conserve some energy for Boston. However, after the first couple of downhill miles I felt like it would be a hard day.

The course isn't particularly pretty if you keep your head down, but when you look up you get great views of the surrounding mountains, which are very close. The first half had some nasty climbs, not that they were too steep, but some lasted a couple of miles and the combination of tired legs and altitude meant my heart rate was soon higher than it should be for a marathon. For me that means into the mid 160s. It was going to be a tough race.

The marathon added a loop around a park at five miles so the extra mile meant I started running through slower half marathoners when we joined them again. Then after under seven miles they headed off on a short-cut to the finish while the marathon went south to get in the extra miles. It got a lot lonelier from this point and a spectator shouted that I was in 10th.

I chatted to a couple of marathoners on the flatter sections but then pushed on to half way uphill knowing that there would be a gentle downhill soon after 13 miles. I was demoralised to hit halfway in 1h22m55s, just outside 2h45m pace. This was the first 13 miles of two marathons, so I basically accepted that I wouldn't be getting the times I wanted in the two races. How could I, when I'd run reasonably hard and still couldn't stay on pace?

My mindset quickly changed as I knocked out several faster miles over the downhill then flat and I was back on the average pace I needed. The second half was easier than the first, being much flatter. I constantly did calculations in my head, thinking that sub 2h50m was guaranteed and that if I could just keep close to the required 6m18s/miles then a fast last mile might get me there under my time.

I spent the rest of the race catching people and worked out I was in 4th, but that relied on the guy earlier correctly telling me my position and I find most people get it wrong, counting the wrong people (say, half runners) or just miscounting. I was on for 2h46m at worst with only a couple of miles to go, but was now weaving through the half runners/walkers who had joined the marathon course again, just 13 miles behind. Although I'd checked out the course profile, I hadn't noticed the 200ft hill in the 25th mile. This put me off pace again, but was a relief when I got to the top. It had heated up to almost 70 degrees F so I wanted to get off the course before the temperature sapped more energy.

I was tired and looking forward to the end, but at least there were great crowds now to pep me up. As the majority of people they were seeing were half marathon walkers, each marathoner got a loud cheer for running. At about a half mile to go I heard the thump of runner's steps behind me. I looked back to see a guy in a tri-suit flying up to me and my head snapped into (totally unnecessary) race mode and I flew off at a sprint, dropping down to under 5m/mile pace. He stuck behind me but as I went up the final straight I couldn't see him behind so knew I'd kept my position. In hindsight, this was completely pointless and potentially could ruin my Boston run. But I just don't like being overtaken and it's only happened in marathons where I've blown up and walked (luckily only about three times when I was learning how to do marathons).

Somehow I'd almost got back to my goal pace, but it was painful to run up to the finish and see the clock tick from 2h44m to 2h45m. The final time was 2h45m04s and I was indeed in 4th, so had positives and negatives to take away from the race. On the plus side, I'd basically hit the time I wanted, seen great mountain views, was uninjured, ran my fastest marathon with a backpack and had run a negative split. However, it had felt hard and I'd tired myself out way too much. I reassessed my chances of running a good Boston to being very low.

No time to rest, since I had a couple of hours until my indirect flights to Boston, so I squeezed in a quick shower then went to the airport where I spent a while stretching and with my legs up against a wall for recovery. The flights were on time and didn't feel too bad on the legs.

In Boston I got in late at night, just wanting a good rest. Sunday is fun due to the expo and short distance races each year, but it was also cold and raining constantly. A real contrast with the sunny weather in SLC. I watched Josh Cox win the 5k and the commentators mentioned he's training for Comrades. That means both the US 50k/100k champion, Michael Wardian, and the US 50k record holder, Josh Cox, would be running in South Africa. Always good to have more people to meet over there and they're both very accomplished pro/semi-pro athletes.

I'd hoped to meet up with a bunch of Serpies from London but the previous few days had involved numerous emails and ended with the conclusion that the Icelandic volcano had stopped all flights from London. None of my friends would make it. This was a shame, but at least Boston is such a fun race and all the runners and city get really into it. I'd picked the hostel near the finish on purpose because I knew I'd meet many, many runners there.

There were a few Americans who had lived in London and been a member of Serpentine RC, but I didn't know them already. I agreed to see the Red Sox baseball game on Sunday afternoon with them, so picked up my ticket by meeting them at the expo. The expo is great and I spent a long time there getting enough free food and drink to constitute a meal. I also bought a pair of Zoot compression tights as I needed a pair anyway, but particularly needed some help to be recovered for the next day. I've never used them before, but many people swear by the powers of compression tights, so I wanted to see if it would work.

The Red Sox game was a wet affair and not very entertaining with the locals losing badly, especially since the US Serpies told me when I got there that they'd decided to sell their tickets due to the weather. I've not been to a baseball game before and can't see me going again. It's just not that interesting. Now, I like cricket and people say the same thing, but I'll happily watch a five-day test match and it's just different, ok?.

Anyway, that evening the pasta party was excellent, as always. Plenty to eat and I went with some new-found friends from the hostel. That's one of my favourite things about the race - the openness of everybody there to meet new people. It really got the mood going for the race and I started to feel excited while chatting to people about how many times they'd run Boston before, where they qualified and all the interesting stories they had to tell. People who started late in life and spent years trying to get a place in Boston or those who come every year for the party atmosphere. Suddenly my confidence was back and I was thinking of going for 2h45m again.

Race morning started very early and I hadn't really adjusted from west coast time. But my legs felt almost normal, so I'm now a huge fan of the recovery tights. As with last year, I chatted to people while waiting for the buses at around 6:15am. Once again I met west coast ultra runner on the bus (Abi Stephens, who'd run the Rumble the previous weekend) and chatted for much of the time prior to the race start at 10am. Things seemed to be smoother than the previous year, not that I'd had any complaints. The bus wait was less, the toilet lines were shorter at the start and the weather was looking much better than expected with not a cloud in sight.

I just missed seeing the elite women's start at 9:32am but was raring to go at 10am when the first wave started. This time I made sure I didn't go off too quickly, as I'd done last year on the early downhills. I wanted to see if I could run just ahead of 2h45m pace given that the second half is harder with the famous Newton Hills. I just hoped to hang on as long as possible.

The crowds were great from the start and within a mile I'd been offered a beer. Next year I think I'll take them up on their offers and do it as more of a fun run. But this year I still had a target and it was increasingly easy to stay around a six min/mile pace, which kept surprising me every time I looked at my splits. Running past the Wellesley College girls at halfway was the usual soundblast and made everyone grin. I didn't see anyone stopping as they were all too focused on their running, but some did high fives. Still the best support I've ever seen, as ever, and something you hear well before you see.

Halfway was a decent 1h19m06s so I could afford to slow down a lot on the hills. Since they don't start until after 16 miles I decided to keep going as before until that far and bag a bit more time. The crowds were full of students, many with a few beers in them, so the cheering got rowdier every mile.

I remember that last year I'd been slowing down from five miles in and really struggled over the rest of the course, feeling bad for most of it but scraping through for 2h47m. I also remembered that the hills seemed small even as they slowed me right down. This year was different and I was trying to run in a group to avoid the light headwinds which kept popping up, but I found that each group kept slowing so I just kept pushing on and wondering when the tiredness would catch up with me.

By now I was enjoying myself thoroughly. I'd been waiting the whole time for my legs to fade but they were being very kind to me and even let me run up the hills at about the same pace as on the flat. The college kids certainly liked seeing someone running through the field on the hills so I had plenty of cries out for 'Serpentine', most even pronouncing it correctly.

Heartbreak Hill was more like a victory lap, although at 21 miles it wasn't a foregone conclusion, although 2h40m looked possible now. Somehow the best was still ahead for me. The last five miles are mainly down and flat but some people have tired their thighs so much that it's difficult to run them fast. However, I went into some new-found zone from this point which I've never reached before. I haven't done more than a couple of speed sessions in 2010 so even a six minute mile feels quick, but I started running quicker than that. As the supporters got thicker on the sidelines I was having the most enjoyable race in a long time (and I've had a lot of good ones recently).

As I looked at my watch I was amazed to see 5:40s for the miles and my aims shifted from 2h40m to see if I could break six minute miling (2h37m) for only the third time, something I didn't think I could have done if I'd tapered for this race and gone all out. I was going faster than marathon pace and finding it easy, even with a headwind for most of the last part. This is how running should always feel - hard but very sustainable. I wished the course was a 50k as I could comfortably have kept up the pace and smashed my best for that distance.

All good things come to an end and I got to the finish well before I'd planned, in 2h36m51s, good enough for 151st. The most important thing was that I'd hugely enjoyed it and also felt strong at the end, so this was a perfect milestone for Comrades. All my worries in advance had evaporated, about a lack of speed, sore legs and not being in shape for a good Comrades.

Thank you Boston for hosting a great race and creating such an incredible atmosphere the whole way through. I confirmed to myself that Boston far surpasses the other 70-ish road marathons I've done around the world. There's something about having hills in a race that means you have to use tactics much more and so when you nail it, it's more satisfying.

I'll be back next year to have fun on the streets of Boston again and it'd be nice to get a streak going until I can no longer run...maybe around 2099. I don't think I was the only one to have that much fun either, as even those who didn't hit their target time still loved everything else about the race. The elites put on a great show too, with a new men's course record in 2h05m52s (on Boston's course!) for Robert K Cheruiyot...but not the one who won Boston four times...a 21-year old with the same name, except the middle name, who has just made himself into a legend. The women's race went down to the wire too and was great to watch on TV, with Ethiopian Yeyba Erkesso of Ethiopia making a name for herself by just edging young Russian Tatyana Pushkareva - watch out for both of them in future too.

SLC could have been a disaster but ended up just about working out. But Boston went better. Why? Well, I think it's just one of those things where the science says one thing but reality turned out differently and can't quite be explained. Mind you, it probably helped to not wear the backpack and use my racing flats (Asics Hyperspeed 3s). I think it just shows that the human body can always do more than you expect, a useful thing to bear in mind during every ultra.

Jurassic Coast Challenge Triple Marathon Mar 2010

Yesterday I got back from yet another great race. Maybe I've become better at discerning what's likely to be worth doing, but it's been a while since I went to a race which didn't live up to expectations. The Jurassic Coast was as fun as I hoped. It's a 3-day trail triple marathon along the spectacular Jurassic coastline in Dorset, organised by VOTwo (VO2) and is a brilliantly challenging and fun event.

I've only done one of their previous races, the Atlantic Coast Challenge - the same idea but along the north Cornwall coast to Land's End (the most westerly point of England). It was a great triple and we happened to have perfect weather to support the great coastal scenery and undulating running. The last day was particularly memorable with great fell running over tough, technical coastal areas. Plus it was fun to win every day of it.

So I had high expectations and plenty of Serpie friends running with me along the Dorset coast. I also wanted to win and beat the course record of 12h36m. The course had changed slightly due to an increase in the number of entrants needing a larger base camp, but it was basically the same as previous years. The main difference was that it had rained solidly for two weeks and turned the whole hilly course into a mud bath. So I knew that running three four-hour 'marathons' (it's generally more like 27-28 miles per day) would be tough, especially after ramping up the training and racing this month. But what's the point of doing stuff if it's easy?

The first day started with an almighty hill which meant the field of 250 runners was spread out after a mile. Everyone seemed to be happy to let me lead and navigate even though a few of the guys in the lead pack had run it before and I'd met at several races before - Graham Booty got the course record last year and was at the 2008 MdS with me, running very strongly. Also, Adam Holland is still on track to be the youngest to run 100 marathons ever and will complete it this year at the age of 23. He's always challenging for these races and zooms off at a lightning pace which often ends in a slow finish...but not always. So that was just the two guys I knew and they're both fast marathoners, capable of keeping up with me on the road at the moment.

After a few miles of hills, the course turned into the muddiest course I've ever seen. I'm sure that at least half of day one was seriously boggy mud, which just sapped energy and made everyone fall over and slide around like cartoon characters on banana skins. It was ridiculous, but the one saving grace was that we got to do it in the daylight. The runners in the Oner (pronounced One-er) would be doing the entire triple marathon course in one go, starting at 6pm on Saturday and going almost immediately into the night. Us mere triple-dayers felt very glad to be able to rest after so much mud sliding.

I ran the second half on my own and opened up a bit of a lead, feeling annoyed at the mud, but making sure I kept up a running motion rather than walking. It worked since I finished in 3h56m and was a bit ahead of the rest of the field. Not enough to rest but enough to feel comfortable in first, especially since I hadn't gone all out but instead had cruised in when I couldn't see anyone behind. It's always fun to be in the lead and the evening meal had a great atmosphere as everyone felt they'd got through a tough day of big hills and stupidly hard mud. There were three groups each day - walkers, joggers/walkers and runners and most people had started in the runners group but then finished quite late so day two heralded a large switch over as people opted for earlier starts so they could get back to camp earlier and relax more.

We had nothing much to do in the evening so the Serpies mainly opted for the warmth of the pub (it was frickin' freezing, as I'd learned when I got into the sea to cool my legs and got out again 10 minutes later with teeth chattering and shivering uncontrollably). The food provided by the organisers was good, but whoever chose curry as the theme clearly didn't understand what runners need. Luckily nobody had too much of an issue the next day. Conversation was certainly interesting over the first two nights, pre-race and post day one. All I'll say is that Gemma Hagen can answer questions in a way that encourages a lot more questions...

Getting back to day two, we were really up for another day and raring to go. We'd heard this was the 'easiest day' although that depends on your point of view. It didn't have as much mud but certainly had more hills. The scenery was also better, running along the coastline of the island of Portland for about a half marathon and giving great views of steep cliffs and dramatic rocky paths. It was just my type of running - not too steep but plenty of rocks and great vistas. The first half was quick and much easier going than the day before. I was through checkpoint two (there were three per day, spaced roughly every 10k) within 1h30m and had Adam and one other guy with me. But then we went along the sea-front of Weymouth and it was just concrete and dead flat so I pushed on a bit until the last 10 miles which went back into the more interesting coastal paths.

Somehow I'd got through to this point without really going wrong with the navigation thanks to the good maps provided by VOTwo. Usually I don't like having to navigate with no arrows or markers, but the coastal path was generally well sign-posted with an acorn symbol and I managed to keep myself from falling over while viewing the map and checking out the great scenery. Day two was definitely prettier than day one and not just due to weather and less mud. The coastal paths were bigger and better with some great views, especially near the end at Durdle Door, an archway in the sea. The photos here are from Nick Morrison-Smith who took a camera with him and therefore helped to supplement my memories. I didn't bother since the compulsory kit list was long enough anyway and I had no room for a camera.

Day two ended slightly quicker than day one and I managed 3h46m, increasing my overall lead to around 24 minutes. I caught some Serpies who'd left 90 minutes before me in group two but not all of them so that gave me an incentive to catch Serpies Matthew Wilson and Claire Shelley on the final day, if I could.

We'd been told by previous entrants that day three was very hilly. That was an understatement and the first half marathon was almost all steep climbs and descents. It wasn't too muddy but the ascents were too steep for my tired legs to even contemplate running. Instead I managed to stick to a great power-walk which didn't lose me much time. There were two single-day marathoners running at the front who forced the pace more than I'd have liked. After checkpoint one at seven miles it was just me and one of them and he looked very strong, comfortably running up each hill and making a mockery of the angle. Watching him I knew he wasn't just going off too fast and would be able to sustain a fast pace the whole way. That's never the most comforting thought when you've won two days against triple marathoners and single dayers but are now faced with a much faster athlete just when your own legs have been pounded for two days and the course has just got markedly harder.

Somehow I managed to keep him in sight to the checkpoint at halfway. This was mainly thanks to my kamikaze style of downhill running which didn't take much effort, except to put any fears completely off the table. I have to admit that the best thing about mountains and even hills is the down hill. The harder, the better, and I absolutely love the technical stuff where you have to concentrate so hard you're almost holding your breath. Luckily for me, this happens to be the terrain which most slows down almost everyone else so I can always use it to catch up with people, with the added bonus that as I catch them I'm having the time of my life and adrenaline is pumping round my body like a body-builder on steroids...skydiving...naked...probably.

So I somehow left checkpoint two ahead of him and went off, determined to set enough of a pace to make the win hard for him. The course was great from this point. Totally runnable and with great undulating epic coastline views. For anyone feeling tired, like the Oner entrants I was starting to catch up to, this must have been exhausting, but I wasn't far enough into the marathon to be tired and the grass, light mud and rocks were just what I wanted to enjoy myself.

Soon I caught up to my group two Serpies who'd started about 90 minutes earlier. Jo Proudlove, Toby Melville and Jany Tsai were all together and had hoped to get a bit further than halfway before I caught them. Then a few miles later I caught Claire, closely followed by James Adams in the Oner. He told me he was knackered but he'd made good time to that point and only had 10 miles left of the massive distance. He even had time to take a photo of me running up to him, which was helpful of him since there weren't many official photos. I had no time to chat since I knew the guy in second was going well and wasn't far behind at all.

On the other days I'd had it sewn up by this point but it looked like I'd have to push a bit harder this time if I wanted a hat-trick (and 100% record at VOTwo events). I was in two minds since I'd only have six days to recover for Two Oceans 56k in Cape Town and I'd have to be reasonably fresh to break fours hours there for a silver medal. But my competitive nature meant I had to at least cruise with a bit of effort, then if he caught me I could decide whether to go all out for a race or not. I was pretty sure I was far enough ahead of the guys in the triple to be safe but it just seemed silly to not go for the outright win given I was leading and feeling fine.

Checkpoint three came and there was no sign of anyone behind me as I caught more of the early runners and the Oner guys. Every time I passed someone, especially those who'd been out all night, I was sure to congratulate them on getting through the course as it'd had been a real test over three days (or under 24 hours for the ultra runners). I also tried to be as polite as possible when overtaking on narrow sections, whether it was other runners or general walkers on the path. It just seemed like the kind of event where racing comes second and enjoyment and relaxation comes first. But for me the concepts of racing and enjoyment are so intertwined that it's just not fun if I don't have any target, whether that's time, position or whatever.

The running into the finish wasn't too tough and was generally on scenic trails, with one large hill left then a long, gentle downhill. It finished with over a mile along the beach, which is where I caught Drew Sheffield in the last stage of the Oner (I do love meeting mates mid-race as it's more of a conversation starter than just meeting in the street). His first words were to ask if I'd seen any Oner guys behind him and he was relieved to know there was nobody near and that his position was very safe. A man after my own heart, clearly.

Then I expected to see a finish along the beach, but instead there was a turn, a chunk of dune-like sand (I may have mentioned in previous blogs about deserts how much I hate sand), then half a mile of huge puddles to the finish. I'd managed to keep the lead so felt like I was on a victory lap for that last half mile. I finished in 4h04m, annoyed to miss out of the 4h marathon every day, but then the last day was 27.8 miles and the total distance was not 78.6 miles, but more like 81 miles (and I didn't get lost so that should be pretty accurate on the Garmin). At least I'd broken the course record and done so in the worst ground conditions they've had.

Matthew was the one Serpie I didn't catch and he was relaxing at the end, very happy with his impressive finish in a total of sub 16h. Soon after, Claire finished but we disappeared in a bus to the train station before everyone else came through. I also found out that the guy who'd been on my heels all day was Huw Lobb, currently a Serpie, but also one of the fastest British marathoners ever and a cross-country champion. Luckily for me he's not done a marathon for a few years but he's only a little older than me and I certainly consider it a good win to hold him off by 10 minutes. He's not as fast as he used to be, but he's still posted some zippy times in the past couple of years, as good as anyone in the club, if not quite at his peak of a 2:14 marathon. Then Mr Booty managed to beat his own course record too and hold on to a solid second over the three days, but couldn't quite catch Huw's fresh legs on day three.

Overall it was a tough event and brilliantly organised. Everyone, bar a few whingers who seemed to think the mud spoiled their fun, had an amazing time and got highly addicted to multi-day running. I already was, but it's always good to get more mates involved. It was hard, but not impossible. The Oner looked very hard, given the boggy start, but when I opened the door of the caravan in the middle of the night while they ran to briefly cool myself, I saw the clear, still night and could appreciate the majesty of running from dawn to dusk. It's still something I've not done and it's not on the cards this year, even at Western States (unless things go very wrong). The first time I'll do it will be UTMB 2011 which starts in the evening and will have me clambering through mountains through the night. I imagine it'll be a very serene, but exhausting, challenge and look forward to it.

So, it's on to Two Oceans, great white shark cage-diving and then some relaxation. This month has been, overall, a big success. My knee has proved to be completely fine and I've started to get some form back. The training run at Glasgow-Edinburgh felt ok, then I tried to race the Eco Trail de Paris but felt very slow until I managed to get a good last 10 miles in. Then the high mileage (for me) of 95 miles/week this month has left me a little tired but generally ok and definitely not broken. My strongest running was at the end of races, so I've some confidence that I'll be fully in shape for Comrades and Western States. But there's not long before I'll have to start tapering for those, so I just hope I'm able to improve my speed by then otherwise I'll be well off the pace.

Lake Tahoe Triple - heat wave

As my first race after moving to the US, I was really looking forward to the Lake Tahoe Triple marathon for several reasons. The main ones were that it's one of the most beautiful places imaginable and the location of my wedding in 2010. So I was hoping it would live up to the expectations from photos and from what friends and family had told me about it.

Amy and I were not disappointed and the wedding venue is spectacular (one of my better ideas). We were also lucky to arrive during a heat wave at the end of September, with record highs on several days around 85 degrees Fahrenheit (30 degrees Celsius). This made the lake look perfect, as the photos show, with amazing backdrops of the surrounding mountains and bright, blue sky. Over the three days of the race I'd get to see the entire 72 miles around the lake, with a 6.8 mile overlap to make up the distance. It straddles the border of California and Nevada so I'd get to run in two different states.

I wasn't sure how my legs would feel having only had two weeks to recover from the Transalpine race. Even though I'd tried to 'jog' through that rather than destroying my legs, there's no way to escape the constant climbs and punishing descents so I knew my legs would have a slight hangover. On the plus side, I expected a benefit from a week of altitude training. It didn't quite work out like that.

After a couple of days of relaxing at the lake with my parents, I had the triple marathon expo and a briefing pasta party on the Thursday night. Most people were new to the race and almost everyone seemed to come from far away, with many from outside the US. Bart Yasso, of Runners World, gave a speech, as did a couple of past winners. The winners were describing the course for the three marathons and I realised that there would be a few more hills than I expected.

Although I'd just come from a race where the average climb per day was 7,000ft (2,200m), that had been off-road and I hadn't been trying to keep up 3-hour marathon pace. So the 800ft+ (250m) hills would be an added obstacle. As they described it, day one starts at 6,900ft and has a steep drop down to lake level at 6,200ft with a climb to over 7,000ft at the end and some undulation in-between. Not too bad, but difficult to follow up with two more similar days. The general feeling was that day two is the easiest as it started downhill then followed the lake with just a couple of climbs to 6,500ft in the second half.

Day three would be the hardest, and not just because of the preceding two days. But it was the main event as it also included a lot of single-day marathoners, a half and a 10k, while the other days only has a handful of single-dayer marathoners. In fact, the number of combinations of races is large as runners can pick and choose, although the main choices are:

3x marathons (Fri-Sun)

1x marathon (any day, but Sunday is by far the largest event)

2x marathons (Fri-Sat) with a 72 miler round the entire lake on the Sunday

'Just' the 72 miler

A half/10k/kid's run on the Sunday

There are also kayaking and bike races which can be included in the mix. That meant there were a lot of racing tourists in town, mainly staying in South Lake Tahoe, like we did.

The one other point which I found out about at the pasta party is the unclosed roads for the first two days. Normally that wouldn't matter too much, but with a lot of sharp twists and a major 2-lane highway around almost all the lake, that meant getting dangerously close to the traffic. We were told to always run on the left so we could see the approaching traffic and that we may occasionally have to jump over the barriers to avoid trucks...except the barriers sometimes had near vertical drops on the other side of them. It left a few people a little nervous, to say the least. But the main feeling with the runners was anticipation and excitement.

On the Friday morning there were less than a hundred runners lined up at the start, all wrapped up warmly due to the temperatures being just over freezing at 7am (for a 7:15am start). I knew two runners from the UK 100 Marathon Club, Jack Brooks and Roger Biggs (Basher and Dasher, as they refer to themselves). We were told it would get hotter by the afternoon and be back up to the record temperatures, but I was expecting it to be under 70 degrees Fahrenheit even when I finished, around 10:15am, if all went to plan.

One of the things I love most about ultras (and I count multi-days like this as a type of ultra) is the tactics involved. It's easy to get caught up and start racing immediately, or at least push too hard. However, it all comes down to who can sustain the best pace later in the race so too much effort early on will severely harm the latter stages.

With this in mind, plus a slight nauseous feeling, I tried to pace myself...except I also wanted to win so I needed to see how good the competition was. The slightly mad race director started us with his shotgun and with a downhill to start with, I found myself running with two other guys at about 5:30min/miles. Oops...

After a couple of miles I got a sense that they weren't lunatics going off way too fast and that they knew what they were doing. We reached just above lake level after about three miles and I left them go into the distance, reasoning that I could only run my own race and that their pace was way too quick. However, on the flat they had slowed down to a more reasonable speed, but well below 3-hour marathon pace. I also had some stomach issues which caused me to stop for a 'comfort break', before getting going again.

So after just a short time I found myself running completely alone on the side of the road. I'd expected it to all be road, but found that there was a section of a few miles of walking trails, just next to the road. I didn't mind, except that I'd arranged to meet Amy and my parents at seven miles, which was on the road at a junction. This gave them a bit of a lie-in before seeing me and allowed me to dump my warm clothes and gloves with them. Luckily, the route took me back to the road at least a mile before I saw them. They'd expected to see me in first so were surprised by the two ahead of me and thought I must be struggling. I wasn't at that point but had some issues ahead of me later that day.

The next time I saw them was at halfway, right outside our hotel in South Lake Tahoe. Unfortunately this wasn't part of the course, as I only found out later. I thought we were meant to stick to the main road round the lake, but just before the hotel there was a turn left to get a little closer to the lake and see the start of the kayaking race, then rejoin right after the hotel. I only found this out later on as I'd not been looking for chalk arrows on the road to divert me from the only bit of the course I actually knew...or thought I knew. It was under a half mile which I cut off, but it did surprise me that I could see second place again after the hotel.

I was feeling ill by this point and wasn't sure why. I didn't think it could be altitude since I've run many times at higher altitudes with no effect, but this must have been the cause. It dragged me down through the rest of the race and I struggled to keep below 7min/miles. Then the big climb towards the end left me walking sections. I really wasn't able to enjoy the course, scenery or the sensation of running and just wanted to get to the end as quickly as possible.

It didn't help that it got hotter and hotter or that the 3 water stations on the course were so far apart. It was lucky I had my support crew, but they were only stopping where they could on the highway, so it was more than the every two miles I'd hoped for. Dehydration was also adding to my general fatigue, so when I saw the turn into the parking lot for the finish I couldn't wait to eat and drink. I finished in 3h04m, eight minutes ahead of fourth and behind Lynyrd Skynrod's stunning 2h43m and Blue Benadum's 3h00m.

I was certainly right to not stick with Lynyrd as he was aiming for the world record of 8h11m for the triple, which had been set three years earlier at Tahoe by a South African Comrades gold medallist and 2h18m marathoner. So there was some hot competition this year - normally 3h04m would have been enough to be leading. On the was back I sat in the lake to help my legs recover, but even then I was feeling sick.

That afternoon I was wrecked and worse than I've ever been after a race. I couldn't hold conversation and had no appetite, feeling like I was in a waking coma. I tried to stay awake so I could get a decent night's sleep, but eventually went for a 90-minute nap as I couldn't stay awake. I'd felt like dropping out during the second 13 miles of the first day, but was glad that I was still in with a shot of the podium.

I had no idea how the second marathon would go or whether I would feel worse with the altitude. It started at the highest point on the course, at 7,100ft, but had another steep downhill for the first few miles before levelling out to a relatively easy stage.

On the start, I noticed Blue and Lynyrd looked very fresh so decided I needed to push Blue for second to make the race interesting. If I was too ill, I was too ill, but I wanted to see whether my body had recovered from the previous day.

I set off in a pack of Lynyrd, Blue and the guy who was fourth the day before, Rudy. We sailed through at a 6min/mile pace and I was getting worried that Rudy was a better runner than I'd given him credit for and that third may be a struggle.

I was in second on my own and just behind Lynyrd at seven miles when my stomach forced another stop. I thought I'd gone clear of the other two but they had been just behind and immediately overtook, which was demoralising. The morning had been a little warmer and the race had started at 7:45am to fit in better with the bike race on that day. So the temperature was a comfy 50-ish and only got to the mid-60s by the 10:30. That meant I wouldn't have as much of a problem with heat. The water stations were almost non-existent again and this time my team only caught me up at 15 miles, so I'd had to carry my own water until that point. My entourage had grown to include Ron and Barb, Amy's Dad and his new wife, who had arrived the day before. So now I felt like I had a big cheering team along the way.

I stayed in fourth for most of the morning, just able to see Blue and Rudy ahead. Around 17 miles I hit a wall, but it was just a normal marathon wall so I kept telling myself it would go away and it didn't matter if I dropped off the pace slightly, as long as I kept running. During this section I had great views of the lake and saw my support crew several times. It always cheered me up and Amy's shouts could probably be heard on the other side of the lake.

By 20 miles I was feeling fine again, so I knew the altitude sickness had evaporated after a good night's rest. My trusty gels perked me up too, and I could soon see the two guys ahead of me. In fact, I found that I was rapidly catching them and that I'd speeded up considerably. So around 23 miles I overtook and Rudy looked very tired while Blue looked pretty comfortable. With that thought in my head I didn't dare to drop any pace in case he could stick with me or overtake.

The last miles included a hill of around 300ft. Not much but enough to cause issues after almost 50 miles of running overall. I had to walk briefly but as soon as I heard Blue behind me I got jogging again and enjoyed the gentle downhill through the tree-lined road. I was enjoying it at this point, as I should be in a race. I had a brief bout of fatigue as I approached Tahoe City, where the race finished, but was feeling much stronger than the day before.

It didn't help that the race director had told me at the finish of day one that day two was purposefully about a mile long to fit in with convenient spots to start and finish. As long as it was definitely longer than 26.2 miles it would count for the world record, but an extra mile seemed harsh. So as I approached the end and my team's cheers got louder (they could see I was going well and wanted me to keep my position), I ran through Tahoe City and expected my Garmin to go on to 27.2 miles. As it was only at 26.2 miles and there were cones going on to the beach, I assumed that meant a section off the main road. But there seemed to be a lot of people and many were cheering as if it was the end. I had to ask three times if it was the finish before I believed them, but I was relieved as hell. I only took a minute out of Blue, but several more out of Rudy. Lynyrd managed 2h52m, so won comfortably but was off record pace. He looked rough and said he'd not had the best race.

The atmosphere was fun and there were beers at the end again (I'd not been slightly interested in the on day one), but I decided to wait til the very finish to celebrate. I'd reduced the deficit on Blue to a bit over three minutes so felt like I was in with a shot on day three. I also wanted to beat him by at least another four minutes to make up for the half mile I missed out. So that left around eight minutes as my target to beat him by...a tall order.

Most runners went over to the lake to sit in the water and aid recovery of the legs. It was a bit cold, but generally pleasant. Then I ate with my family as my post-race appetite was back to normal. By early afternoon we were ready for the 33 mile drive back to South Lake Tahoe and I was much more awake to enjoy the afternoon.

That left the final day and there was a real race on for second. It started later, at 8am, but the shuttle bus only got me in 15 minutes before that and the extra runners meant very large toilet queues. Most people therefore didn't get their final preparations in before the gun. There were more like 500 runners at this start and it felt like a much bigger event. There was an area at the start reserved for 'elites', which meant the top few in the triple and anyone expecting to place in the marathon. They even had a singer for the US national anthem, which seems to be the standard at any non-tiny US race. Race Director Les started us with his shotgun again, and we were off down a narrow walking path by the beach for the first 100m.

There were a few contenders for the final marathon stage and I expected there to be several guys below three hours. My body was a bit tired but I felt better than at the starts on the other days due to no altitude sickness nor stomach issues. So I wanted to finish strongly, which meant sticking to 3-hour marathon pace for as long as possible. Given this was the 'hardest' day, the first half was surprisingly flat and easy, hugging the lake tightly. The roads were closed to northbound traffic (we were going southbound) so we didn't have to hug the verge and dodge trucks.

After a mile I found that the leaders from the marathon and triple were all just about together and not going too quickly. The lead cyclist took us down a side road, but it went steeply downhill to the water and was the wrong way. A few of the group (those who had done it before) ignored this and kept going, but some of us went down then had to climb back up. So this just about reversed the lead group. For several miles the top four triple guys stayed in a pack and the top two single-dayers were ahead and almost out of sight.

I had my 'elite' (i.e. just Amy) support group this time as she'd gotten up early to drive round most of the lake so she could basically drive next to me for most of the race. Neither my parents, nor her Dad, are early risers so they were driving to the finish instead, allowing for a lie-in. It was very helpful to have Amy just there almost the whole way and she took so many photos and cheered for the runners so much that I'm surprised she didn't lose her voice.

As I was feeling good, I kept up enough pace to drop Blue after about six miles. That left about 20 in which I'd need to take eight minutes out of him. Ahead were Rudy (just) and Lynyrd, plus a couple of single-dayers.

The water stations were much bigger, better stocked and more boisterous, with locals trying to put on a show at each one and entertain the runners/walkers. We'd found out on day two that the 72-miler had been cancelled due to permit issues but the entrants for that event were still out on the course on a 'fun run', in no way affiliated with the organisers (of course). I passed a couple of guys from that race, which had started at 10pm the previous evening. It was very cool to have them as part of the whole event and I couldn't have imagined on day one to have kept going around the whole lake...although the altitude sickness played a large part in that. Very inspiring to see them out, even without official recognition.

Just after halfway the hills started. The sun was out and it was heating up nicely so it made for very pleasant running conditions. I caught Rudy and set my sights on the remaining 12-13 miles, with the aim of not losing too much time on the climbs. This worked fine until about 15/16 miles, when the big climb started, from 6,200ft to 6,850ft in about a mile and a half. There are signs at every 100ft of vertical ascent, starting with 'Welcome to Hell'. As it goes up these signs certainly bring a smile to a runner's face as he/she forces themselves uphill. After a couple of signs it starts mentioning purgatory then near the top it says '100ft to heaven'. A good touch, but I mainly focused on not walking. I had a brief walk to take on a gel before powering up the hill (at a breakneck 9min/mile pace).

At the top I caught one of the single-day marathoners who had overtaken me earlier. Then I knew it was only nine miles to go and only one significant climb was left - the one to Inspiration Point where the first stage had started. It seemed like a lot more than two days since that start, but it felt good to be completing a lap of the lake.

There was some undulation and incredible views of the lake below and of Emerald Bay, then a drop down to 6,500ft followed by an immediate climb back up to over 6,800ft. Just six miles to go and all the hard work out the way. I was on a runner's high with the endorphins going crazy. I was flying and managing to enjoy the running, the view and the closeness of the finish. Amy was stopping every couple of hundred metres to cheer and take photos. She gave me updates on the guys in front and I'd made it into third on the day, with just Lightning Lynryd ahead and Sean Meissner in the lead, a 4-time winner of the triple and last years winner in the 72 miler.

As the downhill from day one started, I stepped up a gear to catch Lynryd. I'd had updates from Amy that he was 90 seconds ahead at the bottom of the climb, then just 40 seconds at the top. So it was worth trying to race him for once. I could just see him and it inspired me to push on to the finish. But by the bottom of the hill I hadn't caught up any more time and there were just three miles left. I knew he was much faster than me, but the previous two stages had taken a lot out of him to try to get that world record.

As the last few miles switched back on the the forest paths I'd run on in stage one, I lost sight of him. But then I saw him again with about two miles to go and I was slightly closer. I could tell I was catching, but would there be enough time? I was almost 30 minutes behind him overall, so overtaking him would be purely for pride, but I knew that anything which made me go faster woudl improve my chances of getting second overall in the triple. I didn't know where Blue was but just had to push on.

Then with a mile to go I was about ten seconds behind Lynyrd and he suddenly stopped to put on long pants from his support crew. It seemed strange as it would have been a close race, but this handed me enough time to get second overall that day, in 3h02m, just four minutes off Sean and his fresh legs. Lynyrd was less than a minute behind. We chatted and drank a lot of juice/sports drink and water. I thanked him for giving me the last day, as I'm sure he could have put in a decent sprint for a mile. And congratulated his impressive overall time of 8h39m.

My family were there and enjoyed the excitement of the race day. My Dad even said he wanted to get into a few races locally, back in Northampton, and he's never shown interest in that before. Seems this running thing is infectious as well as addictive.

Blue came in in 3h16m with Rudy and we all went to the lake to chill out post race before heading to the bbq on the beach. The prize giving happened not too much later and there were a lot of trophies, but all for age categories. Meant that about 100 people got a trophy but there wasn't anything for 2nd overall in the triple. Instead I had to make do with 1st 25-29 in the day three marathon (instead of 2nd overall which is a more normal prize?!).

It was a great race, with some flaws in the organisation which didn't spoil the event one bit. A great course, although the roads on some sections were a little nerve-wracking. And it helped that we had a heat-wave to make the afternoons more fun. The weather turned straight afterwards and there was even snow within a week, so the timing worked out very well.

It also coincided with Killian Journet's attempt at the Tahoe Rim Trail record of 45 hours for 165 miles of the peaks around the lake. He managed 38 hours and continues to smash every record he goes for, often records held by ultra legends. I think the triple was a bit short for him...

Transalpine insanity never made so much sense - Sept 09

[Note that the photos are in a random order and not within the text due to the website being annoyingly stupid today.]

What makes a race particularly fun? It depends on who you ask, but I'm sure there are some common threads, like a sense of achievement for finishing, great scenery, interesting competitors or flawless organisation. Well, I'd add a couple more to that list which may not be everyone's cup of chosen beverage: an overwhelmingly epic atmosphere and difficulty levels which push the limits of the body.

And the race I've just returned from has all of the above in oil tanker-sized quantities. It's called the GORE-TEX Transalpine Run and it was virtually the perfect race, based across the Alps from Germany to Austria to Switzerland to Italy. Or eight races, to be more accurate, since it's a multi-stage event with the positions determined by adding stage times for four different racing categories: Men, Women, Masters Men and Mixed.

There's a mixed category in there since the race is run in teams of two due to the danger of alpine running. Yet I (like most) am more used to running solo and not worrying about team dynamics. So the fact that each team has to stay together the whole way, or within two minutes of each other, certainly changes the tactics. Although I hadn't really thought about it in advance when I entered with fellow Serpentine runner/triathlete, Oli Sinclair.

In fact, we'd both been a bit casual in our outlook and preparation. Oli had come off the back of a big effort at Ironman Germany, with less running than usual and very little hill work and none in mountains. I'd had the Mt Blanc and Davos mountain races to give me a taster, but that doesn't really constitute training. Mt Blanc was a marathon with 2,500m of ascent and felt very tough. Davos covered 78.5km but with 2,200m of ascent. That sounded like good training until I saw the stages posted online...

240km over eight stages with over 15,000m of ascent! And one stage is a mountain sprint stage with just under 1,000m of climb so that left an average stage being over 30km long and with 2,000m of climb. In effect we had seven stages like the Mt Blanc marathon, but slightly shorter and a 'sprint' up a mountain. In that context I knew I was in for a challenge since Mt Blanc had left me sore and hobbling for several days.

Luckily, Oli and I had a cunning plan. We would approach the race as a holiday, as we'd initially envisaged it, putting our competitive instincts away in our backpacks and taking in the views at a leisurely pace. Except this is a tough race to just finish and we knew we'd have to put in a fair amount of sweat to get through, even taking it easy.

With this in mind I'd spent the previous month travelling around with my fiancé, Amy, and not trained hard. I even used the taper effect from the month to go for a marathon PB two weeks before the Transalpine in Reykjavik (success - see last posting). And I'd been carried away with the Québéc marathon the following week and put in more effort than I'd planned. That double-whammy had left my legs slightly tired and in no way rested. I just hoped I wouldn't be a drag on Oli but knew that the gentle pace we planned should reduce that issue.

Oh, and I also decided to add jet-lag to my handicaps just for fun, having flown into Munich direct from Vancouver. I then got the first train to the starting village, Oberstdorf, and arrived slightly dazed but excited. Oli had only travelled from London and had done so the day before so was slightly more refreshed.

We checked in at the registration and enjoyed a slow jog through the beautiful mountain backdrops, hoping that the rain would dissipate in time for the 10am start in the morning (it did). Everything seemed to be running like clockwork and the race organisers looked well on top of things.

At the evening pasta party we met a friend from London, Sandra, who had entered in a female team. The atmosphere wasn't electric but people clearly were excited about the week to come. Plus we had a set of maps and profiles for each stage to give us a clue about what we'd be going through. Day one looked about as hard as any other day - 37km with 2,500m of climb. So it wasn't going to be a gentle warm up, but a hardcore baptism of white hot lava, a Mt Blanc marathon squeezed into less distance, hence sharper climbs and descents.

What had we let ourselves in for? Luckily we had the profiles for the other days to help answer that. There wasn't really a let-up in how tough the race would be and every day looked equally as calf-burning. The mountain sprint was the obvious variation, on day five and with the 936m of climb over just a 6.19km distance. This was the rest day, it seemed? What a brilliantly crazy race.

Oli and I had a good night's rest in the communal sports hall with 400 other racers. There were 250 teams lined up for the start in the morning but some had opted for hotels instead of the cheaper option offered by the organisers - large rooms where you can lay down your sleeping bag, put in your ear-plugs (essential) and pull down your eye blinds (also essential). These weren't a problem through the week for Oli and myself, even when we stayed in a WWII bunker in Switzerland which had been converted into Tokyo-style bunks, giving each person about a two sq ft space to squeeze into (only long enough for average height people so the six footers were dangling off the end).

Getting back to the race, the morning came and the sun had replaced the clouds. By the start it was pleasantly warm and we were ready to go. Rather than trying to explain each stage in detail I'll cover some of the general features, partly because the week is a blur of activity and I'm sure time slowed and that we were truly in the mountains for about three months.

Each day generally started with a climb that got gradually steeper and steeper. Everyone started out running but the levels of fitness were clearly graded by how long it took to start walking. Then how long before the walk became a crawl.

Even after just a few minutes we could tell that we were in for a treat with the views. After climbing up to the first checkpoint (we walked some but not much up until then) the mountains lay before us. Unfortunately some people were having to drop out even at this stage and there were several teams which didn't complete the day. Our friend Sandra had not expected the course to be as challenging as it was and didn't get further than this point. But she's vowed to return and get to see the whole course, which is certainly worth it.

As with all alpine races the scenery changes from forests to bare rocks as the altitude rises and the air thins. The first couple of days had significant muddy sections following the rainfall, but also snowy parts near the top. I'd consider myself to be well-travelled in mountains for a city dweller but I was still in awe of the incredible views along the course every single day. Better than other parts of the Alps I've been to and as incredible as the Himalayas, although on a smaller scale and without feeling like a pro wrestler is bear-hugging you.

Some of the climbs nearer the top were very technical with basically no path and just jagged rocks. On many days the rocks were loose to add to the difficulty of avoiding twisted ankles or falls. Mud was the biggest danger at first and I was close to injuring myself on a muddy climb near the end of day one when my legs tried to slip into a side splits and my right knee just stopped me, but by putting a lot of pressure on the joint in the wrong direction. It felt like a niggle at the end of the day but didn't come back to haunt me during the week.

I've always had a preference for downhill running over uphill. It doesn't matter how ridiculous the terrain gets, my legs know where to go and my brain makes the right calls. This helps a lot when there's a significant downhill section at the end of a race as I'm able to finish strongly and overtake comfortably. However, I wasn't sure how comfortable downhills would be with so many stages and so much cumulative descent. Plus I hadn't really considered any differences in running styles and strengths between Oli and myself.

After the first day we had answers to some of the questions about team dynamics. Most other teams had trained together and worked out their comfortable strategies on how to stick together. This was evident in the teams who seemed to stick together like glue on the way up and down and was most apparent in the Salomon Outdoor team who won every stage and were always photographed completely in step with each other.

Oli was fit but definitely less comfortable on the long uphills, a bit slower on the flat (reflected in our marathon times) and also had more trouble letting go on the downhills and relinquishing control of every step to just fly down. However, we were both fine going at the pace we were going at and were taking a lot of photos while we fully experienced the spectacular scenery. And if we could get through the week without injury we knew we'd start moving up the rankings anyway.

That evening we continued meeting more people from the rest of the field, inevitably English speakers. Canadians, Yanks, Aussies, South Africans and even Scots. The Scots, Casey and Iona, had spoken to us on the first evening and were just planning to get through the event with no real competitive aims. But after stage one they were in 3rd in the high quality mixed category (compared to 29th in the men's category for Oli and myself). This theme continued and they managed to push their way into second each day and overall - a very impressive performance given Casey only started training for mountains six weeks earlier.

Everyone was buzzing from the event and, as is usually the case at multi-day events, were very friendly and open to meeting new people. Even though the majority of the teams were German speakers from Germany, Austria, Switzerland and even Italy (who knew that parts of northern Italy were German speaking?), almost everyone spoke English and we met a varied and colourful bunch of people from many different backgrounds. The race definitely ticked the box for having great company.

Oli and I were slightly sore from the first day but were fine to go into the next stage and there was a notable lack of limping amongst the field throughout the whole week. The field didn't narrow as much as we'd expected each day after half the teams failed to finish in 2008. But I think the weather was much worse for them while we had bright sunshine almost the whole race.

The immediate steep climbing each day caused my calves to scream at me, but because I had to slow down to stick with Oli I was able to have plenty of breaks and the toll on my legs was much less than most. I'm sure Oli appreciated it every time I'd wait for him, take a photo of him bent over double then trot off expecting him to follow. Luckily he was very tolerant of this and pushed on throughout the whole event with gritty determination.

Somehow, our legs stopped deteriorating after about three days and seemed to plateau at a level of fatigue that was very manageable. I think this was the case amongst the field since people didn't have many exterior signs of the damage they were inflicting on their bodies. Well, except for the growing queue each morning at the medical tent to get the Japanese colourful athletic tape on competitor's legs. Some had virtual works of art with the intricacies of knee supports they formed with swirls of that tape. But we refrained.

The only recovery tactics we opted for were compression clothing (just Oli), eating a lot (both) and jumping in a river at the finish line to cool our leg muscles (mainly Oli at first). Oli is unfairly(?) mocked amongst the ultra runners in my club for his many scientific approaches to training (the Maffetone method, anyone?). He has a love of lycra which was matched by the whole field, excluding me. I may have been the only person at the race without one item of lycra clothing or any compression gear. I didn't even have the walking poles for Nordic walking, which half the field had opted for (mainly the slower half) since they just get in the way and slow me down. Besides, using poles is clearly cheating since the Nordic walkers tend to spear everyone around them while they flail about their sticks, either while using them or while carrying them in an overly casual manner. Hence they narrow the field unfairly by skewering competitors.

Our recovery tactics worked just fine for us and we got through to the mountain sprint stage on day five feeling ready for a bit of racing. The rules were different for this stage and it provides a welcome change to the race format. Instead of having to stick together the whole day and having punishing drops to pound the thighs, teams could split up and there was no downhill. The course wound up 936m from the finish line of the previous day to the last checkpoint from that stage. It meant we knew exactly what the course was like.

As well as allowing the teams to run separately, there was an individual ranking as well as a team one. So everyone could have an all-out sprint, if you can call walking half the distance a sprint. For the day's podium there would be an individual ranking as well as team rankings worked out from the combined time of both team mates. However, the overall standings were only affected by the time of the slowest person from each team, effectively like any other day.

This all sounded like a fun variation, but I was a bit worried that the usual mass start would lead to the usual traffic jam on the narrow paths. Cleverly, the organisers had another twist here - to start each team 30 seconds apart in reverse order. We were fairly high up the overall rankings so had a start just before midday.

For once every second counted given how short the course was. And with a course record of 45 minutes we had some idea of how long we would take (I aimed for under an hour, to average a staggering 6.19kph, roughly the speed of a pedestrian). By the time we started there were less teams hanging around and they were all very fit-looking. It was hot but we knew we didn't have to endure it for long.

As the starter let us go (similar to the skiing starts but without the timing bar), we stuck together for a good 100m before I went ahead to bust my lungs and set my calves on fire. The top couldn't come soon enough and it felt like the hardest stage, with every second of walking being minimised. Both Oli and myself overtook lots of the competitors ahead of us and we managed a respectable 49m (me) and 58m (Oli), compared to the winning time of just under 40m, which must have involved no power-walking at all.

After pushing so hard we had the day's pasta party at the gondola station at the finish rather than back down near camp. Oli and I opted for a cheeky beer and it wasn't the only time that week that we felt we deserved it. We felt like we'd been racing for weeks, not days, but it had become a way of life. And a very pleasant way of living at that.

Each evening we had a podium for the winners and various presentations about the next day's route...in English, German and Spanish. It made it drag a little but it was also fun to see the leaders from each category dance on stage to a Right Said Fred tune called 'Stand Up For The Champions', or something similar. It was a fitting end to each incredibly beautiful day where the scenery continued to surprise and stun us. My favourite section of any day was through the Swiss border with Italy where the path had been dynamited out of a sheer rock face and looked unreal.

I can't remember which night it happened, but we even had a live performance from a rock singer called Marty, who is probably German but sings in English. He'd written the theme tune for the race which was news to us (both that there was a theme tune and that it was written specifically for the event). Called 'Keep On Running', it was a decent, if cheesy, rock song which we'd heard every morning just before they played AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' over the start.

Everyone loved his energetic performance, especially the crouching in guitar solos then leaping back in the air for the singing. It was hilarious but also felt very appropriate and fitting. What was even better was that he'd written another song for another of the organiser's races, which he also performed, then he did an encore for the first song again. Genius! Why don't all races have large, blonde, long-haired rock Gods performing live? The closest I've seen is the classical music played by the Paris Philharmonic Orchestra in the MdS after one of the later stages, but that doesn't really compare.

Supposedly the song had even reached number one in Germany, although I'm not sure if that was true. But we all had a surprise visit from him again in the morning as he performed in front of us live at the start instead of playing the recorded version. I was certainly impressed and will now expect similar from all other races.

So the race had transcended the world of running and become a daily ritual for us, with entertainment and who knows what else to expect. By the last day we had the usual mixture of anticipation for the finish and sadness that something so fun had to end. We'd started in Oberstdorf in Germany, run through Austria and Switzerland and arrived in the German area of South Tirol in Italy. That last stage would take us to Latsch and to the after party, where everyone planned to let their hair down and bounce around to crappy music as if their legs weren't sore.

Oli and I had spent the last few days trying to catch a German team purely because of their team name, Luftwafe. Now I know the war's over and that it just means airforce (and those boys were airforce officers), but when we saw their team name we couldn't help but want to beat them for the sake of old Blighty. Sadly, they had almost a 30 minute lead over us going into the last three days and they went up the mountains quicker than we did.

Our competitive instincts were ignited and it was very satisfying to overtake them each day on the downhill towards the end. On the final day we just needed to beat them by about 5m40s, which was certainly possible. I could hear the theme tune from 'The Great Escape' playing in my mind...but only when the annoyingly catchy 'Keeping On Running' gave it a few seconds of airtime (that song is now on my MP3 player and will forever remind me of the Alps and of the big, German rock singer bounding around).

We climbed up the last ascent of the race on the last day with leaden legs (maybe we were feeling a bit of fatigue?). It seemed harder than the other days, but that was probably due to the toughest course, according to consensus as well as the race director, being day seven. Once we reached the peak we knew it was downhill all the way to the finish and we set off at a decent pace over some technical terrain. After we'd dropped a fair distance the route became a forrest access road and was very easy to run down. We flew past people and eventually caught the German Team Luftwafe. However, we only had about 12ks to take the time out of their lead, almost 30 seconds per km. As a result I pushed Oli's pace a bit too much and he started flagging and stumbling over the path as it levelled out.

So what did we need to boost us to the finish? More Germans, of course. We were running on a very narrow raised path with only room for one person but a team tried to overtake Oli and nudged him off the path. Suddenly the hidden ogre errupted from Oli and I thought there was going to be a fight (I secretly hoped there would be as I had the camera ready). But then Oli sped up and the adrenaline his altercation had released sent him zooming round the remaining 5ks or so. We overtook plenty of teams, including the second women's team right before the finish line. For the finish we took in the cheers from the crowd as I videoed the experience. And it's lucky Oli got that boost since we only beat the Luftwafe by 8 seconds overall in the end, a very satisfying finish to an awesome (an overused word, but very appropriate) race.

It had been a very tough week and everyone seemed to have enjoyed every second of it. The memories will last forever, especially with the 200 photos I took of the route. And everyone we spoke to swore they'd return in 2010. Except possibly me due to my wedding...

Could it have been any better? I'm not sure I can think of anything significant, except maybe that the evenings went on a little longer than necessary due to the translations. Great job, race director Wolfie - you are a legend. I'd recommend this to anyone, but it's not worth turning up to the start unless you've put in some decent training, ideally on hills (or things like the Davos K78 for starters). Oli and I weren't well prepared but weren't in danger of a DNF at least.