Marathon du Mont Blanc

I can't believe this was a week ago already. This time last week I was recovering from running in the sun - today I'm sat on the sofa watching the team time trial. The race was great - I crossed the line in 5:59:43. Really pleased to be under six hours, though slower than the 5:30 I was hoping for (but better than 8 or so hours I thoughts I'd be out there at one point!)

(pic courtesy of Hannah)

We arrived a few days early, as Ali was doing the half marathon (the Cross as it's called) on the Saturday and the marathon was on the Sunday. The weather when we got to Chamonix was cloudy, punctuated with heavy rain and rumbles of thunder. All very .. promising. The forecast for the weekend was hot however and sure enough Saturday dawned to bright sunshine. Ali really enjoyed the Cross, and I enjoyed watching. It gave me an idea of what was in store for Sunday.

The marathon started at 0700. By 0500 I was eating toast and boiled eggs, and shortly after that I stuffed down a pain au chocolate. Standing on the start line I was regretting eating the pain so close to the start time, and indeed my stomach didn't feel great for much of the race. The start was in the town centre, and after some psyching up from the announcer we were off.

The run through the town was pleasantly brisk, and we were soon on the ski de fond circuits (less snowy than when I have run on them previously!) and heading up the valley. I felt slightly sick and had slight stitch but decided not to worry about it as I was likely to be out for a long time, and hence it had plenty of time to improve. That was an accurate observation.

The first bit of climbing was relatively short, but quite steep in places. It didn't take long to get up to Argentiere, and I saw Ali for the first time when we ran under Pierre a Ric (the red run down from Lognan). After Argentiere things got a bit tougher. It was up hill to the top of the Col de Montets, and then depressingly down hill towards Vallorcine. Depressingly because I knew we'd have to gain all the height again fairly soon. Still, it was a lovely sunny morning and despite the uncomfortable stomach I was running briskly enough.

Once in Vallorcine the course turned sharp right, and up. And up. And up... After a long time walking up steep switch backs through the woods we hit the piste. I know the Chamonix area well from skiing and I know thats a blue run and not steep. Or, so I thought. Blue runs it turns out are frickin' steep when you have to run up then! We ran past the top of the Vallorcine bubble and I knew for sure that the next section was almost flat. For sure! Show's what I know. We carried on up. I knew it was a long way to the top of the Possettes having skied off it enough times. But running up it in the heat brought a whole new appreciation as to how high 2200 metres actually is.

Eventually we reached the top and started the descent. It was steep and technical and fun! I flew (for a fairly low value of 'flew') down, passing more people than I was being passed by which was the goal. Despite the heat I was feeling good and bounded down and was soon on the less technical section in the forest above Le Tour. And here suddenly my legs stopped feeling quite so good. Oh dear I thought, this doesn't feel right.

I had worked out if I was back in Tour at 3:30 I was looking good for a 5:30 time. And indeed it was exactly three and half hours when I ran out into the Tour car park, waved at Ali and headed on. Outside Tour I felt really wasted, and walked to eat a gel (by the end I had got through 8).  The gel down, I started running again. We were soon through Montroc for the second time, through an aid station (where I had a couple of pieces of cheese which went down well), across the main road and on the path up to Flegere.

Up. Again. By now I was able to run, but could barely lift my legs on the climbs. People started to pass me and I realised that 5:30 was not on the cards. I limped along. It's a stunning route though I wasn't really in a state to take it in. It seemed to go on forever and at started to think that eight hours was probably a more likely time.

After a lengthy period I saw something up ahead - a lift! The far end of the Brevent-Flegere ski area! I knew that meant the end was, whilst not exactly near, at least in sight. I struggled up the piste towards the lift station and another aid station. Some coke and a couple of pieces of orange perked me up. I left the aid station (ignoring the sign advising walkers it was 2 hours to Flegere) at a run. And, miracle of miracles, actually started to feel better. I was passing people and feeling pretty good. Maybe sub six hours could still be on the cards!

At 5:30 I passed the three km to go sign. Could I do ten minute kilometres to the end? I wasn't sure, especially given I knew the last km was up hill. However it seemed vaguely feasible so I pushed on enthusiastically.

Finally I reached the bottom of the last climb. 12 minutes. I was, frankly, fucked. I ran as much as a could, but had to walk as it got steeper, managing to run again on the less steep sections. I could see the top now and hear the commentator encouraging people on.  With the crowds of spectators it looked a bit like a Tour de France hill top finish.

I was back to walking on the last steep section. I spotted Ali, who walked alongside me encouraging me on. With less than a minute to go I managed to start running again. The commentator was shouting enthusiastically (my addled brain wasn't up to much French my I got the gist - if I was quick I would be sub six).  With a last push I was finally over the line. I was handed my medal and slumped on a bench to recover.

After a few minutes I was back on my feet and look for some post race refreshment. MBC were providing beer. I took one (and more sensibly, some water) and found Ali. Ultimately the beer didn't prove a wise choice. It was welcome, but didn't sit too well on my stomach which on top of not having felt great for the whole race had had to absorb eight gels, assorted bit of energy bar, orange segments and cheese. It did at least stay down till I was out of the hire car!

It was a really good day. The organisation was fantastic and the support at the aid stations brilliant (I had my camelbak filled for me twice!). Will be back next year to try and get that 5:30!

Endurance Life CTS - Gower

I ran the second of the Endurance Life Coastal Trail Series marathons on Saturday, down on the Gower peninsula.  The drive down on the Friday night nearly ended in disaster when we couldn't find anywhere open to eat (note to self: stock van with noodles), but luckily a small hotel I went in to ask if they knew of anywhere still open turned out to have a bar that was still serving. Chips and frittata saved the evening.

The weather during the week was not great, and on Friday night in the campsite the wind howled round the van and the rain drummed on the roof.  Saturday dawned and, against the odds, it was bright, breezy and clear.

Like previous Endurance Life events the atmosphere was laid back and friendly.  There was a pre-race brief and then at 0900 we were off (there had been an earlier start for the Ultra, and slower marathoners, and a later start for the 10km and the Half).  We started in Rhosilli, ran across a couple of fields and were quickly on the coast.  It was pretty stunning. I felt good, and soon settled into into a comfortable rhythm.  The lead group spread out over the first few miles and I was left in what I thought was probably seventh or eight (mental arithmetic of any sort is not my forte when exercising).

The scenery and varied terrain (i.e. hilly) meant the time passed quickly enough.  We were soon turning inland to cross the peninsula, and at the second checkpoint which was ten miles in.  I was back on the coast again, at 16 miles, surprisingly quickly.  I ran with another guy for a while, discussing various races. He is on for the entire coastal series, which will be good going.  A burst of stamina saw me leave him behind. I was flying at this point, some sort of sugar buzz from the sixth gel. The scenery was good and I was confident of a sub four thirty hour time. And then... I was flat on my face. I tripped and landed heavily on my hip. It hurt but I picked myself up and quickly established I was ok.  I continued on but the pace had dropped off.

Shortly afterwards I got to another checkpoint.  How far to go? I asked. This is 22 miles, was the reply. Hmmm. Even my exercise murkified brain realised that wasn't answering the question, and having done (excellent) Endurance Life events before I knew they liked to sneak a few miles on the end.

I passed a guy with a Garmin Forerunner at 4:17, and he said we were at 42km at that point so I paced myself just right! However it didn't seem to be anywhere close to the end. I limped on. The pace in the last few kilometres dropped significantly, in line with my sense of humour, and I was passed by one runner (the first to pass me since we had separated out at the beginning, though you get individual times so someone starting further back could still do a faster time potentially).  Finally, finally we turned back onto the path leading away from the coast and up to Rhosilli.  I crossed the line, after close to 29 miles, in 4:47 and 10th place.

My legs have never hurt quite so much after a run. I limped round looking for Ali (who had had a fab time doing the half marathon). Eventually I found her, and the Bongo keys and was able to sit down and drink some tea. My mood rapidly improved!

It was a great event. A stunning location and well organised. Looking forward to Portland in less than three weeks. Chesil beach sounds like it might be a challenge.

In other news, it turns out the three of us in a notional team in the Mudrunner, were the 3rd fastest, and got 15 quid in vouchers and a trophy. So a fiver each. I've peaked - it's all down hill from here.