Hardmoors 30 2015

Gun Time: 06:49:58
Position: 144/194

I first heard about the Hardmoors 30 race on John Kynaston's excellent ultra-running blog. Since there appear to be no marathons or ultras in Scotland in the months of January and February, I decided I would need to travel further afield to allow me to complete my charity fundraising challenge of at least 20 marathons in 2015. With this in mind, I booked the Hardmoors 30 for January and the Northumberland Coastal Marathon for the end of February.

The Hardmoors 30 race takes place in and around Fylingdales (near Whitby) on New Year's Day. This is a day I usually wake up on a floor somewhere, wondering not just where I am but who I am. This year would be different, I would wake up, put on my running gear and set out to complete my second ultra-marathon; a tough 30(ish) miler over some very challenging terrain in some very harsh conditions.

For accommodation we booked a Gypsy Cabin for three nights at Middlewood Farm Holiday Park in Fylingthorpe. We use wigwam style accommodation quite a lot when I'm running races further afield. As well as being economical and relatively comfortable, the children find it much more of an adventure than staying in the usual hotel or B&B.

Sophie being her usual helpful self, busily unpacking our bags.

After a 4½ hour drive, we were relieved to arrive at Middlewood Farm. Clare checked us in and settled the children into the cabin whilst I headed back to Whitby to get some of their famous fish and chips for our supper. After washing that down with a couple of beers, we all cosied up in our sleeping bags and drifted off to sleep, whilst listening to the rain and wind lash the outside of the cabin.

Hoping to emerge from my cocoon in the morning with the ability to run 30 miles.

Registration took place between 8-9am in the Fylingdales Village Hall, in Robin Hood's Bay. As this was only one mile from our accommodation, I didn't have to get up until around 7:30am. After a quick shower and change into my running gear, I leisurely sat outside the cabin and enjoyed a few cups of coffee and a couple of croissants with cheese. I was relieved to see that the storm had abated and although still very cold, it looked like it could be a promising morning. I thought it best to err on the side of caution and had chosen to wear two base layers, a technical t-shirt, a waterproof jacket and a pair of running trousers under my shorts. 

Determined? Serious? Nervous? Worried?
All of the above ✓

The race rules require that you carry the following items of compulsory kit (I now completely understand why!):

• Hat and Gloves
• Waterproof Jacket
• Minimum of 500 ml water/sports drink
• Headtorch/Torch
• Whistle
• Emergency food supply (chocolate/energy bar)

I arrived at the hall at about 8:30am and after getting my kit thoroughly inspected and my hand stamped to say everything was present and correct, I joined the registration queue. I was surprised to see a familiar face in the form of Zoe from my work in Scotland, helping behind the registration desk. She explained she had also signed up for the race but had to pull out due to an injury so was instead assisting with the race organisation.

At 9:15am we were all called into the main body of the hall to receive the race briefing from the race director, John Steele. After receiving our instructions and a bit of impromptu pantomime from the stage, we headed outside to the start line.

199 runners lined up on the start line. Not all will finish. (Photo courtesy of Ann Brown.)

The race commenced at 9:30am. I remember seeing one guy in the above photo sprint off as if he was running the 100 meters. I'm not sure how he fared for the rest of the race, but it seemed unsustainable for over 30 miles, even for Superman.

The course takes the form of a figure of eight which uses the Fylingdales Village Hall as a start, middle and finish point. The first six miles of the route heads North along old railway line and cinder track from Robin Hood's Bay to Whitby. With a tailwind I found this leg of the race fairly easy going and settled into a steady pace covering the first six miles in around 55 minutes.

Chewing Jelly Babies at Checkpoint 1: Whitby (OS 890 107). (Photo courtesy of Ann Brown.)

After checking in at the first checkpoint, I downed a couple of cups of water and some jelly babies and preceded down through the town of Whitby, onto a cobbled street and then up the 199 steps to the ruins of Whitby Abbey on top of the East Cliff. The steps are over two-hundred years old and have "landings" on them to assist the coffin bearers on their journey to the graveyard at the top.

The famous 199 steps up to Whitby Abbey. A challenge in itself!

At the top of the steps the route heads back South along the coastal paths of the Cleveland Way to Robin Hood's Bay. The going got much harder here, starting out through fields and then along very slippy, muddy paths which dozens of runners had already churned up before me. There were also quite strong headwinds for much of this stretch which made the going even tougher. Due to erosion, the cliffs were treacherous in parts and I spotted a couple of bunches of flowers along route where I can only presume, people must have sadly lost their lives by one means or another.

The view heading South along the Cleveland Way.

Unusually for me I ran the whole race without any music. I did have my MP3 player in my backpack, but instead just enjoyed the scenery and chat with other runners I met along the route.

The view back to Whitby along the cliffs.

Things got a lot muddier before I arrived back at Checkpoint 2 in Robin Hood's Bay. In some places it was a challenge just to walk never mind run.

Mud.. mud and more mud!

What's worse than steps? Mud AND steps!

Thirteen miles done, I arrived back in Robin Hood's Bay. I checked in with Zoe and then began to eat my own body weight in watermelon. There was a fantastic spread of food, but slices of melon were the only thing I craved. In retrospect I think I must have been quite dehydrated by this point.

Reverse psychology and food at Checkpoint 2: Robin Hood's Bay (OS 952 055)

After a couple of minutes I headed back out to face leg three; the route to Ravenscar. A few miles further in my legs were getting quite weary and I struggled to maintain a steady pace along the incline of cinder track, instead deciding to alternate between running and power walking every few 100 meters, to conserve energy for later on.

I began to hate cinder paths!

Arriving at checkpoint 3 at Ravenscar, I met a group of runners, some of whom I'd been loosely running with over the past few miles. After a handful of jelly babies and with a new lease of life I set off toward Hayburn Wyck. Unfortunately, a few people up front had missed a turn off, which led to around twenty of us following them down a dead end and adding at least another half mile onto our journey. My only consolation is that I was able to snap this picture of some llamas up to no good.

What did the llama say when it took a wrong turn? Alpaca my bags and turn around.

Once back on course I soldiered on to checkpoint 4 at Hayburn Wyck. Just after this, at around the 22 mile mark, I resisted the temptation of an extremely inviting pub by persuading myself it was probably just a mirage.

Not just the jokes!
More de-motivational signage at Checkpoint 4: Hayburn Wyke (OS 0086 9678)

From here I carried on to join another rather challenging section of the Cleveland Way which took us back to Ravenscar and checkpoint 5 via lots of steps and wind beaten coastline. The weather began to deteriorate at this point. Most people around me seemed to be struggling including myself. I remembered I had a Cliff Bar in my backpack. I'm not even all that keen on raisins and walnuts but at the time it seemed like the most delicious thing I had ever eaten.

Arrgh.. more steps!

26 miles in and feeling broken I set about the final leg back to Robin Hood's Bay. This involved a lot more muddy coastline, many more punishing steps both up and down and a switch back to tarmac which was a killer on the knees. Arriving in Robin Hood's Bay, even the thought of the extremely steep hill back up to the village hall couldn't dampen my spirits and I managed to complete the race with a sprint finish to find Clare, Sophie and Jack waiting for me at the end.

Another t-shirt for the collection.

I really enjoyed this race, it was impeccably organised and I'd definitely recommend it to anyone looking for a serious challenge and an alternative to the traditional forms of New Year's Day over indulgence. I'm also hoping that it has been a great training run for the 53 mile HOKA Highland Fling which I have booked for April.

Sophie and Jack enjoying the water at Scarborough beach.

We spent the rest of our time exploring Robin Hood's Bay, Scarborough and Whitby with a few stops at Marske, Sunderland and North Shields on our route back up to Scotland. I hope to return next year to improve my time. Happy New Year everyone!

Marathon de Paris 2014

Chip Time: 04:24:13  Position: 24194  Proposal Result: She said "Yes".

The keen eyed reader may notice that the usual medal photo in this race report contains not one, but two pieces of bling! If you carry on reading I'll explain why.

I'm aware that I haven't been very good at keeping my running blog up to date, there is however a reason for that. I have been out running LOTS! As of writing this I have completed 74 races so far in 2014. Combine that with a family, a full-time job and all the other demands and pressures that go with being an irresponsible adult in the 21st century and it really doesn't leave me much time for blogging. However this post is quite a significant one, so although it's taken several months to get around to it, I always knew that I would write it up eventually.

The reason I started blogging about races was not to give a technically accurate report of each course, detail my splits, talk about nutrition or discuss the physiology of running. There are plenty of other blogs that do those things much better than I ever could. (I don't even own a watch never mind a Garmin!) One of the main reasons I write about the races I run, is to document this stage in my life to my young children. So that one day they can look back and say this is what my dad did and this is how he felt and what he thought whilst doing it. So if the future Sophie and Jack are reading this, I'll start by saying I love you both very much and please continue reading to discover an important chapter in your family history as you would probably be too young to remember it. Especially little Jack.

After receiving a rejection letter from the 2014 Virgin London Marathon ballot, I decided to cheer myself and my family up by booking a short five day city break in Paris, which, ahem.. coincidentally happened to include the 6th April. What was significant about this date you may ask? It was the date of the 38th Marathon de Paris. Exactly one week before the London marathon. Running however, wasn't the only plan I had in mind. Clare and I have been a couple for two whole decades and although we've often talked about it we still haven't tied the knot. So what better place to propose than the most romantic city in the world.

We hadn't been to Paris in about nine years and that was way before we had children, so we didn't really know what to expect. It was both Sophie and Jack's first flight and much to our relief they took to it very well. Meanwhile, I had my own concerns on how I would get the ring and it's box through customs without arousing any suspicion from Clare. Thankfully everything went to plan; the children were angelic on the plane, the ring went through the x-ray scanner undetected by Clare and we caught an adjoining train and metro to the hotel without a hitch! (Excuse the pun.)

We'd booked a four night stay in a Novotel in Bercy, in the East of Paris. This was very convenient for us as a family, as it was situated in a pleasant suburban area but had a metro station only 200m from the hotel.

The next day we attended the Marathon Expo, where as a compulsory part of the registration process I handed over a signed medical certificate from my doctor to say that in his opinion I was healthy enough to run a marathon. Thankfully he seemed to have more faith in my current ability than I did. Afterwards, I collected my running number and goodie bag and we all had a wander around the Expo looking at all the fascinating but very expensive innovations available to the modern runner.

It took three hundred men two years to build this iron beast, all I had to do was
run a marathon in the morning.

The rest of the day was spent visiting some Parisian landmarks, followed by a stroll along the Seine and a picnic in the Champ de Mars. It was there, in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, that I proposed to Clare and she accepted. Clare, Sophie and I were all over-joyed, Jack was just happy that he was getting to play with his ball in a park. That evening we all went out for a nice meal, at which I ate everything you shouldn't eat before running a marathon the next day and nothing you should. C'est la vie!

We'd agreed that Clare and the children should stay away from the marathon on race day. With 46,000 runners and many more spectators lining the streets, it would be a much safer (and less boring) option for the children. Besides the event of them actually glimpsing me running was very slim, especially as the finishers' area is securely cordoned off with large steel fences.

After an early start and a cooked breakfast, dressed in my running gear including a Union Jack vest I had been gifted for the occasion, I caught the Metro from Bercy to the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. I found the pen for my expected finish time and joined the tens of thousands of runners waiting for the 08:45am start. It was interesting to see so many different nationalities listed on all the running bibs.

A few of the runners..

A few more of the runners..

The atmosphere was electric. A huge cry went up when the first wave set off and after I fought past mountains of discarded clothing, it didn't seem long until it was my turn to join them. With only a few seconds to go, a guy beside me tightened his running belt with too much force, which caused about half a dozen gels to explode on myself and several other people in close proximity. My hands, arms and part of my face were covered in a thick lemon flavored goo. What a great way to start a marathon, especially on what was promising to be such a hot day. Before we had time to lynch him or even pass a menacing stare or growl, we were off running down the Champs-Élysées.

As I ran, I used the water from the first water station to wash off as much of the citrus gel as I could before it got too sticky. The start of the race sets off downhill, circles around Paris' largest square, the Place de la Concorde, before turning right onto the Rue de Rivoli. The route then takes you past the Louvre, round the Place de la Bastille and then down the Boulevard Soult to the largest public park in the city, the Bois de Vincennes. After a loop around the park you head back toward the centre of Paris, reaching the halfway mark at the Rue de Charenton. I remember the cheering crowds at this point, lining the tightly packed streets. They provided much needed encouragement to keep me soldiering on in the morning heat. From here, the course then follows the Seine, passing under the oldest remaining bridge across the river, the Pont Neuf, then through a series of tunnels. 

The live music around the course was a fantastic idea. There were apparently a total of ninety different live bands and orchestras playing along the route; everything from jazz and rock through to traditional West Indian music. I seem to remember even passing an oompah band at one point. At mile 17 the course takes you through the longest car tunnel in Paris which had been turned into a full on rave with pumping techno, glitter balls and disco lighting. It was an amazing yet highly surreal experience. Even stranger, I found out sometime later that this was the very same tunnel in which Diana, Princess of Wales had tragically lost her life.

I was running quite strongly until around mile twenty-one when I got caught behind a pack of runners who had stopped for oranges at a water station in Bois de Boulogne park, this broke my stride and caused me to have to slow to a walking pace for a few hundred metres. I struggled to get started again, but with encouragement from the crowd and shouts of "Allez Daniel!" (after some eagle eyed spectators read the name on my bib), I set off on the final 5 miles of the course. I remember the last cobbled section on Avenue Foch being particularly painful on my ankles. For the final mile, I seemed to be running behind some French celebrity who was getting some major applause from the crowd. I never did find out who he was. After crossing the finish line I was handed my medal, which is a very impressive heavy, gold coloured "ribbon". I picked up my finishers t-shirt and limped off to the metro, eager to get back to the hotel to see my family. 

Meanwhile in civilisation..

My family and other animals.

After congratulations from Clare and the kids, a well needed shower, a couple of really strong French beers and a nap I began to feel almost human again, so we all headed out for dinner.

3 Monts Flanders Golden Ale 8.5% Vol Pffffft!!!!

Our final full day was spent chilling out at the Louvre and checking out some interesting antique and curiosity shops off the beaten track.

Chilling outside the Musée du Louvre.

Théodore Géricault - The Raft of the Medusa (1818-1819)

Getting "Hangry" in the Louvre!

I could have easily spent a full day in this shop.

On the flight home we met a group of ladies from Edinburgh, who were still on a high after completing the marathon. They struck up conversation with Clare about how well behaved Sophie and Jack were on the plane. When Clare explained how many races I was doing this year, one of them remarked that it was not me, but Clare, who deserved a medal for being so understanding. I couldn't agree more.

I can conquer the whole world with one hand behind my back,
 as long as the other one is holding yours.

Fraserburgh Half Marathon 2013

Gun Time: 01:52:03  Position: 161/292

The Fraserburgh Half Marathon (also known as the "Broch" Half) is the last half marathon of the year in the Scottish running calendar. Although Fraserburgh is about 122 miles from the village in which I reside, the thought of going cold turkey until the next Scottish half in February was far too much for me to bare. So much so, that the dreadful prospect of hauling myself out of a warm bed to face a five and a half hour return drive just so that I could put myself through another two hours of hell didn't even make me DNS. All this and I didn't even know if there would be a medal at the end of it.

The only thing I did know about Fraserburgh was from some background reading from my days studying abnormal psychology at uni, that being that it was the birthplace of infamous serial killer Dennis Nilsen. A horrific legacy for any self respecting town to bare. With this thought in mind I stumbled out into the 7:00am winter darkness, clambered into my car and set off for an epic speed camera riddled journey up the A90 to the far northeast corner of Aberdeenshire

Registration for this race was held between 9:30 and 10:30am, so about a dozen Gatso speed cameras later and a worn down set of break pads, I arrived at the James Ramsay Park Pavilion. After collecting my number and freebie technical t-shirt, I found myself a space outside the pavilion, doubled up my t-shirts and began psyching myself up with some loud music.  

The first mile leaves James Ramsay Park and continues round a circuit of a housing scheme before heading out into countryside, turning into Philorth Woods and then a loop on country roads and trail paths before a stretch on a disused railway line. The course is fairly undulating but has no real hills worth mentioning. 

At around mile seven I got chatting to Peter, a friendly Perth Road Runner from Blairgowrie who tried to persuade me to join up. I ran alongside him  for a couple of miles, chatting about all the races we had each done this year, until the path became too narrow at which point he broke away and I carried on at my own pace.

On approaching the finish line I looked around and was disappointed not see any of the other finishers wearing a medal. So it was a pleasant surprise to be handed a medal (still wrapped in cellophane) along with my goodie bag on completion of the race. There's only one thing better than being given your finishers medal at the end of a race and that is being given one when you didn't expect it.

Something I love about long distance running is the amount of guilt free food you can consume after a race! Running at an average pace of 8:29 per mile, I calculated that I burned 1727 calories, so I had no qualms about stuffing my face at the very generous post-race spread. This included a fantastic array of home baking, soup, cakes, sandwiches etc..

After the race I went for a drive around Fraserburgh to check out some of the sites. I wouldn't go as far as calling myself a pharologist, but I've always held an interest in lighthouses, to the extent that I once applied for a job with the Northern Lighthouse Board. The "Harbour Lighthouse" in the photo below is a fine example. Fraserburgh is also home to The Museum of Scottish Lighthouses, but unfortunately I just assumed this would be closed on a Sunday during the winter months and never  thought to pay it a visit. Sadly I was mistaken, so it's a definite on my list for next year. I'm beginning to sound like some kind of lighthouse nerd.