3Peaks Cyclocross 2015

3Peaks Cyclocross 2015

After a gap year from my first attempt due to recovery needed from running the UTMB I decided that this year I would try and beat my previous time of 4:59 using the same bike but run with only a single gear, 39:18.

I came to single speed by way of budget rather than mindset, I kept dropping the chain on my 3^rd hand bike at ‘cross races and decided that as I was using races to train for running then a single speed would maximise the impact and give me nowhere to hide on the course while at the same time minimising chain loss. Having come to it for those reasons I have endured it because it is strangely addictive. Just you, one gear and the course. Lap after lap after lap. Meditation has got nothing on this.

Anyway – The 3Peaks. 

The day starts early and I set off after only managing to wake up one sleeping child – result!

I register early, as per usual, and chat to a few fellow competitors about times, gears, tyres – the usual stuff that everyone does slightly differently. On the start line I’m ready, I can’t really hear the start but we all start moving so that must be it. Soon I am flying down the road, my legs turning like an egg whisk – faster and faster until they can go no more without spinning out. Other single speeders are out in force today and I count another 4.

Then we hit Simon’s Fell. I get off early and straight line to the top, I’m going faster than a lot of people and this cheers me up no end. On top it’s far boggier than I imagined it would be and I have to run more than I thought. Still, I check my watch frequently and I am on track to beat my previous time by a good 15 minutes.

At the top I check in and then follow a good line to the steep drop off to the track. I end up running down more of the track than most but I’m still maintaining a good speed so when I jump on I’m still smiling. Lots of surprise peat puddles on the way down. Wheel stopping, frame shaking, leg wobbling peat puddles. It is hard work and slow going. For everyone. Someone has had a fall but there are 3 riders ahead and the first of these stops to make sure he is okay and sorts him out. I shout “ok?” And the reply I get is “I’ve got it.”

Down to Cold Cotes in 1:25, not bad going and still on track. Now the road section – I get up to speed and spin out on the first set of descents. There’s a big grin on my face , this is brilliant. The sun is out, I’m on my bike and I’m in the fells. Then a flapping sound from the front tyre. I brake carefully, I desperately want to slow down but it’s not going to happen quickly enough. If I can just hold the line – nope.

The tyre comes off the rim. The bike goes sideways. I hit the ground. Hard. I roll and hit my head but already my shoulder has taken the full impact so it is a glancing blow to the helmet rather than a substantial one.

As I am lying in the road I can hear wheels freewheeling past me. Someone shouts, “Are you ok?”. I can’t answer. Another shouts, “No he’s not.” And cycles by! Even lying in the road, dazed and yet to do an inventory of working body parts I am staggered by this act.

I reach out with my left arm and drag myself, still lying down, from the middle of the road to the edge. A couple more have cycled passed the scene now. Bike down, man down, large splash of liquid across the road where my water carrier has burst. Not a word.

Then a cyclist stops. He asks me to sit down and says he’ll change my tyre for me in case I want to carry on (optimistic) or walk the bike to where I am going (more likely). I’m still reeling a bit from the crash. He says he’s not part of the race but here to support someone else so he’ll sort my bike out for me. I try and lift my right arm. It hurts. A lot. I’ve never not finished a race before and I’m struggling to come to terms with what’s unfolding  before me. Then a motorbike arrives, closely followed by another. They kindly say they will go down to Ribblehead and see if they can find Sally so she can come and get me. One rider rides off and I chat to the other, Neil, for a while. He constructs a rather splendid makeshift sling from the inner tube that has been replaced. Perfect. And not dissimilar to the one the hospital use later on. Good work.

Neil then rides off after helping me move my bike to a small layby so I can sit and wait for Sally to arrive.

The wait.

I replay the crash over and over. Is there anything I could have done differently? I was going so well then down I went. It is hard to describe just how quick it happened and just how hard I landed. It has always been a nagging fear going downhill on the road; what if I come off?

The thing I keep returning to is those first few riders cycling past. Before anyone else was there. While I was lying, prone, on the ground in the middle of the road unable to speak. Just cycling past.

I know we are responsible for ourselves. I know that. But surely we are all also the first point of contact for the rider immediately in front of us? I love the camaraderie of ultra runs, of fell races and of cyclocross races; of like minded people enduring together towards a common goal, each responsible for themselves but also looking out for each other.

Maybe I am naïve to think it exists in all who enter these events. I would never dream of cycling or running past a fallen competitor without checking they were ok. I don’t even think it matters where you are in the field – and let’s face it if you were behind me on a single speed you aren’t tearing up the race.

Another motorbike appears. “Ah, you’re the faller then, you’ve been waiting a while haven’t you, I’ll go and check – maybe you could walk down to the next junction and wait there in case Sally has gone past.” He’s right, I have been waiting a long time so I get up and slowly start to walk down the road as he rides off. Almost immediately a van pulls up and a voice says, “Get in, I’m taking you back to Helwith Bridge and Sally will meet us there. Which arm is it?”

It transpires that a photographer covering the race has also come off and is in a sling and as luck would have it it’s the opposite one so we can sit good shoulder to good shoulder in the van. While driving us back the organiser is thinking about logistics and race vehicles needed to support the race and how it changes over the years. I wonder. I wonder if the appearance of race vehicles to support takes even more onus off people to care for those around them. To focus on themselves to the exclusion of others. I don’t know. The pain is getting worse now and I am grateful when we pull in to Helwith Bridge and I can see Sally and our van pulled up.

I dib my dibber to make sure they know I am back and ok. 3^rd person back to Helwith Bridge, only beaten by Paul Oldham and Rob Jebb – result! Rob looks at me and groans a little – “It’s not, is it?”

Then Sally appears with a can of gin and tonic – genius! Just what I need and it’s amazing the effect it has immediately. Now for the drive home and wait in the hospital to be seen.

I would have made it back to Helwith Bridge under my own steam, or with Sally, if required and dibbed to let them know I was safe. I understand the safety element and also the race organiser’s responsibilities to every single rider. I also understand my own responsibilities regarding the care of myself and of others. Having reflected it may be that the riders first on the scene saw the spectator coming down the road but in all honesty I know I am being too generous there. I could have been more seriously hurt, although a Grade 3 AC joint separation is serious enough it is not life threatening.

The Three Peaks Cyclocross is  a majestic, jaw dropping, awe inspiring beast of a race and requires the respect of us all and we are in it together.

 If you did ride past me, I’m ok – I’m still in a lot of pain but I will get back on my bike again. Accidents happen and there is nothing I could have done about this one.

 But what if I had not been ok and your staggering disregard for your fellow competitors cost me my life? What if the difference between me living and dying hinged on those first few seconds after the crash? What then for you? What then for the race?

Am I being too dramatic? I don’t think so. I was lying in the middle of an open road having crashed at 35 mph as the result of a front tyre blow out. It could have been a lot worse for me and I know it.

I am thankful to the spectator who stopped and changed my wheel – I didn’t get your name but you were right, it was much easier to deal with my bike with a pumped up tyre.

Thank you to the motorbike riders for locating Sally and passing information to her, and to Neil for the makeshift sling that you were quite rightly very proud of – note the similarity to the one they gave me at the hospital!

Also thanks to the organiser for picking me up and driving me to Helwith Bridge and for letting me know that Sally knew I was ok. In and amongst all the other jobs you were doing I am grateful you took the time to make it a little easier for us all.

Together you made a painful experience more bearable. I don’t know how long it will be before I can ride my bike again but I will put my name in to the hat for next year’s race if I am able. And if not then I can always volunteer and offer to help, as those who helped me.

In the meantime even though there was no obvious damage to my bike in the crash (shh, don’t tell Sally!) perhaps I need a new one for when I recover...

Paddy Buckley Round

Paddy Buckley Round – August 1^st 2015

The Welsh classical round of 47 mountain tops, covering 61 miles in a circle and roughly 28,000 feet of ascent.

Pre – round

My aim is to recce every top at least twice, I manage at least once with some several times and support on a couple of attempts in the lead up to my own. I decide to allow generous split times from the off in order to gain some time in hand and also factor in 15 minute rest breaks but plan on taking 5 – more time to gain there for no effort. After careful consideration I also decide that if I’m feeling good and conditions allow I will take advantage rather than holding back as I will tire anyway and I have a feeling this could come down to minutes. One pair of shoes and socks got me through UTMB and I plan on doing the same here, that’s more time and less faffing all round. I have already had some friendly banter from my team about being ‘too organised’ as I have sent them pacing notes from my own recces, the names of the tops that I have translated in to English and possible scenarios for them to consider. I don’t like to leave things to chance! One more thing – sub 24 hours is a bonus, my aim is to complete and I have made sure all my pacers know this. If conditions are favourable to set off then I will finish, whatever the time.

00:00

The bright moon of earlier has gone, replaced by intermittent drizzle as Tom and I ascend Elidir Fach. In Llanberis I opt to go for full waterproof cover the same as Tom. It didn’t quite feel right, too warm, but if Tom is going covered I would rather err on the side of caution. Never let it be said that ‘Arctic John’ wore less layers than a companion on the same run! This turns out to be a very wise move as from the summit of Elidir Fach onwards until Ogwen we are running in driving rain, howling winds and patchy clag. Lovely.

01:00

Elidir Fawr is summited and we set off for Mynydd Perfedd, I miss the high path on the ridge and we end up climbing slightly more than I would have liked but the going is good and we are already up on schedule despite the conditions. I nearly carry on past Foel Goch in the dark, I am navigating this leg alone as Tom has not run this leg before, but correct my line just in time in order to head up to the summit.

02:00

The way to Glyder Fawr is wet. I’ve recced this part several times and each time it has been a path. Today it is more like a river as we splash through it and round the tarn to begin the climb in earnest talking long distance triathlons and various other challenges we have heard about. Tom is good company and the leg is flying by, I switch to full concentration now as I want to get the line right on the way to Glyder Fach to avoid Castell Y Gwynt.

03:00

The way up Tryfan. I have run this several times and know a great line staying left to avoid climbing the South Peak and the buttress in error. This time I go too far left though and end up having to climb over a larger part of the belly of Tryfan than is ideal. Still only 5 minutes lost there, could have been a lot worse.

04:00

I am resting for a short while at Ogwen. I call to Michael for things I need and ask Tom if he is coming on to leg 2 as well – he said he would see how it was going. One look at him tells me my answer and he shakes his head and wishes me well. Tom has done a great job through tough conditions and now Stefan is there to take over and ready to rock. I change my gloves and it has stopped raining but I decide to keep my over trousers on along with some dry over mitts. I am ahead of my schedule but not by quite as much as I anticipated. Early days yet though.

05:00

We gain the summit of Pen Yr Ole Wen in good time and the sun rising has created an electric sky ahead and around. There is no hint of rain and only soft clouds that part often to afford glorious views over the mountain side. This lifts me no end and Stefan is a good guide meaning I can switch off the navigation part of my brain for a while and just enjoy the running.

06:00

Pen Yr Helgi Du is summited and I know that in this leg I have allowed quite a lot of give which I am keen to take advantage of. I race off and Stefan follows and then leads in a great line off Pen Llithrig Y Wrach which I then muck up at the bottom by taking us through rough fern and heather.

07:00

I arrive at Capel Curig an hour up and my team are milling around when I get there. They suddenly quicken in their activity and Mark drives in just after I arrive. Timing! My dad is there to dog sit Meg so Robin can run, Mick is getting in to the groove and has things to hand almost before I ask for them and I say good bye to Stefan who is worried he has not paced me correctly and that I might pay for this later on. I might do yet but I am now comfortably up on my own schedule with about the time in hand I planned for at this stage, despite the conditions on leg 1. On leg 3 to come I have allowed over 7 hours but I am hoping for under that. We shall see.

08:00

On the way up Moel Siabod Andy has to slow me down several times and tell me to take it easy, there is still a long way to go. I am initially frustrated by this but eventually calm down and listen to his advice. It takes all the allotted schedule time for Moel Siabod but the pace is steady so I am happy that the leg has started well. At the top it starts to rain, and doesn’t stop.

09:00

Then the wind gets up along with patchy clag. And more rain. Conversation is limited and we stop throughout the leg to adjust layers and share passing thoughts. Every footstep is now either a marsh or a climb and although I am still up on schedule I can feel my will being sapped by the worsening conditions both underfoot and in the skies. Andy is a good guide and we have recced this leg together in similar conditions so familiar points of reference come and go.

10:00

Every half an hour Robin is in my ear about eating and drinking, supported by Andy who backs him up. Andy has past experience of me not taking in enough food and fluid and I have given explicit instructions to be reminded every 30 minutes. I force the food in and it does make a difference. Coffa, Robin’s Border Collie, offers endless enthusiasm and is full of running as we head up and down the summits that need to be ticked off.

11:00

We descend to the quarries together, picking a good line and finding the gully to drop down and through. The buildings appear and I give a whoop – I am hoping this will lift my spirits rather than it being an expression of joy. My head is starting to irrationally fear the climb to Cnict for no other reason I can find than it is the last climb of this leg. I cannot share this because the wind has got up again and we are all cowering behind our hoods.

12:00

Last time I came off Moelwyn Bach I fell on the path and cut my arm. I ended up in Bangor A&E for 3 hours for 3 stictches before a 3 hour drive home. Andy points out the spot I fell on and we laugh, but I do slow down and take care as I step down the path over the spot in question.

13:00

We are climbing Cnict now and it does seem to go on for ever. I wish I could lift this fog in my head slowing me down. I am ahead of schedule. I am ahead of schedule. It’s no good though, my head just hears – ‘my legs are tired, my legs are tired’.

14:00

The descent off Cnict is just as tortuous and I lose more time going up and down Cnict than I have at any other point and I will be over my leg time by 9 minutes. Andy turns his ankle but carries on and picks up the pace, I hope he is okay but he now looks doubtful to carry on in to leg 4 as was the tentative plan. Even though I am still up overall my head is all over the place. I resolve to collect my walking poles form Aberglasyn, stop for the full 15 minutes, eat some chicken noodle soup and get a grip.

 Arriving at Aberglasyn

15:00

So much for getting a grip. I was all smiles until I sat down and then I burst in to tears. I did manage to gather myself though and set off ahead of schedule by 50 minutes. I have a feeling I will need all of them for the last 2 legs. Mark, who I have only just met and who drove in to the car park at Capel just as I arrived, is staying on to leg 4 as well. This really lifts me as it takes some of the burden off Dave who is doing leg 4 and 5 and Mark has recced the beginning of this leg recently so can take over the lead for a while.

16:00

I am haemorrhaging minutes now, although I make the decision after Moel Hebog that although my climbing speed is slowing my descending speed is still good. I tell Mark and Dave that I will be trying to balance out the time lost climbing by upping the pace downhill and we set off at a fair lick. It seems to be working as now I am within a minute of the summit times I had planned. Each summit now has me calculating how much of my buffer I have used and where I have allowed extra time on the last leg.

17:00

Y Gyrn

Just as I am starting to pick up I fall through a tree on the descent as it skirts past the forest, I am not seriously hurt and now also have the bonus scent of pine for the next few minutes. At Yr Gyrn I get a strong lift brought about by familiarity. I was here just last week looking at the end of leg 4 and beginning of leg 5. I have a spring in my step and although I am down in minutes I allow myself to think, for the first time today, about completing the round. I know it will be close to 24 hours but my aim all throughout has been to treat sub 24 as a bonus and completion as the goal.

18:00

Nantile Ridge

Y Garn

The Nantile ridge is amazing and there has not been a drop of rain on this leg, even the wind has dropped and the clouds properly part for the first time since the early morning. Beautiful. What an amazing part of the world this round encompasses, the variation in summits, the endless rolling mountain side, sea views and tops shrouded one minute and gloriously showing off in bright sunlight another.

19:00

Craig Wen and the summits still to come.

I say farewell and offer thanks to Mark for running 2 legs with me, more than I could have anticipated. I am on track.  In fact better than that as I take only a short break and gain time. I also know I have over allowed for Craig Wen so should make some time there which I do despite falling backwards off a wall at one point. What I am beginning to work up to though is the climb up to Cribau Tregalen and then Snowdon. That’s a long way with no descent to make time up on as coming of Yr Arran is not particularly conducive to making time when tired. Oh well – you can only climb one at once.

20:00

Yr Arran takes a while longer to climb than it should have but I know I have time in hand and I am steeling myself for the final few climbs. I know this is going to be tight and Snowdon could make or break it. Dave offers me some perspective after I voice my concerns; he says I had my slump at the end of leg 3 and the beginning of leg 4 but that I have now come through it. Re-framing it like that does make a difference. You can leave a slump behind and move on. Which is what I do.

21:00

Not there yet. We don’t reach Snowdon’s summit until nearly half past nine. Which is still up on schedule. Just. I reassure myself, and Dave, that the hard yards are now done. When I recced this section they were lovely rolling summits that came and went with a lovely run off down to Llanberis.

22:00

The one after Snowdon

The truth is somewhat different at the end of a long day. Darkness alters the perspective of the summits, offering no depth of vision. Imposing mountains now offer seemingly impossible silhouetted challenges to our advances. By the summit of Moel Cynghorion, where I thought I had allowed generously, I am bang on schedule rather than ahead.

23:00

The last few summits. This is what will power is for I suppose. I will not let my days work be undone by these last few summits. Dave has developed a measured approach to my constant calculating but as I power my legs onwards my mind is frantic. We hurry to and fro in the dark, powering through each summit until finally there is Moel Elio, the final summit. Now I can’t remember if I was generous with my descent time or not so we head towards Llanberis at speed. It doesn’t seem to get any closer in the dark and then suddenly we drop to find the track. Things look different in the dark and we make a couple of turns and find ourselves heading in the right direction. Angie comes to meet us and I complete the circle.

23:48

Llanberis - The point I started from and now finish!

What a day. In the company of family, friends and strangers I have done it. I have done it. A round that is as hard as it is beautiful and a long day that will stay with me forever.

Thank you to John Parkin (senior), Mick Watson, Tom Gomersall, Stefan Bramwell, Andy Gibbons, Robin Mitton (and Coffa), Mark Liptrot, Dave Stephenson, Angie Stephenson and Sally Parkin.

Post-round

I have reflected and recovered and once more pored over various split times and leg times. In truth I had it pretty much covered and I am pleased with how accurate my plans were over the course of the day. I deliberately started faster than the schedule to gain time so that I knew how much time I would have to play with at the end. Psychologically it worked for me but, as ever, I would not have got round in such a time without the help of my support team who were amazing.

Such is the beauty of this round that I know I will spend many happy hours supporting others and exploring this new playground that I have had my eyes opened to. When I climbed my first Welsh peak, Pen Yr Ole Wen, on my first recce my whole body sighed happily and went “This is what I love doing, thank you”.

John Parkin

UTMB 2014 Race Report

UTMB – race report 2104

I’m sitting at the start watching the people go by. People stop, stare and photograph the couple next to me. She is wearing traditional Japanese clothing, he is looking pensive. She asked me earlier to take their photo together before the start. She returned the favour, also taking a picture of me and my lego man, Lego Harrier, given to me by Louis to carry round.

I am alone. Alone but not lonely. As I walk towards the toilets for the fourth or fifth time someone calls my name. I stop but do not recognise the person – should I? “You don’t know me but you’re a Bingley Harrier, do you know Mary Green?” the voice says. I don’t but the name rings a bell and I say as much. “Well good luck”

Luck. I wonder about this, how much will be down to luck in the hours ahead? I glance up at the sky the way we are going and it is dark with rain and moving this way. I cover my vest and move to rain coated anonymity among the rear of the starters.

The announcer whips up the athletes and crowd. Counting down, shouting, sticks up in the air. I am unmoved. This race is special without the need to shout or posture. I am ready.

Last night I arrived at Dave and Angie’s flat and crashed on the sofa. They have shown me around and taken me in. Today I visited Andy and Steve’s place. Andy was out running and Steve’s race finished mid-week.

The rain comes, the countdown comes and goes and we depart. Walking. As good a way as any to start a 105 mile foot race I suppose but I find it frustrating. I high 5 the children cheering in the rain but in truth I would rather be jogging. As we move out of Chamonix there are people stopping to change coats, adjust clothing, fiddle with shoes, go to the toilet.

The pace picks up and I monitor my heart rate carefully. This is no race to start too fast with poorly judged pace. It rains. We run. It rains. We run. It rains.

Then the pace slows and people seem to be afraid of the mud. Being from Yorkshire comes to the fore and I skip through it with a grin. 4 hours is a long time to be running in the rain and it takes me through to darkness. I have another measure of time about my person. Every 4 hours I have planned to take an inspirational quote provided by Sally to see me through. She has given me 10, which should see me through to the finish. I look at the first one and I remember it makes me laugh but not what it was.

Saint Gervais is great, families under umbrellas are out cheering. I blow the MC a kiss as I enter the feed zone and he thanks me. It is dark now and as I leave I have to stop myself getting carried away and slow down. A long way still to go.

The rain eases and I make conversation with a lad from Cumbria who is a doctor and good company. He neither talks too much nor too little and we climb together for a while. I look back from the Col du Bonhomme many times so impressive is the sight of hundreds and hundreds of lights snaking around at least 7 bends behind and above. I am confused as to whether we have already crested one climb and started the next so I am pleasantly surprised to find us starting to go downhill. At the Col de la Seigne I mutter “Oh yes passport “ and make to get it from my bag. A jolly Policeman shouts “your papers are all in order” and waves me through.  It is cold in Italy and I descend to Lac Combal quickly where I have my now routine noodle soup with cheese and crackers.

I am still holding back and now have one more climb before Courmeyeur and my drop bag. As I cross Arete du Mont Favre dawn breaks with the sun rising over the snow capped peaks opposite and I start to cry. As I do so my breathing sounds like an asthmatic seal. I breathe through my mouth and all is fine, I breathe through my nose and the seal returns. Still crying I shout at myself to pull myself together and the passing runners politely ignore my tears. I meet a runner on the outskirts of Courmeyeur and we share our surprise at being here so soon. This moment changes my mood immeasurably. I look for friendly faces in the crowds but realise I am way ahead of schedule.

At Courmeyeur I check my feet. All ok, my toe has gone through both socks on my right foot so I change them, the left is ok so I leave it alone.  I keep my base layer but ditch the wet mid layer and change it for a dry one. I top up with gels and take my reward for getting this far – music!

Upstairs with with my bag I go and have a proper plate of pasta and a coffee – lovely. As I drop my bag off and plug myself in I am feeling good. I think back to my long training runs where sometimes putting in a little extra effort on a climb, nothing silly mind, can invigorate the rest of the run and decide to give it a try.

I push a little harder on the climb to Refuge Bertone. In reality that just means maintaining a steady pace but by the top I am buzzing. I check my heart rate, still zone 2, and kick on to Refuge Bonatti. Adele and Kasabian are fighting for attention in my ears but in truth they are both drowned out by the smile in my head. Zone 2, easy pace yet I am walloping past people like they are standing still. Time to do some checks – Feet? Ok. Legs? Ok. Heart rate? Ok. Stomach? Ok. Head? Bloody marvellous!

I start to relax some more and speed up with no increase in effort. I’m whooping with delight now and skipping around people, dancing over waterfalls and gliding along the paths. This must be what it feels like to fly. I feel invincible, like I have been plugged in to the ground and progress is effortless. Nothing else matters. At Refuge Bonatti the lady asks me how I feel and I reply honestly “I’ve never felt better”. She seems surprised. Another runner asks me the same and is rather rude when he gets the same answer! He apologises and wishes me well.

I do my checks again and still I’m flying. I wonder if I’ve cracked it. I also wonder how I’m going to explain to Sally that 100 mile races seem to be my ideal distance! Heart rate ticking along and just keep feeding the machine. On the way down to Arnuva I have a descending ‘run off’ with another runner where we take it in turns to lead while passing the groups slowing down ahead of us. We shake hands at the bottom with a sense of achievement and shared adventure – that was fun. I also sneaked a look at the paddle they swipe over you when you arrive and see that my race number is in the 500’s – blimy!

I am so giddy now that I make a mistake. I have arrived at an aid station with hardly any one there and for the first time and I can see all the food. Instead of sticking to what has been working for me – noodle soup, cheese and crackers supplemented by my own gels when running – I pick up some chocolate cake and chocolate and don’t stop long enough for it to start digesting. By the base of the next climb I am feeling sick and have to stop. Three quarters of the way up and I stop again to be sick three or four times. I wait. People pass me and I sit and wait. I am cursing the chocolate I added to my savoury intake – in my head the cause of this. Although we are approaching the highest point of the course I am convinced it was the mix of sweet and savoury that has created the problem.

The annoyance I am feeling about messing up a strong finish is quickly overtaken by the horrible realisation that if I can’t take in any more food my race is over. While I’m contemplating this a man asks if I have any vaseline he can borrow. I do and give him my small tin to take some from. Gingerly he produces a buff that he has stuffed down his shorts and the sigh he gives when applying the vaseline says it all. “Thank you, you’ve saved my race”, he says. I wonder how I will save my own.

I weigh up my options and reach for a quote.

“Discipline is choosing between what you want now and what you want most of all”.

I decide that if I walk to La Fouly, sipping water, then this will not unduly stress my body and I can have some food there. It will take me longer than I wanted but will mean I don’t risk upsetting my stomach. I can eat there and go on. That is a long walk, made all the longer by the stream of runners jogging past me on the stretch where I thought I would bound down. This is now turning into a nightmare.

At La Fouly there is savoury food, soup and crackers, that perk me up enough to set me on my way at a jog. I even catch a few people up and I imagine that I am back but Champax Lac is further than I think and the route there is a rather convoluted one through some woods that seems to last forever.  It takes so much out of me I can feel people flinching when they look at me, moving many to pat me on the back and say “in ten minutes you will be better, eat and drink”.

I stagger in to Champex Lac and slump. I eat pasta but only half a bowl before it tries to come back up. I force it back down and move out quickly so if I am sick it is not in the tent. I set off with an Italian and a couple of English lads. They have a gilet from a UTMB year that was shortened and they say if they had realised how hard it was they wouldn’t have come back to do the full one. They also add that even though there are only 26 or so miles left there is as much climbing as the Fellsman. Thanks lads, that’s just what I wanted to hear as you jog off in to the distance with darkness closing in!

I have 3 major climbs left and it seems as though I will have to use my arms to carry my legs. They refuse to bend properly and I am finding it hard to walk. Each step up La Giete is painful, people start to queue behind and I regularly move to one side to let people past on the single file path. The way down is worse as I try to lift my feet over the roots. I am having to use my poles as makeshift crutches to lower my whole body over obstacles, listening for approaching runners so I can move to the side in time.

33 hours in and I have my first hallucination. I look down and to the right as I approach a corner and imagine I can see a woman selling flowers out of a wooden cart. I breathe in to speak to her but when I breathe out she is gone. I look down at the stones on the ground and each one is now a face, each one clear and distinct and looking back at me. For some reason Big Sam is there as well among the faces and the animals.

Every step hurts. My whole body aches. My mind is playing tricks on me. It doesn’t look good.

“Discipline is choosing between what you want now and what you want most of all”.

I want to get to the finish. I want to get to the finish.

The Cumbrian doctor passes me again and I explain my legs and sickness. “You need some of that energy drink they have to replace the salts and potassium you’ve lost by being sick. I thought it was witchcraft the first time I heard it but it’s true. There’s a free consultation for you.” He runs off, not fast, but faster than I can follow balancing as I am on my sticks. Witchcraft prescribed by a doctor – worth a shot!

I enter Trient and a large man with a voice of authority directs me - “Assistance” he growls pointing to the side.

“No, food” I say back.

“Assistance” he repeats firmly, still pointing.

“No, food” I reply and make my way towards the tent, I wonder if he will force me to the aid tent but he just shakes his head and lets me pass. I must look how I feel.

I drink two mugs of energy drink and have some food. I bump in to a friend of a friend and actually manage to jog out of the station. Brilliant! Energy drink witchcraft indeed and now I’m so pleased that the next climb to a warming fire passes smoothly. I can hear but not see impressive waterfalls as I descend through the darkness to the town below.

At Vallorcine I speak to an eleven time finisher. I let that sink in for a moment – eleven times and I am at the same stage of the race as him. That cheers me up no end. Just before the start of the final climb a Polish lady who is waiting for her husband to come through talks to me, wishes me well and tells me I can do it.

I climb.

 A Spanish man asks me where I trained and I tell him Yorkshire, he looks at me and says “There are no mountains in Yorkshire”. I explain that I run up and down shorter hills several times for the same effect. He looks at me like I’m mad and when I ask him where he trained he says “The Pyrenees” and climbs off in to the distance.

I climb. The sun rises over Mont Blanc. I climb.

At the summit I ring Sally and get through to her answer phone. At least that part of the day is normal and I laugh out loud. I leave her a message and then ring back. Apparently the UTMB facebook updates had stopped so she thinks I have pulled out. I sit a while and watch the clouds clear over Mont Blanc. What have I done? What have I done?

From La Flegere I decide to enjoy the last few miles, I might not pass this way again so I want to enjoy the surroundings to the full, satisfied I will make it. I have one more hallucination on the way down where it looks to me like a woman is leaning halfway through a wall. Until I get there and there is nothing there at all. Nothing.

I could go faster but in truth I know I have finished and there is nothing to gain.

I walk to Chamonix, I walk around Chamonix, I walk to the finish line.

I feel absolutely alive. Steve shakes my hand, Dave is taking photos.

I’ve done it! I’ve done it!

  

41 hours 14 minutes