Nice Curves

As an ultra runner with a day job in construction project management, the combination of architecture and competitive athletic sport tends to get me pretty excited. Last Saturday I was fortunate to have the opportunity to go along to the UCI Track Cycling World Cup at the incredible new Olympic veledrome in East London, designed by Hopkins Architects. As both the first event to take place in the Olympic veledrome and having official Cycling World Cup status with medals up for grabs, it had a lot of meaning.

Typically, when I attend big sporting events such as a rugby test match at Twickenham, I get excited, but not that excited. Going along to watch this event and seeing the Olympic Park for the first time had me going like a kid a Christmas. Arriving at the Olympic Park for the first time I was impressed at how 'together' it’s all looking. The venues are all now complete providing plenty of time to fine tune everything over the final few months through a carefully planned series of test events. Those involved in the construction industry will know just how important this stage is in getting it absolutely right when it counts – and it’s not a process that should be rushed. Full marks to LOCOG here.

The Olympic Stadium at sunset, with the Aquatics Centre in the foreground

In reading the instructions to get to the event, I was slightly disappointed to learn that arriving at Stratford tube station (for the Olympic Park) would bring you out in yet another colossal Westfield shopping centre, but I was actually pleasantly surprised by its design, feel and layout. It’s not really your typical all-under-one-roof shopping centre, but like more a well designed mini city centre complete with hotel blocks, pedestrianised streets and lots of outdoors ‘piazza’ type spaces. The buildings do of course involve plenty of glass and shiny cladding materials, but it’s all slick looking and tasteful, and won’t date half as quickly as some of the town centre monstrosities you see going up around the UK. It’s also important to bear in mind that this ‘hub’ is pretty much essential to bring people here in the long term, providing the eating, drinking and shopping facilities visitors will need both during and after the Olympics, and will strongly help provide the legacy we promised to provide and the public desperately craves to avoid any Olympic wastage. So, whilst it does seem to rather unfortunately emphasise shopping as the UK’s favourite ‘leisure’ activity, and of course encourage people to spend money at a time when we probably shouldn’t, I do think it’s the right concept.

Despite the maze of roads, bridges, underpasses and railway tracks snaking around the various parts of the site, there really is a ‘park’ feel to the area as a whole. Well, if you ignore the towering galvanised metal security fencing running around the venues that is - hopefully these will go post-Olympics. It despertately needs to all be open in the long term. The landscaping is still very raw despite apparently vast numbers of trees and shrubs having been planted everywhere you look. It’s almost a shame there isn’t more time to allow it all to mature because I suspect in five years time it really will be transformed and come alive. But if you take a step back and think about the transformation of the site as a whole, involving a soil de-contamination process which literally meant washing the stuff, it’s almost incomprehensible. So whilst we have huge great lumps of concrete and steel dotted around in the form of the venues, equally there are miles and miles of snaking and interweaving paths, green spaces and walkways to explore, including plenty which run alongside the waterways. Nice. I can genuinely see that it will be pleasant way to spend a day – wondering around, and exploring, the London Olympic Park.

And so to the veledrome itself. Appropriately nick-named ‘the pringle’ – well in keeping with the British love affair with the not-so-good-for-you potato snack – it’s curves on the outside beautifully reflect the shape of the track within. The timber cladding wrapping the outside is smart too, helping to soften it further and mirror the timber surface to the track itself. The spectator experience is also spot on – the veledrome has a genuinely intimate feel about it despite being only 6,000 capacity - created by steeply raked seating areas and the opportunity for spectators to wonder around the generous circulation spaces and take in the track from various angles without being restricted to your seat. You can get right up close to the track’s perimeter barriers, almost within touching distance of the cyclists. It’s a great all round spectator experience.

Fish eye view of the outside of the Olympic Veledrome

And with my technical hat on, I sat there taking in the make-up of the structure. The roof is cleverly supported on a web of steel cables making it efficient, clean and most importantly, curved. The concrete structure is beautifully finished so it can be exposed and shown off in many places – not so easy to achieve if you know the ins and outs of the construction process. And the air conditioning nozzles are cleverly coordinated and detailed into the exposed concrete fronts to the seating structure, demonstrating some smart engineering detailing. 

The cladding wrap - close up

When you look at the quality of the end product, you consider the extreme technical performance requirements of the building, the fact that it had to be delivered to a fairly modest budget (ok, it did cost quite a bit) and that time was of the essence, this is a very, very impressive building. Full marks to the design and construction team.

And, as you will have seen from the news, the performance of the British team was also mighty impressive. Plenty of medals all round, with the British cyclists visibily responding to the ‘wall of sound’ the spectators generated as they powered their way round the track. Having never seen a track cycling championship event in the flesh before, the speed, skill, acceleration and power of the athletes was simply incredible. The fastest lap was recorded by Sir Chris Hoy – under 10 seconds for 250 metres – mind boggling. It was also extremely insightful to watch the British team go about their business in the centre of the track. A pair of binoculars helped – but the teams are all based on show – so you get to see everything from the warm up and mental preparations, to the racing itself. It really adds to the spectacle and the experience. As a team what was really obvious was how well drilled and organised they were. Little was said to each other, they all had a job to do, and they went about it meticulously. They are a very successful and experienced team, so what I saw probably wasn’t all that surprising, but there is certainly a lot to be said for good management and a highly professional approach.  

The British girls do battle in the head-to-head sprint

I came away from the day feeling inspired, impressed and very excited about the London 2012 Olympics ahead. If the other venues and events get close to what I experienced, it’s going to be a very special Games indeed. It did however stir up a feeling of disappointment as I haven’t been lucky enough to secure any tickets for the actual Games. So aside from the marathon and triathlon which I will watch from the open streets, my Olympic experience will be limited to the television in my front room. 

Having said that, I suspect my experience on Saturday may not be surpassed, even by the Olympics. One of the reasons that Saturday’s atmosphere was so electric was that the venue was visibly packed full of cycling enthusiasts. Everyone understood the events, how it all works (and the way the track cycling events work is not always straight forward) and responded with enthusiastic support accordingly. Being slightly sceptical, I’m not sure the same will be said for the Olympic cycling events. From the statistics I’ve seen about the high proportion of Olympic tickets which have gone to the ‘sponsors’, I fear the prawn sandwich brigade may be in town, in which case the atmosphere will undoubtedly suffer. And given the quality of the venue, that would be nothing less than a tragic waste…..

2011 in pictures & 2012 look ahead

Like last year, I thought I would put together a few snaps from the year gone by to try and tell a bit of the story. It's the time of year to reflect on how the preceeding year went, and think about the changes which can be made to improve things for the coming year. I've certainly done plenty of reflecting over the past couple of weeks and I would say in summary it was a rather average season by my standards, but I won't bore you with the detail of that here. Anyway, here are a few of my favourite photos.

In terms of plans for the year ahead, my season will once again be based around Western States and UTMB, for which I have already secured places for both. They are, hands down, my favourite races, and motivate me like no others do. Western States suits my running style and strengths almost perfectly, and I still feel there is plenty of room for improvement, even taking into the account the 'fast' nature of the 2011 snow course. And UTMB always draws me back year after year, as a race which tests your inner strength and mental resolve considerably more than any others.

In addition to these two, I am hoping to qualify to run for Great Britain in the World 100km Championships in April, Italy. For the first time in a few years the timing and location both work well for me and I've re-discovered a bit of my road running mojo of late. I'm also fascinated to see whether I can go quicker than my 6h 58m PB of 2009 set in Galway. Of course there's only one way to find out.

There will hopefully be other races too, with a bit of luck starting with The North Face Trans Gran Canaria race at the beginning of March, but that's dependent upon me successfully shaking off an ankle niggle which has been troubling me since the The North Face Endurance Challenge 50 miler last month. It's nothing too serious, but certainly worth attending to properly at this relatively quiet time in the season. I suspect some time off running will do me a huge amount of good, and in reality forced rest is the only way that could happen. Did I just say rest? Well not really. I mean, rest from running. I'm keeping myself fit by cross training - hiking, swimming and gym work - all good stuff to build the core strength over the winter.

Anyway, we shall see how it all pans out, but needless to say it's going to be another exciting and fiercly competitive season in the ultra world.

The North Face Endurance Challenge Final - 50miles (10,000ft +/-) - San Francisco

A very quick report for now. Full results can be found here.

On balance, I'm pretty pleased with my 7th place in 6hrs 49mins 33secs, some 25 minutes quicker than my time from last year (7hrs 14 minutes). The field was deep, we all know about that. I beat many top runners, and was beaten my a handful of top, top runners. The pace was always going to be brutal and it certainly didn't disppoint. Many casualties fell along the way, some were literally sat on the side of the course completely wiped out, from as early as 30 miles in. Many of the best fell, only those right on their game made the podium.

The disappointing thing for me was not really settling in to the race until about 25 miles. Perhaps the sign of a good 100 mile ultra runner, but somewhat fustrating that my recent speedwork hadn't quite had time to kick in. This certainly isn't a race where you can get away with that, you need to be right 'on it' from the gun. But taking a step back, I'm still hitting my long term goal of continued improvement, so I can't feel too down about my run.

The running itself was a real treat. The Marin Headlands is a beautiful place to run on any day, but with blue skies and unusually good visibility, it was a real joy to charge around those trails alongside so many world class runners. Highlights included the views of the Goldon Gate Bridge and San Francisco city at sun rise, cruising the singletrack through the Giant Redwood forests, and the cracking trail conditions underfoot - almost Western States dusty-and-dry.

So all in all a really enjoyable experience. Finally I must just give a special mention to friend and fellow The North Face team mate, Mike Wolfe. What a run he had to take the win in 6hrs 19mins. He completely smashed it, in what must be the performance of his career. Surely enough to claim Ultra Runner of Year given the super competitive nature of the races where he has competed?

 

Western States 100 - Running Fitness magazine article

Click here for the article I wrote earlier in the year for UK running magazine, Running Fitness, about another memorable year racing the Western States 100.

I also write a monthly column for the magazine so do check it out....

October & Snowdonia Marathon

October’s highlight came at the end of the month with my first significant race since UTMB, the Snowdonia Marathon. The Snowdonia Marathon is now in its 29^th year and for many is an annual favourite given its beautiful course, great value and impressive organisation. It was founded by the National Trust who are the major landowner in the area, and they continue to play a big part in its organisation, albeit they are no longer solely in charge. The course is around 90% road and 10% gravel track, following a big loop around Snowdon, the highest mountain in England and Wales, and is always a sell out with around 2,000 runners taking part. As has been the case for the last three or four events, the weather for this year’s race was pretty grim; strong winds and heavy rain, not all that unusual for this part of the world. The conditions, coupled with the challenging course (1,150m ascent/ descent- in a road marathon!), made for a great workout, which was exactly what I had hoped for in preparation for The North Face Endurance Challenge 50 miler at the beginning of December.

After only ‘freshening up’ for a day or two before the race, I suspected it was going to be a painful affair, but actually I ran a really strong, comfortable and controlled race. The only time I didn’t feel comfortable was in the first few miles during the climb up Llanberis Pass. That was probably just lingering fatigue from recent training - and no taper. Not all that surprising really. Beyond that point I got going nicely and I felt I could adjust the pace as necessary to overtake people and run a respectable race.  I finished in the solid, if unspectacular, position of  7^th in a time 2hrs 45mins - only a couple of minutes outside my rather lame and longstanding marathon PB of 2h 43min set on a flat course at Lochaber in 2007. To give myself a little more credibility a 2h45min performance would have won the race on several occasions previously, but this year’s field was pretty stacked with top class marathon and shorter distance runners, and so it didn’t prove to be a great hunting ground for a distance hungry ultra runner like myself. I felt going into the race I was probably in around 2h35min shape for the marathon and my Snowdonia Marathon result seemed to confirm that – British marathon runners will tell you the ‘Snowdonia factor’ is fairly significant. It was also a good sign for me that I ran through to the finish at a consistent and strong pace and, had the weather not been so nasty, could quite happily have run a second loop at a pace not much slower than the first. I guess that’s the ultra runner in me….

So it was a good one for confidence and training, and a great stepping stone towards the Endurance Challenge next month.

Prior to Snowdonia I put in a decent 4 week block of training – basically the month of October – which followed a month off running in September. The rest from running and conditioning work I did during that period certainly freshened my legs and mind up, putting me in a great place for some quality training thereafter. It provided a great platform for a fresh start and I’ve been a lot more disciplined about the sessions I’ve been doing, definitely benefitting from the focus and speedwork. I’ve run a 5km time trial and a 12km trail race, again using the ‘races’ as sessions to try and push on my ultra race pace.

Now well into November, there isn’t a huge amount of time before it will be time to taper for the Endurance Challenge. A couple more solid weeks of training, including some longer runs along the coast path, should conclude preparations nicely.

Hey, the new Jez has turned an even bigger corner – I’ve just joined a running club for the first time in my career. I am now a fully fledged member of Bournemouth AC who have on their books some of the best road runners in the area – particularly their marathon group , with whom I’m looking forward to training on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Watch this space…..

See here for the Snowdonia Marathon race report on Mud Sweat & Tears.

September

I’ve just reached the end of my post-UTMB refresh and I'm definitely raring to go again now. After a solid four weeks off running, my Singletracks are now dusted off and back in action and I’m looking forward some great autumn trail running around Dorset and the south coast of the UK. Cooler temperatures, the stunning autumn colours in the forests and plenty of mud – happy days.

You may wonder why it’s only four weeks that I’ve taken off, when its actually been five since UTMB – well I was up in the Lake District on a TNF photo shoot immediately after UTMB, and I wasn’t able to rest properly when I was up there (running back and forth all day is not really resting), so I thought I would hold back on the proper rest until I got back. Also, what else do you do with spare time in the Lakes, other than hit the fells?

The training I put in for Western States and UTMB earlier in the year was tough, and both races fell relatively close together, so I decided the best way to get ready for the final part of the season was to take some proper time out. There were several aims for the time out period, but the key ones were allowing a little time for a small ankle niggle to heal properly, giving my legs a proper rest from running and to do some quality cross training/ conditioning work as primary training rather than secondary. Well you didn’t think it would be complete rest did you?

I loved the change in training – gym sessions, loads of miles on my road bike, hiking and swimming. None of it even comes close to the enjoyment I get from trail running, but the benefits have certainly prevailed and it's all given me a renewed spring in my step - both mentally and physically.

So now plans for the final few months of the season/ year are clicking into place. I’m targeting The North Face Endurance Challenge final in San Francisco, early December, and in the build-up I will run the Snowdonia Marathon at the end of October.

My training for the Endurance Challenge wasn’t great last year, so I’m looking forward to a fresh approach this year. Snowdonia provides a great build up; it’s a tough, hilly, road marathon, but super-fast and intense, and the best race I have found to replicate the Endurance Challenge course in the Marin Headlands. It’s not the first time I’ve run it, Snowdonia was the second marathon of the three day ‘triple’ which I did several years ago (Beachy Head, Snowdonia & Dublin on consecutive days), although conditions were horrendous that day, much like it was for my Snowdon reps earlier in the summer. Hopefully on race day it will be more like it was last Wednesday when I managed a quick afternoon hike up Snowdon before a talk I did for TNF at Plas Y Brenin. So you can sometimes see the top of Snowdon?.....

Snowdon, from the Watkins path - 28/09

View from Snowdon ascent - looking WSW - 28/09

The North Face Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc 2011 - DNF

Despite pulling out of this year’s UTMB race around two thirds of the way through (at Champex, 124km out of c.170km), I have not felt any post-race mental negativity. I was forced to pull out due to breathing difficulties (later diagnosed as a chest infection) which quickly developed from around the half way point and eventually got so bad that I was concerned about passing out due to lack of oxygen and doing myself some real damage.

So why am I not disappointed about a DNF – only the third of my running career – which probably involves around 150 races? Well, it was a factor completely out of my control. I had a bad cold a couple of weeks before the race, it lingered for quite a while, but was 95% clear by race day. It wasn’t even on the radar as a concern and from experience, it wouldn’t have impacted my performance in 9 out of 10 races. But lest we forget – UTMB is different…..

Up to the point at which I pulled out I had run a smart and solid race, moving through the field steadily in my usual style, and I was up to 12^th place. I can tell you now, I would have completely different feelings about the race if my legs had gone or I had blown up; I would have been in down in the doldrums then. But I didn’t blow up; my legs felt great, or at least as good as they could do given the 16 odd hours of mountain running I had completed.

So, a quick summary of the race.

After the events of 2010 most of the focus before the race was on the weather and, low and behold, it kicked off again. In 2010 the 6.30pm Friday night race start coincided almost perfectly with the passing of a significant weather front. Unbelievably, exactly the same thing happened again this year, but this time the organisers were well prepared. It was abundantly clear that the organisers had learnt their lessons and done their homework. There were two clear differences: (1) all ‘trailers’ were required to carry a more comprehensive set of clothing and equipment, designed to ensure the race could proceed in much more arduous conditions than before with the runners still being ‘safe’, and (2) from what I gathered from Race Director, Catherine Poletti, there were over ten course ‘variantes’ which could be employed should any given section of the route be blocked or be unsafe to pass.  All good stuff I feel.

The several thousand runners converging on Chamonix during build up to race weekend enjoyed clear, sunny and hot weather but as race day(s) arrived that rapidly gave way to wind and rain as a hefty weather front moved across. The decision was made mid-morning on race day (Friday) to postpone the start of the race by five hours. That would allow the worst of the front to move across before the runners tackled the first main pass of the race, Col du Bonhomme, which would be around 3 hours in. It was a shrewd decision and the weather forecasting was absolutely spot on.

Gathering in the rain at the race start area in Chamonix, the sense of déjà vu I was already feeling, grew considerably stronger. I took strength from the fact that as a British runner I would be better prepared for the adverse weather conditions than most – particularly after spending most of the summer training in wet and windy weather which seemed to follow me wherever I went.

The rain falls at the race start - here we go again.....

Maybe it was just me, but the traditionally emotional build-up at the start of the race seemed to be slightly more muted this year, perhaps due to the strong sense of the runners just wanting to get going after waiting around all day and evening. But eventually, we did. The traditional stampede out of Chamonix was stronger than ever, many runners charging out at sub 6 min/ mile pace, at the start of a 100+ mile race. Nuts. I went out pretty quickly too, but it was conservative in comparison, settling in at around 30^th place along the wide trail through the woods paralleling the river, down valley to Les Houches. There is always a huge sense of relief in actually getting going in these big races – runners aren’t very good at sitting around tapering and resting before a race – but the sense of relief seems to be on another level with UTMB, probably due to it’s scale and the massive build-up which always comes with it. As one of the The North Face guys said to Lizzy and I as we were walking to start “it’s ok, you can just run now!”. That just about summed it up.

Despite it being the early hours, dark, windy, raining and generally uninviting for running in the mountains, 2,300 trail runners, all with a relentless enthusiasm and passion for pushing themselves to the limits in some of the most beautiful mountain scenery in the world, were now loose and doing their thing!

Despite the race now being underway, what I was really looking forward to was running solo so I could have some real space to settle in. I’m not really interested in running in groups with the leaders or whoever else. I want to run my own race and at my own pace, rather than feeling dictated to by running as part of a group. That’s what works best for me and suits my style. Thankfully, being at the front end, the groups had thinned nicely by the start of the first climb up Col du Voza and, whilst the first one is always a bit of a shock to the system, I felt great.

I reached Delevret (14km), the top of the first climb of c.750m (all vertical ascent/ descent figures) in 29^th, and then descended the 1,100m steadily to reach Saint Gervais (21km) in 24^th. Despite picking off a handful of places I didn’t accelerate or push at all, I just maintained the same pace and rhythm.

Saint Gervais is usually a hive of noise and entertainment on race night, but this year it was sadly a lot quieter, a symptom of the delayed start time. 1.30am inevitably isn’t half as attractive as 8.30pm for getting supporters out. Most were probably doing the sensible thing and saving themselves for the daytime on Saturday. The rain was still falling heavily but my body temperature was spot on wearing the Capri tights, a vest, arm warmers, the Triumph anorak and Scully beanie – all by The North Face.

Moving through Saint Gervais alongside Stuart Mills

I started the valley bottom section from Saint Gervais to Les Contamines running with Nick Clarke and Stuart Mills, but again I wanted some space so we were leap frogging each other before Nick pulled away and Stuart dropped back. The rain started to ease so I planned a clothing change at Les Contamines, as well as a decent replen on my food supplies as it would be the last time I would see my crew until Cormayeur some 47km later. I arrived in Les Contamines (31km) in good spirits and just a few minutes behind my planned schedule. I took a pit stop of a couple of minutes, changing into a base layer with vest over, stashing the jacket and grabbing some bars and gels. And off again…..

The feeling on leaving Les Contamines, or perhaps more so Notre Dame de la Gorge slightly up valley where there is always a warm welcome from a good crowd, is of solitude, warming adrenaline and apprehension. I find it’s the same each year at this stage. This is where the mountain wilderness really starts and I truly love it. I like being able to forget the race for a while, run in my own little bubble formed from a headtorch, and enjoy the environment.

After being battered by the wind and rain, all of a sudden there was a serenity to the mountains and the stars began to come out. I made the climb up to Croix du Bonhomme (45km, 1,300m climb) with relative ease, reaching the top in 19^th place – moving up the field well. Above about 2,200 metres there was a decent dusting of snow making the footing slightly tricky but the beauty of the white carpet far outweighed that negative. The descent into Les Chapieux is never one of my favourites and again I made hard work of it, losing a couple of places coming down. It also seemed unnecessarily protracted towards the bottom and I suspected some runners may not have followed each and every switchback in the lower section which at the time I found frustrating. However I suspect I wasn’t being completely rational due to tiredness.

Aside from the kit check which I was pleased to see in place, I didn’t hang around at Les Chapieux (50km), other than to re-fill bottles. I guess I was slightly annoyed to have lost a couple of places so I vowed to push on during the road section climbing to the base of Col de la Seigne. I suspect I’m not the only one to strongly dislike this road climb which seems too steep and damaging to run, but too easy to walk. I ran it, and picked off a couple of guys in doing so. In fact, it seemed to give me a nice bit of momentum leading into the crux of the climb where I took another place. The enjoyment came flooding back, particularly as the light in the sky started to arrive and I was able to switch off my headtorch to get a true sense of the surroundings. Fellow runners in front and behind hadn’t done so which helped me determine their whereabouts.

The light got stronger and stronger as I reached Col de la Seigne (60km, 2,516m) and again the area was snow covered, this time a few centimetres deeper. The temperature had also dropped and must have been below freezing due to the crunch of the trail underfoot. The view from the top was one of the most beautiful I have ever experienced, no doubt strengthened by the challenging weather we had passed through. It was cold and sharp, with just a few clouds dotted around, but the views across to the Italian Alps and beyond were staggering, lit up by the glow of the rising sun; it felt very special. I was very happy to have arrived in Italy :o)



About to ascend Arete Mont Favre



Slightly less technical and better formed, I enjoyed descending the fast trail to the stunning valley where Lac Combal (65km) is situated, lured on by the thought of some decent sustenance. Noodle soup, pieces of energy bar and chocolate did the trick and refuelled the tanks nicely ready for the final climb before Cormayeur, up to Arret Mont Favre. At this point I had caught up with Japanese runner and fellow TNF team mate, Tsuyoshi Kaburaki, a runner of very similar ability to me from the several races we have both run before. It gave me confidence to be running with Kaburaki, knowing my pacing was pretty much spot on, and I hoped we could spur each other on to continue to move through the field together. We leap frogged each other a couple of times on the climb, then both picked off Scott Jurek who seemed to be having a rough time of it.

Unknown, but beautiful, location en route

The vistas from the top of Arete Mont Favre (69km, 2,435m) were the best yet - by this time we were now in direct sunlight to help warm us through properly. The singletrack contouring around to the Cormayeur ski area was smooth and fast flowing. Kaburaki lead the way, I was a couple of hundred metres back. We overtook Vincent Delebarre before arriving at Col Checroit where I looked forward to the chance to say a quick in-passing ‘hello’ to Jacquemot, the legendary owner of this wonderful mountain refuge. Again, no time to hang around, just a short (5km, 750m - it’s all relative with UTMB) descent to the first major checkpoint at Cormayeur, Italy, where I knew my crew would be waiting.

I arrived in Cormayeur (78km) in 16^th place and in an elapsed time of 9hrs 29mins. If I had written my perfect scenario for this point of the race – that was exactly it. I felt strong, confident, well fuelled and excited. Changing from tights into shorts, removing the base layer and grabbing more food supplies, I had every reason to be optimistic at the start of this wonderful new day.

Changing at Cormayeur - ever been filmed getting change before?!

The first benefit of the delayed race start manifested itself on the cobbled high street in Cormayeur. A compere introduced me and plenty of passers by shouted encouragement. 9am this time, compared to 4-5am normally, makes a big difference to numbers! I ran the road climb up to the base of the next major climb, a nice 800m vertical slog up to Refuge Bertone (82km). I was strong on the climb, hitting the top in just over an hour from Cormayeur – pretty good going. I hadn’t had sight of any other runners for a while now, however as I continued on along the contouring trail heading up the side of the stunning Val Ferret, I just caught the odd glimpse now and again of Kaburaki doing battle with another runner ahead. Kaburaki seemed to be pushing it fairly hard however the buffer between us remained the same and we both gained a couple of places as I moved up to 13^th by Arnuva (95km).

It was on leaving Arnuva and starting first section of the climb up to the Grand Col Ferret that I first started to experience breathing difficulties. I struggled to clear my chest and found myself working much harder than I should have been for a fast-walk ascent. I didn’t think too much of it initially, but after making the pass (2,537m, 99km) into Switzerland and beginning the descent, I really knew something was amiss. Even running downhill became a huge effort. Not my leg speed or strength, simply my body’s ability to get enough oxygen in to maintain the pace. I stuck at it, not really knowing what was going on, and made it down the big descent into la Fouly (110km) without losing any places, but it was becoming apparent the effort required was completely unsustainable.

I decided on a section by section approach, my next focus beyond la Fouly being Champex. The majority of that section of trail is downhill, alongside the river, which undoubtedly masked the extent of the problem somewhat, however it soon showed it’s ugly face again on the stiff climb up to Champex, and then came the shocking realisation that it was rapidly getting worse. I arrived in Champex (124km) still in 12^th place, but I simply didn’t have the heart to pull out from the race. My legs were still working fine so there was almost a sense of refusal to accept the circumstances - which were so unusual -  and like nothing I’ve experienced before.

Soldiering on, I left Champex and hit the trail again. It was no good though, I simply couldn’t breathe, and on beginning the descent to Martigny – a variante due to Bovine being impassable – I thankfully stumbled across my crew who were by chance trying to intersect me, and I announced my decision to pull out. What ensued was like a bad dream - a lift back to Chamonix, a trip to the medical centre, several hours in the hospital. Nightmare.

I knew I couldn’t have gone on running safely, or if I had, then I was at risk of doing lasting damage. It’s not like a painful knee or ankle which will patch up or go numb, breathing is a fundamental, a decision which is made for itself. Unfortunately that didn’t make it any easier to come to terms with at the time.

I was immediately hit by a sense of shock and emptiness. It didn’t feel real, but it of course it was. My 2011 race was over and with it so many hard hours of training in the mountains and meticulous preparations. UTMB is a race you live and breathe (great choice of word Jez!); waking up and the race being your first thought of the day, going to sleep and it being the last. That’s the sort of dedication it takes to be successful but that’s also what makes it hurt more when it doesn’t go right.

For me, like many others, the race is the ultimate dream. It is without doubt a ruthless race, one which chews runners up and spits them out, but one which teaches us so much about ourselves, as runners, as people, as lovers of the mountains. I was definitely spat out hard this year, but it is all experience which will make me stronger and wiser for future years.

And with that, UTMB winds up for another year. I would like to give special thanks to my support crew, family and friends for all their support at the race which meant a huge amount, and to The North Face team for making it another memorable race week in Chamonix.

TNF Team - post race