D33 Race Report - failing to put theory into practice

This would be my 8^th Ultra-marathon and with 20-20 hindsight it’s probably fair to say I've become a little bit complacent about running Ultra’s. I'm also aware that since one of my pet hates is runners who make statements like "just ran a 31 minute 10K, might as well have walked, think I'll jack it in" or statements in a similar vein, that I might be falling into this vein. So apologies in advance, but I was disappointed with my time on Saturday. 

Whilst my overall training mileage this year is pretty much on a par with last year, I’ve not religiously been sticking to long weekend back to backs and I've let my fueling and hydration disciplines slip a bit, but then I’m a bit of an old campaigner at this Ultra game, am I not? 

I’d even mentally planned a blog post about the weird fashions we Ultra runners wear, because I thought the race would be a formality, and avid readers wouldn't want to read me banging on about yet another PB, would they?

Wrong………………………..my complacency and lack of respect for this extreme hobby well and truly bit me on the arse last Saturday.

The D33 as its’ name suggests is a 33 mile out and back run on the route of the old Deeside railway line. It’s pretty simple, run 16.5 miles to Banchory turn round and run back, pretty straight and relatively flat, more of a long marathon rather than a “proper” ultra I heard myself saying more than once.

Now I admit that after last year’s complete focus on the WHW race, this year I’ve given myself a challenging mix of ultra’s and marathons, with not the best of gaps between them. I’ve got the Lochaber marathon in 3 weeks’ time, followed by The Highland Fling, then the Edinburgh Marathon (raising funds for Cancer Research UK); support running at the WHW race for Andy B; the Lakeland 50 and then the Berlin Marathon. So this would suggest I should have adopted a cautious measured approach to the D33? Wrong again.

The 9am start saw just over 300 runners toeing the start line, despite the 4 hour drive to Aberdeen the evening before and a broken night sleep, I was not in any way nervous. However I didn't feel particularly “up for it” and despite a pretty good 20 mile road training run 2 weeks previously (7:50 average on a pretty hilly route) I didn't feel particularly well trained for it either.

After a typical no nonsense briefing from Epic Shit Racings’ George Reid, we were off. Having started too far back in the field at the Devilla Trail race a couple of weeks ago I’d deliberately positioned myself closer to the front to avoid dodging slower runners for the first mile or two. My very loose race plan was to run faster than 8:30 minute miles and see how it went, so I was a little surprised when the first mile passed in 7:22, not to worry I slowed it down to 7:28 for the second mile, really eased off with a 7:47 (can you hear the sarcasm in my typing yet?), but I reckoned I was banking valuable seconds which meant I could really ease off later on, Oh really Keith!

Around 4 miles I found myself running with the lovely Noanie and we chatted and blethered for probably around 5 miles, every mile relentlessly registering 7 minutes something, was I

Still looking good about 5 miles in

worried?, no of course not, I’m a seasoned veteran at this game, I know what I’m doing!

To be fair I genuinely felt strong, felt I wasn't killing myself and was enjoying the company, so I kept up a good clip all the way to the halfway point. I was already entertaining thoughts of a massive PB (last year I was 4:41ish) especially as I reckoned I was on target to hit the turn at around 2:10, so lots of scope to slow down later.

Sadly I’m not one of these people who can run fast, drink and breathe at the same time, so logically I sacrificed the drinking, even blasting past the water stop at 8 miles without a backward glance. I duly hit the turn around, having run every mile quicker than 8 minutes, even managing to fart around for photos as I picked up my drop bag. I topped up my isotonic drink (hardly touched), shoveled in my trademark Ambrosia rice pudding (with strawberry jam), barely noticing my shaky hands, probably stationary for 2 minutes, then I was off, Noanie had hardly stopped here and went on to finish in a blistering 4:20:29 1^st female Vet, well deserved.

Now on the return leg I managed to hold my pace to mile 20, then the wheels on my wagon started to wobble, I was a- feeling thirsty a b- really struggling to maintain the pace, but I knew

Farting around at the turn

I’d banked so much time over last year, that a PB was still nailed on, wasn't it, surely?

By the time I reached the water stop with 8 miles to go I wasn't in a happy place, I was starting to crave water, I couldn't stomach my isotonic and I probably wasn't thinking straight. The water stop is laid out with pre-poured cups of water and big 5 litre bottles for refilling from, so logically Ainslie grabs the only bottle on the table with a sports cap, squeezes the contents into my own bottle and pootles off. I remember feeling quite strong and I caught up with Keziah Higgins (who also went on to a great finish (7^th lady in 4:35:53) and chatted briefly with her. 

I took a big swig from my refilled water bottle and relief, well actually no, whatever was in the bottle wasn't water, God knows what it was but it tasted truly awful, undrinkable and I eventually poured it out. I’m pretty sure it was really a bottle of pee, well I hope not!

So in summary so far, I've gone off far faster than planned, failed to drink enough, failed to refill with something I could actually drink and I’m starting to feel a bit rubbish. What more could possibly go wrong?

As I got to mile 27 I found out. I only had to maintain 10 minute miles to PB. But “Bugger, I’m starting to cramp up”. The last 6 miles were horrid, I could barely maintain a run, I was being passed by everyone (particularly depressing after last year’s strong finish), and I kept having to stop to stretch out and fend off full on cramp. Quads, calves, hamstrings and even bizarrely my left bicep all joined in the cramp party. My Garmin tells me I was stationary for a full 4 minutes at various points in the last 6 miles.

In true Ultra family fashion everyone that passed asked if I was OK, and if I needed anything, but as I cursed and swore and mired around in my dehydrated and cramp induced self-pity, I declined and just wanted to get it over with. With a mile to go I knew that I was way off beating my PB and I had neither the brass neck nor the power or ability to muster up my usual sprint finish, so I duly shuffled over the line in 4:47, 5 minutes slower than last year to receive my 3^rd D33 medal, 76^th out of an eventual 305 finishers. 

I necked 4 cups of water and then lay down on the tarmac, feeling crap and sick. I swore I’d never run the D33 again and told anyone who was in earshot that I felt worse today than after the 95 miles of the WHW race. A huge positive split 2:10 for the outward leg 2:37 for the return.

Thank the Lord it's nearly over

Now that the dust has settled and my legs don’t feel quite so sore I've had time to take stock and think about what went wrong, so here goes

• I've never had a bad Ultra, the previous 7 had all gone exactly to plan or better, so when it all went tits up, it was new territory for me
• I didn't treat the race or distance with the respect it deserves and it bit back
• I lacked specific race oriented training, but the mix of marathons and Ultras I’m trying to achieve make this pretty much impossible for me
• I just plain didn't drink enough, I could maybe have held a better pace in the second half, but not on 500ml of water for 33 miles, if I’m dehydrated my ability to run falls of a cliff
• Cramp is a show stopper for me, and almost certainly caused by not drinking enough
• Although my overall mileage is on par with last year, I’m almost certainly not as Ultra fit as I was last year

On the plus side Ann and I actually made it to the after party in Stonehaven, which was great, and 4:47 is still a pretty respectable time, and no-one died, it is after all only a hobby.

Congratulations to Epic Shit Racing’s George Reid and Karen Donaghue for organizing a superb event, thanks to all the marshals and helpers for making everything run smoothly and thanks to my fellow Ultra runners for your company, enthusiasm, concern and achievements.

To the bevvy of Ultra virgins, well done, be proud of what you have all achieved.

Despite swearing I’ll never run the bloody race again, I suspect I’ll probably be back next March to add to my medal collection.

Not the Devilla Forest 15K Trail Race

I'm not entirely sure how I ended up on the start line for this race, I suspect I fell prey to the Facebook hype of "get your entry in quick or it'll be sold out!". Never the less Sunday 23rd February found me doing just that!
The weather on Saturday night was truly foul, with torrential rain and gale force winds in Dumfries and it didn't abate for the drive up either, on the railway bridge at Nunholm, one rain squall actually blew horizontally across the road, yes horizontal rain and gales ideal trail racing weather.
My geographic fail for the day was deciding that Tulliallan Police College was miles over the Kincardine Bridge, rather than the 3 minute drive it actually is. I must have been about the 3rd car in the car park, arriving well over an hour before the 11am start.
Collecting my race number, chip timer and bottle of Scheihallian beer took all of 5 seconds, surname beginning with A, your name is pretty much always top of the list.
I had time for a leisurely coffee in the onsite Costa Cafe, pin on my number  and decide that I was going to be soft and wear my OMM Kameilka, plus hat and gloves. I bumped in to an old friend from Venture Scout days, Susan Martin, who was running along with her husband David, it was nice to catch up however brief.
My back was still playing up a bit, so I decided that I'd lie down in the corridor to ease it off, so yes I was the weird person lying flay out on the floor near the loos.
The chip timer was of the loop it through your laces variety and since my Speedcross 3 trail shoes are of the speed lace/closed loop variety I headed off 10 minutes before start to grab some cable ties, this was first time out the box for these trainers, having arrived from Amazon only 24 hours previously.
I managed to squeeze in (or out) another two pre-race pees before we were called forward for the race brief, which as usual no one could hear. I'd tried to gauge my start position in the crowd of 500 or so, as about 1/3 of the way from the front, but as soon as we were off it was clear I was too far back. The first 300 yards or so are on tarmac where I overtook as many as I could then it was straight onto  forest roads.
Now a good wide forest road, on a trail race, should be somewhere you can pass people, unless of course you're trying to pass people running as a couple chatting merrily away, or having to dodge people who are trying to avoid the mud and puddles. Its a trail race for Christ's sake, you are going to get wet and muddy, if you don't want to get wet and muddy why did you sign up for a trail race in the first place? OK rant over, that's it off my chest.
I've written before on this blog that I'm always tremendously impressed by fellow bloggers who seem to remember every twist and turn, every runner they pass and every nuance of the course, as usual I can't actually remember much detail of the course. I do however recollect about 2 miles in, taking  left turn off the road onto a very narrow "path" and coming to a complete stop on a couple of occasions due to congestion and thinking "this is a bit narrow early on in a big trial race", virtually nil overtaking opportunities, now remember this point because it'll be important later on!
Whilst the route isn't flat, its probably the closest trail race you'll ever find to flat, there were a couple of slopes, but nothing steep at all!, My poor choice of starting position was confirmed as I was pretty much passing people all the time, which proved tricky on the muddier sections and boy were there a lot of muddy sections. Any concerns I had about wearing brand new shoes, were outweighed by the fact that like a well known brand of industrial adhesive, they "stick like sh*t" to the ground and dropping down half a size seems to have cured the problem with insoles slipping too, result!
Descending a longish muddy slope across a potentially tricky plank bridge at the head of Peppermill Dam, the mud thickened and then it was back onto forest roads. The organizers had thoughtfully sprayed almost every protruding root and rock on the route with dayglo paint, Well done!
We passed a sign stating 10KM and I glanced at my Garmin, 5.3 miles?, I asked a guy I was running next beside, what distance he had "5.3 miles too". Must just be a random sign then. Still overtaking consistently I was picking up my pace, I was running very comfortably, pacing myself for the near 10 mile route, I was slightly surprised to run past a 1KM sign 4 km later, "Naw can't be right", a couple of hundred yards after that a marshal shouts only 600 yards to go. "Naw still cant be right", 200 yards further another marshal "nearly there.... only 400 yards to go!".
Bugger, those signs must be right after all. I turned on the burners and kicked, quickly hitting the tarmac, I had two younger guys wearing BMF t-shirts in my sights. As I blew past them, one guy gave up, the second responded and just pipped me over the line, not that it matters that much on a chip times race, but I have my pride.
Over the timing mat 7.83 miles 59:47, 120th out of 518 finishers  not the Devilla 15km as advertised. Every runner with a Garmin seemed to agree the distance was short but no-one could shed any light on why?
Into the finish gazebo to ditch the timing chip and a ridiculously cheerful lady carelessly wielding a large pair of scissors parted shoe and chip, giving instant visions of speed laces becoming normal ones.
I decided not to hang around but head for the advertised showers while hot water was still on the menu. Grabbing my bag from the car and depositing my magnificently mud caked shoes outside the sports block, I joined fellow runners in the communal shower. I've never seen as much mud in a shower, everyone was caked from ankle to thigh except the poor guy who'd slipped and whose entire right side was caked in mud, resembling some strange Dr Who half man, half mud alien and still smiling all over.

Comic moment of the day were the two guys discussing the fact that they'd run the race 10 minutes quicker than last year, neither with a GPS watch, sorry to burst your bubble guys but it wasn't 15 kilometres.
The only topic was of course the distance, again everyone agreed it was short but no explanation as to why?
Once showered and changed I mooched back to registration, but as 

aka The Mystery of the missing miles

a- nothing was happening and 

Not the Devilla 15 Km

The Correct Route (courtesy of John Kynaston)

b- there didn't seem to be any-one around providing an explanation so I opted to jump in the car and head off.
I appreciate that  as a race report what I've written so far could best be described as "a bit rubbish", short on detail and substance and long on verbiage. But in my defense I always feel the key question on any report is "would you do it again", and in the case of the Devilla Forest race the answer is unquestionably and absolutely yes!
Apart from the obvious lack of distance, do I have any criticism?

As with almost every race,  toilet provision at the start was limited, perhaps a sign pointing out there were additional toilets in the shower block would have helped?

I wore trail shoes, there was a Facebook post in the days leading up to the race suggesting road or trail shoes would be OK, if I'd turned up with road shoes on this basis I'd have been a seriously unhappy bunny. Its definitely and clearly  a trail shoe route.

Its a great route, with a nice mix of road, track and mud and as flat as they come for trail races.

The Mystery of the Missing Miles

After a drive home which included a detour to buy a new pair of road shoes (Mizuno Wave Inspire 10s), I was keen to find out what had happened to the missing miles. As you'll see from my GPS map, compared to John K's from last year, there was a chunk missed out the route, but then we all knew that anyway. How did all 518 finishers go the wrong way?

Had the race been shortened by the organizers due to mud?.... No

Had the lead runners accidentally gone the wrong way?......No

Had the race been sabotaged?.......Well apparently it had, between setting out the course in the morning and the start of the race, someone had stretched barrier tape over the correct route and sprayed arrows pointing off the correct path (remember the left turn after 2 miles, I told you it was important), only some quick thinking by marshals had directed the race leaders back onto the route, salvaging something from what could have quickly become a farce.

There were suggestions that a disgruntled ex Carnegie Harriers member had been responsible. I suspect it will be difficult if not impossible to prove who was responsible, but off all the small minded and stupid things to do, to spoil what is after all only a hobby, this rates pretty highly. I doubt the culprit will read this blog, but if you do, but if you do you are a Fud of the first degree.

Happy Running

Cheers