100km de Millau

When you have an opportunity to sit back, relax and chill you realize how lucky you are.... I had this happen this weekend.

Niandi and myself were fortunate to be in Provence for the 100km de Millau. This is very much ‘the’ 100km race to do in France. 2010 was the 39^th edition, so, not only is it the race to do it is also the one with a history.

Millau is situated appx 70km inland from Montpellier and so therefore very easy to get to for a weekend. I flew Ryanair and the flight cost me just £30. However, I did get stung on baggage, my fault, but ironically the extras I had to pay cost more than the flight; c’est la vie!

I had booked a hire car for the journey to Millau. Although only 70k, public transport to and from Millau is limited and when you consider the ease of travel, a £70 hire car is well worth the investment.

Kit for the race

Millau is in the ‘Aveyron’ and nestled in a valley. In September the temperatures vary considerably and I therefore say ‘be prepared’ if you travel here. Niandi had warned me that it can get chilly but typically I told her not to be silly.... it was Provence after all! Lesson learnt. It can get chilly. Our initial logic. A nice bed pre race and a nice bed post race. The logic of camping was that we enjoy it and it helps reduce costs, however, post race, cool winds and cold nights we decided a cheap hotel was a much better option. So, here I am writing the blog in a room instead of under canvas

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Niand and our good friend, Amme Valero (Mizuno Trail Athlete)

The race is highly respected in France and has similar status to Comrades – not only in reputation but in profile. It is a road 100km over a hilly route. The race also incorporates a marathon and works on a figure of eight course.

Starting in the centre of Millau you head out on a 42km route to finish at race registration. Of course, the marathon runners stop here, the 100km runners carry on for another 38 miles; yes, 38 miles! Sounds a long way when you say it like that...

The Race

I have really mixed feelings about the race. This was Niandi’s race and the plan was for me to pace her to a PB. Her previous best on the course was a superb sub 10:30. Over the last 16 weeks Niandi had trained to a plan designed by me to help that extra zip required to beat that time. However on race day things did not click.... The previous night she had had a restless sleep and sweated heavily. Looking back she had probably lost key electrolytes and hydration. Also, she was suffering with stomach issues.

We started on plan and to be absolutely honest Niandi ran a superb marathon, finishing at race registration in 4:01; we were bang on target! At this point she told me she was pulling out... I was a little taken aback. She had run a great race and looked in control but she knows her body and she quite rightly new that she could not keep the pace.

This left a dilemma which we debated for 10 mins.... the clock ticked by and it was decided that I would run on leaving Niandi to continue running at a pace that she could handle. It was a tough call. I find this difficult because I was running for Niandi, but I had to accept that my running with her was actually putting too much pressure on her... so, of I went. Niandi made a very brave decision to re pin her number on and step back onto the course with just one and a half marathons to go..... yep! One and a half to go.... real guts. I know how deflated she was and to throw in the towel, re hydrate and relax was a really tempting option which she refused to accept. This for me signifies the ‘ultra’ runner, it is that ability to focus the mind and accept the pain. Is this good? I am not sure. Did she make the right decision? I am not sure. BUT and this is a big BUT, I know what it is like to bail from a race. That moment when you pull out seems the right thing to do, however, sometimes 10 mins later you can feel fine and then think why didn’t I carry on.... better to fail trying than not try I guess.

So, I had to re focus. I had the urge to go sub 10 hours which on this course is a good time. However, I had lost the best part of 15 mins debating with Niandi and to be honest my legs felt shot. The race I had done the previous weekend in Menton had left my quads battered. Yes it had only been 17k but I had raced full out on a tough, technical trail course.

I turned the iPod on, put the volume up and started on the journey. I never use an iPod when racing but I had thought that for a road 100k it may prove useful; it did! In fact it was a revelation. I had compiled a 2gb playlist of fast, rocky, electronic music to set a beat. A great mix of Gatecrasher, AC/DC, Faithless, jean Michel Jarre, Afro Celt Sound System and so on... the tunes just banged away and helped dictate a pace.

From 42k the course gets tough. It is basically an out and back to St Affrique over three tough climbs that you do ‘out’, turn at St Affrique and then repeat on the way back.

I need to mention here the one thing I HATED about this race. Runners are allowed ‘seconds’. You often get this in long trail races where a ‘second’ can join you usually around the 60 mile mark to help guide you to the finish. In this race, seconds were allowed from 7k and they were on bikes.... boy did it **ss me off. They were all over the place and just caused a distraction. I just don’t get it. Feed stations were every 5k and they were superbly stocked with water, electrolyte, coke and a whole selection of food and yet you who had runners with a cyclist next to them carrying the local supermarket. Aaaaagh !!!

Surely these races are about preparation, how you plan and control of your effort over the 100km route. I ran with a camelback with 2ltrs of electrolyte, I carried 12 gels and I supplemented en route via the feeds.... why can’t everyone else? It may be a French thing, I have seen it before. Earlier in the year I ran a marathon when seconds were allowed. Why for a marathon? Rant over.... needless to say it really got me wound up and maybe it contributed to me knocking out a decent pace.

Back to the race.

From the moment I was alone my legs eased and to be honest from mile 26 to 52 I was running pretty comfortable. In fact I don’t think my legs have ever felt so good. Yes they hurt, of course they did. I was running an ultra, but they hurt in a way that I could control. I was also using new compression by ‘compressport’ – I had calf and quad compression and after this race, I am a 100% convert. They worked superbly.

On the first climb up to the Viaduct de Millau, a superb piece of engineering – I put my head down and pushed. Runners here were starting to walk. Over the top I ran the downhill hard, maybe a little too hard as it can damage the quads. When the road flattened off I turned the volume up and tried to maintain 8:30 miles. Of course, 8:30 miles feel easy for me but you have to balance the distance, fatigue, hydration and energy. The second climb came and once again I eased my pace back and ran up passing more and more runners. This climb was a little like the climbs I cycled up in the Alps with switch back bends and short sharp gradients.

A sharp left and then a long decent to St Affrique. Again I pushed taking more and more places. This downhill battered the legs and actually thinking back, I preferred the uphill to the down.

We circumnavigated the town and then we had to go back the way we came. This was tough. The course was now in your head so I knew what lay ahead; pain.

To give an idea of my pacing and how I had controlled my effort, at the marathon timing point I was in 397^th place, at St Affrique I was in 142^nd place. All I needed to do now was push on.

The climb back up was tough and those leg and brain demons kept asking me to walk. I had to battle both and settled for a strategy of counting 500 strides running and 30 walking. It is really weird how the mind plays tricks... I was walking and my head said run, when I was running, my head said walk.

I saw Niandi coming the other way with the 12hr pacer. We stopped in the middle of the road, kissed, and she gave me a cross and chain for the onward journey; sweet.

The 75k feed came and I had my first ‘Coke’. I always like to wait until I feel I need it. The bubbles hit my throat and it re awakened my senses. I took a ham sandwich and cup of water and walked out of the feed. Better to be moving when eating and drinking than stood still! I ate the sandwich slowly, sipped the water and when all was gone pushed on.

I was now running with about 15 miles to go. The long downhill and back into the valley with the climb to the viaduct to come. My strategy was to take one more feed station and then not stop and push on and go for that sub 10.

At 52 miles my right quad went ‘ping’! I was stood at the side of the road hitting it and massaging. Within a few minutes it eased and re overtook all those that had gone past me. The bit was between my teeth. I had 8 miles to go and people on the other side were still heading out.... hats off to them. They were in for a long day and night. That is some real mental strength and motivation.

The climb to the viaduct came and again it was walk a little run, walk a little and run. Over the top I let myself go and thought to myself no point holding back now... my quads and calf’s were doing that little dance that they like to do; you know the one; are we gonna cramp or are we not?

I was back in Millau. 3k to go. 2k to go and then finally the longest 1k I have ever run. I turned right and entered the parc. I ran up the finishing straight and took the left turn to finish inside the registration building and cross the finish line. With 20m to go my right quad went ‘ping’, just in time for me to enter the finish chute at a walk. Finish time was 9:45 and 88^th overall. From 397^th at the marathon I had made over 300 places; happy with that!

Post race I sat with that vacant look everyone has. I drank about a litre of water and what must have been 10 glasses of Orangina. I got my bag from the store and then sat contemplating how I was going to bend down and take off my shoes and my compression clothing without going into some sort of ridiculous looking cramp spasm. An hour later I was back to normal. Clothes changed and back into 2010.

French races always have a very good post race meal offering for the runners; although Millau was not the best it was adequate. Warm soup and bread, rice and ham, yogurt and apple tart with lashings of water. You could even have a beer or wine if you really wanted to tip the dehydration balance.

So, my opening statement to this blog was “When you have an opportunity to sit back, relax and chill you realize how lucky you are....”

I had this opportunity to sit back and relax and watch runners of all shape, age and ability enter the finish shoot and meet and greet family as though they had not seen them for years! Elation, tears, happiness, personal triumphs had all been conquered. Time means nothing. The journey is what counts.

A young Dad crossed the line with his baby in his arms, two middle aged sons crossed the line with their Father; all three of them had run the race together.... the tears of the Father showed a true reflection of the spiritual journey the three of them had made. This journey was obviously not lost on the three wives who waited for the three heroes. Equally it wasn’t lost on me as I shed a tear at the joy it had brought them all. Racing is about a journey and as I have always said, only one person wins, so, why take part....

The 12hr pacer came in exactly on pace at just before 10pm. No Niandi. Of course each minute that ticked by felt like a lifetime. Eventually at 12:15 on the clock Niandi entered the chute. I was up and waited for her with open arms.

Brave lady. It took some effort to head back out on that course with only 26 miles covered and be prepared to fight the internal demons, a tough course and obvious fatigue. BUT she did it and I know now the day after that Niandi is happy that she soldiered on.... of course it took its toll. She is asleep in the hotel bed while I write this blog.

Still, we avoided the tent..... ;-)

http://www.100kmdemillau.com

post race treats at two superb restaurants, L'Estivale and Mangeoire

South of France

I have been in the South of France this week. Yes, I realize you all think it's a jolly. To be honest, it has been a combination of things. Firstly and most importantly it was my Dads Birthday 0n the 18th and Menton was the place he loved.... so with that in mind, Mum wanted to be in Menton for 'his' day. When you keep in mind that we spread Dads ashes here you see the relevance. It therefore has been a trip with lots of emotion. Not a trip I would miss but one that can leave you feeling a little drained.

In addition I still have to work and write plans. Thank goodness for computers and wifi. It really doesn't matter where you are, as long as you have these things, your office can be any place in the world. Lets face it, I would prefer the South of France to anywhere....

Also it has allowed me time to get some warm weather training in before Niandi and myself tackle the 100km de Millau (in Provence) on the 25th. I am glad it has worked out this way as it has been really hot here and coming from the UK temperatures meant one or two days adapting.

I love Menton, as a family we have been coming to Menton for over 30 years. It is a little known jewel. It is the 'last' place in France as the Italian border is just at the end of the Promenade in Garavan. It therefore has a wonderful mix of French and Italian culture and of course, a nice mix of food.

Menton was a superb base in my cycling days as it gave me the option to cycle in the Maritime Alps. This I did year after year and many of those rides had my Dad along for company; special memories.

The French love food and in this area they have a wonderful passion for fresh produce and in particular seafood. The daily market is wonderful. You see such great characters who have a devotion to gastronomy that is without equal.

Of course I have a passion for food, not only as a photographer but as a 'customer'. Nothing gives me more pleasure than a lovely dinner in the warm September sun. It really is perfect.

Whilst here I have been running twice a day as I fine tweak my form to Millau and prepare for Venice Marathon. On Wednesday I was in a local trail/ running shop and the owner asked me if I was racing at the weekend? Of course my ears pricked up. Race? Yes he said, a trail race in the mountains...

I made a mental note and looked for posters around the town. Of course it was Saturday (day before the race) when I found a poster. The race started in Sospel some 18k away and on the other side of the mountains. I knew the area well as I had trained on these exact roads - Col de Braus, Col de Castillion, Col de Turini.... I decided it wouldn't be possible to race. Logistically it was too short notice and I had no transport.

I left my mum and headed back to the hotel to do some work. As I walked alng the beach I saw a marquee that was obviously sport related. Curiosity killed the cat and thank god it did... it turned out that this was race registration. Not only that, it was the race finish, literally 500m from the hotel.

I asked about transport and they told me that for 1 euro I could be transferred to the race start at 0900 on Sunday; sold!!! I was in.

They had three races: 53k, 29k and 17k. For once, sense took hold and Ientered the 17k. With one week to Millau I didn't want to exhaust myself. I knew the 17k would be tough anyway as the trails and mountains around this area are tough! Turned out to be the correct decision.

The bus arrived late. About 20 min late so I was worried about making the start. The other runners looked anxious too. It turned out not to be a problem. We arrived on time, quick briefing and we were off...

No warm up, straight into basically a 4/5 mile up hill run on very tough terrain. It was a walk/ jog strategy. The heat was up, heart rate was up and I was pouring with sweat. I had decided to give this race a 'go'. I had this idea that it was only 17k!! Yeah yeah.

I moved up the field and settled with 2 other guys. When we reached the top, one guy pulled away and I chased. From here it was really technical trail running over rocky, gnarly terrain. Thank god I had trail shoes. Road shoes were just not up to the job.

The views and the trail was superb. I was loving it. It felt great to be running on the spare of the moment on new trails and in glorious heat and sunshine.
Every now and then we had a check point that we had to 'dib in' with a transponder on our hands. It was quick stuff. When your running 17k you don't hang about. I was really pushing as you can see from my heart rate below.

When you compare heart rate to course profile, they don't match! You would expect HR to go down... not so. I was running so hard that basically you had no rest.

The trail battered your quads and feet (I recommend the 'Q' compression). Rocks, woods, ravines, some tarmac and then eventually we dropped under the auto route.
Menton and the sea was in sight now. We continued to drop and finally entered the Menton area via the old town.

Flying down the steps and pathways I reached the coast road, dropped to the beach front and crossed the line for 5th place - top work.

It was one seriously tough race and a real pleasure to race hard over a short course.

This coming week now is about a few short runs, recovery and getting ready for 100km of hilly hot roads in Provence.

This race is about Niandi, not me. I don't plan to 'race'. Realistically it would be great if we could go sub 10:30. We shall see, if Niandi has a good day and I can pace her well this is a realistic challenge. However, the course is tough.

Keep running....

UTMB and Swimming The CHANNEL

After the excess of August, this last week has been pretty easy. I have run twice a day but no speed and no hills. My runs were steady miles between 7:30 and 8:30 pace. The only exception to this was Sunday when I headed out on local trails and ran for 16.5 miles in the sunshine. It was a nice run but my legs were not as fresh as I would have liked. Just a little ‘tiredness’ in my quads.

To be honest, more important things have happened this last week than me going out for a run.

Firstly it was the UTMB (Ultra Trail Mont Blanc). A mountainous trail over 100 miles that covers several countries. The race has only been going for 7/8 years but it has become ‘one to do’. Obviously it is very tough. You have the terrain to contend with, the distance, changes in weather and altitude. Tough! The race started on Friday evening, the 20^th. By the early hours of Saturday morning the race was stopped!! The organisation decided that conditions had become too dangerous and therefore made the decision to pull the plug on the race and get everybody back to safety. I had friends in the race who had covered appx 31k. Obviously gutted they returned to hotels. However, the organisation made some quick decisions and apparently notified UTMB entrants that they could start the shorter CCC race at 98km at 1000am. So, with no sleep, stress and obvious fatigue approximately 1,000 runners re started. It turned out to be a classic with a British winner in the male and female class – congratulations to Jez Bragg and Lizzie Hawker – stunning.

http://www.ultratrailmb.com/

Jezz Bragg - http://jezbragg.blogspot.com/

Lizzie Hawker - http://lizzyhawker.blogspot.com/

Secondly, my great friend David Granger after 2 years training arrived in Dover on Friday morning to swim the Channel. As you all know, I have done Ironman which entails a 3.8km swim. The Channel though is 21 miles and that is providing you take the shortest route. It is NOT for me. I will have a go at most things but not swimming for that length of time. What makes Dave’s challenge all the more special is that he is in remission from throat cancer. He found out about the illness in 2006/7 and came through the dark times to embrace endurance sport with a new lease of life. After only a few weeks of the ‘all clear’ he cycled the ‘whole’ of the Tour de France route with the Geoff Thomas Foundation. An absolutely awesome undertaking and one that he conquered in true style. Dave was featured in the TV documentary ‘The Wheel Heroes’ that charted the journey of the 3 week journey and urge you all to try and watch it. He achieved the nickname ‘Custard Man’. Why? Well after the throat cancer he basically couldn’t eat normal food. His throat was so sensitive that normal food was just not possible. He needed calories and custard was tasty, liquid and relatively easy to get down, so, this was the food of choice for the 3 week epic journey. Of course he supplemented with gels (provided by SIS) and he drank milk. But his main food was custard. This was featured in an article in The Times newspaper. Please see the link here: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/sport/columnists/matt_dickinson/article2211157.ece

So as you can see, Dave is a motivated fella. In preparation he swam the Channel as relay in 2009 and the ‘team’ set a new world record for crossing the Channel. The time was appx 9.5 hours – quite stunning. The bit was between his teeth. Dave prepared meticulously and as you can imagine, he has been swimming every day, most days twice and all in open water without a wetsuit; brrrrrrr !

Friday 3^rd Sept was to be the day. He left at 0500 and by all accounts he was making great headway. He was well best halfway when he hit a current.

As you will see from the images I have provided below this current kept him away from the French Coastline. He was basically swimming parallel for hours just waiting for a change.

That change finally came in the evening and you will see from image two that he finally started to head back to land. He had been in the water 16.5 hours when finally his team pulled him from the water, agonisingly less than 1.5 miles from the French Coast.

WHAT A STAR! As Dave said, ‘the swim gods where against him’. He is right. I have no idea of the distance he swam but I am pretty damn sure it was more than 21 miles. He was in the water 16.5 hours. Yes, 16.5 hours!! I can’t imagine.... he will be back. He has already said so.

I don’t see Dave’s swim as a failure. I see it as a triumph. It is an inspirational story that will fuel others to take that step out of the door and put themselves on the line. You have all heard it before but this quote says far more than I ever could:

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."