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| Finisher's shirt. Zoom in to see the route. |
My taper had been less than I had hoped leading up to the Autumn 100. I'd not been doing anything really besides running in my jeans back and forth between work and where I park my car, just shy of 3 miles round trip. I just didn't feel like it. I knew nothing long would help, it was time to rest.
That all changed a few days before the race. I was itching to run, excited for the race, even a bit nervous. The taper had worked. I poured over pacing charts trying to decide on a plan. Finalized my race vest and mandatory gear. My drop bag was loaded with spare clothing since you never know what the autumn British weather will throw at you. Running is a simple sport, ultrarunning to me seems to make it over complicated. I'll run how I feel, throw any pace plan out the window, and thrive or suffer. I'll deal with any problems as they occur. Just keep moving and finish, the number one goal.
Friday I had the kids all day, they didn't have school due to a teacher training day. I had a hotel room booked in Swindon, about a hour's drive away. I'd likely leave after bedtime for the kids. Everything was ready to go.
I woke at 630, after the best night's sleep I've had in months, ate some breakfast, organized my race stuff, and was on my way. It would be around a hour to the race start in Goring. I stopped for coffee and cobbled together some race food. I'd neglected to bring any for some reason. Energy gels are just too sweet, I have trouble choking them down. I'll adapt as needed and eat to move, whatever I need to. As I enjoyed that sweet black nectar I checked the weather. No rain forecast until 6am the following morning. Excellent to see! However I didn't notice today's humidity.
Goring and Streatley are two small villages, each on one side of the River Thames. They are a ways upstream from London so the river is relatively small. As I crossed the bridge from Streatley to Goring there were all sorts of locks, weirs, boats, and activity going on. A beautiful little place. The race headquarters was at the Goring Village Hall, this would be the start, finish, and also a major aid station after the first three out and back sections of the course. I was initially going to park at the train station for convenience and due to the fact a friend from Minnesota was going to meet up on Sunday as he was in London on business. I opted for a side street just a short few minute walk from the town hall. I thanked myself for this decision after the race!
I ambled up to the town hall with my drop bag and race vest. It was warm out and cloudy, maybe in the low 60's, upper 50's. As soon as I walked in I was shown the "kit check" station. A volunteer made sure I had all the required gear for the race, then gave me a poker chip to confirm with race registration I was clear. At registration I received my race number, some pins, was asked if I have any pacers (no), and was shown where to put my drop bag. A guy grabbed my bag and put it in numerical order on a stage behind the registration tables.
My drop bag was unusually large. I'm normally a pretty low key person when it comes to this stuff but with the weather being unpredictable I had multiple changes of socks, long sleeve shirts, short sleeve shirt, hats, gloves, tights, even a spare rain jacket! The usual was in there: spare Altra Lone Peak shoes, BodyGlide, blister kit, headlamp, food. But this time I also was using a new set of bottles, so I had spares. I normally had used cycling bottles but I gave in and had been trying out some soft flasks. Essentially a bottle sized camelbak that is soft (duh!) and collapses as you drink from it reducing space, sloshing fluids, and having a rigid plastic bottle against your chest in your race vest. I wanted a back up in case these failed so I had spare soft flasks and a set of cycling bottles.
Now we wait. I had gotten there early and had time to kill. So I basically stared at the wall for an hour and a half. I spotted a handful of the race favorites, including the guy I beat at Snowdonia 50. I was tempted to talk to him but my initial impression of him before was that he was kind of a dick and I really toyed with him in that race. I guess I shouldn't judge. These races seem to draw a large population of people from London and they all seem to know each other. It's a cool community just like what I assume it's like in the US. People of all abilities supporting each other with positive vibes, pretty cool. I see these communities and always have wanted to be a part of them. I was jealous and just wanted to rap with someone I'd met in a race in the past but no luck. I guess I had my opportunity just didn't take it. I checked my watch.
Soon was the pre-race briefing. I missed the most important part because they started early. The weather. All I got was no rain until 6am. Just what I wanted to hear! I was planning to be done before 6am, that'd be awesome to walk across the finish and have it start raining! Shortly after we were all walking down the street to the start. We crossed the bridge into Streatley and gathered on a section of the Thames Path. The Thames Path is a national trail that follows the River Thames. Centurion Running put on another ultra in May that is a point to point 100 that follows it, I'm registered for the Thames Path 100 next May. Following along the river, you guessed it, it basically flat.
The race course was four out and back segments from Goring. This first one went out the Thames Path. The race began in the mellow fashion as these seem to do. I settled in ahead of the crowds comfortably in the top fifteen. I talked with a few people here and there but mainly kept to myself. The pace was faster then I wanted but damn is it hard to run slow! I'd guess we were around 830-900 minute miles. I wanted 10 minute miles but just couldn't bring myself to do it. I'd pay for this later. At Western States last year I went out insanely slow, but it was easier since it was all uphill, and I learned the benefit of slow being able to run the last 40 miles effectively. This year, I knew better, but just didn't do it. I don't know why, maybe I felt comfortable where I was, maybe I felt like this is where I should be. Either way I motored on.
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| PC: Stuart March Photography |
It was hot and humid. Probably more humid than hot, the sweat dripped off of me, and soon I realized the importance of drinking. Once again looking back I should've drank more. I felt fine, was taking salt tablets and eating, just should've drank more. The first two aid stations flew by. The food selection was minimal so I settled for gels, which I hate (too sweet), but they serve a purpose and work well. I was focusing on aid station to aid station. I never once looked at cumulative time or miles. It's much easier to digest 4, 6, or 8 more miles at a time versus 76. Besides every station was a mini break, a talk with positive people, food, water, things that are always welcome when you feel like shit. Mini goals seem to break it down and it worked extremely well.
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| PC: Stuart March Photography |
I was running fine in 10-12th place. Feeling great and just motoring along. The Thames Path followed single track along the river, went through little villages, marinas, and in from of huge boathouses full of row boats. Some of the homes were insanely big. Huge grass gardens flowed up to the river keeping the main houses safe from flooding. The boat houses appeared to be extremely high end facilities likely tied into a private school. They looked like factories that create Olympians. My boss later confirmed this! Also you could see remnants of World War 2, concrete pill boxes with gun ports scattered alongside the river hidden in the trees, obviously built to welcome German boats coming up river. This history fascinates me, I wish I had more time to read about it, it's everywhere and scarily recent.
Soon we arrived at race HQ, Goring. In and out in less than a few minutes, not much was needed other then food and water. Section 2, I went this time following the Ridgeway National Trail. The humid temps were taking their toll and cramps fluctuated around my legs. I soon was deciding this would be my last 100, mentally I was crashing, why would I do this for the rare weekend away from family when I could use this time to do something way more fun? These things are so unbelievably uncomfortable! I felt like shit. My vision seemed to become tunneled and I had a searing pain under my feet much much like they were on hot coals. The Ridgeway was nice single track once we were outside of town but it seemed to be one long uphill, despite the scenery I was given no mental uplift. Easy to run but when you feel horrible easy to walk.
I became very emotional, thinking of my daughter who has daily physical challenges with mild ataxic cerebral palsy, and I'm complaining about pain I put myself through voluntarily. I unfortunately had missed her tae kwon do grading to do this race and I felt bad. She had worked so hard and I couldn't be there. It happens I guess, besides I had signed up a year ago. I just wish I could see her during one of these races at the finish preferably. It would mean so much to me. I like to think she sees what I do, how hard I work to fit it all in, and gains some inspiration from it.
The discomfort continued. The eventual third place finisher ran with me for a bit, a very positive guy, I think that's the key to these things. I hit the far aid station and took a few minutes to stretch and eat. I talked with the very friendly volunteers before they encouraged me onward. My accent aroused curiosity and I mentioned Minnesota, of course everyone in the ultra world knows Scott Jurek. I told them I ski raced against him briefly and that his younger brother was a much stronger athlete, not sure if anyone knows that but it's the truth. The conversation was a much needed positive boost and distraction. I headed downhill and I was on fire. Any pain and cramping I had was gone. I was running like I was fresh and pushed it the entire way back to Goring! The mind is primary. Control it, don't let it control you. It will always try to shut you down.
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| PC: Stuart March Photography |
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I made an emotional video and sent it to my wife wishing the kids good night. It took a while to send which was annoying. I think it freaked my wife out as she never showed the kids. Unless you've ran an ultra or been around them a while you have no idea how crazy emotional people can get. It's the oddest thing and it comes out of no where. I don't think my wife will ever understand that.
Soon I was in no mans land. I couldn't see any head lamps in front or behind me. I chose to keep mine off as long as possible. The trail was a gravelly double track through farmland. Easy footing. Soon I had snuck up on a guy in front of me. He never knew I was there with my light off! I think he thought I was weird. We bounced back and forth. I was starting to fade again and I could see lights behind me slowly gaining ground. Fortunately I was at the far aid station of this leg. I was oblivious to the fact that I had ran nearly 65 miles, I'd done a great job of focusing on the immediate goal and distance to the next aid station. The station at Chain Hill was littered with Christmas lights and had dance music going. They had a decent spread of food, I'd been mainly eating chips, fruit, trail mix, and GU, but here they had vegan chocolate cake and I believe vegan ginger cake. It was super good and besides being vegan a nice change of pace from the usual British food options. Speaking of vegan I did my best to stick to my plant based diet however likely broke it eating some form of gelatin in gummy products, whatever, it's a race!
I headed out and tied in with a guy and girl focusing on a pretty solid run walk plan. We made pretty good progress working together, 6 miles to the next aid station, in, out, and seemingly in no time we were near Goring and running the final two mile descent into town.
Goring had pasta and sauce which was glorious. I filled my belly, chugged some really shitty dehydrated coffee, with rain on my mind and 25 or so miles to go, on to the final section. Down stream following the Thames Path to Reading. Quitting never crossed my mind.
The initial path was actually mildly hilly, winding up the steep river bank I can only assume. It was only 4 miles until the first aid station, likely scenic in the trees but running via headlamp there's not much to focus on. I left the path and onto village streets and sidewalks. The aid station was a short maybe quarter mile up a hill (out and back) in possibly a town hall or community center. In and out, back the way I came downhill and back on the Thames Path. I recall winding through suburban looking neighborhoods and then onto a single track path through seemingly endless pastures. I was moving along ok but was pretty beat up. That's when my knees began to act up. Out of no where both knees were in an odd pain. The left one reducing me to a limp. I'm not dropping out now, no fucking way! It worried me as it wasn't just muscular pain, it was the joints, and it could possibly cause injury.
I hobbled on and realized it went away when I ran. If I stopped to pee or walk slow it returned. So on I went power walking, running, and leaving a squiggly line of urine on the ground, refusing to stop to pee! It all worked. I wasn't going fast, but I was going. Soon I was on a paved path and was able to focus on swapping running and walking between lamp posts, park benches, and garbage cans. Reading must be near as I was going through business parks, marinas, civilization. My watch read 7 miles and the aid station and turnaround was at 8.5.
Soon my watch read 9.5 miles and my mind is flailing, where the hell is the aid station! Finally around 10-10.5 miles (according to my watch) I get there! Of course it's upstairs in some building. Stairs!? Thanks! Anyway, chips, trail mix, really shitty coffee. I'm out, well probably a little slower than that implies. I likely talked to the aid station people a bit as I always do and then finally motivated. The social contact with people talking about ultrarunning is always awesome, something I rarely get to do.
Somewhere between 13-15 miles to go! No rain. The guy I'd been bouncing back and forth with left a little ahead of me. He said he couldn't run anymore so I was assuming I'd catch him with the pace I was doing. I trudged onward knowing there wasn't much left and it wasn't raining, thank god. Most people I saw were in the same place my mind was on the way out, wondering where the hell the aid station was! I was feeling ok other than my knees, but was curious why I hadn't caught the other guy.
I was at the annoyingly endless meadows when I caught him. He had an insanely fast hiking pace which is why he'd held me off. I was glad I caught him as this is just what I needed. We joined forces, as you to, with the main goal of finishing. When you feel this bad you could care less about your place or time, you just want to be done! We motored through the suburban looking neighborhood and were at the final aid station. We ate quick and, yes, put on our rain jackets! With only 4 miles to go it started.
The end was so close and the rain came down hard and cold. I was immediately chilled and uncomfortable, borderline shivering. I even had put my rain jacket over my wind jacket in hopes of retaining some heat. The trail seemed to immediately turn to ankle deep puddles and slippery, silty, river sediment. We attempted to avoid the puddles for some reason and the other guy nearly fell a few times, his Hoka shoes providing very little traction. I was good to go in my Altra Lone Peaks. Monotonously one foot in front of the other we power hiked doing 4 plus miles per hour. Not bad all pain and sleep deprivation considered.
The rest of the field of runners was on their way out towards Reading. I felt bad for them but inspired as well. They still had nearly 22 miles to go, they persisted in the rain, and I'm assuming they all got to the end. Sometimes it's the slowest people who are the ones to look up to, not the fastest.
We were off the trails and on the tarmac running along the paved paths parallel to the river and nest town. Soon we could see the bridge over the river from Streatley to Goring. We had done it. We crossed the final tracking mat and into the village hall at Goring. Some guy handed me my belt buckle and asked me my shirt size. Next I was ushered in front of a black curtain where the photographer we'd seen all day was taking finisher photos. This guy was still having the best time of his life!
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I wandered out into the dark and rain and made my way to the car. I had pre-placed my sleeping bag and pad, folded the seat down, and placed anything I'd need within reach, mainly my pee bottle. I climbed in and lie there too wired to sleep. I maybe got 30 minutes until my friend Aaron got in touch. He was in London for work (after traveling from Singapore and the US!) and would arrive via train to Goring within an hour or so! Not that I was going to sleep anyway!
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| Unofficial results |
Official finishing time was 20 hours 47 minutes. 23rd place overall. According to my watch my moving time was 17:36 so by doing the math I wasted a fair amount of time standing around! I sure don't recall that much aid station time but it can add up considering there were 15 stops. I'll need to look into that as that's an average time of 12 minutes at each stop! Unlikely but I could've had a few longer stops particularly at Goring and the far turn turnarounds (7 total). Anyway, discussion for another post! Click HERE for a link to the Strava post if you want to see a decent map or dork out on numbers:
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