Training Log Archive: TimM

Down the petit Balcon for a coffee date with Pablo. Lovely stuff.

Had planned on getting the bus back up but was caught out by the French being lazy on Sundays. Had work to get back for so had to put in some unwanted effort to get back in time.

First run back in Chamonix. Wanted to head up to the grand Balcon sud, which is my favourite go-to and probably just my outright favourite trail anyway. Particularly as there is still a load of snow hanging around up there. But legs and head had other ideas so I sat on a rock for a while, stared at the mountains and then headed down. Nearly decked it a few times on the descent, actually need to concentrate quite hard.

Feet had been the limiting factor in recovery, but are probably now ok. Can't really be sacked though and a week off isn't going to hurt.

Thought I’d write a few lines about the LAMM to add to what Ali said but it turned out a fair bit longer...

Although it’s going to sound like a terrible experience, it’s important to say how much fun the whole event was, not just in terms of the race itself but also the whole atmosphere and logistics and that side of things. Probably the most memorable race I’ve ever done, and it will be tough to beat.

We had arrived on Harris the day before and spent the afternoon swimming, sorting out kit and losing our clothes to the sea. It was hot, sunny and quiet. Definitely more of a holiday than a race.

Think we were both taken aback by just how relaxed the whole event was to begin with. This included basically choosing your start time, although when we said we were doing elite the volunteer must have thought we were oblivious to what we had gotten ourselves into because we were quickly shoved onto the earliest (7:10) bus. She may well have been justified because when we hit the front of the randomly assembled queue to start and presented ourselves with sawn off pencils to mark up our maps, the starter (turns out it was the planner, Angela Mudge) was not the most impressed. Thankfully she let us borrow her permanent marker and we rushed off to get started (obviously in a ~8hr race those precious seconds are vital).

We started off well and due to the chilled starting arrangements we quickly passed and dropped a number of teams on the way to 1 and 2. Hit the ridge from a nice line but it wasn’t too clear where the top actually was so we asked a randomer, who really wasn’t forthcoming. Just further down the ridge was a photographer, but because we’d been legends and taken such a good line, we’d missed an epic photo opportunity which was / is quite annoying. The ridge was probably the time when I appreciated most how cool the race and the hills were - a brief 10 minute spell of type 1 fun.

Actually the type 1 fun probably did continue for a couple of hours after that. We were moving well; finding pretty much perfect lines and playing to our strengths by utilising the minimal path running we could find. For these next few controls we’d had the sea (lake?) crossing on the back of our minds. It wasn’t clear from the map whether the gap would be wade-able, swimmable or uncrossable, in which case it would have been the most torturously teasing leg in the history of any event, ever. When we rounded the corner and saw boats it was quite exciting; who doesn’t love a mid-race boat ride? Turns out this awesome addition to the course wasn’t actually intended - the planner was under the impression that a causeway existed under the water so it would be a short, ankle deep trip but upon recceing it she was met with a more full body experience and so the boats were called in.

From this moment onwards the race took on a very different feel. Up until this point we had been extending a comfy little lead, and although we managed to keep it for a couple more controls, our splits were approaching a cliff that we would fall off rather stunningly.

The climate on the other side of the boat crossing made it seem like we’d just crossed the Med and reached Africa. The heat honestly become unbearable; a real muggy, in your face heat that was so un-Scottish. One of the following legs had a few streams marked on that already we felt we desperately needed to drink from to sustain any reasonable level of hydration, but they were all dry. We ended up drinking from a dirty, stagnant little ditch that can’t have been appreciated by our stomachs. We had been warned that the hills were exceptionally dry and to carry water onto the ridges but we’re stubborn / naive / arrogant / stupid (pick at least one but probably all four) and of course didn’t want to carry anything more than our finely tuned minimum kit list bags.

Although our HBT coloured stream provided some kind of relief we had the long leg to deal with next. In hindsight we should have kept closer to the line and accepted that in a mountain marathon you do have to do a lot of climb, but at the time going round seemed like it would enable us to keep a higher pace and minimise the leg damage. It was on this leg that the prelude to the horrific death march began. I began to suffer from the dehydration and the decreasing energy that being out for 4/5 hours brings. That meant that I was struggling to keep going, falling off the back of Ali and my mental state was entering the negative levels of a student’s bank balance at the end of a semester. This was frustrating for me but no doubt incredibly irritating for Ali, who still could have been pushing on if I wasn’t holding him back.

But then again, when we hit the path we were moving slightly faster than Jasmin Paris and Konrad so can hardly have been too despicable. Having been going alongside a stream for the best part of an hour, we did however manage to cock up the drinking. We ended up drinking from a lake. Again, take your pick of adjectives but another sign of our inexperience of mountain marathons.

So it was a welcome relief to reach the summit, ready for what we thought would be another hour or so of reasonably easy running down to the overnight camp. The reality was a far darker experience. I don’t have a wide enough vocabulary to say how horrific the next few hours of our lives were. It was again me who was dragging Ali down which added another level to the misery that my body was enduring. I had a horrendous headache; I felt nauseas and would have thrown up if my stomach wasn’t empty; my feet felt like they were ripping off layer after layer of skin; and every downhill step sent my whole body into a state of spasm. It was essentially a crawl through the hills, unable to eat, drink, think or cry. I really did want to cry. Especially when we could see the Caribbean beach that would be greeting us upon finishing.

When we did eventually stumble home, 8 and a half hours after starting, we both collapsed and had a prolonged period of mong. I do think that the level of dehydration (probably heat stroke as well) was becoming dangerous. It took an hour or so to stand up again, and a lot longer to cool down properly.

We ate a fair bit, went in the sea for some much needed recovery and tried to forget a little about the pain.

This part of the event was really quite cool. Unlike the OMM where you essentially become tent bound until the next day, we were at this stunning beach on a warm evening, sat outside chatting to others about the day. That evening is one I will enjoy remembering for a long time.

Although we finished second on day 1, we were an hour down on the leaders and so had a chill morning to sort everything out and listen to bagpipes. We even watched the leaders off before taking the tent down, and it was nice to see we wouldn’t immediately be greeted with another steep climb.

Instead we had a leg around the coast and started well again. We passed Purko and Braby, followed by Sasha and Oleg, and were happy with our progress. Despite being misty it was another very humid day and we were instantly sweating our way to a leanness that not even Joe Wicks could match. We may be idiots, but we’re not completely brain dead so we were also drinking far more. A few legs with some vicious climbs and rough terrain slowly ticked away and, like the day before, our lines and nav were all good.

We had hoped the second day would be closer to 6 hours, but it became apparent it would be a bit longer than this. Bad patches were something we knew would come and go throughout the weekend, and I thought I’d entered a particularly tough one on the descent across the road. My pace was terrible so I ate something and gave my bag to Ali for what would surely be the worst climb left. It was an all fours type climb but when we hit the top I felt like I’d perked up a bit and took my bag back. One slight concern here was that I expected to find a whole tube of shot blocs and some jelly babies left, but instead was met with nothing but empty wrappers. Ali had the same. We’d been about five hours at this point, and it was basically a straight line home so the seriousness didn’t quite hit as we were at the top of that hill.

However it did hit ten minutes later when we reached the next control. Something suddenly changed in my body and I felt like I could barely stand up, let alone move at any reasonable pace. That was possibly the lowest moment of my life, it was actually a bit scary. We ended up being out for another 4 hours, all of which Ali carried my bag and put up incredibly well with my dysfunctioning body. The best I could manage was a painfully slow walk, but I couldn’t really think, speak or do anything useful. Those four hours were without a doubt the furthest we’ve ever had to dig in - nothing comes even close to how empty I felt. In my mind there were big doubts about whether we’d actually make it to the finish before collapsing. It seemed more probable that the body would just grind to a halt and in some ways it would have been quite a relief to end the suffering. But somehow we made it back to the small village of Tarbert and the place we left off.

To be welcomed back by Bash was a lovely way to finish, and those few minutes spent lying on the ground were very much appreciated.

It seemed weird how quiet it was everywhere, and that not many people were finishing. It hadn’t occurred to us that there was a courses close time, and we had in fact finished just after. To add to this we weren’t sure where we’d finished. We hadn’t actually seen many teams go past us and definitely not the team who started the day in fourth. Turned out we had finished mid prize giving, not something I thought would ever happen, and had timed it perfectly to hobble onto the stage to collect our prizes for coming 3rd before hobbling over to Wilfs for a EUOC / Haries debrief.

The most potent feeling immediately afterwards, and still, is just how much we suffered. I really cannot stress how much this hurt; I most definitely have never pushed my body to such extremes, and neither have I struggled so hard mentally to just carry on putting one foot in front of the other. Of course there have been many races before that have been really quite hard but this was a whole different level. If I’m honest I don’t care about the result at all, but genuinely quite proud that we got through some absolute hell and actually finished. There is simply no way I would have reached the end if Ali hadn’t have been so strong and was able to take my bag / navigate / somehow keep going when I was completely fucked. The experience of hitting such an ultimate low but still carrying on is something that I’m sure will have been a valuable one. Next time I’ll be fitter so won’t make Ali’s life far worse than it needed to be, and hopefully the pain won’t be quite so bad.

But although it was the hardest couple of days as a runner I think we’ve both ever endured, it was the most amazing event to have been a part of. The location itself was just stunning; so wild, hilly, rocky and tough. The midcamp location was something else and the whole atmosphere and organisation was top notch. It really felt like some kind of festival and no doubt the best way the LAMM could have ended.

So there you go; mountain marathons - in my mind the complete test of both hill and distance running. And somehow people were dancing a few hours later (honestly how were people doing that, Ali and I could barely walk???).

Day 1 RG: http://www.lamm.routegadget.co.uk/rg2/#36&cour...

Day 2 RG: http://www.lamm.routegadget.co.uk/rg2/#38&cour...

Results and splits: http://www.lamm.co.uk/2018/results/multistage_elit...