Coastal Trail Series, Exmoor Ultra: Race Report


Race: Coastal Trail Series, Exmoor Ultra (34 miles)

Conditions: Slightly overcast/then sunny, 13 degrees

Terrain: Coastal path, some technical trails, mostly grassy…but who had time to notice with all those HILLS??!?!? (“extreme” rating)

As any ultrarunner will tell you, there is no such thing as perfect race prep.

The last few days before a race, you are supposed to be feeling your best. In an ideal world, when you show up on the start line, you should be locked, (carbo) loaded, and ready to go. In reality, this rarely happens. This holds true across the spectrum of runners, from the novice to the elite. Ray Zahab, my fabulous coach and world record holder, once told me that he has never actually started a race or one of his epic global challenges feeling 100%. Sometimes far from it!

Leading up to the Exmoor Ultra last weekend, I was feeling a little like a creaky old 80 year old woman. Stiff joints, a bad hip, and a hairy chin. Okay scrap the last one – I had yet to start growing fuzzy facial hair, but yeah, the body felt a bit old. I went into see a chiropractor in South London, Dr Craig McLean at Putney Chiropractic Centre, for a much-needed crack of my geriatric back. He did a very thorough assessment as I nattered away about my “robust” injury history. After seeing the state of my right hip, he asked “So Stephanie, how are you going to run this race on one leg?” After replying that I hoped it would be a loop course, he went about his business, adjusting me from the neck down to the foot (for which I am very grateful!!).

The adjustments definitely helped, but there is only so much one doctor can do. My days and weeks have recently consisted of either running full steam ahead out in the English countryside, or sitting at my computer for hours on end typing out 18000 words of human rights law exams (ugh). Not ideal for the back. So there I was on the morning of the race, winging about the pain in my back and the stiffness in my right hip. I should have walked down to the race start with a blue rinse in my hair and peppermints in my purse with the way I was carrying on.

Luckily, my friend Alex Howarth, who would also be running the race, was not to be outdone by my pre-race complaining. He came up with a few good stories about BMF-related muscle tightness and his overall lack of running-specific training in the weeks prior. We both knew that we were just trying to come up with excuses ahead of time for why we might completely bonk on this course… Anything to keep our egos intact. And as we gingerly walked down the hill – the VERY steep hill – to the start, the excuses got louder and more elaborate. By the time we got to the registration table, Alex was questioning whether he was suffering from potential kidney failure and I was wondering if maybe I had early-onset osteoporosis. Or maybe carpal tunnel?

The Exmoor races, organized by Endurance Life, included a 10k, 21k, 42k, and, new this year, an ultra course. Alex, another friend Phil and I were really excited about doing the ultra, until we saw that just 34 people had signed up. And only 6 women. Clearly we were the nutters of the bunch!

We set off at 8:15 in the morning and within about 30 seconds of leaving the start line we were headed straight uphill. It would be the first one of many. Of course, we all tried to show a good effort at the beginning, charging ahead with vim and vigour. No mountain could get in our way! Well, our “vim and vigour” quickly retreated as we resigned ourselves to a slow climb upwards. It was going to be a long day…

Although the field was small, right away it was obvious that it was competitive – but in the “wow, I’m at the back of the pack” kind of way, not the “I’m worried this person is going to push me off the side of the cliff” kind of way. I really enjoyed conversing with the other runners during that first hour i.e. the only part of the race when I had enough breath to speak semi-intelligently. There was one guy who was not only running the Exmoor ultra, but also was going to attempt a DOUBLE London marathon the very next day. Rock on dude. Of course about 60 seconds after talking with this legend, I, a mere mortal, fell HARD on my geriatric rear end, instantly feeling the pain shoot all the way up to my neck. Rock on me :)

When I regained movement back in my neck (ha), I couldn’t believe the scenery in front of me. The course ran along the coastal path in North Devon, over the hills and countryside, across wooded paths and streams, through the “Valley of the Rocks”… It was like running an ultra through a slightly more refined Lord of the Rings movie set (this is England after all). Every once in a while we passed through a little village, including Lynton and Lynmouth, or the “little Switzerland” of the UK. As I was bounding down the boardwalk of these towns, staring up at the quaint little B&Bs and shops, I vowed to come back sometime when I could sit on bench, eat an ice cream, and simply enjoy the view. With peppermints in my purse, of course.

Coastal Path in North Devon

Quite a few of us were taking photos or videos during the race – it would have been a shame not to. These 55 km were some of the most beautiful I’d seen in all of the UK and I wanted to be able to remember it when the oxygen returned to my brain! I kept sending the images from my phone mid-race to those who I knew couldn’t be there that weekend, but that stopped as soon as I received a reply reminding me to stop acting like a tourist and start running like I meant it!  Neither snapping photos nor snapping my fingers would get me to the finish. Right. Keep calm and carry on!

I am happy to say, I didn’t have any major issues during the race (unlike the last one!). I made sure to keep eating, drinking, and I ran when I could and walked when I had to. I did start to have some cramping over the last 10 km, but by taking some electrolytes (Hammer Endurolytes) and eating some crisps for some extra salt, I was able to keep going without too much hassle.

The last 5 km were probably my best. I was definitely feeling it in my quads and calves, but relative to the few other runners around me, I seemed to be faring slightly better. I could smell the finish line (or was it that fishy coastal air?) and I was ready to be done!!!

I wound up in 11th place, which I was pretty happy about… Until I found out that this put me in the bottom half of the women’s field! Actually, I was just really impressed. There were three freakishly fast women at the front of the pack and I was slightly in awe. Not that I met them. Oh no, by the time I crossed the finish, they were long gone! Showered, fed, probably had time for a nap too… (just kidding).

Then came a little dose of post-race reality. I don’t know how I do it, but sometimes I really don’t feel pain when I’m running. This is a huge asset in a lot of ways, but sometimes it can lead to, er, nasty results. I had forgotten to bring my body glide or vaseline with me for the weekend, which I usually put on my back and hips to prevent chafing from my backpack. Sometimes I even pre-tape if I’m particularly worried about it. I’m extremely prone to chafing for some reason, regardless of the backpack, so you’d think I’d have learned by now… Anyway, I decided it wasn’t that big of a deal and I would just suck it up and deal with the consequences later.

As soon as I took off my pack, I realized it would be bad. And it was. OOOOOH the pain!!!! I had open wounds all across the bottom of my back, around my hips, and across my stomach. Even the inside of my belly button looked savage. UGH!!! Trying to shower after the race was completely out of the question. The salt that had built up on my skin from sweating during the race made the water feel like vinegar and even a drop made me scream out in agony. Yikes. Thanks to Alex and a some self-mummification techniques, we managed to bandage me up so that I could hobble over to the pub for post-race celebrations. I’m pretty sure he went above and beyond the call of duty on that one, so thanks Alex :) I’ve got your back (chafe) anytime!

All a part of the fun

All in all, a great race and a great weekend. Looking forward to the next one in just two weeks! Keswick 2 Barrow 40 miler….

Happy trails!

-Ultrarunnergirl

Coastal Trail Series, Sussex Marathon: Race Report


Race: Coastal Trail Series, Sussex marathon (27 miles)

Date: March 26, 2011

Conditions: Misty/sunny, 10-13 degrees

Terrain: Very hilly (“strenuous”)

Where do I even begin about this past weekend??

Let’s start with Saturday morning. I hadn’t slept much the night before, and despite setting my alarm for 6:30, I was wide awake before 5:00 am.  Pre-race jitters? Not entirely.

Quite a few of you reached out after my “runner’s low” post (thank you!!), so let me offer this quick explanation. Speedy broke things off with us about a month ago, shortly after our Moonlight Challenge race together. The sense of loss was palpable.  He was my running partner, my life partner, my partner-in-crime… I thought we were going to conquer the world together hand in hand, taking a few wrong turns along the way, but ultimately moving forward as an unbreakable pair.  Coming to the realization that that vision was one-sided was… well, for all those who have been through something like that, I probably don’t need to say much more!

The running ground to a halt. The one thing I loved to do, the one thing that always got me out of any situation, just slipped away. Every time I tried to get out there, I would make it to about 30 or 40 minutes before I simply couldn’t breathe anymore and my legs stopped moving. I wasn’t just heart-broken – I was lung-broken, leg-broken, and, with the complete loss of appetite, stomach-broken.

As with any other sort of “injury”, with time, things got better.  I started to breathe easier, run lighter, and go further.  Friends and family, like any good support crew, got me through the right ‘checkpoints’ and pulled me right through the black fog of my ‘runner’s low’.  I even made it up to a two hour run about a week ago, thinking that perhaps that would be just enough training to get me through this race.

By the time race day hit, I was in a completely different place than a month prior. I was really looking forward to the run. Not because I thought it would be a good race or I’d finish well (ha, certainly not!!)… but because it would be the final hurdle.  Speedy was going to be there on the start line and if I could still get through running 27 strenuous miles after seeing him, I’d know that I’d be just fine. Sink or swim…

Well, I swam. It was more of a doggie paddle than a front crawl, but I swam. I gotta say, it wasn’t the easiest race in my life… In fact, I can say without a doubt that it was infinitely harder than my 100 miler. But the point is that I did it!!!

Pre-race photo with a fellow RacingThePlanet competitor... They're everywhere!

We started off from Birling Gap out towards the water and ran along the cliff tops, passing through Seven Sisters, and Beachy Head. It was a perfect morning.  The mist coming off the ocean was glowing in the sunlight, which gave the race start a rather majestic quality (or “mist-ical”? Ha, sorry, I couldn’t resist). Runners were stretched out in a line in front (er, with hopefully a few behind!), snaking up and down the hills for miles.

Of course, just to take the pressure off, I pulled a classic ultrarunnergirl move and let my clumsiness rear its ugly head early on in the race. Just as I was starting to work out the kinks in my legs, I came up to a cow gate on the course. I had thought that the person in front of me had left the latch open, so I ran into it full speed… Ha! I may have actually ricocheted off the gate from the sheer force of the impact, but not wanting to look like a wimp to the runners behind me, I smiled and pretended it was toooootally planned. The bruising and bleeding on my thigh and knee would have to wait until later!! Keep calm and carry on!

I was really caught by surprise by the hills. I knew part of the course was on the South Downs Way, which I have run over before, so I arrogantly dismissed the “strenuous” rating by Endurance Life as being blown out of proportion. Hmph, how hard can a few rolling hills be?

Very hard.  Lesson to be learned: never underestimate Endurance Life!! I kept up with some of the faster women for the first 15 km or so – maybe even up to 20 km – but after that it was downhill (or, er, uphill). The difficulty of the course meant that I was spending a lot more time on my legs than I had trained for and I was already hitting 2.5 hours at the halfway mark (13 miles).  The molasses effect slowly but surely crept into my legs….

I chatted with a few other runners along the way, which helped, but by the time I got to 15 or 16 miles I was really struggling. I wasn’t drinking a lot of water and I couldn’t seem to get any food in me. Truth be told, I had thrown up my breakfast that morning before the race and I knew I really needed the calories or I would shut down! Even running through the desert in Namibia or the outback in Australia, I never lost my appetite. It was a strange thing to experience. Back to basics. Rule of the game is no matter what happens, keep moving forward. Sometimes, it is all you can do.

At this point, the 10km racers overlapped our course and this was probably the most demoralizing section of the race. I thought I was doing pretty well under the circumstances until all of a sudden these fresh, bouncy, FAST runners just blew by me with ease!  It was like I was chugging along in the slow lane on the highway, running out of gas, being passed by formula one machines at break-neck speed. Oh dear.

Luckily, and this really was a saving grace, one of the other marathon runners trudged his way to my side and said that he recognized me from the Moonlight Challenge Race. He (Paul…right?? Did I get that right??) was having a tough race as well so the two of us forged our way together for quite some time.  Every time I went downhill, I would get a massive, sharp stitch in my side that just wouldn’t release.  This made me almost crave the uphills. Then the calf muscles started to go. It felt like there were animals jumping and crawling their way up to my hamstrings. It was the weirdest feeling – I’ve never had things shut down like that before. Paul must have noticed my random spaz outs because he mentioned that his quads and hamstrings were severely cramping as well… What a pair!

We made it to the 19 mile checkpoint and, thinking I had a full pack of water, I drank just two glasses and carried on. Five minutes later I felt the water supply in my camelbak tube run out and realized I had made a huge rookie mistake. With the amount of cramping going on, it would be touch and go as to whether I would be able to make it to the next checkpoint.

Silly me.  But I thought there would be a way out. We weren’t in the desert after all. It was England! All I needed to do was find a stream and I could fill up…  When I finally came across a greenish-brown, murky pond at the bottom of a cow-dung-infested field a few miles later, I was so desperate that I turned around to Paul with an inquisitive look on my face that said, “Do you think….?”  Being the smarter one of the two, Paul firmly said “NO” and gave me a few sips of his water.  He most likely saved me from dysentery with that move, and I will always be grateful!!!  He ran out of water himself a few minutes later, so this was definitely a generous sacrifice. Paul (if I didn’t get your name wrong!), please keep in touch. I’ve got your back in the next race!

By this point, we just needed to finish. There were rumours of another checkpoint at mile 23 or 24, but Paul’s GPS already said 25 and nothing was in sight. The next little bit was a blur, but I remember BARELY moving…  I was determined to keep trying to run. I saw some elderly couples strolling along the path and immediately scanned to see if they were holding water. I’m not sure what I would have done if they were. There was one person holding a can of coke… I had delusions of tackling the caffeinated-goodness out of this person’s hand, but realized I was in no shape to run away quickly enough, so that went out the window, along with my sense of morals. Paul and I ran past a farm and scoured for outside taps. No luck. Then we came across a pig’s trough in the middle of a field and actually contemplated, for a brief moment, filling up. Desperate times call for desperate measures? A little while later, some girls gave me some sips of their water and passed me a gel, but I was in a bad state. I finally made it to that last elusive checkpoint, and couldn’t have been happier to see my friend Rob!!! Rob had come down to do the race with me and despite being a 2:30-2:50 marathoner, he was obviously struggling to be as far back as I was in the race!

There weren’t a lot of words said at this point, but we made it to the finish line side-by-side. It was just 2 or 3 more miles from that last checkpoint, but it couldn’t have felt longer. If Rob hadn’t have been there, I would hate to think how long it would have taken me to reach the end.  The animals in my legs were jumping well past the knee and my head was spinning. We made it in just over 5 hours (ack!!!), although the timing chip didn’t record my finish so it came up as a DNF (which I’m trying to get the race organizers to fix! Definitely didn’t go through all that to get a DNF!).

Far from a DNF, that race was a grand finish. I knew it would be incredibly tough – for many reasons – but I needed to just do it and show myself I could get through it.  There is something truly exquisite in putting yourself up to a challenge, even an enormously painful one, and succeeding. It may not have been a ‘win’ for me in the strictest sense, and, in fact, is probably my worse race placing so far… but it is a race I am very proud of.

As I was awkwardly rolling around on the ground after the finish, trying to stop the cramping in my calves and sorting out my deformed, claw-like feet (so funny), I heard the announcer mention the next race in the series over the loudspeaker. “For those of you signed up for the Exmoor challenge on April 16th, you can expect a much tougher course than this one!”

Am I signed up? You betcha. For the ultra. Can’t wait. Ultrarunnergirl may be running solo now, but with the cheering squad I’ve got in my corner (you know who you are!), I’m ready to take on the next challenge – race or otherwise.  Not only can I stand on my own two feet, I can run on my own two feet again.

Until next time :)

Ultrarunnergirl aka Stephanie Case

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