The Go Beyond Northants 35 mile Ultramarathon had been on my schedule since February 2010 as a training race to get me in proper fitness to complete a 100km ultramarathon in Mongolia in July.  Having never run an ultramarathon before, I set out late last year with the goal that 2010 would be my year of the ultra, and I would culminate with a spectacular 100km race, not knowing if I'd even get close to finishing.  As I trained with my local running club (Wellingborough & District Athletic Club) during the winter and spring months for a [spring] marathon, training started slowly, but started going really well in March as I was able to consistently get some good foundation/base miles completed.  I was able to post some good PB's in March and April for several halfmarathons and a full marathon.  

 

Ten days after running a PB 3:59:30 marathon in Hamburg , I inadvertently went too fast on a local 10km race, and accidentally PB'd with a 40:40-I did not have a watch for this race.  For the next month my right Achilles tendon bothered me and caused me to doubt whether I'd be on track to train for the 100km race.  But after the 10km race, I made a conscious decision to slow down and transition my weekend long runs from miles and minutes, to hours.  For the next 5 consecutive weeks, I was able to slowly enjoy some long 20 mile runs taking 3:45 to 4:30 to finish.  I enjoyed the runs as it gave a different perspective on running by covering long distances slowly, and not pushing my body too hard by going fast. 

 

Two weeks before the Nortants 35 ultra, I ran/walked a gruelling mountain marathon in Exmoor , England with over 10,000+ foot of elevation change.  It was one of the hardest running races I'd ever done.  Eventually when I finished in over 7 hours 12 minutes, it gave me the confidence that if I could finish Exmoor , I would finish my first ultra and by my calculations, the ultra would probably be easier. 

 

With lots of stretching I managed to eliminate the pain in my right Achilles area.  But Thursday night/Friday morning before the ultra, I woke up with a terrible pain in my left Achilles/calf area that felt like I'd torn the tendon.  I stretched a lot not knowing much else that could help at this point, and also applied lots of cold water and Icy/Hot ointment, but the pain did not subside.  I took Friday off and desperately wished to take Saturday off, but did not want to miss Andy Mouncey's ultra/trail running clinic.  I quite enjoyed all he had to teach us, and learned a lot of practical skills to apply to my ultra running.  My left Achilles calf still hurt with every step, and nothing I did seemed to allow it to subside.  After 6.2 miles I wasn't sure on Saturday if I would be able to finish the ultra the next day, the pain was constant. 

 

Sunday morning brought calmness as I was relaxed and well prepared to start a full day of running.  Barely arriving at the starting line 14 minutes before the start, I fumbled around with last minute preparations and started off at 10:00 am with over 100 other great runners.  The first two or three miles brought lots of excited chatter from the other runners around me as I heard most of them were attempting their first ultra; all had their own expectations, strategies, hopes, and fears.  After about three to four miles, my left calf was flaring up so much, I walked trying to see if I could stretch or anything.  I became increasingly worried as I had to walk on the flat portions of the race so early.  Miles 5-7 brought severe disappointment as I struggled to determine if the pain was an injury or just my body acting stubborn.  I'd noticed that the pain was not really in my Achilles anymore, but felt like a permanent cramp in the calf, exactly as when one wakes up at night with that sudden cringing pain.  

 

I was determined to finish the race even in last place, so long as I could keep about 4 miles an hour.  But as the first 90 minutes past, my brain started recalling my most painful race ever attempted in 2008.  On October 4, 2008, I ran a 10 mile race in Washington DC for an Army team, on a broken ankle.  No race in the world will ever be as painful as limping 10 miles that day, but the cramp during miles 6-9 in my calf caused me to feel like this may be a painful run after all.  Just before Check Point 2, Caroline was able to chat with me and asked about the pain I was in, and what my symptoms were.  She said that she was a trained {sports therapist?} and could help treat me at the next CP; the worst that could happen was nothing.  I was willing to give anything a try, because at that pace, I'd be so far behind, and would not have any fun during the day.  Plus, all my goals and aspirations of becoming an ultrarunner seemed to be slipping if I couldn't get past this stupid little calf cramping.

 

At CP 2 and nearly in last place, Caroline performed some 'battlefield treatment' or maybe more appropriately emergency first aid, and spent a couple minutes working out the cramp(s) using a method called The Bowen Technique.  After about 5 minutes we were all off to the next town, and I was slowly able to pick up the pace from a walk, to a shuffle/jog.   In the week prior to the race, I had actually scouted out the course between CP2 and CP3, and because I was on familiar ground, felt at ease and relaxed.  The shuffle/jogged slowly increased pace till I could manage a 10-11 minute mile and noticed the calf was no longer cramping with every step.  By the half marathon mark, I was actually feeling so good, that I got my iPhone out and recorded a clip while I was running.  It felt so good to catch up with some of the other runners and start navigating the more difficult portions of the course as a team.  

 

At CP3, I was thankful to have Andy produce the bag I had dropped earlier.  After a fresh change of shoes, an apple, and some refreshments, I set off with Colin hoping to catch up with Guy (I never did as he was apparently always 2-4 minutes ahead till the last CP).  AsColin had already gotten lost once, I took extra care to navigate the fields and countryside correctly and had a bit of fun getting closer to 20 miles.  Just after CP4 was a gradual decline and I managed my fastest mile of the day, clocking 9:03 for the 22 mile.  But the heavens opened and poured down rain on us like mad.  Luckily I found three other runners who had their maps laminated, and after taking quite a few wrong turns, eventually found our way out of the mess, and the rain.  These were probably the slowest miles of the day, my legs were feeling the distance,  but at least there was no cramping pain.  That was long past.  

 

I was quite amused though, the three runners I'd meet in the rain at about mile 22, teetered back and forth with me for the next 9-10 miles as they would stop at every field crossing and scratch their heads trying to read the map (literally).  Though my maps were worn from the rain, I could process my decisions in a split second and would continue ahead.  Three to four minutes later they would pass me and gain another 2-3 minutes on me until the next junction.  I'd run where I thought was the correct path and they'd eventually follow.  You'd think after 6 or 7 correct decisions, they'd understand that I could read even a warped map, but this exchange must have happened 20-30 times.  So I learned the my slow steady tortoise pace, worked brilliantly against their agressive rabbit and stop to think pace:)

 

CP 5 came and went, changed shoes for a second time.  I tried listening to some music, but going up the road, was met with the second barrage of thunder and an outpouring of rain.  I could only laugh in bewilderment as to what I looked like on this lonely road.  I'd tried to memorize the map/directions through the next town incase my maps proved futile.  As I reached the last town, the relentless rain caused some to pity the runners I suppose and some [drunk] pub drinkers pointed me in the right way.  As I exited the town, I stopped at a church graveyard out of the rain to have one last look at my maps.  With the final 5-6 miles of route seared into my brain, I pressed on finally allowing myself to feel some emotion passing 30 miles and knowing I would finish.  Speed absent from my legs, but determination ever present, I walked/shuffled/jogged the last 4 miles not really thinking too much, but at the same time thinking of where I'd come, and what my next goals were.  I knew I'd be ok finishing the next major challenge of 44 miles three weeks from this day, and in the end also decided the 35 miles ultramarathon was easier then the 26 mile Exmoor marathon two weeks prior.  

 

The finish line finally came.  I was happy to be done in just under 8 hours, but already preparing what my recovery would be like and how I would train for the 44 miler.  I wanted to wait at the line until Caroline came in and I could thank her for the treatment she gave at CP2 and to see how with enough motivation and determination she could also complete her first ultramarathon [after only running a 14 lifetime longest run before].  Wow, how extraordinary.  My journey was only one of a 67 other journeys, of runners who managed to Go Beyond their comfort zones, face challenges, and experience the unforgettable journey of completing an ultramarathon.  For me, 44 miles I will finish, and so will 100 kilometres.  No problem.  

 

- Israel the runner

 

Date of Race: 6 June 2010

Written: 14 June 2010

 

www.israeltherunner.com