Tri Cities Marathon goes like a dream

Just a quickie here as I've just run the Tri Cities marathon in Washington State and would recommend it to anyone who wants a good time, perhaps for a Boston qualifier etc. I've not seen many faster courses, except Berlin, Amsterdam and a couple of other flat-as-a-pancake courses. The four bridges aren't too high so barely hurt your time.

I was helped along by my in-laws to be, Laurel and Clint, as well as Amy. Clint is a very good cyclist although he doesn't compete much these days, so he decided to cycle the course with me. Not something you can do in the big marathons, but as this had under 300 marathoners plus the relay, there was plenty of space, especially as he joined after half a mile when the field had spread and I was just running with one other guy, who was in the relay.

I'm ecstatic as I went for a personal best and got it. Had hoped to scrape under 2h35m and shave off a bit from my Reykjavik time in August (2h36m59s). But it went like a dream and I somehow led from start to finish to get 2h32m40s. Am still on a massive high as I basically got my half marathon PB back-to-back. This Bend air seems to be working for me.

So now I have 10 months until my wedding of hard training to see what I can pull off. Apart from trying to break 2h30m in Phoenix, Arizona, in January, the other two major efforts will go into Comrades double marathon in May (if I can get there given visa issues in the US) and the Western States 100 in June (if I get a ballot place with approximately a 1 in 7 chance by my calculations).

It's looking like a fun year of running and I'm genuinely excited about every race I go to, even if I'm just running it as a long training jog. Running gives so much, although it does take a lot of time and effort to get in shape for race day. I know I'll meet more great people on the trails, roads and wherever else I manage to fit in a race or run.

Finally, well done to the UK runners doing a combination of one, two or three of the marathons over this extended weekend - Beachy Head (Sat), Greensands (Sun and an inaugral event that went down well) and Dublin (Mon).

Oregonian running - about time too!

After trying to move to the US for a very long time to be with my fiancée, Amy, I finally arrived (on a tourist visa for now, anyway) in September. But I didn't get to my home in Bend, Oregon, until later, after several races and visiting several States.

It's just been voted as the best place to run trails in Outdoor magazine, so should be a perfect place for trail running. Excellent - just the sort of news I wanted just before I arrived, although I already know just how beautiful it is. Snow-capped mountains, forests and great views almost anywhere, even in downtown.

So after a visit to some of Amy's family in Portland and the marathon there (see photo with large crowds of runners on a road, above), I arrived in Bend just in time to join the running community in a local half marathon...on trails, of course.

The Dirty 2nd Half is the sequel to the Dirty Half in June each year. As it was the first year for this 2nd Half, people weren't quite sure what the trail would be like, but the times from the June race included some sub 6-minute milers over the trails.

It was a little out of town at the Seventh Mountain resort and started early on a Sunday in October. After really hot weather for the weeks before, it had cooled down to winter-like temperatures. Well, English winter (a fair bit below freezing).

I only did a short warm up due to the cold then lined up with about 300 others on the trail. All we could see were trees, but the race director told us there would be a climb from about 3 miles and that it's generally a hard course to run fast on, but not too technical apart from a few sections.

Sounded ideal to me, although I'd trained hard during the week to get ready for a marathon at the end of the month. I'd hoped to place well, but Bend has a reputation for having a lot of top class trail and ultra runners so I had no idea of who would turn up (or what they look like). Although I had met one guy, Max King, a top American trail and distance runner (63 minutes in the half marathon certainly impresses me).

Everyone clearly gave Max the nod as the obvious winner and he showed it within 100m by sprinting after the lead mountain bike at about my sprint speed. For the rest of us, there was just open trail ahead as we lost sight of Max after about a mile (he slowed down to a more reasonable 5min/mile pace).

The trails were beautiful, but with my body parts freezing I was focusing on keeping up enough speed to get my internal boilers going. After a few miles I felt cosy, but was also tired. I was just behind 2nd and 3rd and the trail started a steepish uphill climb at the 3 mile mark, just as advertised. The ground wasn't icy, but I slowed down so much I wasn't in much danger of slipping on anything.

We mainly followed a mountain access path but the hill kept on for several miles and went from about 4,000ft to 4,750ft (it's so useful to have the Garmin to tell me how much drop I'd have until the finish). I felt bad and was overtaken by several people, just wanting the climb to stop since my legs weren't fresh enough.

It eventually levelled out at a water station at 7 miles, then went on to a single track path. This was more my sort of thing - varying degrees of downhill on more technical terrain. I started enjoying myself again as the path wound left and right, sometimes ducking under branches.

This kept going for most of the rest of the race, but with a few harsh uphills thrown in. It felt great to be in the wilderness with some slight danger of bears, cougars and the like...but not much danger. I'd done trail marathons in the UK but never a trail half and never in such a pretty forest. In fact, all the trail marathons had only involved sections of forest since we don't have as much of it in England. And since I'd never done a shorter trail race I'd never tried to run really hard on the trails and push the speed up.

It was a mental boost to go at about 5k pace on the trails, even if they were downhill. But the last 3 miles or so were back on the flatish/undulating section, overlapping part of the first 3 miles. I could see 2nd and 3rd again after a long absence from them. But I managed to follow 3rd down the wrong way and add on a quarter of a mile before we both turned back. The guys behind had caught up and 2nd was nowhere to be seen. I didn't care that much since I'd had a fun race and the second half had made up for the pain of the first half. I made one last effort to get into 3rd and managed to hold it to the finish.

1h26m was slower than I'd expected but until mile 7 I was on for my personal worst half marathon time. Max managed 1h14m and won by 10 minutes. But at least it gives the rest of us something to aim for...

A really enjoyable start to living and running in Bend and the organisation was great from the local running shop. I'm really looking forward to more races around here and to meeting a whole new set of runners.

Next race is the Tri Cities marathon in Washington State, where Amy's Mom lives. A completely different type of race, it's a dead flat road race. But having that variety is what makes running so interesting and challenging to me. I wouldn't give up any one type of surface or race and am looking forward to including 100 milers in my regular set of races, almost twice as far as anything I've done before.

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.

A frantic month off with a little bit of racing

So I quit my job at the start of August to travel around Europe and Canada for a month with my fiancé. It had been planned for months and we had a great time seeing amazing cities like Prague, Budapest and Stockholm.

But I couldn't let a little thing like travelling round completely stop me racing. I still fitted in the Reykjavik marathon in Iceland then the Québéc marathon over in Canada the following weekend. And it all went better than I could have imagined.

Reykjavik was windy and I've run the marathon there three times before, so was ready for the coastal gales. But after staying with some of the half marathon leaders 'til 19k and using them as a shield from the elements, I found I was in 2nd and had 3rd and 4th visible 30 seconds behind me.

The 2nd half of the race is less open to the weather, except for the section from 36k to the finish, so I decided to push on and drop the others before it got too hard. The tactic worked and when I turned the corner at 36k I couldn't see anyone in the visible km or so behind me. Even better, it looked like I had a shot at a PB as long as I didn't lose too much time into the windy section.

Knowing that I was in the prize money and likely to set a new best, I pushed on to get every second and was rewarded with some decent km splits under 3m50s, slower than I'd been running but not by too much. I finished in 2h36m59s, very happy to have broken six-minute miling for the first time in a marathon and knocking off over a minute from my time in Paris in April.

After a week in Canada which included trips to Niagara Falls, Montréal and Québéc's old town, I was planning on jogging the marathon on my 29th birthday. It was the sensible thing to do - 1 week after a PB and 1 week before the extremely hardcore Transalpine stage race across the mountains of four European countries (see next blog entry).

But races don't always go to plan and sometimes that can be a positive thing, not just going worse than expected. All I knew about the race is that almost everyone does a horribly positive split due to the climb over the huge bridge at around 25k and the prevailing headwind to the finish.

Since it started with a downhill 10k I decided to run a little harder to break away from the crowds and then cruise through for a sub 3h time. After a 38m 10k I'd expended a bit more effort than planned and slowed down, but was still in 7th place. Jogging the next 14k with a local guy, I felt comfortable and had gone through halfway in 1h22m, much faster than I needed to do for sub 3h.

As we approached the hill climb I decided to put some effort in up the hill as one last bit of training for the Transalpine. But I found myself suddenly catching everyone as I accelerated uphill. With 6th and 5th just ahead (they'd not been in sight for an hour) I was with them within another km.

It would have stopped there, and I'd have happily jogged to the finish, but I saw a line of the other athletes just ahead and well within reach. So my racing instincts kicked in and I was off on the chase, starting with a 3m30s km down the other side of the bridge after taking in the stunning, if wet, view from up there.

The predicted wind wasn't too strong but it was annoying and made the going tougher. Luckily the bridge seemed to have finished most runners off and I was able to cruise into a comfortable 3rd place as the others slowed. I had no idea whether there was anyone coming up fast from behind so I pushed it to the finish. But I could really feel the previous week's efforts in my legs. Somehow I got a 3 minute lead over 4th by the finish and didn't need to have pushed so much. The time was just over 9 minutes slower than in Reykjavik but I was very satisfied with how it went, especially since I didn't start racing until the bridge.

But what effect would racing both marathons have on the Transalpine race? Well, I was sure that leg fatigue wouldn't be the best start for mountain racing...

Number 100 at Davos, but never easy

Finishing the 2009 K78 Swiss Alpine Marathon was one of the highlights of my few years of running. But it was also one of the hardest races I've had. The whole time I had pressure on myself to beat last year's time by as much as possible with the certainty that I would finish no matter what. I had to - this was marathon number 100, I had about 30 friends racing or spectating at one of the events of the weekend, plus I even had a great big medal from the 100 Marathon Club engraved with the date and race name.

So I was never likely to take it easy and was looking forward to really seeing how much I'd improved on mountains. It wasn't as much as I'd hoped and I was still hopeless at running for long periods uphill, spending much time walking. Luckily I've never had a problem with downhill running and made up time on every drop. That's always one of the most fun things about running for me - kamikaze-style leaping from rock to rock on steep, off-road sections, ideally with mountains as a back-drop.

I'd been looking forward to the race for ages since the 78.5km (49 miles) course is beautiful and I've run in Davos the previous two years, doing the marathon K42 and the ultra K78 in that order. The whole event has several other shorter and easier races too, but all are significantly more difficult than running on roads and much more rewarding (see the photos with this write-up for why).

The early morning flight didn't bother me much, neither did the 2h30m journey from the airport to Davos Dorf station. Between the plane and train I'd picked up three other Serpies (Angus, Jess and Ben) and we met up after checking into hotels to collect our race numbers in the slightly underwhelming expo. We'd persuaded Jess to switch from being a spectator to running the 11km race and I also bumped into my first friend from the 100 Marathon Club, Dave Ross, and his new fiancée...in fact she only upgraded from girlfriend to fiancée the previous day in the romantic setting of the Alps. So a pretty positive start to the weekend.

Most of my friends were staying in a hostel about a mile from the centre of town, so the evening downpour persuaded them to stay indoors while I met people staying more centrally in the main bar on the Promenade. Was great to get into the spirit of the event and I always love the anticipation before a big event. I'd managed to help to persuade quite a few people to race it, mainly the ultra, so much of the chat focused on that and how the heavy rain and recent snow would affect the course. We were also celebrating the recent victory of two mates in the Gobi March the previous month, Dave and Diana. They'd run together the whole way and Diana had won.

Before I got too carried away with the Swiss Weissbier, we all called it a night in preparation for the 8am start. It was still raining heavily but the forecast showed some improvement, not that mountain forecasts can be trusted much.

After a good night's sleep I was nervously excited, as I should be before any decent race. I met up with a sea of Serpie running vests at the start, not just ultra entrants, but Serpies doing all distances who were either supporting or taking part in one of the other 8am start races. The sun was vaguely shining through and everyone was in a great mood. There was a slight panic when one girl (who shall remain nameless) realised she'd left her race number back in the hostel a mile away and there was just 20 mins 'til the start. But she made it back on time and we were all lined up in the huge crowd of starters.

I planned to run as much as possible with Mark Braley, who had raced the K78 with me the previous year. He has a habit of zooming off at the start (his 10k PB is within a marathon) then slowing down, so we planned to pace each other and to therefore have some company throughout the earlier stages of the race at a minimum. However, the pacing mainly involved me trying to rein him in as we set off at 6 min miles, not a pace we expected to be sustainable in the slightest.

We did stay together for most of the first 18km or so, although I spend much of it trying to keep my pace down and only seeing him in the distance. The first section of the race goes to Filisur and is undulating but not as mountainous as later on, plus it has a net drop of 500m (1,700ft). During a particularly fast section of downhill roads (rather than trails) I caught him up and noted that my Garmin was showing our pace around what we do for 5k. Again, not very sustainable, but it was fun and we were able to keep going without being out of breath at all.

I got too caught up in the speed and let my race plan go out the window temporarily. I just wanted to enjoy the ease of running down a good section and saving a few mins from my overall time. Of course, it doesn't really work like that and going a minute too fast early in an ultra can lead to losing many minutes later on. But while it was easy, I didn't think I'd be losing too much later on.

This is where I got too cocky and really didn't need to be overtaking so many people. The race doesn't start until the last quarter so gaining positions early on is completely meaningless...particularly if the people I overtook were in the K31 race which stops at Filisur. I kept up the pace as the course flattened and we had a railway track crossing at 19.5km. The crossing involved weaving in between a narrower section and almost turning back on myself. For this sharp turn I foolishly using a piece of wet wood in the rack to take the weight of me twisting. The slimy surface had no grip and my leg flew from under me like slipping on a banana skin sideways. I crashed into the fist-sized rocks around the rails at full speed and right in front of a crowd of people.

It happened so suddenly after I'd been cruising so comfortably but my first thought was that I still had 59km left to run so was anything seriously damaged? I could stand up, my head hadn't hit any rocks and the adrenalin masked most things. But I could feel a lot of bruises along my right side and chest as well as nasty cuts and blood flowing freely from my right palm.

The spectators wanted to make sure I was ok and were trying to help me up and direct me towards the medics at the water station just ahead. But I decided the best tactic was to see whether I could still run. I could, although this started as a slow limp. Quickly I realised that limping 59km would lead to some serious muscle imbalances as my body had to make up for the poor posture, so I needed to try to run as normally as possible and just ignore the soreness. After a few minutes this wasn't too difficult but was very annoying.

In total I was probably only down for 20-30 seconds but I was running more conservatively and slower from that point. The race had become more serious in several ways - getting a decent time had just become tougher and finishing could even be an issue. There was no way I'd drop out unless I was incapable of continuing, but the wet conditions made a second fall much more likely.

With my slower pace, Mark came into view behind me after I'd broken away previously. I expected to see him join me at my side but at the next water station a few kms later he stopped to drink while I kept going thanks to having a Camelbak to keep me hydrated. My leg and side was loosing up a bit as well and running with a normal gait wasn't an effort, it just ached a bit. Maybe it'd all work out fine after all?

Filisur came soon after, marking the lowest point in the course at just over 1,000m (3,300ft). Ahead was a non-stop 1,600m climb to the top of the first pass, merely a half marathon away (now that would be a tough half marathon!). It started with a section of reasonably steep windy road up to Bergun, where the K42 marathon starts and then continues basically along the ultra route to the finish.Runners kept leap-frogging each other as some alternated between running and walking or just varied their speed. The women's winner came past me at this point and was slicing through the field making the hill look very easy. I blame the flatness of London on my sloth uphill, but when you see the quality mountain runners you have to stand back and appreciate their fitness and technique. They've worked hard to be able to run uphill so fast and it's impressive.

Just before Bergun the road temporarily flattened to give me a breather. I knew there would be plenty of Serpies waiting there as the K42 starts 3.5 hours after the ultra and I was going through town just over half an hour before their start - enough time that they hadn't moved towards the start line yet. Running through the cheering crowds made me put more effort in and to try to look stronger than I felt (especially for the photos). The Serpie support was great and gave me a big boost. There was literally a tunnel of Serpies to run through and I couldn't help speeding up, even though it was a relatively steep road. Of course, as soon as I passed the crowd I slowed my run back to race pace, but it's difficult to not play up to the crowd.

Feeling newly elated and with the earlier fall virtually out of my mind, I focused on the remaining 1,300m of vertical ascent to the highest point. I used my Garmin mainly to tell me my altitude rather than distance and found it helpful to know how much of the climb was done and how much was ahead.

As I remembered from previous years, the roads and tracks were mainly runnable for the next 10km or so and I managed to avoid walking too much until I hit the last 700m of ascent where the path gets noticeably steeper. Everyone I could see was walking, except one long-haired and orange-tanned man just ahead. He was jogging but going at the same speed as the walkers which just looked like a huge waste of energy.

This is the part of the course most people love (and hate) the most. The scenery gets more mountainous and the number of trees drops to none eventually. Snow patches also started appearing and the temperature was clearly colder than lower in the valley. I was glad of my two layers as it only got colder as I climbed. It can be hard to fully appreciate the view while the calves scream at you and your heartbeat races, but I was well aware that being there was something special and that I'd made a very good choice for my 100th marathon.

I kept thinking how tired my legs were and also got some minor cramps in my calves which I had to stretch out, which normally isn't an issue for me. I managed to overtake more people than overtook me but I was disappointed that my recent hilly races hadn't helped me deal with the climbs more. Challenges like the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc or the mountainous US 100 milers now looked even more daunting, but also more tempting.

Eventually I saw the top of the pass ahead and above. I was 10 mins quicker than the previous year so had still managed to force a little more from my legs even after my crash. I was exhausted and my legs were painful from fatigue. When I started running down the rocky path on the other side, I felt a new lease of life and the tiredness ebbed away. The change of which muscles were being used made all the difference and I was back into race mode, overtaking people again.

This high section of the course between the two mountain passes lasts 7km and drops 200m before climbing back to over 2,600m again at Scalettapass. It was cold, exposed and difficult terrain to get a footing in due to the rocky, muddy and waterlogged path. But it's one of the best parts of the race and after Scalettapass it's just over 18km left and that involves almost no uphills and a drop of almost 1,100m.

Concentration has to be at 100% along these sections at the top otherwise a misplaced foot happens too easily. After the race plenty of people had cuts, bruises and limps to show that the slippery conditions had taken a few other victims.

I managed to only get overtaken once, by the female winner from the previous year and 2005, a local runner. She was powering along the uphill towards the second pass, but not as quickly as the leader of the K42 marathon who zoomed past, having caught up about 40 minutes on me over the 24kms of his race. He flew up as if he hadn't just done a huge climb already. But after that pass it was steep downhill and I knew that hardest part was over.

I stuffed my face with food at the water station at the top then set off down the steep paths. I could see far ahead and there were a few runners strung out over the path as well as plenty of hikers and supporters. It's amazing just how many people make the effort to hike far into the mountains to support their friends, family and everyone else who runs by. Cow bells and shouts of 'Hopp! Hopp! Hopp!' let you know it's definitely Switzerland.

The next few kms were all sharp declines, zig-zagging down the barren slope. I loved it and kept leaping around as if I hadn't been running all day. The second major shift of the race from steep climbs to steep descents again helped ease up the seemingly non-stop hammering on the calves. But it only shifted it to the thighs which soon started feeling it after a few hundred metres of going down the other side.

Soon I was tired again, but the rocky paths soon transformed into grassy, tree-lined paths with a gentler slope. I just kept focusing on the next runner ahead to try to catch each one, but the last 10k went by without seeing anyone behind or ahead. There were only a couple of tiny hills left, but they were still a bit demoralising. Then the last few km were started off by the 75km marker and the path entering the woods before popping out just above Davos for a tarmac road down to the stadium.

Just as I approached the entrance to the stadium and was exhausted from a prolonged sprint finish, I saw two more Serpies, Lou and Gav, with a big camera. I was spurred on for an extra last bit of effort and to not look too drained in the shots. Then there was just half a lap of the track to go past the big crowds. I couldn't help playing up to the crowd once again (I never can), slapping hands and reacting to the louder cheers with every extra bit of speed I could muster.

It had been tough, one of the hardest days of running I've had. But the fact that it had been hard, as well as beautiful, meant that I could appreciate the effort it had taken to get through it. I was limping immediately after stopping but was happy to have got through in one piece and to have lowered my time from the previous year by 12 mins to 6h51m and 15th man.

I spent the next few hours watching other Serpies and friends come in (that's Dave and Diana finishing below). Almost everyone had had a great race and really enjoyed it. Many had been converted to trail running, mountains or ultras. The beers through the afternoon were well deserved all round.

Apart from cleaning ourselves up and going out to the pub to celebrate, I just had one more thing left that day. Since the Chairman of the 100 Marathon Club was also running the K78, we'd arranged for a small presentation of my medal for joining the club at the finish line at 9pm.

At that time there were about 25 Serpies gathered round as the sun disappeared over the mountains. We cheekily used the winner's podium for the presentation and I was honoured to have so many old and new friends around to make the occasion more special. After a tiny speech several bottles of champagne appeared from nowhere, including one to spray podium-style. I was taken aback and felt like I was lucky to have good friends to share the day and the moment with. Some great photo opps occurred too, including me pouring the champagne from the stage into James 'Mr ultra-long ultra' Adams' mouth. Trying to get hold of that shot now.

The rest of the night went quickly but I was so tired and sore I couldn't stay too late. Davos had been a fantastic race, just as I expected. And it reminded me that distance running is never easy and can always push you further than expected. I hope that my future trail races in the US live up to it, but I'm sure there'll be plenty of top experiences still to come. And after so many people had such a great time, I know a lot more Serpies will be enjoying the fun and challenges of mountain running.