Pyramids are much used as a training strategy in sports, and it’s a good way to make sure you don’t overtrain or push yourself too far too fast. One application for this is for pushing the distance, and building a base to the pyramid of several shorter ultras before a longer one, and not entering a 100-miler straight after a 100-k. Over 3 1/3 years I have done 6 ultra distances of 31-37 miles, one 44, one 51 and one 62, so I was ready for the cap of the pyramid with the 100-miler. So it’s less that I really *wanted* to do one, and more the fact that a friend had planted the seed in my head many years ago and I was now ready to enter, but once the idea takes hold it becomes all encompassing.
Getting to the start line for these things is perhaps the biggest challenge. Whenever I’ve trained for an ultra something invariably happens to interrupt progress, usually an injury… best laid plans and all that. This time round I actually got through my full training plan, right until the final week when I was genuinely exhausted so I started my taper a little early. During the taper though, possibly because it was too long, I was full of aches and pains - I cricked my neck and my Achilles tightened up, and we also had a company sports day 5 days before the event and despite trying my best to take it easy I got a groin strain from the long jump. I was foam rollering and taking Epsom salt baths and sea soaks like a fiend while also trying to relax as much as I could, to ensure the many months of training hadn’t been in vain. My housemate also caught covid the week of the race so I had to try not to catch that too. I’d also put on weight and instead of the 10 stone I wanted to be, 11 at the outside, I was 11 stone 8 lbs. But make it to the start I did, and on Saturday lunchtime I got the race coach from Cardiff to the start at Rhossili with my two friends Sarah and Kelvin and the other runners, ready for the 4pm start against the backdrop of Worms Head. The coach itself took 2 hours, that's some distance!
I don’t like to get drawn into the rush at the start of the race, so I stayed at the back and tried to keep my heart rate down to protect against injury and excessive carb burning. It was about 24 degrees so I couldn’t keep it as low as I wanted, but I managed to settle it at about 158 and stop it going above 160. Slightly awkwardly this put me practically shoulder to shoulder with another runner, both on the downhills and the up, and I really wanted to zone out and run my own race at least to start. I couldn’t speed up without spiking my heart rate and I couldn’t afford to slow down as the first checkpoint was the tightest cutoff (needing 16 minute miles over 7.5 miles with 250m ascent), but I was stressed out by visions of still running side by side with a stranger 100 miles later. It sounds really unsociable but these are such big undertakings you’ve got to run your own race in your own way. Thankfully after a couple of miles we caught up with two other runners then re-dispersed. I was trying not to follow my usual strategy of ‘find a runner and catch them’, as I’d calculated my timings for the whole race in advance. The information on the Run Walk Crawl website (the company that put on the race) says “the race is open to runners and walkers that can maintain the pace to reach the cut off times. The Dragon 100 mile course starts at 1600 on the Saturday evening and you have 32 hours to complete the course- that’s 3.2 mph. Please remember that you would also need to factor in any checkpoint stops so realistically you should aim to maintain 3.5mph to complete in exactly 32 hours” which sounded spot on for me, but they didn’t release the mid-route cut off times for the aid stations until 14 days before the event. There was a cutoff at every one of the 11 aid stations, starting at 16 min miles between the start and the first aid station and reducing down to 21 min miles between the last aid station and the finish. I was disappointed by this (especially not knowing until so close to the event), as I like to run at a consistent pace on my ultras, often running with negative splits so I can start with reserve energy and finish strong. That wasn’t going to happen here. Initially I’d carefully and accurately worked out my ideal timings along the route and using those I would miss the first 7 cutoffs and yet finish with 2 hours to spare, so I had to run to their tighter timings for the first 60 miles.
As we traversed the Gower it struck me how beautiful the route was. When I’d checked out the route on Strava where you can see the breakdown of terrain types, it said it would be 29% paved, 40% dirt and 31% other, and with it passing several big urban areas I had kind of expected a lot of hard terrain. I was pleasantly surprised that the Gower section was much more akin to my beloved South West coast path and I was fully enjoying the views.
I had a few technical and kit issues from early on. I’d had to make some kit changes a bit too close to the event - a new running pack as my old one ripped, and a new watch as the battery saver mode on my old one had a bug. With the pack I tried a few and by the time I settled on one I only had one chance to try it out and it felt okay, but you can’t know for sure until you run a fair distance and it turns out it was too tight on the shoulder webbing and was cutting in. Thankfully I had Vaseline to tide me over and my old pack in my drop bag at Mumbles, I just had to get there (we had access to our drop bag at every 3rd aid station along the route). The soft flasks the pack comes with didn’t have a straw tube so I had to contort my head to drink from them and kept choking on my squash. The watch I had also had only 9 days, after a 6 week conversation with the manufacturer about whether it was a software bug with my old one. I loved the new watch and had played around with all the settings, but I hadn’t configured the screens the same as my old one. I thought the default settings would be suitable but I was unable to see heart rate and pace on the same screen, and both were proving crucial so I had to keep flipping between them. In the end the pace screen became less useful anyway - I’d made a crib sheet of the average pace I needed for each checkpoint, but this was for the time you have to leave the checkpoint not arrive, and for the earlier ones 10 minutes makes quite a big difference to pace, so I couldn’t use my crib sheet as a guide and I changed my strategy accordingly. The new watch did have a funky nutrition reminder though which I'd set to remind me to take a salt tablet every 30 minutes, and I was trying to make sure I drank one full 500ml bottle every hour, although as I tired later it was hard to remember if I was keeping up to date with those and sometimes I didn't notice the buzzer.
I made the first check point with 15 mins to spare, feeling really rushed. It was also disappointingly poorly stocked - one type of jelly sweet, two types of cheap crisp (salty spirals and chipsticks), water and electrolytes. Little variation and no food you could take with you. I went to the loo and lost the places as I’d gained which was a little disheartening. I wasn’t racing the other runners but it was nice to be near them.
The route cut off the next headland then we were running across the long stretch of sand that is Oxwich Bay. There were camper vans lining the back of the beach and quite a party atmosphere, although we soon left that behind as we covered the full length of the bay, and I caught up with a group of runners near to the race photographer. To exit the beach there was a very narrow, steep path lined with tall ferns. It was quite overgrown and I kept checking the gps to ensure I was going the correct way.
Having found my pace I caught up with my two friends near the first stepping stones at Three Cliffs Bay, then lost them as they stopped to empty shoes. The next section of sand dunes were even crazier, with quite a convoluted route through them. I called the directions over my shoulder to the runners behind me. It certainly kept the interest and there were some lovely views down to Three Cliffs bay which I had last visited as a rock climber back in about 2005. On the cliff top I sat to pour a gallon of sand out of my shoes, and shortly after that we reached the second aid station (with 5 minutes to spare) where there was a much better variety of snacks.
Just after Brandy Cove at 17 miles I found a runner (Emma, no. 22) paused and unsure of whether to take the high tide route or low tide route up ahead. I remembered from the race briefing that the route took the high tide route at Caswell Bay anyway so I confidently encouraged her to run on with me, but the GPX took us along a private path right close to but high above the road we actually needed to be on. A friendly local helped us out and guided us down the steps to the beach where we had to climb round a railing then up over two fences to get to the road, so we lost a little time there. Emma and I ran together for a bit on the good tarmac path round Langland and past Snaple point, which was nice. My shoes were driving me mad though, I was only 1.5 miles from being able to change them but they were causing me heel pain so I had to slow a bit while Emma ran on, and they were still full of sand. I wanted to press on to the checkpoint but I followed Emma’s suggestion and emptied them again which gave some temporary respite.
I reached the aid station with 15 minutes to spare having made good time on the last section, but I had so much to do. I needed to fill up my 3 water bottles. I needed to change my bag, and although everything in the main section was in a dry bag I could just move across there were about 6 extra pockets each with something in, which needed moving to a new home in the new pack, and I needed my tracker cutting off and taping on the new pack too. I’d also had to fully empty my 20l drop bag to get to the running pack so I was surrounded by the contents of that too. I also had to wash and dry my feet to remove the sand as the next section was tarmac, and change my socks and shoes. Plus go to the loo. I also needed to eat and drink, the race information said there was soup available but I was inside the hall and the marshals were outside so I had to ask a friend to fetch someone, who make me up soup and brought me tinned fruit salad too. That all took half an hour and was a really crazy multi-tasking rush which also put me at the back of the field again.
By comparison the next section was reasonably comfortable, at least to start with. I had my familiar pack and comfy shoes and was pretty well fed. From Mumbles to the next cutoff at Baglan it was 10 miles. I wanted time to actually rest at Baglan which left me 2.5 hours which meant roughly 15 min miles. In theory I could walk parts of that but given it was flat tarmac seafront in the main, round Swansea bay and along the city sea front, I took it on at a slow run, if I could gain some extra time then so much the better. Darkness had fallen and I used to think it was crazy that people ran through the night and said I’d never do it, but it’s funny how the more an idea sinks into your head the more normal it seems, and having tried it in a training run I loved it. The night only lasts 5 hours at that time of year too. I maintained a shambling run pace, and happened across two other female runners that I yo-yo-ed with a lot from here on, Debbie and Sian. These two had a chap crewing them too who was very kind at sharing his time and supplies with other runners and I benefitted from that several times. Even though I don’t speak to other runners much on an ultra I still love that connection and solidarity you have with them. They’re the ones that understand the indescribable mental state that you’re in. Writing about it gives a kind of false impression - I describe a lot, but all of those things mean very little when you're actually experiencing them: all the issues you have you mentally dismiss as insignificant and peripheral, hardships that are just par for the course, so they don't have the impact that you might imagine from reading about it.
Leaving Swansea we went slightly inland along the Tennant Canal. This seemed to be the one cool part of the entire course, but I felt like if I put my pack down to get a layer out I didn’t think I’d be able to bend down to pick it back up again - I was very stiff, partly due to the earlier heat and partly because when I’m heavier I feel inflamed and don’t move as well. I kept my eyes peeled for benches but there were none, but at the end of the canal I found crew-man again and he kindly held my pack while I put on my layer. Of course from then on it was warm again but I wasn’t stopping to take it back off! The next section was a cycle way alongside the A483, and I was desperately for a rest having not walked at all except for on the earlier uphills, and I’d been running since the last aid stop except a couple of toilet pauses, and I could feel a strain forming where the shin tendon inserts into the knee. Constantly chasing cut-offs gives the whole event a completely different emphasis, and not a good one. The two girls were doing run/walk so we were were never side by side long enough to chat, I didn’t feel I could do the same as I was looking forward to a sit down and a loo at the Baglan aid stop over the river. I reached it with 5 mins to spare, but there was no loo, and as I sank into a chair the marshal said ‘don’t you dare’, maybe he was joking but it wasn't clear and it was absolutely not what I wanted to hear. On an ultra you know what you need, and my body needed a pause. There was little food again, no support, no encouragement, no help to fill bottles, just an instruction to get up and carry on. They didn’t have any freeze spray for my knee either. I cut my much-needed rest short feeling wholly unwelcome, and left the aid station 2 minutes before it closed, and 50 yards up the road something separated in the shin muscles on my right leg, and I instinctively sat down on the curb. Crew-man was suddenly there and got me some freeze gel from his car. I had planned to walk a bit from here as the next section allowed for a slightly slower pace, and with this pain that idea was cemented, so I walked off into the woods and up the hill. My shin was very painful with every uphill step, I had definitely done something bad to it. I massaged it a bit and found the problem was down at the bottom, right at the front. In addition to my own issues I was concerned the two girls had gone the wrong way as I saw lights down below, and I was shouting and blowing my whistle to alert them. I walked as fast as a could, but the uphill gradient was causing me to call out in pain and I was losing more time. I called one of the race emergency numbers and asked for some first aid, and Ben said that he had some k-tape and could come and meet me at a village past the forest. The village was 3+ miles away, but he actually found me on a small section of road half way there just before I disappeared up another track, just after some angels in a van had passed and given me an apple just as I was craving fruit. I sat on the tailgate of Ben the superstar's van, rinsed my shin and applied k-tape, whilst drinking coke and red bull that he also supplied. The sit down alone was a godsend, but the sudden provision of medical and nutritional aid helped a great deal too and I left with my spirits much lifted. The girls caught up too, and I was pleased to hear that they had heard my shouts after all, although they were also tiring and had missed another turning after that.
When I’d left Baglan checkpoint I’d only needed 19:21 minute miles to reach the next stop at Bryn, but now I’d walked and paused that had reduced drastically to 17:00 and there were a lot of hills to come, but I was prepared to do what I could. Ahead of me was a stony downhill which was even worse for my leg than the uphills as it jarred the damaged muscle. Past the village though there was a long flattish section on good forest tracks along the river Afan, where I was able to run again and started to pick up time. I kept constantly recalculating the pace required using my new strategy - the number of minutes to the cutoff, divided by the number of miles to the aid station as shown on my GPX, to give the pace needed. I felt optimistic that I could make it, but then there was a long uphill, and the next descent was also rocky which made me cry out. It started to get light at 4 but not fully until 5. Coming out of the trees just before the village of Bryn it was runnable again with a non-rocky descent and I passed a runner walking with poles (Andy) who asked me how far it was to the checkpoint. “Half a mile, 15-min-mile pace and we’ll do it”. I scraped in with one minute to spare to find myself in a group of 4 runners momentarily. I was in so much pain but I had made it. This aid station was manned by Ben and was better stocked, although I couldn’t persuade my body that the hot dog was good food, and I forgot to pick up my can of coke. I was looking forward to an easier ride from here as the next aid station was meant to be 9 miles away and we had 3 hours to get there, meaning 20 minute miles, a chance to walk at last! I voiced this out loud and Ben said ‘well, more like 10…’ and checking the map it was actually 11.3 miles away! Subtracting the 10 minutes we paused to eat, that’s 15 minute miles, a whole different mission. Well, nothing for it but to press on. There was one 3-mile long uphill to deal with, then the rest was down. I continued constantly recalculating the pace required, my phone gallery is full of screenshots of these numbers, I was running a mathematical race - I’d come this far and didn’t want to miss the deadlines. I had various motivations driving me on - the further I got the more it seemed to make it all worthwhile; I didn’t want my friends to wake up to find I’ve DNFd just after they went to bed; I didn’t want to let everyone down who had sponsored me; and I didn't want to stop now as I've run further than this before. On the downhill, a nice wide track on the outside edge of the forest, I started to pass people I hadn’t seen before but I was also suffering from increasing digestive distress so I was struggling to stay ahead of them all (it's not that I want to beat anyone or care about places, it just makes me feel like I'm making good progress). At the Baglan aid stop earlier I had said out loud ‘I need the loo’. The marshal told me to pee in a bush but they were missing the point. I’d already 💩 in several bushes and it wasn’t working properly at that angle, I needed to sit on a real seat. But through the woods there was nothing and I continued to have to squat down to poo at increasing intervals - it was not diarrhoea and not much, but it was always urgent. I was so uncomfortable with it all - the crouching was difficult and hindered the act, and the act itself was very uncomfortable, despite the small pot of moisturiser I learnt to carry long ago.
People often cite than an ultra is 99% mental. I’ve always found that a strange statement as I find it all physical, and this is a good way to demonstrate that. My brain absolutely wants to carry on, no matter how I feel - that’s what I came for, it's not meant to be easy and I do not want to stop. I was fine with the sand dunes, the navigation, the heat - all things I heard other runners citing as things that broke them or sapped their resolve. The part of me saying stop because I'm physically hurt is so small I don’t know whether to listen to it. In a training run I’d have stopped the instant I did the damage as that way you can be okay again in 3 days, but when it comes to the main event a different mindset is needed: this is the exam, not the studying. It’s difficult because you can only complete an ultra if you do have that mental fortitude to carry on, that’s why people say it’s all mental, but if you’ve got that by default or by developing it how do you know how to turn it off, and how bad does an ache or pain or injury have to be for it to genuinely be worth stopping? It's an arbitrary line and one that's hard to draw. I was actually glad when I saw the state of my leg a day later as it validated my stopping decision.
At 6:45am I had been running through the pain so long (5 1/2 hours) that my brain was now no longer able to ignore it and my shin was screaming at me and I simply couldn’t run any more, and I knew I wouldn’t make Kenfig in time. I had reached the flat of Margam country park and came across Emma again who was now running with Laura from the Three Cliffs sand dunes. I walked with them for a bit and we discussed the timings and inaccurate distances and the race organisation. We passed crew-man and and he encouraged a last ditch effort to run at 12-minute miles for the last 3 miles to the aid station at Kenfig and our drop bags. The other two switched back into a run but I knew it was a little more than 3 miles, and also that I was done for with running, so if the timings were tight before they were impossible now. So close and yet so far. Even then though I was still calculating whether I could still finish the rest of the race in case they let me carry at Kenfig despite having missed the cutoff, I only needed 18 minute miles for the next 47 miles which seemed possible since my walking pace was fluctuating between 16 and 24 minute miles, but I was so broken I was hoping that they’ll pull me from the race so that the decision was out of my hands. My friends had started to wake up and offer comments online but it was only days later that I worked out what I needed to say to them - I didn’t need encouragement in continuing, I needed help in deciding to stop.
The A48 was soulless and desolate with no runners in sight now, in my zoned out state I forgot even that there was anyone behind me. My left heel was in agony from favouring that leg combined with running in my less cushioned shoes for the first few miles. I longed for a bench but there wasn’t one for another 1.5 miles behind a church in Pyle where I rested gratefully for a few seconds. At 8am, cutoff time, I rang in to say I wouldn’t make the cutoff, he asked what my plan was given they were too busy to fetch me and I said I could walk it in but wanted to know how I’d get back to Cardiff given the bus for the DNFers was due to leave Kenfig at 8am. He said he might hold the bus, or likely I’d have to get a lift with one of the marshals. I found myself walking slower and slower through the housing estates. A dog lumbered up to me and I lunged sideways into the road to avoid it. The lady following then offered ‘she won’t harm you’. At my wits end and not a fan of this oft-proffered-but-too-late statement anyway, I replied ‘she already has, I am injured and in pain just walking in a straight line, and she just made me stagger sideways into the road'. 1.2 miles from the checkpoint I turned into West street which led straight there and began to hitch. 300m, a lifetime, and many non-stopping cars later I gave up altogether and sunk to the ground outside a closed pub. Two concerned passers-by stopped to question me, and I was just about to contact the organisers to say I couldn’t walk it in after all, when to my surprise another runner appeared, Andy again, although I was a little confused why he was there, and he told me he was also retiring. He gave me his poles and walked me in the last 1 mile at my snail's pace, what a legend. It felt like an eternity but we finally arrived just after 9am. My first ultra DNF and it felt very strange to just finish without the ceremony of receiving a medal, almost like it had never happened. The bus had been waiting for me after all, and I was surprised to see my two friends on it too, they’d decided to retire too even though they’d made the cutoff. I snuck off to the loo, couldn’t pass up the opportunity of a real one after all that time, then joined the dozen or so people on the bus. I was in reasonable spirits despite what you may imagine and offered round the copious quantities of food and drink from my drop bag.
The bus driver took us all to the nominated dropoff and then was kind enough to take my friends and our back to our hotel to save us waiting for a taxi, an act of kindness that meant a great deal to us. The hotel also found me a room where I could check in early (it was 10:15am and check in isn't usually until 3pm), which was also a godsend. I showered (sat down in the bath as standing seemed too much effort), and inspected the damage (my leg which was bright pink, plus some chafage on my chest), iced my leg, then slept for a bit to catch up for the missed night, then had dinner at the hotel and iced my leg again. I had no plans then but realised it was 7pm the runners were still reaching the finish line and I had an urge to go and be part of it. I found I could drive perfectly safely, so took myself down to the Norwegian church. Realising quite how red my leg was then I went into the finishers area to see if I could find some first aid. There weren't any ice packs anywhere, but there was a medic, one of the race directors I think. His first aid assessment was very competent but when I offered some feedback on the race, saying that I prefer to run a steady race and that it was rushing for the cutoffs that had led to my injury, he dragged me into an argument and told me that I got injured because I was under-conditioned for the race, and the other runners who had also found the initial cutoffs harsh simply weren't fast enough to finish. I walked away saying that I didn't feel he was treating his customers well and that he wasn't leave me with a good lasting impression from the event. I'm positive I could complete the 100 miles had I been able to take an average pace. I can't prove this, but I was determined - as evidenced by running on an injured leg for many hours - and I had trained well for it - as evidenced by the fact that after the run I didn't have one single muscle ache or blister except for my injury. None of the niggles I'd had beforehand came to anything, so I'd managed them all perfectly.
I saw a few other places where runners were treated poorly during the race - I'm sure in the race information it says that if you stop to offer first aid that will be accounted for in your finish times. I heard two sets of runners tell marshals that they had helped other runners to a safe location to DNF, but they were refused the time adjustment. Also I had mentioned the error in the route GPX at Caswell Bay and told that I was incorrect. The race organisers seemed a bit military and ‘just get on with it’ in their attitude. There are more ways of dealing with endurance events than that, you can be an amazing runner without being a machine, and these are experienced ultra runners who know what they need and have valid opinions, but we weren’t respected. Ultras are hard, you’re pushing yourself to the limit, it’s not the time for someone to take the hard line with you. Add that to the limited food supplies and the lack of obvious medical availability at aid stations, and the fact they were also staffed by the race directors rather than volunteering runners so there wasn’t the cheering or encouragement that you generally expect, and I won't be entering another event by Run Walk Crawl again. As you can see from my report, my event was dominated by pace calculations, this isn't usual as you'll see from my previous race reports, and it wasn't fun. Looking at the finish line too (pictured) that was half-hearted and would have confused me had I reached it - there wasn't an archway and no timer. The race went very smoothly to the plans that the organisers had for it, but that plan seemed at odds to what I'm used to in many ways. Perhaps I'm deluded, maybe all 100-milers are tougher than I imagine. But the other ultras I've done are set up for you to succeed, this one seemed set up for you to fail.
Nevertheless, I'm very proud of myself and the way that I dealt with everything, and it's still the second furthest distance I've ever run. I'm also proud that I have raised £1350 for my chosen charities:
Project Kajsiab in Laos
ME Research UK
My leg will take a while to recover. After 48 hours it was getting progressively more and more swollen, so I went to the minor injuries clinic. They said I've got tenosynovitis of the tibilialis anterior and I must elevate it get the weight off to get the swelling down, so I am currently working from my bed and hobbling around on crutches. I'm not sure how badly the muscle is damaged, there's a large lump at the injury site and I can't lift my toes, but I am seeing my physio tomorrow so she'll be able to shed more light on that.
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