First class at Ealing's first half; race review of Ealing half marathon

Sunday 30th September was Ealing’s big day. Over 4500 racers filed into pretty Lammas Park to take part in their first half marathon. I was one of them.

I chose to run Ealing half marathon as it was billed as a fast flat course. I wanted a race where I would have a chance of getting a pb so this criteria was essential for me. It was also located in my neck of the woods (London) and was held at around the right time of year I wanted to run.

Even before the race I had good feelings about the organisation of the race. @Ealinghalf were active, friendly and responsive on twitter, and I received plenty of email updates and information through the post about the race.

At the HQ the pre-race portaloo queue time was around 10 minutes (fair), and bag check in a mere 30 seconds (excellent). Unfortunately pre-start waiting time was a little longer. We were all herded into the start pens according to our estimated finish time. We waited. And waited. And waited. Word soon spread that an incident had occurred on the course (a car had driven into a lamppost!), hence the delay in starting.

After a 20 minute delay the horn finally sounded. We were off! As normal at the start of races, there was some crowding in the first 1-2km, which then eased off as people separated out. However I was able to run at my pace from the start, which often does not happen in larger events and can be very frustrating if you are aiming for a pb.

The course was very urban and very twisty. One runner described the route map as “something someone had made up after a few pints in the pub – all over the place!”

Expecting a flat course I was surprised to find quite a few hills along the way. Fell and trail runners probably wouldn’t have noticed the inclines, but for someone who may have skipped one too many hill training sessions they hurt. However, where there are ups, there are always downs and the change in incline also made for a fairly interesting course too as you had more to think about.

The day was blessed with near-perfect weather. Cool but with sunshine and blue skies. Ealing is renowned for being a leafy part of London, so even though the course was all roads, it was a very pleasant route to run.

The support from the crowds and crew were also brilliant. I guess partly because of the weather, and partly because the event was new to the area, there were a surprising amount of people who had come out to watch.

The route was clearly marked out and manned. Water was given out along the way at appropriate points. One thing I loved was that we were given small bottles of water rather than cups, which were so much easier to drink from. Bar the lamppost incident at the start, the organisation was first class.

The race finished back in Lammas Park. With claps, cheers, a welcome drink and not-so-welcome slap on the back I finished. Everyone received a goody bag and a medal. Disappointingly there was no t-shirt inside. However we were given a can of beer which was unusual but fine by me!

I got the pb I wanted from Ealing half marathon but it was not as fast as I hoped for. If I had known the course was as twisty and undulating as it was I may not have originally signed up. However, I would have then missed out on a cracking first half marathon. Well done Ealing! I’m looking forward to next year. I may just do a bit more hill training first.

British Heart Foundation Clapham Common 10km race review

I signed up to this race in preparation for the Ealing half marathon at the end of the month.

It's billed as a "jog" to encourage non runners to join in, which I think is a great idea. When I first started running I was initially too scared of entering any races as I thought it would be full of scary running folk. I could have done with something like this back then!

It's a low key event. There's a safety briefing and warm up prior to starting, a couple of portaloos and lots of friendly volunteers manning the registration desks and dishing out bottles of water.

The route follows a 5km lap that weaves in and out around Clapham Common, which is run twice. There were a handful of volunteers pointing out the way and a few signs but unfortunately not enough as the lead group took a wrong turn a couple of times. However as this is pushed more as a fun run than a race, I can't complain too much.

The other disappointment was I was told the course was short. In other words it hadn't been measured accurately. I'd love someone who measured it to reveal its true length as I got a pb, or I think I did!

All in all a nice flat course and great as a training run. Just don't expect it to be too accurate.

Adidas 24 hour Thunder Run: Race review

"Challenging" "Different" "Exhilarating" "Horrendous"

Some of the words used to describe the 2012 Adidas Thunder Run. Billed as "a 24 hour off-road relay race against the clock", the Thunder Run attracts some 2000 runners to participate in a race like nothing else they've entered before. Myself included.

I took up the challenge with four other female runners. None of us knew what to expect. You can run as fast or as slow as you like, but one member of the team must be running (or walking) on the 10km trail track at all times over a period of 24 hours. The winner is the team with the most laps completed after the 24 hour deadline. Game on!

Thunder Run is held in Catton Park in South Derbyshire. It's a lovely spot - undulating, varied terrain including woodland, grass and track. Runners arrive on Friday and can set up camp ready for the 12pm start on Saturday. This year the festival-like atmosphere was even greater with the organisers setting up a big screen so we could all watch the Olympics during our rest periods.

As a strategy of sorts, my Sportsister teammates and I decided to run each lap in roughly one hour, knowing that the night and early morning laps may not be our finest hour in 10km running, and so would be a little slower!

We then chose who would run when, but agreed that if anyone had any problems we would swap, or just adapt as we needed to. Our aim of the race was to finish it, to enjoy it, and to work as a team to look after each other.

I was the fourth starter in my team, so I set off around 3pm for my first lap after three of my fellow teammates had completed theirs. Feeling much more nervous than I thought I would I waited in the pen, eyes peeled for my teammate to come round the corner, baton in hand, to hand over to me.

The 10km course kept me amused. It's a challenging course, with enough twists and turns to make even Tigger dizzy. It's also great fun. It felt a bit like I was on the Krypton Factor, leaping over boggy sections, weaving in and out of marked sections of woodland, legging it up and down grassy hills.

A quarter of the way through, runners pop back out to race through the campsite and be cheered on by fellow competitors. Again at around 8km, runners pace through sections of the camp to be further encouraged to the finish line.

The last kilometre is brutal. The organisers know what they are doing. Give runners a glimpse of the finish....then send them up another hill before the end is really in sight.

Baton safely handed over to teammate five, I go back to camp to drink, eat, stretch and rest. It feels rather strange. I've just raced 10km, yet I can't relax as I have to do it again in another three hours, and then again, and again and again.

Round two came round too soon and I was off again. This time I knew what to expect, I felt a little more settled and really enjoyed the loop.

Round three at 1am was a slightly different race for all as it was pitch black. Headtorch and luminous jacket donned, off I set again. It was also the start of the unknown territory. Yes I've run Marathon des Sables but at least you run it all in one go then can rest. I've never run 5x 10km laps interspersed with non existent sleep. I've never run later than 10:30pm nor earlier than 7am. And I love my sleep.

However, I really enjoyed the night run. Maybe I have some weird fetish fantasy of running alone in the woods at night with only the sound of heavy breathing coming up behind me. Either that or the safety of the dark meant you couldn't see further than a couple of metres ahead which also meant you couldn't see the hills coming up. Either way, it felt like a magical mystery tour. Would I land in a bog or a pothole? Would I be attacked by the boogaman? Would I fall asleep while running? Endless possibilities.

Safely back again, I tried to get some more shut eye before the next round at 6am. The milkman round was less enjoyable. Even if I hadn't fallen asleep, lactic acid definitely had in my legs so I ran lap four feeling like Mike Tyson was clinging from my thighs.

11:30am. The final victory round. Feeling a little worse for wear, but determined not to let team Sportsister down I tried my best, though I will feel eternally grateful for the two lovely chaps who helped me round the first few kilometres with a bit of random banter. I managed to sneak in under the hour and our team came a very respectable sixth in our category.

Would I do it again? Most definitely. It's a brilliant, weird, exhilarating way to spend a weekend. It's also a great way to meet those even stranger runners who do the course solo. Much respect due to them.

Stage 6: 15.5km (9.6 miles)

I'm swearing inside - where's the finish?!

A measly 9 1/2 miles. Piece of cake.

So the organisers gave us the big dunes today.

Bastards.

The last day was an actual race up to the first checkpoint. 6.5km of flat, stony ground. We all sped up to the start of the dunes. I felt like I was running a pb time, though it was probably still painfully slow.

Hit the dunes. And return to shuffle/walk.

And on. And on. And on.

It was deliciously awful and wonderful at the same time. You are so, so close but you aren't. You know there is only a few kilometres left from near 300km at the start, but you can't see the finish line.

I didn't think I'd be so relieved today, as it was only 91/2 miles, but I was. It felt so, so good to come in. People cheer you in. Some, having just finished around you giving you hugs. Others just staring vacantly in sheer exhaustion, can't believe what they've just done.

Magical.

Stage 5: 42.2km (26.2 miles)

The beauty of the desert. Today was a good day

Slightly apprehensive now about this stage, given the state of my rapidly-ballooning painful leg. Nothing to do though except shuffle off. Luckily the odds are in my favour today as the course terrain is pretty forgiving and I end the day completely, completely exhausted but strangely satisfied by my new-found ability to keep calm and carry on.

The day's environment varied widely from stony ground, to sandy, to dunes, to valley beds. I strangely found it easier to shuffle very slowly rather than walk, so the better half and I played a game of catch up. I would shuffle off. Then he would run to catch up with me and go back to a fast march. I would then catch up, overtake and repeat.

I also treated myself to some tunes today which made a world of difference. Nothing like a bit of Michael Jackson!

Today was quite an emotional day, but this time for a good reason - I was fairly staggered by how beautiful the dunes were. How lucky was I to be doing this and having this experience. I knew I wouldn't remember the pain of my leg once it was over, but I would remember the good parts.

The environment. The banter with other people about feet. Laughing out loud with the better half over some funny joke. The relief of crossing the finish line each day and being welcomed in with a clap, a smile and a cup of steaming hot mint tea. Even the freeze-dried food.

In a way what I found most refreshing was the race empties your mind of anything other than a) when was the last time you drank b) when was the last time you had a salt tablet c) when was the last time you ate (with a little bit of foot anxiety in between). Worries about daily life, work, or relationships disappear. It is a bit like finally being able to meditate, but in a non-happy clappy way.

Regardless of enjoying today's race, my body is starting to moan. At the finish I collapse completely and utterly exhausted. I can't move. I can't eat. I can't talk. My body is beginning to give up on me. It doesn't want anything in it though I force down a few dates, some salt tablets and another litre of water as I'm quite dehydrated.

I fall into a dark dreamless sleep, apprehensive and eager for tomorrow to come and go.

The rest day: marathon des sables

Can of coke? On a carpet? In a sleeping bag? In the Sahara? Don't mind if I do

Oh the relief. A day off. Our plan of stopping at checkpoint 5 to sleep worked well as we got in just after 9am on the rest day, but having had a good nights sleep as well.

Unfortunately this meant our placing was now towards the bottom, but I didn't care. I was so close to giving up yesterday because of my painful leg but I hadn't.

The long day was behind me. Only a marathon and 10 miles to go. Easy!

And a day of rest. Oh it was divine.

There has not been a day where I not wanted to do anything more than sit in the desert in a sleeping bag on a carpet drinking coke. So I did. And it was great.

Never mind that about an hour before the above photo was taken it was hailing. Yes hailing. In the Sahara. With a vicious sandstorm to boot. Some poor soles (ho ho) were still shuffling it in from the day before (not so ho ho)

Stage 4: 81.5km (50 1/2 miles)

About half way down the HUGE dune

And it arrives! The day of doom.

Tried to think positively (see my PMA training has paid off!) by thinking of those poor people whose feet are much worse than mine.

I've been religiously getting my blisters cleaned and taped by Doc Trotters each evening and am starting to see the evidence of some severely wounded feet. Mincemeat comes to mind.

So with that positive thought tucked safely in I set off.

As usual we started to jog to the first checkpoint but hat the stop as got too hot. I see a theme occurring here...

Pre checkpoint 1 we had to climb a long, steep rocky ascent, followed by the most fun I've had out here - a technical descent down the biggest sand dune I've ever seen. The organisers had to add a rope to hold onto to descend, but many people just ran down. I'm sure some of them would have lost their footing and rolled down. Faster I guess at least.

Trotted through some flat rocky plains to reach checkpoint 2. I had noticed my left ankle had started twinging. I tried to ignore it. Mind over matter. But unfortunately it got progressively worse.

I stopped halfway through checkpoint 2 to try and tape it up. Then at checkpoint 3 I had to ask them to tape it some more and supply me with some strong painkillers.

So frustrating.

This is the thing I've found about Marathon des Sables. It's not really all about fitness. It is a bit about luck. You may get blisters. You may not. You may get dehydrated. You may not. You may develop shin splints when you've never had a problem with them before. Or you may not. It's a bit of a gamble.

You can either go for it and be a competitor, and risk not finishing. Or you can err on the side of caution and be a completer - hobbling through it all come what may. There were a lot of teeth gritted out there let's say!

One of the high points of being a completer rather than a competitor was on day 4 the elites set off three hours after the rest of the field, so at around 1-2pm you see them all overtaking you.

Pretty incredible to watch them. My favourite, other than the legend that is Ahansal, was our incredibly talented Jen Salter. Women do tend to do better the further they run, and Jen is outstanding. Felt very proud to be British and a woman as she raced past.

And then I went back to my comical hobble/shuffle.

As the sun started to go down, we all entered the twilight zone. And dunes. Bastards.

I started to fantasise about sleeping while hobbling again, and begun to see motorway bridges. Not quite sure why. I kept thinking I was running underneath the M25.

More painkillers at checkpoint 4. And on. If it wasn't for the better half I think there is a chance I may have given up here. I was in pain, tired and tearful. My leg had ballooned.

We trekked on as we entered the dark phase (in more ways than one). The headtorches came on. The glowsticks attached to our bags. We past people kipping in their sleeping bags.

Along the way we gained a friend. A Korean man tagged onto the back of our train. I think he was feeling a bit low as well and wanted some company. Was quite touched on reaching checkpoint 5 that he wanted a photo with us. The most I could muster through those kilometres was a few grunts and shouts of pain.

I think the better half secretly enjoyed this phase as at one point we had a train of around 15 people with him leading the way. I heard the word "marines" mentioned a few times.

We made the not-difficult decision to get our heads down at checkpoint 5. I was really upset by this as I wanted to get it finished, but my leg was having non of it. We ended up sleeping for 7 hours which became a bit of a joke among our friends. And probably for those at home who know how much my better half and I love our sleep!

5am we carried on. Some malt loaf, salt tablets, immodium and painkillers were order of the day! The morning was a different story. It was light. We felt refreshed. It was cool. So we managed the last two checkpoints in record time and got in before 10am, giving us a full rest day, and having had some kip.

Seeing and finally crossing that finish line was stupidly emotional. The race wasn't over, but I was in bits. I was so relieved I hadn't given up. I was so grateful to the better half and I was so bloody relieved to stop moving!

Stage 3: 35km (21 3/4 miles)

Pretty happy chappy here

The nerves at the start line have been replaced by mild excitement and mild dread in equal doses. The days are starting to fall into a bit of a routine now.

All you think about is the next checkpoint. Do anything else and you will die. Your head cannot stray further than the next checkpoint, the next step even. Thinking too far ahead will mess with your mind. I refused to think about the dreaded day 4.

Most days start at 8:30am which gives enough time to jog up to the first checkpoint, before it gets too hot. It then turns into a fast march/hobble the rest of the way, with the sparse flat, not too hot sections jogged.

This morning's description in the roadbook was a "false, flat ascent". In other words: uphill.

Started jogging. Turned into a powerwalk as started overheating. I thought I'd be quite good in the heat as I generally operate about two degrees cooler than other people. I also did some sweaty yoga in London. Seems laughable here. Though I have heard it does help! I'm not really sure what else UK bods can do to acclimatize other than get a fair few heat chamber sessions in or go live in Morocco.

I was also increasingly worried about the effects of the heat as one of our tentmates had unfortunately been pulled from the race. We found him on the eve of day 2, grey with pulsing calf muscles. He was delirious. Seven drips later he returned and tried stage 1 of today's race, but dehydrated again and had to have another drip. Game over.

So with that thought, I carried steadily, boringly slowly on.

Stage 3, in the end, was really rather enjoyable. Stunning views. Bit of banter with fellow shufflers. Shuffled through a herd of camels who looked on mildly in confusion. More panic over ever-increasing blisters. (Annoyingly the better half got one blister the whole race. ONE. That's it! And on his little toe. It's embarrassing. All that prep for blister taping and nada!).

The best part was the last few kilometres where we managed to actually RUN. The temperature must have cooled slightly and it was nice and flat, so we gunned it. It felt like we were Usain Bolt, though I expect in reality we were going at 12 min mile pace.

No matter, it was great fun and captured the essence of what I wanted from this. Freedom, satisfaction, joy and relief.

Stage 2: 38.5km (24 miles)

Endless, endless valley beds

More Patrick Bauer chat. More ACDC. And....shuffle!

Felt pretty good after stage 1. Kept an eye on the blisters. On reflection I was rather paranoid about them. Been looking at too many gruesome pictures of people's feet. They got worse today, but were still manageable. Thank goodness I wasn't getting any on any weight bearing areas.

Stage 2 was a cool 52 degrees. I couldn't really tell the difference between this and stage 1 to be honest. It was just hot full stop.

Stop press: I managed to shuffle all the way to checkpoint 1 today! Rather pleased with myself. We then hit some small dunes (dunettes - how cute!) followed by another loooooooonnnnggggg valley bed stretch. The valley beds seem to hold the heat in more and are a little like an alternative reality. You move but you don't. You can see the trees in the distance (or can you?) but they don't come any closer.

Until they do.

Pretty tired by the third checkpoint but still had about 10km of dunettes (not so cute now). My overwhelming need at this point was to lay down and sleep. I was even fantasising about working out how to sleep while shuffling and tried it a bit.

Managed to shuffle in the last half kilometre or so.

I was very pleased to reach "home" today. By now our camp was complete luxury to me. A sight for sore eyes. Sultan tea sponsors the Marathon des Sables so you are welcomed over the finish line with a hot cup of sweet Moroccan mint tea. Heavenly.

Stage 1: 33.8km (21 miles)

You won't be smiling in 5 hours time

Oh the nerves! It was rather strange as I knew I wasn't going to all out for a pb, it was going to be more of a shuffle race, but I was so incredibly nervous before we started.

Each day starts with a round up of news from the infamous Patrick Bauer, the founder of the MDS. The briefing includes information about the course du jour, birthday wishes,and the elites and their placement. Excitement is increased with a daily rendition of ACDC's "Highway to Hell". Then we're off! And shuffle!

The first day I found fairly pleasant.

This was probably because I walked all of it.

My better half aka Captain Sensible said "We're come here with two objectives. 1) To finish 2) To enjoy it. So let's not burn out on the first day."

Agreed.

Stage 1 (day 1) was a mild 46 degrees apparently. It felt hot anyway. I endearingly named my hands "sausage fingers" as they were so swollen. Dread to think what my poor feet were looking like. I can only imagine them thinking "wtf! WHY have you stuffed me in two pairs of socks, doused me in talc and decided to shuffle 21 miles in 46 degrees?!"

Day 1 I managed to acquire a couple of blisters on both big toes. Fairly impressed by them really.

The day started fairly flat, and passed through some old ruins. Children came tumbling out to say hello, and steal stuff out of our side pockets. I think Patrick Bauer may have placed them their to get us slower movers going faster.

Our first technical ascent and descent came after the first checkpoint. It was pretty tough but not horrendous. All that hill training definitely paid off as my legs felt good powering up the slopes. The view from the top was just magical.

Our excitement changed rapidly on the downhill as we started to see the first casualties. One Japanese man puking for Japan. Another guy sat convulsing along the first valley bed.

And take salt tablet and drink water.

And drink a bit more just in case.

And now eat because I'm now paranoid I've drunk too much.

And repeat.

A couple of ridiculously hot, hot, hot valleys later, we began the last climb up a sandy ascent, followed by the first glimpse of camp about 3km away.

Oh the agony! It's like a carrot in front of a donkey. Never comes closer.

Until it does. And it did. And we finished. Phew!

I did lie earlier. We did run. We ran about 200m then gave up as it was too hot. But we tried.

Day zero: Camp life on the Marathon des Sables

Marathon des Sables is more than just running. It's a different way of life for a week. Two days before the race starts, we head out to the desert to settle into what will be our home.

After five hours on the road comes a rather amusing cattle lorry ride - with-bags-and-all - for a couple of kilometres. Blinking nervously once the lorry doors open, we all descend down and into the strangely familiar sight of a semi-circle of black canvas tents, peppered with berbers and camels.

Tent 61 is my tent. I am sharing with my two friends, better half, and two laid back Israeli guys. We are lucky to only have six people. The tents do hold up to eight.

The tents are pretty robust. They consist of a large sheet of black canvas nailed down into the ground and supported by wooden poles. The berbers take these tents down and reassemble them on every stage. I thought we'd be sleeping on bare ground but they put down a red-coloured carpet as well - luxury! The tents can be adjusted slightly, which is really useful to know if there is a sandstorm.

Tent 61 ends up being a rather valued tent. We are the first tent on the left as you finish. Those spared metres end up being a godsend after trekking all day! Tent 61 also faces opposite the legend that is Mohamed Ahansel - one of Morocco's finest runners. I found it fairly staggering that little old me could be opposite such an elite runner. What other races offer this opportunity?

Before the race starts, runners are looked after in what I thought was 5-star luxury. Food and drink is provided. And it's good food. Crusty bread, fresh yogurt, spaghetti bolognaise with parmesan cheese, creamy mushroom soup. Even red wine is thoughfully given in the evenings!

The purpose of going out earlier is to go through all the logistics - medical sign offs, kit check, final bag pack. So for the whole of day zero, all 800 plus nervous racers packed, unpacked, repacked, took things out, put them back, then panic bought from the "shop" cleverly engineered.

My bag ended up weighing 9kg pre water, which is fairly reasonable. Bags tend to range between 6.5kg-15kg.

The checks went well for me. My ECG was signed off and no one wanted to see the contents of my bag. Now just the anxious wait till stage 1.

The final countdown: Endurance Life marathon

The final box to tick in terms of training for the Marathon des Sables was to run a hard, hilly, hot marathon with the full 10kg bag. This ended up being the Endurance Life marathon held around Seven Sisters and Beachy Head (no I didn’t have any second thoughts…), in Eastbourne.

Bizarrely I wasn’t nervous at all which is quite unusual for me. I think this was because I knew it was a training run, and I was also very aware that this would be a walk in the park compared to the looming race ahead.

It also was a bit of a treat – I was getting out of London to a beautiful part of England, the sun was shining and I had plenty of food supplies on my back to keep me going :-)

The race started as it meant to go along. Hills. I tried running up them all but gave up.

Not really. I reckon if I was just doing this as my big race I would have given it my all. I very much doubt I could have run up all of them – around Seven Sisters was a killer – but my strategy for the race was to finish it feeling good and confident I could get up and do it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.

So I walked up the hills and shuffled the rest.

Most of the race was filled with very nice people. However my spirits were dampened a little by some dude doing the 10k who told me to “come on!” up a hill. It actually really bothered me. I started getting upset that I was really slow (all my other team mates finished at least half an hour ahead of me) and that I wouldn’t finish Marathon des Sables.

Stupidly I didn’t reason with myself that a) I was running a marathon and b) I was carrying 10kg c) it was hot, and that I had every right to be slow.

The other 99% of runners were wonderful, and why I like being part of this community. I chatted with a few runners along the way about what they were doing and their journey there. I had claps and shouts of encouragement from others, which really helped lift my spirits.
Overall I felt fine niggle and injury wise throughout the race. However I did feel a bit nauseous at various points. I’m not sure if this was down to the heat (gawd help me! Was only about 22 degrees I reckon) or my shiny, new prescription sunglasses. I had a couple of chafing marks around my left shoulder and left hip, and my shoulders were a bit sore. I also, worryingly, developed a blister after about 6 miles. I never get blisters! Argh! Why now?

So the lessons I learnt from this final preparation run for Marathon des Sables were this:-
1) Sort your bag out before you run. I hadn’t secured my side straps – hence the chafing. I ran with one side much lower than the other the entire race!
2) Check your water bottles don’t leak and you can access them easily. I’ve got Raidlight bottles and they were pretty useless – leaking sticky electrolyte drink everywhere.
3) Taping is key! Tape your feet before you race. Get used to taping. Don’t tape after the blister has developed.
4) Prepare a playlist of a different mix of songs. Running for hours and hours is a little boring at times. Music helps you through the dark bits, though 6 hours of trance music is not the best!
5) Packing your bag is a military operation. Know where everything is and pack in order of when you will need things. Keep vital equipment to hand.
6) Work out a hydration and food strategy. I’m going with 150ml of fluid every 15 minutes. That’s just under a large Raidlight bottle an hour. I’m also going to eat every hour or so – small, but regular.

Country to Capital ultra race review

Country to capital 45 is a yearly ultra race organised by GoBeyond Ultra. It begins in Wendover, Bucks and ends in Paddington, London. The first half covers 20 miles or so of rolling countryside and villages taken out of tourism brochures. The last 25 miles runs along the Grand Union Canal back into London.

As this was my first official ultra race I have nothing to compare it to, but I thought it was really well organised and a very friendly race.

The only thing that threw me a little was you need basic map skills as you are given a map which highlights the route. There are no sign markers anywhere. Fine - if you are Mrs Speedy Ultra Runner. A little bit scary if you are Mrs Back of Pack Ultra Runner. On the plus it does mean you can go to the loo in peace knowing hordes of runners are not about to come past.

The race is nicely broken down into six checkpoints, one every 7.5 miles or so, where friendly stewards cheer you on and give you water supplies and cake. At the half way point pork pies and sausage rolls await the meat eaters. Alas! us vegetarian runners had to make do with salt and vinegar crisps and jelly babies. (N.B. I have discovered a previously unknown talent - hoovering crisps up on the run - who knew?!)


No I don't want a sausage roll but thanks for offer!

The big difference I found with this ultra race compared to sub-marathon distance races was the friendliness and banter between runners and with the stewards. This may have been because I wasn't trying for a time, I just wanted to finish the race, so I was able to take the time to have chats with people. That, plus the fact I was running at a snail's pace - proper MDS shuffle! - you are able to talk, which also helps!

Amusingly, towards the end it felt a bit like being in sports day at an old people's home. For about two minutes you could hear "pff pff pff pff grunt, sniff, pff, pff, groan, cough". Then gradually another runner would come into your line of sight, shuffling slowly past you, small nod and grunt hello, before edging forward over the course of another two minutes by a few metres or so.

This would repeat about 10 minutes later with you then overtaking said runner when they decided the shuffle had to come down a gear into a painful penguin hobble.

Along the way I met a couple of other people who are running the marathon des sables this year. We had the usual banter about kit and training. It was very reassuring to talk to others and find out what they are up to, and where they are at with training. It seems we all seem to be doing around the same things, which makes me feel okay about what training I am currently doing for the marathon des sables.

I also met a lot of other ultra runners who are doing some pretty insane things. One runs these 24 hour transcendence races, another - a triple ironmen (he was 50 but looked about 30). Respect.

How did I feel during the ultra race?
Well, strangely I felt great mentally - which for anyone who has read past posts has been a bit of a trouble spot for me. I think the breakdown of the race into checkpoints really helped. Also, I just refused to think about the race as being 45 miles. I just didn't think about it at all. Having rewards, such as taking a walk, listening to music or eating some food was also key to keeping me sane.

Physically, it was a different matter. I've been a little under the weather of late - only a cold - plus I had stupidly pulled my thigh muscles in a particularly strenuous yoga session (I mean come on!) the day before, so I just felt rather nauseous and tired throughout the whole thing.

One lady at a checkpoint suggested perhaps I had taken on too many sugary foods or electrolytes, which I think was probably true. Hydration is always at the forefront of my mind but I often forget you can over hydrate as well, which is an important lesson to remember.

In all honesty it was bloody hard and actually made me a little worried and daunted about having to do that after three long days, in hot temperatures with all your kit on your back. But I'm going to keep positive. After all the marathon des sables is 90% mental strength!

And after it had finished (and still now) I feel like I'm glowing - I (little old me!) ran 45 miles. Me! Whenever I feel a bit crap it's something to remember to give myself a pat on the back for, no matter how slow I was.

And I so want to do another one so it can't be that bad. Next time I just want to overtake that 70 year old first.