Western States Endurance Run - The first 62 miles

One minute to kick off.

Time for the first long hike of the day.

Sunrise over Lake Tahoe.

Near the top of Emigrant's Pass at four miles.

Desert hat in the snow.

Just a scrape, luckily.

The lake on the snow route.

Around Duncan's Canyon at 25ish miles.

Over halfway at Michigan Bluff aid station.

Compression socks for the last 38.2 miles.

Finally - the big one. Western States had been on my 'must do' list for a few years but it still seems like it sneaked up on me before I was ready.

The original and most prestigious 100-miler (100.2 miles, according to the organisers) hit its 37th running in 2010. I think it was Dean Karnazes' book, 'Ultramarathon Man' where I first heard about it and he certainly made it sound appealing if you're of the right frame of mind. It seems like the logical next step for an ultrarunner to take on a 100-miler after stuff up to 100k, so I knew I'd do it at some point.

But this isn't an easy race to get into. To give an idea, there were something like 1,700 entrants into the lottery (every respectable race has one these days...except Comrades) for around 350 places. There were other routes to get in, but these can basically be summarised as elite entries and old guys who started the race. To get those elite places, you either need to come in the top two men or women (you can't choose which, unfortunately) in some select races in the Montrail Ultra Cup or be top 10 from the previous Western States.

Over the years, the history and reputation of the race has only increased and it always attracts a very strong field. This year there were probably 20 men and 20 women who would be favourites for most trail ultras if they showed up normally. But when put together it makes for a great, highly competitive race which is very hard to call. I won't go into the main contenders as I briefly mentioned them in my last posting, plus there's plenty of chatter on the internet about them already. However, this year's men's field was almost certainly the best ever and probably the most elite set of (trail) ultra runners ever assembled. So I wasn't even on most people's radar...which was kind of pleasant. It meant nothing was expected of me, but also that unless I did well, I'd still be off everyone's radar.

Getting back to the actual race, it starts in Squaw Valley, a few miles from Lake Tahoe and at an altitude of 6,250ft, and goes through California's Sierra Nevada mountains to Auburn, at 1,280ft. Although there are certainly steeper races, it still has 18,040ft of climbing and 21,970ft of descent (yes, I know that doesn't add up, but it's what the website says). It is particularly known for the heat and temperatures in the gorges can hit dizzying levels - well in excess of 100F.

I won't go into too much detail about the history, but it started originally when Gordon Ainsleigh turned up to the 100 mile Tevis Cup Trail Ride in 1974 without a horse and said he'd run it instead. Completing it in just under 24 hours, he set the standard for the whole 100 mile running craze so now many races offer special belt buckles for finishes in less than a day. The silver 24 hour Western States buckle is one of the most prized targets for ultrarunners, although as long as you finish in under the final cut-off of 30 hours, you still get a bronze buckle.

I'd digested all the mystique of the race over the past few years and when I arrived in Tahoe a week before the race to acclimatise, I was more excited and nervous than I've been since I did my first ultra at London to Brighton. As I mentioned in my last posting, this sheen had worn off in the few days before the race due to the race taking itself too seriously. I stated that I thought the race was overhyped and took itself too seriously for what is essentially an amateur sport (no prize money at WS, although this year there was a $2,000 incentive for a new course record announced about a day before the race).

I hoped that the race would live up to its billing. So does it? Well, it definitely didn't disappoint by being too easy. But it wasn't quite as polished as I'd expect from such a prestigious event, as I'll explain below.

After a weigh-in and general registration on the Friday, I turned up around 4am on race Saturday for the race bib collection. Amy would be my only crew and I owe her massively for putting up with a week's holiday just for this race and for one of the longest days of both of our lives. Mind you, a holiday at Lake Tahoe isn't too much of a chore...

Sunrise was due around 5:30am and the race started at 5am. There was a huge amount of nervous energy buzzing around the runners and their families and friends, especially the newbies to the race. Although there were 24 aid stations along the course, most weren't accessible to supporters and crews since it goes through very remote areas.

Amy would be following the organiser's suggested path, especially as she's on her own and didn't want to get lost or have to do too much hiking to aid stations. That meant just seeing me at Robinson Flat (29.7 miles), Michigan Bluff (55.7 miles), Foresthill (62.0 miles), Green Gate (79.8 miles), Highway 49 Crossing (93.5 miles) and the finish at Placer High School (100.2 miles). The gaps between seeing her would be huge, with the first time being well over four hours in. And if things went to hell, she could be waiting a long time at each aid station. Obviously we went through the logistics before and set estimated parameters of when I'd get to each point.

Although it was my first proper 100 miler (Rocky Raccoon on an injury as a planned training run for this doesn't count as I shouldn't have even started that race), I saw no reason why I couldn't finish near the front if I ran a conservative race and so vaguely aimed for 16h40m, or 10 minute miling. Last year that would have been 2nd, but in this year's field I expected it to be more like top five (and I would have been spot on - that time would have been 5th).

I knew that my Comrades time included a 5:24 50 miles to finish the race over hills bigger than the faster US trail 50 milers, so that should make fast 100 mile times possible as long as the climbs don't waste me. I'd not done enough hill training, especially compared to the mountain-dwelling top guys although the hilly Miwok 100k felt good as a training jog, but WS is known for being very runnable so I had a sensible plan to jog through the harder first 62 miles then speed up a bit over the last 38 miles which were over easier terrain. Fellow Bend resident (while I lived there) and 100-mile specialist, Jeff Browning, gave me that useful tip and I think it's excellent advice as long as you're well enough trained for endurance.

This target probably sounds very cocky to any ultra veterans for someone doing their first 100, but I had enough results recently to have confidence that I could keep to that pace easily for the first 100k and the course kind of gets easier after that. I expected it to be the hardest race of my life, although in a very different way to Comrades, which was an all-out speed-fest. It would be more of a grind than keeping a high intensity level for a long period, but most of my recent ultras have been negative splits so it was worth a go.

THE RACE

Back to the pre-dawn darkness and I eventually lined up with the other runners as the clock ticked down to zero hour. I was stood next to the super-fast mountain lunatic Spaniard, Kilian Journet, who most people didn't seem to recognise. So I took a few photos and set my camera to take a video of the start. I had two watches on due to the Garmin battery only being good for around 10 hours, but I still wanted it to give me altitude readings through the mountains and canyons. As the gun went off, I tried to simultaneously hold my camera up and start both watches, but only managed to trip over some safety cones around the start line and start both watches late as I fumbled in the darkness to find the correct settings over the first quarter of a mile.

The camera was a useful pacing tool, forcing me to ignore the leaders and start off very gently, taking photos all the way up the four mile, 2,500ft climb to Emigrant's Pass at 8,750ft. I'm glad I took it easy, both to avoid wasting energy so early in the race and to enjoy the views as the sun rose over Lake Tahoe and the mist in Squaw Valley. Never before in a race have I planned to walk within a quarter of a mile, but it's a steep start and climbs are definitely my weakness so I power walked most of that climb, getting through quicker than I'd hoped and reaching the top in 53 minutes.

This year the course had been altered from miles nine to 23 due to heavy snow over that section of the course making it impossible to get the Lyons Ridge and Red Star Ridge aid stations in. Instead, we followed a lower course along a lake but still the same distance. This section was supposedly much easier and faster, but this was counteracted by around nine miles of snow-covered trails which would normally have been faster and easier. I'd done a total of 30 minutes of snow training in the preceding months and slipped around a lot, enjoying the camber about as much as I enjoyed running on the soft sand dunes at the Marathon des Sables. Admittedly, the snow did give better scenery and it was spectacular to see the forests and mountains when I was able to look up without sliding around.

About five miles in I tried to pass someone and slid down on to rocks and ice to knock my left knee and graze it. Not the ideal start but it uninjured apart from the cut so I hoped it wouldn't become a throbbing pain after another 95 miles (it didn't). However, it did look relatively hardcore when I ran into the next aid station with blood streaming down my leg thanks to my heart pumping harder as I ran.

After the first snow section we went below 7,000ft and it became very easy to run. Almost too easy and I had to hold myself back from running comfy six minute miles downhill as that would have been a bad idea. I was chatting to Devon Crosby-Helms on this relaxing downhill, one of the women's favourites, and let her speed off at around 6:15s thinking she would regret that pace later (she did drop around halfway so maybe that came back to bite her).

Soon I'd got well into the race and was leaving the pretty, snow-course lake views (not sure what lake it was) to climb up to Duncan Canyon aid station and get back on the normal course at 23.8 miles in 3h38m. At this point I was way back in the field, in 36th, but was dead on my planned splits and felt very good. On the climb up I passed a few people and kept to my other major tactic at the aid station - to eat and drink plenty by taking my time.

The day was heating up but was still cool enough for me to keep my gloves on. There were several stream crossings, including one with a rope to stop people being swept away. The race is known for the Rucky Chucky crossing of the American River at 78 miles which involves a rope but I hadn't expected so many times where my feet (and up to the knee) would get wet - there were maybe 10 of these. I'd guess there was more water flowing than usual due to the late snow melt and this was very obvious in the waterfalls around Lake Tahoe, especially Eagle Falls which I visited in the preceding week.

There was a decent climb up to the first major aid station for supporters at Robinson Flat at 29.7 miles and we got into the snow again. Many of the aid station during the day had medics and scales to make sure anyone with hydration or salt-related issues (in particular) could be helped or even pulled from the race. I think this aid station was about the 2nd time I was weighed, but all was fine since I was still spot on 149 pounds like when I started. A gain (too much drinking or lack of absorption of liquids) or loss (the opposite) of more than 3% would get them worried and potentially hold me back until I got back to somewhere close to normal again.

As I popped out the aid station, Amy was waiting for me with a change of T-shirt (pointless in hindsight since the new one was wet by the next aid station as I threw water over myself to keep cool) and to take the camera plus my excess clothing from the colder and higher early section. She gave me more gels and food then I got going again. I thought it was a downhill straight after Robinson so was annoyed to find it kept climbing for a mile (note to self: I really should memorise the course profile better in future). That meant it stayed snow-packed until the course eventually went down again and gave great views into the lower sections of the Tahoe Forest.

As I wouldn't see Amy again until 55.7 miles, I suspected I'd be less fresh and perky so I'd told her not to worry if I looked rough, especially as the hardest part of the course is the oven caused by the canyons from Last Chance aid station at 43.3 miles to Foresthill at 62.0 miles. But from around 31 miles to Last Chance is mainly downhill and easy, wider trails. I was cruising and enjoying the chance to go a little quicker without expending much energy at all. I even saw Sean Meissner (another Bend area ultrarunner) who was there to pace a female Montrail team mate of his and it was encouraging to have him tell me I was looking strong. However, if my forced slow pace and mere 38 miles of running had tired me out, I hate to think how long I'd have been out for.

I was making sure I stayed on top of hydration and took Nuun tablets with all my water in my backpack. So much so that I gained a little weight and had a high of around 150.5 pounds as I went through the canyons. First was the steepest, with a long, zig-zagging path down then a sharp, 1,500ft climb up Devil's Thumb. I had a good power walk going and passed a few people to get to 17th by the aid station there at 47.8 miles, not feeling the heat at all.

A brief mile later and I went down an even longer drop to Eldorado Creek at 52.9 miles, which I'd heard is the point where a lot of people drop due to the heat and the nasty 1,800ft climb to the next aid station. I was 88F on the thermometer in the shaded aid station but I still felt absolutely fine. No issues from tired/sore legs, no problems with the heat and no problems with hydration or my salt balance and I'd got past half way, so all looked rosy. But, I've done plenty of races that long, hot or steep so I hadn't yet reached the unknown of distance and time where I couldn't be sure how my body would react.

The climb to Michigan Bluff was longer and higher but less steep than the one to Devil's Thumb so I was able to jog sections of it and get myself to the next point where I'd see Amy. After 9h17m she got to see me for the second time, after some driving time but mainly a lot of waiting round (I knew there was a reason I'm marrying her). I got more supplies and filled myself up at the aid station on food and drink, trying to get as variety of food to cover as many vitamins and salts as possible.

Then I jogged off to go through the last, smaller, canyon and back up to Foresthill at 62.0 miles. Again, I was happy to feel completely fine and to get to see Amy again relatively soon. I was weighed in then stocked up before doing my one change of socks and shoes. Since the harder, slippery and wet trails were behind me, I opted for road shoes and knee-high compression socks. These would hopefully keep my calves feeling better as well as protecting me from the poison oak in the last 20 miles of the race.

After a mile of running I realised that I'd taken off my timing chip when changing my kit but forgotten to put it back on. Amy would probably have driven off and I didn't want to run back up the road anyway. Instead I decided not to stress about it and to make sure I informed every aid station as I went through. I'd see Amy again in 18 miles and even if she didn't have it then, she could give it back to me at 93.5 miles so I'd have it at the end. It seemed to be ok as there weren't any timing mats and this proved to be the case - the only timing mat was at the finish. Yet, I couldn't help worrying slightly that I'd be disqualified or that people wouldn't believe that I'd not cheated. Not much I could do except keep running, so that what I did. Besides, I soon had a lot more to worry about, but I'll have to put that in a separate post as I need a rest.

Pre-WS

The start line being set up

The view from Emigrant's Pass of Lake Tahoe

So I've had a few days up at altitude (6,400ft) at Lake Tahoe and now it's just a couple of days 'til Western States. I think I'm ok with the height now, so it's just the snow, heat and hills I need to concentrate on.

It's amazing how much hype this race gets. Online forums are buzzing with predictions of the winners and top 10, especially with talk of the 'Big Four' of Hal Koerner (won the last two runs), Anton Krupicka (trains 200+ miles per week in the build up and wins a lot), Geoff Roes (has won about eight 100-milers out of eight, with course records) and Killian Journet (insane pro runner with the UTMB record and has just finished a crossing of the Pyrenees). My poll on this blog has Killian as favourite (my pick too), one vote ahead of Anton, then Geoff and only one vote for Hal and a couple of people thinking it'll be someone else (not sure who, but there are a lot of strong runners entered).

Today has been my first immersion in the event, after going to Squaw Valley and taking part in multiple talks and a hike up to Emigrant's Pass, the 2,500ft climb in the first four miles of the race. That is a bitch of a start, but 'only' leaves 15,500ft more to climb and 22,000ft to descend from that point. I have to say I feel a little underwhelmed now by the whole event and am not fully buying into it being the 'biggest/best/ultimate' ultra in the US. It just seems that it's treated as the pinnacle of ultra-running, but I can't see why it's so much better than numerous other races. Others are harder, more scenic and hotter. UTMB (pencilled in for next year) strikes me as more inspiring due to the insanely steep and beautiful course, but I'd better focus on this week's race and get everything from the experience.

Don't get me wrong, the field is the best I've ever heard of in ultra trail-running, it's the original 100 miler and it's undoubtedly cool. However, I now can't quite buy into it being quite as special as many others view it. In the States, it seems you're not a real ultra runner until you've run this and no matter how amazing your other achievements, you haven't proved yourself until you race well here (am thinking of the negative comments Killian's had which have him rated as low as seventh favourite in some online discussions). And I think the constant talk of 24 hour buckles and the 30 hour cut-off has reminded me how much slower this race is than what I'm used to (24 hours is just over 4mph, which is walking speed on the flat).

Hopefully I'll understand better once I finish, but the MdS and Comrades (or even Boston) blew me away in terms of organisation, atmosphere, friendliness, excitement levels, etc., while this hasn't yet. But even with a tamer build-up (for me), the actual race will hopefully prove exciting.

Also, this'll be a snow year, meaning there's too much snow high up for the aid stations to be set up. So a higher section is switched for a slightly lower section for (I think) about 13 miles. It doesn't avoid the highest point and the first 25-30 miles could be fairly snow-laden, so almost everyone will be dealing with that unexpected outcome. I don't mind too much, although I've only done about 30 mins of snow running (last week, by accident). Am sure it won't matter, although temperatures may dip well below freezing if I'm unlucky.

However, it'll still be hot for the rest of the race, with current forecasts for the finish at Auburn of 95F, meaning it'll be hotter than that in the valleys. This is the real test put on by the race, so I hope that a week of saunas before I came to the Tahoe area will help a bit.

I'm still a little nervous, but definitely up for the race, and looking forward to the challenge. I'm in great shape, but not as well trained for mountains as I'd have liked, so I'll just have to see how it goes. Whatever happens, it's bound to be a real adventure and it's the first race (excluding RR100 where I turned up after two months of injury and just wanted to see how the knee felt) in a long while where I'm not 100% certain I'll finish. I just hope I enjoy it since I plan on doing a lot more 100 milers so would have to change my plans if it's just plain drudgery. At least I know that going slowly means I should feel fine for 60+ miles and Miwok 100k was a great training run where I felt very comfortable the whole way and just enjoyed a nice jog. If I get to Foresthill (100k) like that then it should all be fine, since it's easier running from that point.

Dirty Half makes for a great US trail championship

Today was the USATF trail half marathon championship in Bend, OR at the Dirty Half. Since I'm in Bend for a couple of weeks it would have been a shame to miss this so I signed up early for the highest profile and well-regarded local race. It was a bonus that it was also a championship race since it's well worth travelling to, even without that honour.

Summer started in Bend on the Saturday after a long period of generally crappy weather but the conditions on race day were perfect with the recent rain making the course less dusty. It starts off with a few miles of uphill, levels off around five miles, then undulates before descending again and throwing in some more hills near the end with a total elevation change of +/-1,000ft.

The guys at the front went off fairly fast and I didn't see them again after about a mile. For me, the aim was to run hard and get in a great training session on relatively easy trails. The legs are still feeling Comrades and I could tell within the first minute that they had no pace in them, especially for the uphills.

I wanted to have an enjoyable day and most of it was...except the actual running bit. The tired legs meant I was breathing hard and going slow enough uphill to have people overtake me easily. But with it having plenty of downhill in the second half, I aimed to push and get the heart rate up higher than in all the marathons and ultras. This almost ended with me having to walk or at least slow down to a gentle jog because I started sprinting downhill before seven miles and the legs felt extremely wobbly with a lot of miles left. But I spent the time from five miles in going past people and got up to eighth by nine miles then couldn't see anyone again til the last half mile. Seventh was too far ahead but it gave me an extra incentive to push and meant I got in a great training session.

Max King won by over a minute in just under 1h11m and was almost a minute per mile ahead of me, in 1h21m. It's a great race, although trying to race it on tired legs wasn't as much fun. Excellent organisation, as ever, by Footzone and it reminds me of why Bend's such a great place to live, especially for runners.

No more races until Western States in 13 days. Am guessing I'll need another session of Active Release Technique work for the knee, but that should be long enough to recover and be in reasonable shape. As long as I can get a place, 2011 will probably be the year I can race it really hard and this year will need to be a learning experience (not that I won't try to be near the front).

Now I need a lie down. These half marathons are knackering.

Squeezing in the Newport Marathon on the Oregon Coast

Last weekend I used the Newport marathon as an excuse to see the Oregon coast in June with Amy. I assumed Oregon + June = hot, but was soon told that rain is more normal and it doesn't get very hot either. Luckily, for the two full days I was there, it was unusually sunny and even shorts and T-shirt weather.

With Comrades only six days earlier, plus 40 hours of flights and airports to get back from it, I was still a bit crippled. The left knee soreness I've had on and off was making me limp badly for the first two days after the ultra, but the recovery compression tights were on the whole time, including the long journey home and I felt just plain sore in the muscles by the time I landed. Comrades always destroys my legs much more than trail races thanks to the faster pace and hard road surfaces, but I was able to do short, very light jogs by Thursday.

Friday was another very short, very slow jog and I didn't feel prepared to run further than about five miles. I only entered the Oregonian marathon on the off chance I'd be ok to jog it, so if I had to DNS, so be it. But I lined up on race day in bright sunshine with knee-high, compression socks on. Given the race didn't count, this was the time to try new stuff out and the compression tights seemed to work, so why not give the school-girl-style socks a go too. Paula Radcliffe uses them and she seems to know what she's doing, even if it makes her look silly.

I jogged off with the 800-strong field along the coastline and felt reasonably good going at 3h marathon pace, but decided to opt for a gentler 3h09m time since I like filling in marathon times I haven't got before (I need 3h10m, 3h09m, 3h00m and most times below 2h45m to get the full set of Boston marathon qualifiers). It gives me something to aim for and allows me to practice my pacing, which really helps in the ultras, especially.

Amy was at the 11 mile aid station, which was really just a farm offering oyster shots and didn't even have water. The course then went out-and-back so that the same point was also just before 20 miles. It's a fast course and virtually flat so the perfect weather meant it was a really enjoyable long run. I chatted to a few people and it's always good to see the whole field coming the other way on out-and-backs, which lots of smiles and encouraging words.

I jogged it in to the finish for 3h09m18s, just as planned. This time I cheated a bit, because I didn't do an even pace, but instead did 1h30m for the first half in case my legs lost all energy near the end. But I felt fine at the finish, even after the oyster shots. A fun day out and a chance to see a beautiful part of the state I'd not been too. I thought I was doing well to be able to keep up a reasonable pace for a marathon so soon after Comrades, then I noticed that Mike Wardian managed a 2nd place in the North Face 50 miler in Virginia the same weekend after going the same pace as me at Comrades. That adds to his nine or so (comfortably) sub 2h30m marathons and several longer races (like 3rd in the MdS) just in 2010. I thought I had fast recovery and didn't taper but he rewrites the book on marathoning.

Anyway, that was my last long run before Western States on the 26th. I just have to keep everything in working order since it's too late to improve my fitness now. This weekend (on the 13th) has the US trail running half marathon championship, conveniently in Bend. So that's my last race and a chance for speed work now my legs are probably, maybe, recovered from Comrades.

I'm getting the fear about doing the longest, hardest, hottest race I've ever tried and wishing I could have fitted in more big hilly trails. I'm even sitting in a sauna each day to acclimatise to the heat, although this is the least enjoyable training I've ever done. I hope the race is worth it and this could be where I decide whether or not I want to focus on 100-milers or not. I hope so, since there are so many great ones in the world and it's the best ways to see some of the most remote places around (well, in developed countries anyway).

Giving it everthing at Comrades 2010

The winning painting in the Comrades Art Competition, by Henk from Kearsney Striders

I did a little hiking in the Drakensberg Mountains prior to the race

The lead men

Josh Cox soon before he started walking

Me in my fetching Kearsney Striders kit

Mike Wardian with 12kms to go

Near the end and really feeling it

Peter was a lifeline through the race and here he helps me stumble around after

Kami coming in strongly for 4th

A handful of people wore fancy dress - nice work!

So how was this year’s 55.5 mile Comrades Marathon different? Well, for starters it had been marketed as a big deal with twice as many entrants – around 23,000 of them. But for me, it was number four and the first where I felt I could really go fast and be nearer the gold medals for the top 10. I’ve written a lot about the race and it proved again why it’s my favourite race and why I keep travelling so far to run it in South Africa, as I’ll explain.

This time I had more friends coming over from the UK and Ireland and the fact that the race was much bigger than previous years meant I knew a lot more people who were running. The organisers had convinced everyone that 2010 would be special due to the FIFA World Cup being in South Africa two weeks later plus it being the 85th running of the race. I can see that the former meant the world spotlight was on the country but the latter reason seemed a bit dubious. However, the marketing had paid off and the race had sold out very quickly and had double the number of entrants in a typical year, with around 24,000 signed up. It also promised to be the Guinness Record for the biggest ultra in the world...but one thing I’ve learnt about Guinness is that any non-professional records are often dodgy (like all my weird records). In 2000 there were over 20,000 finishers at Comrades, but Guinness weren’t there to certify it so whatever the number in 2010, there would be a ‘record’ even with the Comrades organisers admitting it would be the second largest race in history.

But never mind the technicalities, it was billed to be something even more amazing than usual and I was very excited in the build up. I had some left knee niggles in the couple of weeks before race day, but these proved to be unimportant (they may be more significant for Western States since my knee is currently buggered, but I’m writing this just a day after the run so there’s bound to be aches and pains).

Comrades is the most elite ultra in the world, bar none. The quality of the field for the 89.3km (55.5 miles) is better than any other by far and includes ex-Olympians. Previous winners include running legends from South Africa, obviously, plus Alberto Salazar (quoted saying it was his best win) and Ann Trason. They were the only American winners in the race’s history but there had been two male Brits winning as well, back in the 60’s and 70’s. No British women had won. So I’d set myself the ambitious goal of getting a sub six-hour time, which I don’t think had been done by a Brit since that last win in the 70’s.

It would have been easier if it wasn’t for the hilliness of the course, but I’ve done it three times, with two in the downhill direction from Pietermaritzburg to Durban (4,700ft of climb, 6,600ft of descent) and one in the other direction (with opposite elevation changes). 2010 was another down run, making it two in a row instead of the usual alternating annually. I’m not sure why this was but it allowed the marketing people to offer a ‘double down’ medal to first timers (‘novices’ in Comrades-speak) in 2009 who came back.

Never have I wanted a result more, since breaking six hours gets a particular, rare medal – the Wally Hayward medal. Comrades has a lot of unique features, which I’ve mentioned previously, but one which is a real motivator for a lot of people is the medal system. There are different medals for the top 10 men and women (gold), sub 6h (Wally Hayward), sub 7h30m (silver), sub 9h (Bill Rowan), sub 11h (bronze) and the final cut-off of 12 hours (Vic Clapham). Some of those medals are named after previous winners. Bill Rowan was the first winner in 1921 and did it in 8h59m, so those breaking 9h are beating the time of the first winner. But my medal was named after Wally who was the first to break 6h as well as managing wins in the race 20 years apart.

My Durban friends were in attendance as usual and I stayed with Peter Pearse and his wife Annette. He was meant to be running but had been off-form in the recent Two Oceans marathon so decided to crew for me instead (‘seconding’ for me, as it’s referred to at Comrades). Another friend, Paddy, had also meant to be running but had just had eye surgery which wasn’t healing fast enough to allow him to get to the start line, so he also joined my seconding team.

Race morning started stupidly early, as always. I was up at 3:30 then we were off shortly afterwards with Peter’s brother, Mark, also in the car and going for his 12th finish. Both of us were running for Kearsney Striders, a club based along the route with a maroon kit, in the same flimsy style as all male Saffer kits. We got there slightly later than planned and when I jogged from the car to the ‘A’ seeding pen I only squeezed in with a minute to spare, at 5:14. The pens were closed at 5:15 and music blared out into the huge crowd of runners and spectators in the pre-dawn, flood-lit blackness. It was a little chilly but promised to be good running conditions and not peak at a hot temperature.

Some people bounced up and down with the beats, some stretched with focused gazes, but all looked excited. It was the moment I’d been waiting for for a whole year since the finish line in 2009. Only a thunder cloud can emulate the electric atmosphere of a Comrades start line and there was palpable nervousness and anticipation in the air. I bumped into some friends just as we got closer to the 5:30 kick-off and I could see they were as up for it as me. We had the two iconic songs which epitomise the race for me – the local song ‘Shosholoza’, which I think has mining roots, and Chariots of Fire. Both permeated through my bones and I stopped bouncing around and stood transfixed on the invisible horizon as I thought about the task ahead.

It’s easy to aim for a time and to concoct a training plan which you think will get you there, but in those seconds before the starting cock crow and gunshot I fully appreciated what I was about to attempt. I’d have to run near to my marathon pace up and down big hills for six hours, averaging four minutes per km, or 2h50m per marathon. I’d also have to knock off 30 minutes from my 2009 time and that race had been near perfect for my shape on the day. So for just a few seconds I took a deep breath to set me up for the task ahead. A task which I’d talked up for months and which I finally had to back up actions. I wanted the challenge and knew I was in good enough condition to do it, but I’d have to absolutely nail my tactics. There could be no room for error, I’d have to push harder than ever before and I’d need a portion of luck. This day was a big, big deal to me.

So, no pressure then, eh? As that gun went off I just went over the start line in the mass of runners and settled into a pace which felt ok. After a few minutes I could check to see what that pace was, but I wouldn’t be adjusting it for a few kms until I’d warmed up. It was pitch black apart from the street lights and it felt like the usual midnight riot as we charged along the streets of Pietermaritzburg. Lunatic runners shot off like they only had a 10k to run. I allowed the crowds to surge past me and didn’t let them upset my pacing. Then I saw Kami Semick after a few minutes and had a quick chat before wishing her luck in her attempt at a gold medal before I went off ahead to start aiming for the pace I’d need to sustain all morning. There were three other top Americans running as well so there were potentially four gold medals which might head back over the Atlantic.

The supporters were well wrapped up in the morning cold but I was just about warm enough from the running. Many were huddled around fires and I loved the commitment for them to get up so early to watch the hordes of runners stream past and send us off on our epic day. I know the kids will remember it for the rest of their lives and that many will reach that start line themselves and think back to their first memories of the race and how it became an annual tradition to be involved.

But while they cheered I was finding things tough. That’s not the ideal start to the race when it’s such a long one, but I just couldn’t stick to the pace I’d planned on without it feeling really hard. You can’t push the pace early and feel like you’re racing in an ultra and need to generally get at least half way without it feeling too strenuous. But I felt like the constant climbs (the first 20kms are predominantly uphill to the highest point at Umlaas Road except for the killer downhill of Polly Shortts) and cold were making four minute kms feel like marathon pace, which is not sustainable for an entire morning.

Soon after the sun rose I saw Peter and Paddy in Ashburton at 15kms after a particularly challenging hill and told them that things were looking bad and that 6h10m-6h15m was a more likely target. I was three minutes over pace after that first hour and it hadn’t felt easy so I was probably being optimistic even telling them that timeframe. It’s always hard to predict how an ultra will go early on, but you can get a feel from the first miles. All you can do is keep running and see how it goes.

The day rolled on and I caught up to the gold medal position women. After passing third place (a Russian lady, unsurprisingly, since they’ve dominated the ladies’ race, in particular), I decided that it would be more sensible to change my target to chasing down the Nurgalieva twins who have won most of the Comrades runs this century, usually around 6h10m. It helps to have something to focus on and I just didn’t think there was any chance of gaining the lost time back, even if I could get back on the required pace. The hills were proving too much of a drain and were slowing me down more than I’d planned on. They don’t relent and even the down run has significant climbs other than the five major, named hills. It may end at sea level, but it still totals 1,400m (4,700ft) of ascent. Not much for a trail race but a lot when compared to fast road races and enough to make it noticeably harder on the legs than a flat race of the same distance.

Somehow my legs seemed to warm up and start functioning better so that as I went through nearer to halfway, I was comfortably clocking kms just under the four minute pace I needed. It seemed quick but my breathing was relaxed so I just knocked out the distance and saw Paddy and Peter a couple more times before the first major uphill of Inchanga, which started at 39km in. I was able to let them know that things had improved and that I was maybe back in with a shot of the finish time they were expecting.

Inchanga was a beast, as always, but I managed to keep up a fair pace and pass people, especially those on walking breaks. The sun was out but it wasn’t too hot and there was a light breeze to keep it comfortable. Just after the top was the ‘47km to go’ marker, meaning 42.28km had been completed – a fraction over a marathon. I hit it around 2h51m. I could hear the speakers and MC at halfway from around a km away so I heard them announce the Russian twins going through just under 2h59m. That’s course record pace (5h54m for women) since the halfway mark is marginally over the true halfway by around 400m and faster than they’ve gone before. But at least I had an idea of where they were now as I went through in 3h02m.

It was a relief to go through the halfway corridor of balloons and Flora advertising boards and to be on a good pace, feeling fine. I’d told myself in advance that a negative split would be possible, like in 2009, and that I’d still be in with a shot of six hours if I went through in under 3h03m. But I’d hoped to not be too close to that time. In the year leading up to the race I’d heaped pressure on myself to improve and had made sure I let people know what my aim was, so that it would be more motivating and easier to stick to the training. At three hours into the race I seemed to be living up to the run I knew I had the fitness to pull off, but there was still the hardest part left and any problems could still add buckets of time to my finish.

Next was the long, hard climb from halfway up Alverstone and up the third big hill, called Botha’s. This is probably the hardest climb of the day on the down run as it’s far enough in that the legs are tired and has multiple climbs which sap the energy out of the legs. As I passed the ‘42km to go’ sign I saw I had exactly 2h48m to break six. Dead on four minute kms and the course is a big net downhill from that point, losing almost 2,300ft to Durban. Paddy and Peter saw me and handed me another gel, which helped, but my calves started screaming at me on that long climb.

Luckily one of the highlights of the course was up next. With around 38km to go there’s Kearsney College, the home of the Striders who I was running for. As I had a local kit on, I got a lot of extra support from those living in the area, mixed in with some surprise that one of the Striders was relatively near the front with the pros. The kit has lots of tiny white dogs on it and I have to admit I’m not sure the significance of dogs to the club, but it gives some supporters an opportunity to shout at me ‘Who let the dogs out?’ in various states of drunkenness while they sit by their braais (barbeques) lining the street. Another surprise around this point was passing the elite US marathoner, Josh Cox, who had aimed to win, but I went past him with 37 kms to go and he was walking (he finished in 6h51m, so did get running again, but his heart can’t have been in it any more).

As happened last year, I was handed a balloon shortly before the college so that the lines of school boys would see their runners coming and cheer loudly. In 2009 this had been a real pick-me-up and saved my race, but this time round I was already going well, even if my legs were complaining a lot more sharply than before. High fives were exchanged along the line of kids and I couldn’t help having a bit more spring in my step.

The next time I was due to see Peter and Paddy was soon after, around Hillcrest, where Peter lives. The support was most vocal over these kms due to the proximity to the college and I also saw Peter’s wife, Nets, and daughter, Em, around here. I only just caught them in the thick crowds and if people didn’t shout my name I had no chance of spotting them. This is a relatively flat section and I was flying, but trying to save something for the longest downhill of the day on Field’s Hill, from about 25km to go.

Finally I caught sight of the Nurgalieva twins ahead and a few guys who were sticking with them for pacing. I’d expected to see them within the first 10km, but they’d really pushed the start and opened up an unsurpassable lead in the ladies’ race. At 26km to go I was in their ‘bus’ (as a pack is called over there), watching their unmistakable waddling style of running and the lead car with cameras and entourage attached. I’d planned to run with them for a bit, just for the novelty of running with race leaders in a professional race, but they’d slowed from their initial cheetah pace. I only ran with them for about 100m before deciding they were going too slowly and would upset my time goal since they clearly weren’t going to make six hours this time and were running about 15 seconds per km slower than I wanted.

So I pushed on again and soon hit Field’s Hill after a couple of bridge crossings over the M13 highway. I couldn’t see the twins behind me and the runners were now very well spaced so I could barely see a single runner ahead or behind. From this point the aim is always to catch all those people who went out too fast and I was gradually catching each runner who came into view.

The hill lasted almost four kms and really pounded the thighs. Some guys were walking down it, and these were speedy runners. The big danger in the race is to run Field’s too hard and end up with exactly a half marathon left but no legs to do it on. For many, this is the hardest section, but I always look forward to a chance to catch up some time. I’d lost maybe a minute from the climbs in the second half, so wanted to use the downhill to catch this up, plus a bit extra, then I’d still be needing the four minute kms for the last 21km. If it had been dead flat, I think this would have been possible, but at the bottom of the hill I could feel that my thighs were causing almost as much tight soreness as my calves had for a while.

I had a decision to make – to go for the 1h24m final half marathon and hold nothing back or to just jog it in and accept a slower, easier time, but still aiming to beat the twins. Since I’d already gone through several decision points in the previous hours and had cranked it up each time, it was a foregone conclusion which I’d choose. Motivation was the key now. How badly did I want it? One question showed me the way forward – could I live with a half-arsed attempt once I finished? If I felt I hadn’t given every last drop from my heart, I knew I’d have to think about it until I returned to the race. But if I used the after-burners all the way, I’d know I’d given it my all and could be satisfied.

The fatigue and pain was making me more emotional, as was the elevated heart rate from the higher effort level. Suddenly I knocked out the pace I would need for a few kms through Pinetown. If I just took it 5km at a time, maybe I’d make it. This soon switched to taking it every km at a time as I needed immediate feedback and targets to stop me dropping off at all.

Unfortunately, the task then became harder with Cowies Hill looming ahead. Although not the biggest hill, it is steep and added more seconds to a km which would mean all the remainder would need to be faster. Doubt crept in again as the task seemed impossible. I was going as fast as I could and barely breaking the four minute kms, but would now need to eat away at the additional time added on in the last few uphills.

The road kept going and I didn’t slow down as it was generally flat or easy terrain. Paddy and Peter were at 12km to go and gave me my last two gels. The first one went down immediately and gave me a huge boost with a faster km. Another fast km followed it and I saw I’d have 38m30s to do the last 10k. Doubt entered my mind again, but all I could do was take what I could from the day. Maybe I couldn’t run almost six minute/mile pace to the end and maybe I could, but I was definitely going to try.

That’s exactly what I did for a km and I started to believe I might actually pull off my target time. I’d never have believe it after the first hour of running, but I’d pulled things back to this point. However, Comrades wasn’t going to be kind to me and out came one of the nasty, sharp and unnamed hills which I’d completely forgotten about, at 45th Cutting. What needed to be fast was instead a hard slog uphill and meant I’d need to get around the speed of my 10k personal best for the last 8kms. I’m an optimist, but not enough to think I can finish an ultra with a fresh-legged 10k time. From this point I knew the finishing time would start with a ‘six’.

But what’s the point of wasting a hard day’s work? I kept on hammering along as if that slow km hadn’t happened and it paid off with an unexpected twist near the end. Of the two elite male runners from the US, I’d passed Josh Cox earlier but not seen Mike Wardian. I thought he might be in amongst the gold medallists, but then I caught sight of him at 6km to go. Given I’d not seen him before, it meant I was catching him so I had one last incentive – to overtake him. He was still passing other runners, but they were all so spread out and it took me a km to catch him. I said hi but was unable to manage much of a chat and he clearly didn’t want to be overtaken by a white boy (only two guys ahead of us at this point were white and both were Russian ex-winners), so sped up.

I had just enough left in me to go clear of Mike (he finished just over a minute behind me), then I could only see two more people ahead on the long straight on Pine Street, so set off after them to take my mind off the cramped, screaming muscles. On the final turn I caught the last of them and I could barely hear the roar of the crowd as the cricket stadium lay ahead with the finish. Looking at my watch, I’d almost got under six hours, but instead I heard the countdown for the Wally Hayward medal cut-off just as I started running round the inner side of the cricket ground and before I broke inside on to the grass. Each cut-off time on the finish has the race director face away from the runners, do a countdown then fire a pistol. I was nowhere near but was still the only one in the stadium, making me the first of the silver medals – a dubious honour.

My friend and one of the race commentators, Helen Lucre, later told me that she’d had a minute or so of TV footage focused on me as I ran through the stadium and missed the medal cut-off by 73 seconds, so I’ll have to look that up. But it was a victory for me as I ran my best ever race, the hardest effort of my life. I didn’t get the time I wanted but I was within spitting distance of it. And I did a negative split, overtaking people non-stop from about 90 minutes into the race and not being passed once from then. 24th overall, out of over 16,000 starters is something I’ll treasure...until next time as I know I can go much faster (but not until I’m better trained and definitely not this time around). As ever, the race left me more highly motivated than before and with a desire to reach the highest level I can. I’ll never forget it and I’ll return every single time I can. My addiction to Comrades is total, but also totally understandable to those who’ve ever been part of the race.

Kami finished 4th for the ladies race in 6h32m and Lizzy Hawker from the UK was 6th in 6h39m (both are past 100km World Champions). The Nurgalieva twins finished within a second of each other in 6h13m and Stephen Muzinghi of Zimbabwe won his second consecutive Comrades in 5h29m, with the last male gold medal being 5h48m, just 13 minutes ahead of me...

Last big training weekend - Quicksilver and Redwood 50ks

San Jose sunrise

Always worth getting out of bed for

This aid station is passed three times as a crossover point

San Jose

The tower is about the highest point and can be seen from my apartment window...but it wasn't part of the course unfortunately

Quicksilver Lake

Mud in Redwood Park, after the rain had stopped

I thought I'd not have to deal with mud as much over here...it took one week of living in California

Misty Redwoods

Rare sun in between the rain

Although Miwok can still be felt in my legs, I purposefully planned another weekend of trail runs to help me get ready for Western States. Conveniently, there are two 50ks over the weekend of 8th-9th May in or around San Jose - the Quicksilver 50k in Quicksilver Park with 5,500ft of climb on Saturday and the Redwood Park 50k (near Oakland) with 4,500ft of climb on Sunday. So, it was similar to last weekend with another 100k and another 10,000ft to force my body up...and down.

The races were complete contrasts - beautiful sun for Quicksilver, then torrential rain starting a couple of minutes before the gun at Redwood. Foolishly I only opted for trail shoes on Saturday so ended up sliding all over the place on Sunday.

Both races were organised excellently and had feasts at the aid stations. Quicksilver also had a huge bbq at the end and that was a great chance for runners to mingle, especially as there were multiple distances, and hence finishers spread out over more time, both days.

I really enjoyed Quicksilver and had my camera out again to capture the great views of the hills around San Jose. As expected, there was a great atmosphere and runners passing in the opposite direction made for an extra level of support for all. I managed to keep up a reasonable pace without having to raise my effort level high and finished in a respectable 7th in 4h19m, feeling fine to keep going for much longer. Leor Pantilat won in an impressive 3h30m and I met him the next day as he was directing the Redwood race.

At Redwood, it was interesting to have a few people come up to me and who knew who I was from Miwok. Not sure how they recognised me, but it was good to be getting into the local scene and meeting people so soon after moving down from Oregon. It promised to be stunning too, with Californian Redwoods everywhere. But the heavy rain meant visibility was down and even the initial 500ft climb at the start had me losing my footing and sliding around.

Redwood had an interesting concept for a course. It also offered a 10k, 20k and 30k race, and each option was built of combinations of a 10k loop and 20k loop. So the 50k involved the 20k, 10k then 20k again. I kind of liked this, especially as it gave me a chance to see the 20k loop in the sun as well as the rain. The second time round was certainly easier as the rain clouds had temporarily gone and much of the course had drained to make it more solid. I still didn't appreciate the sections with my two least favourite things in races - mud and sand. At least these were short, even if the long, narrow, muddy downhill miles were more like a luge track and almost made me fly off the course.

I was glad to finish Redwood and had hips as tight as a Scotsman. Some stretching and the good, old (new) recovery tights will hopefully fix me right up. And it was a nice bonus that I won with my 4h31m time, something I'd not expected. The next guy was 29 minutes back and third was another half hour. Clearly the slippery conditions and lack of prize money had led to slow times. But a win's a win, so it rounded off another confidence booster for the race to Squaw Valley. Three weeks 'til Comrades so I hope I can have a good taper and not lose anything. Then we'll just have to see how much I can recover from that in the four weeks 'til Western States. It's come around so soon, but I'm about as ready as I could be this year.

Miwok 100k in the sun

The Golden Gate Bridge just after sunrise

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

Worth getting up early for

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

Great trails to complement the weather

Just one of many great coast line vistas

Up and down the whole way - barely any flat sections

Running through the narrowest path through the high grass

More of the narrow paths

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

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

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

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

The finish, plus my nose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.