Issue 19 - Supported by INOV8

In THIS ISSUE An Interview With Jasmin Paris / UK Ultrarunning Hall of Fame / 24-Hour World Championships / Winter 200 / Women’s Distance Walking Pre-War / Gear Advice / Old Enough to Know Better? / Imber Ultra / Shane Ohly Interview / The Mental Game / Ultra Adventure Holiday Inspiration and more...

ULT a R [uhl-truh] adjective

Going beyond what is usual or ordinary; excessive; extreme.

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the history of our sport of ultra-distance running; partly inspired by Davy Crockett’s excellent Ultrarunning History podcast and partly by the musings of our lovely contributor Andy Milroy, who has written articles in the last few issues about the history of the sport. While the sport may be enjoying the benefits of increased participation over the last few years, and a record number of races staged in countries around the world, there is a long and rich archive of runners and ultra achievements from over the decades that needs to be preserved and nowhere moreso than in the United Kingdom.

It also struck me that the Americans, lately with the help of Mr Crockett, have been celebrating the high achievers, and those individuals who have had the most effect on the sport, by creating and curating the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame where such the great and good of US ultrarunning are celebrated – names like Ted Corbitt, Ann Trason and Sandra Kiddy.

But we have our own list of celebrants-in-waiting, luminaries like Don Ritchie and Cavin Woodward, Richard and Sandra Brown, Hilary Walker and Mike Cudahy, and dozens of others. We had no way of recording the achievements of these individuals in the same way – until now. We’re proud to announce that with the blessing of Davy Crockett we have created the UK Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, and the first inductees can be found on page 68, and on our website ultra-magazine.com. More will be added with the publication of each issue of ULTRA, in May and November each year.

Onwards and upwards; while we’re celebrating the past we are also constantly creating history, so let’s get out there and run!

Andy Nuttall, editor

24-HOUR WORLD CHaMPIOnSHIPS /22 /34 STEEPLECHaSE IMBER ULTRa /44 FISHERFIELD ROUnD /54 TRaILS & TaRMaC BYU ULTRa /76 WInTER 200 /86 KIELDER ULTRa /8

RACES

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FEMaLE DISTanCE WaLKERS /28 /38 GEaR aDVICE JaSMIn PaRIS /50 OLD EnOUGH TO KnOW BETTER? /60 /62 THE MEnTaL GaME SHanE OHLY /66 WHaT’S In MY BaG? UK ULTRaRUnnInG /68 /92 HaLL OF FaME RUnnInG HOLIDaYS /16

THE REST

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24 HOUR PaRTY PEOPLE Welcome to the weird and wonderful world of the 24hr World Championships Words: Robbie Britton Photos: Geoff Lowe - geofflowe.com

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If you’re a fan of running and eating then look no further.

The world of 24hr racing is for you. What’s that you say?

You like running in small loops because it means you can’t get lost? Well gather round.

“It feels a true privilege to wear the vest” says British international Ellie Eccles, “I’m writing stories I’d hope to share with the grandkids in years to come.” The sentiment is the same throughout the team.

Welcome to the weird and wonderful circus that is the 24hr World Championships, where the best in the world at covering large amounts of tarmac in the time it takes the Earth to go around the sun gather to show who is the second best in the world behind Aleksandr Sorokin.

Jen Coleman, who first ran for Great Britain in 2012, still feels that “the day my GB kit arrives is very special.

Such a wonderful feeling of pride brimming over with excitement for me and my whole family.”

In 2023 it was the turn of Taiwan to host the championships, in Taipei City, and Great Britain and Northern Ireland sent out a team of 10 runners, yours truly included.

Without further ado, let’s get into the nitty gritty of one of the toughest forms of ultra-distance racing that 99.9% of the population can’t get their head around the point of. That includes a few of the people racing.

HISTORY OF 24HR RUNNING Would you believe that 24hr runners, up to six day racers, used to fill stadiums? In the Victorian era it wasn’t Taylor Swift who brought the big numbers in, but chaps with monocles and walking canes mostly walking as far as possible in a day, or a week (well, six days as you rested on the Sunday of course).

There was a fair amount of gambling involved, hence the interest, but also a fascination in the limits of human endurance. The training and diets have come a long way since (think strychnine, steaks and good brandy), but the levels of performance, especially over longer distances, was still pretty solid.

The first 24hr World Championships was in a much more modern era, back in 1990, when Great Britain’s Don Ritchie and Eleanor Adams-Robinson brought home a double win for the home nation. It was run around a shopping centre in Milton Keynes (because where else would make sense?) and there were 54 runners from 14 nations.

WHAT IT TAKES TO GET ON THE TEAM? The standard of 24hr running around the world has been on the up the last few years. Some of that is certainly down to the introduction of super shoes, but also the efforts of the likes of Sorokin and Herron pushing the boat in terms of what is possible cannot be underestimated.

One element of 24hr running that isn’t present in many other areas of our sport is the team element. Each team has three scorers, their top three runners in the championship, and the total is put against all the other nations’ top three scores. We all knew this was our best chance of bringing home medals, but it means a lot more than a shiny bit of metal.

“Running as a team is such a highlight” says Newbury AC’s second-best runner Danny Hawkins. “It gives you a reason to keep pushing when it gets tough. There’s a reason beyond just your own performance and other people are counting on you to give your all.”

The psychological battle that comes in a 24hr race can rear its ugly head much earlier than other events.

Running for three to four hours is tiring and if you start to think ahead to the following 20 to come it can really mess with how you’re feeling.

Simply having teammates to run with, or knowing that at any moment you might be elevated into a scoring position even if you’re having a tough start (or finish) keeps us honest.

THE IMPACT OF TRAVEL One of the main challenges at this championship for many athletes was the location (although to be fair we very regularly make everyone travel to Europe so it’s only fair we have some long haul flights too).

Some athletes, myself included, were able to make the trip out earlier, but it’s not always possible given the amateur nature of our sport. The impact wasn’t just from the jet lag, but also just the travel itself.

“Having had little sleep on the 17hr flight out, I expected a 9pm arrival at the hotel to mean a decent full night of rest,” says Eccles “but sadly jet lag had other ideas.”

At the European Championships in Verona in 2022 the pace at the front seemed to drag everyone with it and we knew big distances were coming, even in the early stages.

The additional benefit of early arrival is more time to adapt to the heat and humidity, especially when coming from a European winter climate. Thankfully the whole British team benefited from the advice and support of Liverpool John Moores physiologist Dr. Jamie Pugh in terms of heat acclimation prior to travel.

Getting onto the British team hasn’t been an easy task either. Gone are the days when I got my first vest with a distance of 231km. For the 2023 Championships the men’s team needed a minimum of 260km, whereas the women all had distances over 220km.

“We can do a lot in the weeks before a championship event to prepare for environmental conditions on race day. We knew from historical data that we could be facing temps in the mid to high 20s, as well as 80-90% humidity for the full 24 hours.”

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Some of the athletes used saunas, hot baths and sweaty treadmill running, whereas Cornish paramedic Paul Maskell went full CSI and ran around his local track in a COVID suit. Think Breaking Bad meets Breaking 2 and you have the right image in your mind.

One supporter does deserve special mention, a local chap who spent the entire race on the sidelines, through wind, rain and quite likely intense boredom, cheering us on. He was armed with a tambourine and endless enthusiasm and smiles.

THE CHAMPS HOTELS ETC. For every championship the organisers provide team accommodation and this time round the main party was in the Chientan Youth Centre, with two to four in a room. It wasn’t ideal, especially given the different arrival times and need for extra sleep for some of our athletes, but thankfully only one of the rooms had ants. It was the room with Paul Maskell and me in though…

FIRST THIRD The racing was fast to start, as normally happens in a world championships, with Aleksandr Sorokin off the front of the men’s races, being double teamed by two Brazilians (which is less pleasant than it sounds). It was entertaining to watch the World Record Holder and World Champion battle against athletes who no one would have expected to be at the front near the end.

The buzz around a world championships is always high and this year was no different. Aleksandr Sorokin couldn’t go five minutes without having to pose for a selfie and we were all hoping it might tire him out a little, whereas the rest of us were avoiding the stairs and enjoying seeing old friends.

Pre-race favourites such as Fotis Zisimopoulis, Andrzej Piotrowski and Andrii Tkachuk were back from the front action, running their own races or in smaller groups.

The women’s race felt like a more traditional battle with Camille Herron, Noora Honkala and Miho Nakata very close together, until Nakata seemed to disappear off the front without many people noticing. All eyes on the battle between the Spartathlon 1st and 2nd finishers from earlier in the year.

The course itself was a 2km loop around a riverside park that wasn’t far from the youth centre. Plenty of athletes headed over for a recce, despite the fact we would all be very familiar with the loop about an hour into the race.

In any 24hr race you have the benefit of having a crew or “handler” who helps you keep moving for as many of those 1440 minutes as possible. From handing over food, drink and information, to keeping any eye on your nutritional intake, helping keep you cool and smiling, we are fortunate to have a wonderful bunch of people supporting the GB&NI team.

It’s well over halfway through this article and the race hasn’t even started yet. The reader is probably finding this a test of endurance itself, but bear with me, we’re getting there.

THE RACE With the race about to kick off and everyone else wondering about the snazzy white coats (ice vests) the British team are wearing, the feeling is an odd one. You’re amped to get going, excited, adrenaline pumping and anxiety in full flow, but when that gun goes you have to jog off the start line.

The pre-race team talk is an odd one too, as you don’t want people fired up too much. It’s a slow burner. You want them to feel confident and ready to go, but with the intention of keeping that fire burning for a full 24 hours from that initial exciting burst from the start line and along a crowded crew area. Don’t worry, the rest of the loop was a little more sparsely decorated in terms of support.

The majority of people watching a 24hr race are associated with the event in some way. Family, crew, fellow athletes who haven’t made this particular start line. There isn’t a big crowd like there might have been in the Victoria era, but at least no one is forcing us to climb up chimneys anymore either. The 24hr runner/ chimney sweep crossover would likely have been high.

The British team had mixed starts, with those who travelled latest really facing the hardest battles. My own stomach had been problematic from the day before and it was clear from early doors it wouldn’t be a PB, but as mentioned above the team result kept me moving in the low moments.

Danny Hawkins and Dan Lawson led the charge, with our women’s team suffering heavily with illness that later turned out to be COVID, impacting several before, during and after the race. It is one of the reasons we aim to have six starters for three scoring spots, as the event is hard.

The 24hr format doesn’t care how hard you’re trained or how well thought out your nutrition plan is.

If you’re starting to question why you would run these events again, SheRACES’ Sophie Power breaks it down for us: “The scenery never changes, there’s an opportunity to quit every two kilometres and running faster doesn’t make it end quicker.” On the plus side, it’s very difficult to make navigational errors.

MIDDLE The weather was as interesting as you might hope, with an odd mixture of colder temperatures than expected, and high winds and high humidity means that dehydration and overheating was still a problem, but if you slowed down for more than a few minutes the cold could hit you as well.

There’s no “lactate sniper” as you might hear in the 800m, but a barrage of the elements, sickness, fatigue and psychological battles that grind you to a halt. A catastrophic sudden stop is rare, although not unheard of, but suddenly you see a runner in the crew tent being massaged or asleep on a chair and you know their race is gone. Projectile vomiting on the side of the course is never a good sign either, but might not be a race ender if they can get back on track.

Sorokin continued to surge, with an eight-kilometre lead at halfway and the writing feels like it is once again on the wall. Herron was one athlete who suddenly wasn’t there any more, the high winds impacting the tall American more than her competitors and putting her own record attempt in trouble. Nikata ducked and dived behind runners on the windy stretch, quickly building up a strong lead of nearly three kilometres by 12 hours.

Paul Maskell sacrificed his own total to support Danny Hawkins in those tough last few hours. “I love the team element,” he told me afterwards. “It just means you don’t have to think too much about your own distance and can focus on what you’re doing for the team.”

In the team competition our men’s team is around the podium and fourth scorer Paul Maskell recovered from a tough start to the event and came back to life. His role would be one of a true team player in the final section.

The GB&NI women’s team is down to one runner, Sophie Power, in the latter stages and unable to score in the teams.

THE AFTERMATH The second that final gun goes runners drop like flies.

As a crew you need to be here, there and everywhere to look after people, who two seconds earlier were elite athletes and now can barely walk.

FINAL THIRD The first place runner doesn’t change from halfway until the final gun, but while Sorokin walks in the last 30-40 minutes with his Lithuanian team mates, who have also secured team gold, the Japanese athlete is battling every minute of the race for her new world record.

One the final lap it comes down to metres and there is almost drama that throws a spanner in the works. At the finish of any 24hr race you have a token to drop at the end which marks your final centimetres. With one minute to go a gun is fired, but Nakata thinks this is the end. After some shouting she picks up her marker and runs for another 40-50 seconds until the second gun goes and everyone stops.

It was only a world record by 247m, so an extra minute could have made the difference. I would be interested to know if that first stopping point was a new best as well, but we probably can assume it would have been… just.

After a battle between the Spanish, Polish and British team for the remaining podium places it all changes in the final hours, with Poland going from 4th to 2nd, Spain dropping from 3rd to 4th and us securing a team bronze.

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It was a display of true team-focused running by the Cornish superhero.

The hotel is only one mile or so away, but it feels like a marathon at this point. The idea of getting on a bus in traffic is even less appealing. Maskell and I decide an extra bit of distance could be a good cool down and we manage to beat the buses.

Whether your race has gone to plan or gone awry, you often feel empty in the days and weeks after a big event like this. The build-up, the dedication and the work that goes in by everyone involved is done with such immense focus that post Championships runners often feel a little lost.

Thankfully in 2025 we get to do it all again, in Albi, France. Some will spend time on the trails in 2024, others can’t resist the call of the clock and will be back running loops as soon as possible. There’s something special about this format and we need to protect it for the future.

— Robbie Britton is an ultra-distance coach and athlete with an MSc in Performance Coaching and a Post-grad Diploma in Sports Nutrition. He holds the British record for 24hrs with 277.4km and is based in northern Italy at the Coggiola Endurance Centre.

Walking to empower Ultrarunning historian Andy Milroy looks at the female distance walkers of the early 20th century.

Words: Andy Milroy Photo: British Pathé

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The activities of the Pedestriennes in the 19th century are well known and the studies of researchers like Dahn Shaulis mean that era has been documented. Likewise the modern period from the 1970s onwards as the women’s distance races blossomed once more.

But there were periods in the 1920s and 30s when women’s distance walking became popular. In 1927 a column entitled ‘Gossip from London’ in an Australian newspaper described a rural walk where the writer “met party after party of women of all ages and all degrees tramping with rucksacks and sticks” with “thick stockings and ‘sensible boots’”. It’s thought that as many women as men took part in rambling societies in this period and that many London offices had their own groups.

This period saw a brief window when the memory of the key role women played in the First World War was still fresh, the gender imbalance was at its peak and young women stepped up, not inhibited by the previous social status quo. Following the carnage of the war many women went out to work, and then sought their leisure pursuits in the less restrictive environment of the 1920s. During the War in 1918, French women had taken advantage of the more chaotic situation to undertake group AUDAX races in France. Marie-Louise Ledru covered 131.6 km between Paris and Rouen in less than 24 hours and 5:40 for the marathon, a then fastest time.

This may have spurred interest in England immediately following the War. The Ministry of Pensions Walking Club opened that window, then it seems to have been slammed shut again for decades. It did not re-open again until the 1970s and 1980s.

The Earlier Upsurge in 1903 In 1903 there had been a brief upsurge in female walking events following the London to Brighton walking record set by Teddy Knott, with races taking place in London; Adelaide, Australia; and Paris. But also inspired by the Brighton feat were Beatrice and Florence Ashling, two sisters from Moss Side, Manchester, who walked from Manchester to Southport using the route of the men’s race. and who covered the 41.5 miles in 10:02. This upsurge did not last long, but it perhaps had a longterm impact on the Manchester Moss Side community.

The individualism of Manchester and Lancashire women was rooted in their culture. Weavers and spinners had a long history of independence. Historically weavers, spinners and cobblers were not employees as such, more subcontractors. That gave them a greater independence, a freedom that other manual workers lacked. Women textile workers employed in the mills were bringing in their own money into the home, and because of their access to off-cuts of cloth etc, they and their families were often better dressed that most working class families. With their own wages coming in they were not dependant on a husband!

“The Lancashire women cloth workers were the best paid, most highly unionised female manual workers in Britain, whose non-domestic way of life contravened Victorian domesticity.” “These women breached men’s job monopolies, participating in communal protest.”

“The least dependent female workers were the ones to claim women’s rights to work and vote” - Patriarchal

Constraints on Women Workers’ Mobilization : the Lancashire Female Cotton Operatives 1842-1919 — Harold Benenson Dec 1993.

So the likes of Emmeline Pankhurst, and walkers Winnie Green and Lilian Salkeld emerged from a community of women used to being independent and challenging male monopolies. (Pankhurst and Salkeld came from the industrialised Moss Side area of Manchester).

Why early female competitors came to the Manchester to Blackpool race becomes clearer. Arguably it was the Manchester female community that was unusual, not the female walkers….

Winifred Green On the 2nd of October 1920 two women began the Manchester to Blackpool 51 mile walk. They were Miss Winifred Green from Bolton and Miss D. Huntington of Manchester who started two hours before the male competitors from the Albert Street Police Station Parade Ground in Manchester.

When the women reached Chorley at about 22 miles, Miss Huntington was forced to retire because of a heel injury. Initially Winifred Green paused and tried to help her female companion, but was persuaded by Miss Huntington to continue the race. Half way at 25 miles she was going well, and said she would reach Preston, if not Blackpool.

Miss Green was “of slim build”, and had a graceful style.

She was doing just over four miles an hour. She wore a small, neat hat, a pale knitted pleated top with striped collar, secured by a belt, over a dark, knee length skirt.

On her feet were shiny, pointed lace up black shoes.

The walkers were being catered by an Oxo van which provided drinks and refreshments en route. Asked if she required any refreshments, Miss Green replied that she would not mind a few grapes.

Winifred Green strode up in fine form to Blackpool Town Hall where the race concluded. Cinematographic operators were busy with their cameras, recording the race for the new cinemas. Winifred stated firmly that “I am quite fit. I have enjoyed the experience. But these cameras are a nuisance!”

She had completed the race in 12:32:35, in 24th place.

She explained her participation in the 51 mile walk.

“Women had taken part in tennis and golf competitions and why should they not go in for walking, the very simple exercise?”

Her feat was to be emulated the following year by a teenager, Lilian Madeline Salkeld.

Lilian Salkeld was born in Moss Side, Manchester on the 22nd August 1905. She must have been a lively, energetic child. In 1921 competing in a 15 mile race on a measured out and back course from Moss Side, where the 15 year old Lilian Salkeld lived, she won in 2:58:15 ahead of a Barbara Halliday (3:02:28) aged 14, and Elsie Osman 3:07 aged 15. The race was organised by Albert Edwards, an experienced race walker.

with eau de Cologne by her mother.

Edwards had a vested interest. His precocious son, Georgie, although only ten or so, was already competing. Teenage girls made good opposition as he built his son’s reputation as a walker.

In late August that year, a 33-mile event was held in aid of the Stafford Hospital. Lilian Salkeld covered the distance in 7:02:39. Two hours later Lilian and Georgie Edwards went head to head over a mile, tying in 9:44.

It may have been at this time that Albert Edwards began coaching Lilian. As I have said, he was an established distance walker who also lived in Moss Side.

An obvious target for Lilian was Winifred Green’s time in the local Manchester to Blackpool race. Unfortunately Lilian injured her foot three weeks before the Blackpool race but entered anyway. However by 33 miles she was forced to drop out because of her injury.

By 1922 Lilian, pictured opposite, was looking for a new challenge.

The London to Brighton Walk A Miss Doris Joel had previously stated her intention to walk from London to Brighton, to demonstrate that girls were also able to perform long distance walks, but nothing had come of it. A Miss Maud Brown and Miss Christina Wright challenged Miss Joel to a contest over the course, and subsequently Lilian Salkeld joined in, challenging the other three.

Lilian stated, “I expect to do the journey in about 13 hours. My diet will be oranges, bananas, bread and butter and a tomato. My last meal before starting out was two eggs, bread and butter and an orange. I am practically a vegetarian, but not quite.

“I have already done 42 miles without feeling any the worse.” This mark is not on the list of her known performances and suggests she also undertook the long-standing Bradford to York race as well, which would have been good preparation for the London to Brighton.

On the day, Miss Joel, Miss Brown and Miss Wright seemed intimidated by the large crowd, described by some newspapers as a mob, apparently intent on stopping the race. Despite that, the race started at 8:10pm. There seems to have been a tradition of such walks being held overnight. It enabled ordinary working men to take part, after a day’s work, leaving more of the weekend for the family.

Lilian wore a short skirt, with ankle socks. The weather was bitterly cold and she later put on a jumper and warm, woollen gloves. Her long, firm stride particularly impressed the crowds lining the route. All through the night she maintained a brisk pace, walking in the glare of the headlights from the following car in which her mother rode, along with her father and her trainer. The car had been lent by a London firm.

Her rests were few and brief. Once she changed her footwear, putting on racing shoes with light, leather rubber soles. Occasionally she stopped to eat a banana or a tomato and to have her face sponged

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Perhaps the most extraordinary feature of the race was that Miss Brown and Miss Wright covered the whole distance in “everyday attire” and wearing shoes with heels. Before they set out they had finished a full day’s work at the Gamages store. As they made their way to Brighton they halted for five minutes every hour. (As shop assistants they would have been used to spending many hours each day on their feet.)

They commented before the race, “Our biggest effort was over fifty-eight miles the year before from Brentwood to Clacton.” Miss Wright had proclaimed “We shall do it, you bet!

Lilian strode out accompanied by the young Georgie Edwards. He was to retire at 30 miles with blisters. Doris Joel did not actually start. Miss Brown and Miss Wright were soon overtaken by the young girl from Manchester.

Lilian was well ahead by Croydon Town Hall, 10:06pm to the 10:21pm of the following pair, who walked together occasionally chatting but showing nothing like the firecracker determination of their Manchester rival. By Redhill, the leader was timed at 12:20am with the chasing pair passing at 1:09am. She passed Horley (25.25 miles) in 5:20:30. She stopped once to change into galoshes after 35 miles. At 41.25 miles, the challenging Dale Hill, Lilian was timed at 10:37:58.

When Lilian finally saw her goal of Brighton Aquarium she was walking well but looked rather fatigued. She finished in 12:20:40.8 and was given a rousing reception by the assembled crowd of women and girls. She then went and had a substantial breakfast at the B&B where her family were to be staying. Her comment at the finish shows the motivation behind the walk, “It shows that what men can do, girls can do also.

Miss Maud Brown and Miss Christina Wright finished in 15:20. One of them commented at the finish that they were longing for a square meal.

I believe that Lilian Salkeld’s mark was very influential in the development of women’s long-distance racing.

The British Pathe Newsreel which showed her walking swiftly along, captioned by her London to Brighton feat, would have been widely shown in the rapidly growing cinema theatres across Britain. Thanks to the telegraph, news of her performance went around the world. However I suspect sharing a car for over 12 hours with the opinionated Albert Edwards, her coach, was probably too much for Mr and Mrs Salkeld. Although there was some talk of her attempting the slightly shorter Manchester to Blackpool race subsequently, it does not appear to have happened that year.

The Ministry of Pensions Walking Club The following year in April 1923, a race from London to Brighton, organised by the Ministry of Pensions Walking club, was held with 15 female clerks, many wearing silk stockings and walking shoes and everyday frocks, competing with 19 men. The women had a 2.5 hour head start, leaving Big Ben at 7pm. The race was won

by HV Henry. In third place was Miss Doris Grasty in 12:02, 18 minutes faster than Lilian Salkeld. Miss Grasty

had bobbed fair hair, and wore a white sweater and a tangerine or red skirt. She was 22, and born on 18 February 1901 in South London. She received a gold medal for her feat. In fourth place, to reinforce female dominance was Miss A Latta in 12:46:25.

When asked where the men were, Grasty’s reply was a dismissive, “oh, I believe they’re coming along.“ She also commented “In my mind all the way was to beat the men”. The male walkers took the hint, the following year the women had just a half hour start over the men.

The Mother and Perambulator London to Brighton Race But the influence of Albert Edwards was to continue.

Now apparently without his star athlete, he saw the potential of another London to Brighton walking event in 1923, but this time to be only open to new mothers, so a race of Mothers and perambulators complete with a baby.

Five women lined up at the start at 4am. Officers of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children tried to dissuade the mothers from putting their offspring at risk but the £4 prize money was a real incentive (worth £160 in modern terms). The babies ranged from five months to two years. The mothers were not allowed to ride the prams on the down hills. They were also responsible for the care of the babies en route.

Only three pram pushing mothers finished. The winner was Mrs Lily Groom of Eastbourne in 12:20, from Mrs Firminger of Erith (12:34), and Mrs Alice Sutherland of Cardiff finished in 12:43.

The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children brought a prosecution against Albert Edwards and his wife. Finishing down the field, the Edwards’ baby in his pram was cold, dirty and dehydrated. Albert and Ada May Edwards were eventually acquitted, but their interest in the London to Brighton continued.

Frances Hayward and the Comrades On the 24th May 1923, in distant South Africa, the next stage in the progression of the women’s 50 miles took place. Frances Hayward, a typist, decided to take part in the new Comrades Marathon (first held in 1921), 54 miles between Pietermaritzburg and Durban. She was the first woman to contest the race. She too originally came from another cloth making town, Trowbridge in Wiltshire, known as the Manchester of the West. Though she was born in Chippenham on the 14th August 1891, her grandfather had owned a large cloth mill in Trowbridge.

Frances Hayward finished the Comrades and took just 11:35, faster than any other woman yet over either the Manchester to Blackpool course, or the London to Brighton. The Edwards family were swift to respond with Ada May reputedly pushing a pram loaded with bricks instead of a baby from London to Blackpool in 11:33:31. The performance, presumably organised by the publicity hungry Albert, was solo with no competition or Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children to face. Whether Ada May took rides down the downhills, who knows? What is suspicious is that the time was just a minute or so faster than that of Frances Hayward.

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But women clerks and typists of the Ministry of Pensions Walking Club continued. On the 1st June 1924 a Miss A M Moore, aged 20, completed the London to Brighton race in 12:56:05. The restrictions on women competing in the same race as men seem to have tightened in 1925.

A result for the Ministry of Pensions mixed race from London to Brighton has not been found.

Lilian Salkeld returns However some women were irrepressible. A young woman competed unofficially in the 1926 Manchester to Blackpool race on the 2nd October 1926. Her name was Lilian Salkeld! Not content with merely competing, she covered the 51 mile course in the fastest time yet by a woman, setting a new standard for the 50 mile distance - 11:22. Although under the increasingly restrictive rules, her performance was unofficial, it was recognised by the civic authorities and when asked what prize she would like, Miss Salkeld asked for the works of Charles Dickens.

Soon after in South Africa, on the 10 October 1926, a Miss Edna May took part in a mixed 50-mile race from Cape Town to Simon’s Town and back, recording a time of 10:43:50. In second place was a Miss Van Hoogstrenten in 13:00:56. Edna May had previously set walking world bests for 440 yards and 880 yards.

Her new 50-mile marks perhaps shows the speed of telegraphy. Lilian Salkeld’s mark had been set just eight days earlier, surpassing South Africa-based Frances Hayward’s mark.

Yet despite the British restrictions, in 1929 a women’s walking race was proposed for Sutton Coldfield in the Midlands which attracted women from Manchester, Wolverhampton, Coventry, Birmingham and Derby. The course was discovered to be a poorly surfaced loop in a park. The furious women had a meeting in Birmingham and the Moss Side club announced, provided the other towns sent teams, they would organise a women’s race on a 12-mile course. Other areas were less progressive.

In 1930 reportedly a Manchester woman sent in an entry to a Bradford, Yorkshire 32-mile race but was not permitted entry. The woman responded indignantly to the rejection but to no avail.

An American Gazella Weinreich was a little luckier. She had had her entry to the Baltimore marathon rejected by the AAU in 1931, but had still taken part unofficially.

A telegram had been received from the AAU Secretary Dan Ferris, which had officially banned Miss Weinreich from the race.

Two years later Miss Weinreich entered the AAU 50km race walk on the 22nd May 1933 at Baltimore finishing in 7:22. Previously she had completed a 2,000 hour dance marathon. Asked if women could ever compete with men in marathons, she replied, “Sure they could if they would just pull themselves together.”

Geraldine Watson Following the performances of Frances Hayward and Miss E May, an English-South African emigrant, school teacher Geraldine Watson, decided to tackle the Comrades.

She had been born on the 5th March 1883 in the village of Woodford in Northamptonshire in England, the daughter of the local clergyman. She was 48 years old and was a strong walker, an experienced bush walker, used to long treks away from urban life. She competed in shorts and shirt or blouse, and was quite tall and lean and fit-looking.

Her first unofficial Comrades attempt was in 1931 when she finished in just over 11 hours. In 1932 she took 11:56 but it was the following year she took things seriously, taking training advice from Comrades veteran Vernon Jones. She ran every weekday evening and on Sunday, all this training underpinned by her long bush walks, which could cover 200 miles.

On the 24th May 1933 Geraldine Watson finished 42nd out of 85, in 9:31:25. In 1935 four women walkers entered the Comrades, and two finished. Their names are not known.

Australia Women’s distance walking was still restricted.

In Australia women were able to take part in bush walks in a group. Two women from such a group in Sydney tackled longer events. The first was a Miss M Dot (Dorothy) English, who covered 30 miles in 7:11:45 in a 24-hour event held in Sydney on the 15-16 October 1937.

Dot English was a remarkable character. She was born in 1911. Dot’s mother was a psychologist who believed her children should have complete self expression.

Her childhood was adventurous, the children climbing telegraph poles, even cranes barefoot. After she left school, she became a secretary, a stenographer and at the age of 20 in 1931 she joined the Sydney Bushwalkers.

She often walked barefoot, seldom wearing shoes.

On the 17th September 1938 she walked 40 miles in 10 hours, 20 miles of which was barefoot. But by then she had discovered climbing, and became a major female mountaineer. She also became a physiotherapist and worked with children with polio.

In 1940 she married a fellow bushwalker Ira Butler. She remained active into old age, climbing Sydney Harbour Bridge before abseiling down at the age of 80! She died at the age of 96.

The second Australian was actually competing in the same race as Dot in 1938. On the 17th September on the Sydney oval, 22 year old Mary Stoddart covered 32 miles in 7:39:15. On the 15-16 October that year Mary returned to the Sydney oval and attempted the 50-mile walk, taking 12:16:45. After that she took her sleeping bag to the centre of the oval and slept until 6am the next day!

Lilian Salkeld - the later years But what had happened to one of the key figures, Lilian Salkeld? In 1941 Lilian married South London-born Reginald Thomas Castell in Manchester. Their ages at marriage were unusual for the period. In 1939 the average age at marriage was 26.5 years for men and 24.2 years for women. (They were 35 or 36) Lilian Salkeld died in Blackpool, aged 87, on the 21st December 1992, probably the last representative of the young women pioneer walkers of the 1920s and 1930s, whose efforts have been largely forgotten.

The wider picture These women walkers were not alone. The gender imbalance after World War One, the electoral emancipation which led, in 1928, to all women over 21 being given the vote, and the new greater opportunities for women, fed into the wider sporting scene. Russian Valentina Machcheryako ran 5,000 metres on the track, Gertrude Ederle was the first woman to swim the English Channel, Eliska Junkova drove a Bugatti racing car in a race, Helle Nice won the first Women Grand Prix and Amy Johnson flew solo from England to South Africa.

The women long-distance walkers of the 1920s and 1930s were an important factor in the development of female consciousness, of proving women could undertake the same feats as men. News of their feats were circulated to newspapers around the world by telegraph, an inspiration to women in South Africa and Australia who sought to emulate them.

The above article focuses on ultra distance women’s performances. During this period Violet Piercy was active. I was part of the team of researchers who explored the mysterious Ms Piercy! playingpasts.co.uk/articles/gender-and-sport/ the-forgotten-first-ladyrediscovering-violet-piercymarathon-pioneerpart-1 Producing a somewhat similar performance over the 21 miles Perth to Dundee course was Dundee shop girl Ina Buist who covered the distance in 3:45:04.

Note: This article in its present form would not have been possible without the huge enthusiasm and research of Dave Evans, Chairman of the Lancashire Walking Association.

— Andy Milroy has been involved in ultrarunning for more than six decades, co-founding the International Association of Ultrarunners (IAU) in 1984, overseeing the organisation of the World Ultrarunning Championships from 1990 to 1999, and co-founding the Association of Road Racing Statisticians (ARRS) in 2003. He has written or co-written several books including Training For Ultrarunning, in addition to many articles for a variety of publications. He has been an official at many races, including referee, race director and chief recorder.

He is currently working with the German Ultrarunning Association, to ensure that their worldwide historical results are complete.

TES EPLECHASE Loneliness of the long-distance runner.

Words: Hugo Day Photos: Hugo Day /Josh Bacon / Jamie Street

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“Why are those eyes staring at me?” The branches move in the breeze, an array of eyes moving together in the twilight before dawn. They say faeries like to play with foolish humans, and right now it feels like they’re having a riot.

It started back in January; as usual my friend Steffen (Fluffy for short) was giving me the wind up about what “nice short race” I’d do next. Last year involved running up and down the same hill for 24 hours (during the start of a heat wave of course).

“Oh there’s this one I found on Facebook. Looks pretty fun!” “...Is that a canary on the kit list?”

“Yeah!” “...”

“Sounds great right!”

Early August - two weeks until race day! I was wrapping the last high mileage week before a much-anticipated taper; my right heel was starting to disagree with the time spent on feet. Quick check of the phone before leaving for a run, oh a new email about Steeplechase, probably race details. Pull up the preview and there’s the fatal words, “You have ended up being the only entrant left”. Nope, that’s an email for tomorrow morning.

I won’t say it wasn’t tempting to sack it off, but that would be eight months of training for not a lot to show for it. But did I really want to bother people volunteering for a weekend for my stupid self to run around? Thankfully I got probably the best advice, “Maybe he (Allan - Steeplechase race director) wants to run the event?” His first words back being “Great stuff” rather sold it, time to go get really tired.

Fighting through Friday evening traffic, I got to Mickleham hall at 6.30pm. A quick unload and setup; I wasn’t in the mood to get psyched or prepared. I wanted to be on my feet. A quick brief, fill the bladder with water, some snacks and then ready to get started.

Just to explain how this race worked - there are twelve envelopes, each containing: - An OS grid reference - A name of a church - A photo of the church That’s it. Your mission (which by being here I’d definitely chosen to accept) was to look at a map, plot a route, get to the church and photograph and get back.

Ideally while staying alive. You’ve got 42 hours to do as many as you can. The first one was St Katherine’s in Merstham. Look at the map, okay that’s out east: 10-ish miles there. Long but will be a decent warm up, and probably one of the longer routes done early. First step was going out onto the North Downs and then following the North Downs Way basically all the way there. The first 90 minutes were what you’d expect steady, checking the map regularly and getting the lie of the land. But dear reader, you may remember Storm Betty. Not a massive storm by any reckoning, but have you ever tried navigating with a map by head torch while it belts it down in a very humid forest? The next four to five hours were spent running in a tiny ball of light, every few minutes wiping the water and condensation from my glasses whilst trying to see enough of the map to get another 100 metres. But I did get that damn photo, and thorough delight at running on chalk than the foot-sucking clay from home.

Getting back to the hall Allan was a wall of action offering water, coffee, pasta and just about anything else consumable in eyesight. Mostly coffee. I wanted to get warm, and preferably not get rained on for five minutes. Luckily the storm was now passing, so it was on to envelope 2, hopefully something closer. Wotton.

Wotton, isn’t there a Wotton near home? No that’s Wootton. Focus brain, okay navigate: 5.5 miles. But it’s not raining and all things said everything feels fine.

It’s getting on for midnight so for the sake of simple navigation I decide on the road route and get to it.

The next three hours are largely uneventful. Simple navigation, the occasional frustration at uncut nettles over footpaths and drinking, drinking, drinking. I was certainly starting to feel the weight of the night on returning to the race base. Allan offered some pasta, but I was feeling either too stupid or too tired to consider that. I grabbed some crisps, some water and wanted to get out to the next one before maybe considering some sleep. Buckland. Okay, seemed easy, I’d covered a lot of this route heading to Merstham and it should only be about 10 miles all said. Remember those faeries?

It started small, the rocks slowly rotating like an owl considering whether to eat you or sit on you. Rustling leaves just a little too long. Come up to a gate, wake up a few minutes later, hopefully on the right side? My brain hadn’t caught up yet but I needed food and sleep. Push forwards a few steps. Read a map. Fall asleep on the stairs. A few steps more. Finally my thoughts caught up with my body and I realised I needed to get back to base ASAP, I can go back out again later but being found sleeping in a forest is definitely not a way to finish. On getting back Allan made me a deal, some pasta, then I get 30 minutes on the cot. My word this was the best 6am pasta I’ve ever had let me tell you.

I slept for... a time, but true to his word Allan made sure I got my arse up and I swear there was cocaine in the pasta! Either that or the energy dial broke and went from 0 round to 11.

The offer to change the church was there but Buckland and I had unfinished business (the sort you resolve with tea and cake). This time round going up the hill felt like bouncing up clouds. There were some lovely dogs out for a walk, some slightly lost weekend tourists and there at the bottom of a long field path, the Church of St. Mary. Click, photo taken and back we go. Getting back to the hall there were a few runners there aiming to run the Copthorne loop. I didn’t know what this was (yet), but they were chatty and supportive and there was at least one dog with infectious energy which is always a plus! This time the turnaround was quick, crammed in some Coke (the legal kind), some coffee and loaded with crisps and Haribo it was off to Abinger. I dropped a quick message to my crew (and partner), hoping I might see her before I disappeared again but alas public transport wasn’t helping us. We passed like ducks on the river (if one was pottering and the other dodging a speedboat) as the bus drove into the village just as I left. It was fleeting, but it added a little hop to the step.

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The next 10 (not a typo) hours flowed together into a delightful stream of paths, hills, churches (Abinger had public stocks and some very confused pub patrons over the road, St. Barnabas was the prettiest). I was still jogging, still eating and feeling on top of things.

It was getting late and I was thinking whether another sleep was on the cards, but figured at least one more.

So envelope 6 - Holmwood. Where’s that? Oh, the reference is south. Way South. Allan’s first response was “Oh that’s where Pete lives! You met him earlier, I’ll get him to meet you there with some Coke and treats.”

Dear reader, I’m sure I hadn’t met Pete earlier (or I was off my rocker enough to forget). This set the theme for this church. I hadn’t realised quite what the path would be - 6.5 miles of joyous, dull A road. But then the church. The entrance was slightly out of the way, AND I was trying to find Pete. Both very simple at midnight.

Cue a little game of exploring a village late at night, while checking if that light is Pete or a car. Thankfully one lamp was moving at a more human speed, and a kind ball of light handed me a coke, the choice (The CHOICE) of some fruit pastels or Rolos and showed me the other, other side of the church. A quick scoff later and it was back up the road.

This is when my body decided to let me know its growing opinion of things. Otherwise ache-free for the past 30-odd hours a sharp pain started in the left knee. Shuffle for a bit, pain, walk until it stops, shuffle a bit more. At this point pasta and a kip were feeling like the right choice, and lying down I hovered in that weird place between sleep and small dreams crossing my vision. Crew and RD, true to their word, broke me out of my magical world and off again. This time up to Headley. This is when the sounds and dreams blended together, the faeries dancing on the edge of the head torches glow, almost like clouds. These were Seelie folk though, laughing haughtily through the night. Out and back, and onto church 8 - Mickleham! The sun was on its way up, and it being so close I asked my partner if she wanted a quick walk down the road? May as well share a little of the dream world with people working so hard to let me do it.

Ten minutes canter, and then the next, Box Hill!

Alas, probably the ugliest church, the traipse into the village seemed to pull on for an hour, and yet the return felt like five minutes. Time had truly taken its holiday, focus being reduced to some tiny circle in the centre of my vision as some spirit decided to dance rainbows around my eyes. Back to the hall and words came and people talked and that damn chair needed some burden placed on it. I was 38 and something hours in at this point and exactly what was real and what wasn’t were a little in the woods. Allan’s enthusiasm, ever present, was pushing me to take another envelope but at this point I still had enough sense to think going on a road on a busy Sunday high as a flock of kites just wasn’t what was needed. The gong must bong! I had a shed tonne of support from the other volunteers, runners dropping in to do a Copthorne loop, and my partner. Special thanks to Allan for being keen enough on this idea to still put it on for one runner! And if you too find the idea of a great pun and wandering through the night searching for towers, give Steeplechase a go!

I don’t want to be the only one howling at the moon next year.

— Hugo started running during lunch in 2012 and it’s escalated ever since. Primarily motivated by adventures on foot, he’ll try anything with a silly name or interesting theme. Also enjoys hanging off of rocks, lifting heavy objects and sword fighting, just to be well rounded.

The five Fs Steer a path through marketing claims, and focus on what you need your kit to do for you, says Mike Parsons Words: Mike Parsons and the Outdoor Gear Coach team Consumers are bombarded with information with industry or brand bias and marketing claims.

Right now, you might feel puzzled or even dismayed by the onerous list of layers that your next event rules demand.

What you need to focus on is functionality, affordability and appropriateness. We suggest thinking of your next purchase as a ‘layer’ to enable you to think more clearly about what exactly you wish it to do for you and how it best combines with your existing garments. Any new combination should result in 1 + 1 = 3!

Getting out into the shops is a must. “It is impossible to pick the right set by looking on the internet. The technique of ‘Reading the garment’ accelerates the learning pathway. Going in-store and experiencing on the hill are essential,” says US Outdoor Gear coach Chuck Kukla.

So, although we can’t be with you in-store, let us guide you on how to pick up a garment and critically assess what it does and, even more importantly, what it doesn’t do. We call this: ‘Reading the garment as a layer; The 5 ‘F’s, Function, Fit, Future, Finance and Fashion’.

This is a great thought process flowchart for you to make an informed choice when buying a product.

The 5-F’s are also very useful for the retailer as a questioning flowchart to help consumers buy the right product.

FUNCTION — What are you going to use it for, what it does and what it doesn’t do?

Ignore the word ‘’breathable’ which is now used in marketing info and the press to describe everything from polar wear to lingerie and has thus become meaningless. The best way to avoid overheating is always to use a windshell layer, not a waterproof one unless it rains.

Don’t assume that what keeps you dry is your waterproof jacket. It’s a combination of the right layers that do this job; you produce plenty of sweat that must be dealt with by ventilating or wicking.

Wicking: The key point is that water can wick inwards as well as outwards, soaking your base layers because you have exposed an inner cuff. Look for directional wicking layers by Polartec called Powerstretch and PowerDry. Also, the directional mid-layers of Paramo can add overall performance.

Textile brand names may add reassurance to your choice. There are four well-known, well-promoted companies, each offering different types of functionality from waterproof to windproofs, to mid-layer insulation and outer layer insulation: Gore-tex (USA), Pertex (Japan, formerly UK), Polartec (USA) and Primaloft ( USA).

The leading textile companies licence the leading garment makers (i.e., brands) to use their products and brand names. How well they all work and compare with each other is a very complex question we try to answer in our book, Keeping Dry and Staying Warm.

The construction features of the garment can sometimes be more important than the actual named fabrics. For example, is the hood good enough to enable you to keep going in adverse cross winds and rain? The garment’s peripheral features can be a decision-maker for you. The cuffs and front zip closure can be critical features. Examine the kinds and types of closures and adjustments. Water-repellent zippers look appealing, but they are the most failureprone feature. Pockets and their location can be a critical decision maker.

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FINANCE —

“No single garment is perfect for a given situation.

It is the layering set or the right combination and sequence that matters, not the individual garment. (there are wrong garments and poor combinations for any given activity, of course).”Chuck Kukla.

Is it in my price bracket? Is there a danger that a bargain price is tempting you to buy the wrong layer?

FIT —

FASHION —

Fit is a complicated issue as there is no such thing as a standard size; every brand is different. ‘Fit’ is not the same thing as size. Some manufacturers have as many as three different ‘fits’ –a slim fit for climbing or running, a more relaxed fit for walking/trekking, and an expedition fit where the essential dimensions remain the same, but there is a fullness allowed to fit extra layers underneath the outer for cold conditions.

And back to that in-store experience says Chuck: ”It’s important that your existing layers all work together.

Unfortunately, most customers arrive in our store asking simply for a waterproof or a warm jacket. We prefer to do the full job in ensuring the garments fit and complement each other, an in-store process called ‘outfitting’ here in the USA.

You want it to look ‘right’ and feel good. But face up to your colour and brand preferences squarely so you don’t detract yourself from the correct functional choice. Colour can be a function, and being visible or less visible can be an advantage. But don’t buy it as an INSTAGRAM photo!

Outdoor garments are tailored ( ‘shaped’ might be a more understandable word) according to your activity. The ‘shapes’ of cycling, climbing, and running garments are distinctly different. The illustration of the climber and runners on the left are self-explanatory..

Head over to OUTDOOR GEAR COACH, where we can answer questions directly on our new website.

You need to try the garment on in your preferred layering position and pay attention to how it feels as you move in a variety of ways. Can you access the products’ different features? How easy is it to put on and take off? Does it slide on and off easily?

Do the garment cuffs fit over gloves, and can you make adjustments with gloves on? How does the hood fit and how easy is it to adjust? Can you read your watch?

FUTURE — Is it going to last and be repairable and or recyclable?

Some brands are already offering a take-back policy for your old garments. Water-resist zips look good and reassuring but are the most frequent repair issue.

(with thanks to Stuart Smith, BAIML leader and Chuck Kukla ( USA) Outdoor Gear Coach team, for their insights) We have published the definitive book on this subject.

Keeping Dry and Staying Warm. We run courses, talks and training sessions for outdoor professionals, clubs, companies and retailers.

— Mike Parsons is a founder of Outdoor Gear Coach, former owner innovator at Karrimor, and founder of OMM.

HALF WAY After a break from ultras to start a family, James Adams is experiencing a mid-life ultracrisis.

Words: James Adams I’ve observed a lot of people over the years taking up ultrarunning as a mid-life crisis thing. I thought it was cute. Look at these guys, they’ve bought their houses, had their kids, just about survived all that and now they want to go traipsing around in shitty fields for 17 hours at a time.

Now I am mid-life, statistically just past the half-way point of my expected life, and I’m wondering whether I even have what it takes anymore.

I took this thing on early, did some events, wrote a blog, started some Facebook groups, organised some races, wrote a book (did you know?). All of that seemed to halt when I decided to replicate myself.

But now here I am, with a bit of free time to do the kind of things I used to do when I had nothing but free time, and having some existential crises about whether I even want to do it, let alone whether I am capable of.

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About 15 years ago was peak James Adams. I ran the Round Rotherham 50 miler (in December, when it was cool) in atrocious conditions, did that in about 10 hours, got a train back to London, got absolutely shitfaced at our running club Christmas party, got up at 6am the next day to get a train to Hastings for the marathon which I ran in a respectable 3.45. Ish. Last week I ran 8K in our local running club’s social run.

We went to the pub, I had four pints, and the next day I woke up at 6 in the morning pretty certain I was going to die.

Those mid-life crisis people probably took on ultrarunning as a way to get better at something than they ever had done before. Perhaps they ran a 5K or a bit of recreational stuff, and are now smashing through what they thought was possible.

I’m here wondering if I can do half the stuff I used to do.

POINT I was talking with my replicant no 1 about the praying mantis. He was thrilled and disturbed by the idea of the mummy biting the head off the daddy after they make babies. I recall being disturbed by this too at that age, though now I’m wondering whether to see it as an act of mercy.

Here I am at a fork in the road. One path is a humbling journey, trying to becoming who I used to be. The other involves screaming - as an ex-ultrarunner - at the things I don’t like, like an ultra Joey Barton. Screeching about how head torches are far too bright these days (Just as an aside - fucking hell, headtorches ARE far too bright these days. Why do you need to strap the Sun to your head?)

Well anyway, you are likely to see me back out there this year. I’ll be doing the South Downs and North Downs Way 50s. Come and say hello and I’ll tell you how shit everything is nowadays and how in my day things were way more awesome.

I am nervous about these 50-milers in a way I was never nervous before, not even my first. There is more a sense of “I might not finish” here. I roll my eyes at all the (mostly liars) saying they did NO TRAINING for their

50-miler and still did it. I have this friend near where I live. He loves running. He’s always suggesting places to go and races to do. He’s recently got into ultrarunning and has all these lists of things he wants to do. He talks about keeping up with the speedwork so that will enable him to run for longer and take on more challenges.

Bloody hell he’s annoying.

I trained quite sensibly for my first and for other events, they were usually within my capabilities.

But now I feel a bit fraudulent. I can barely run 50 miles a week. It’s like some youthful elastic that covers the gap between dreams and reality has snapped in my old age. These races are going to be hard work. And I’m not sure anymore if I’ll even like them.

— James used to be the most famousest ultrarunner in the whole universe, now he is struggling to be in the top three James’ in the village of Great Denham, Bedfordshire.

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Words: Steve Nuttall Photos: Julian Sandoe The Imber Ultra has become like an old friend who I visit every year, having struck up the relationship originally in 2014; although back then, I did not imagine that this would become an annual institution and something of a personal obsession.

The race was set up by Richard Hudson back in 2014, as a charity fundraiser for the local Rotary Club, the aim was to keep it low-key, affordable, and aimed at reasonaly self-reliant runners.

I remember Imber 2014 very well; the weather was good, and it was hot. Although I had walked/run longer than marathon distances in the early 80’s (notably the Keswick to Barrow Walk, for several years), I had not run a formal race longer than a half marathon since. For that reason, I paid particular notice to the recommended Imber kit list, but I really did not do my homework and decided on a Camelbak bladder pack, with enough space to pack in as much food and spare layers, rain gear, as anyone could ever possibly need. Characteristically too, I did not properly road test any of this equipment and turned up on the day expecting everything to work and, if I faced any difficulty, the remedy would be in my backpack. The race started and the first few miles started without incident. As I got closer to checkpoint 1, I realised I was increasingly feeling the weight of my over-packing, particularly with sun blazing down.

I had also started chatting with another much more experienced runner (Andy) who, completely opposite to me, was running with a spare windproof jacket, a bottle of water and a few gels. I made a tactical decision to dump the bladder and most of my “spare” kit at CP1, and did not look back. Many lessons were learned, and I completed the event, running with Andy, to the end.

For the next year, I was much better and more realistically prepared. The key area for me was the hydration vest.

The back bladder I had found uncomfortable to wear, also it was quite a manoeuvre to take the vest off to be able to fill the bladder at a checkpoint. My brother (the second Andy in this story), had a redundant hydration vest (UD SJ), which I immediately took to, finding the weight of the water bottles much easier to carry and the obvious ease of access vastly more efficient. The other lesson-learned was – I needed to think carefully about what I needed to carry. With so much support and race food from the local Rotarian group and Avon Valley Runners the runner in fact needs to carry very little.

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The Imber Ultra turned 10 this year, and Steve Nuttall was determined to be the only person to finish them all.

The hydration vest is still with me today, albeit after a few minor repairs along the way and some replacement bottles, but it really works. Similarly, the logic of what I wear and the kit I carry has not really changed over the years.

Due to Covid Imber missed a year in 2021, and each event for me since then has been a struggle, for a couple of reasons: 2022, following an exceptional amount of training, I contracted gastroenteritis in early February. Starting Imber that year, I was ½ stone lighter and unable to eat solid food. On completing the event, I proved to myself that I can run on hydration fluid and gels alone. For Imber 2023, co-RD Richard Hudson decided to step back and handed the race director reins over to Ian Harryman and Martin Bull. By this time, I had developed a lower back problem, which I had been trying to address with yoga, physiotherapy and lowimpact exercises, but also experimenting with a back support belt. For the 2023 race, I settled on a neoprene belt, with side elasticated panels, which is worn tightly around the hips. How much the belt helped, I cannot be sure, but I finished the race in one piece. Like a lot of things, luck shirts etc. once you think something might be assisting, it becomes a “standard.” Consequently, for fear of possible failure, all my subsequent runs would be with “the belt.” 2023 was also significant, in that due to coincidence and an unfortunate accident to a fellow runner, I became the only person to have completed all of the Imber Ultras to date. Fame at last as the socalled “ever present”!

Fast-forwarding to this year, I now knew that my back problem is permanent – a prolapsed/herniated disk, which had recently started to impinge on my sciatic nerve. As well as the belt, I had over recent months added a neoprene strap around my left thigh, for additional support. This appeared to help with the nerve discomfort, so also became “essential kit.” Having become the Imber ever-present, that was not a record I want to give up lightly, but I had been in two minds for weeks as to whether I could actually complete 33 miles.

Deliberately, I had been majoring on gym cross-training and core work and minimising the amount of running I had been doing. Knowing that I still had to get some real run training completed, I had run a couple of 15-milers, with stops, but they had been a struggle.

Finally, with back surgery planned for late March, a week before the race I decided I had to turn up at the start line and “give it a go.” In a case of last-minute panic, I bought a set of walking poles, which I have never used before, but thinking, naively, they may be helpful. Having had no practice using them and given no thought as to how I would carry them or fix them to my running vest, the poles were left in my race bag at the start line.

The race started and fellow Westbury Running Group runner Teresa and I ran together for the first mile, out from the Leisure Centre and up the very steep chalky path to join the Imber Perimeter Path. Teresa is chatty, I am already wondering whether I am doing the right thing and not finding it easy to talk through gritted teeth.

Once on the Imber Path and with the clockwise route, the track is mainly gravel, flattish and finally downhill to the first checkpoint (Bratton Hill gate). Just over five miles completed.

Teresa was now out of sight ahead and I made it to CP2 (Highland Cottages). Most of the first third of the clockwise route is undulating, mainly gravel paths with some road, so there were no significant hills to worry about at that time.

At 12 miles, even before I reached my training run distance, I started to feel low. I was in the middle of a green wilderness and all I could see were miles, miles, and more miles. I decided that if I turned around at that point, walking 12 miles back to the start was do-able.

So I turned around. Not far behind me were two runners approaching. Something inside me said that I could not walk towards them and inevitably have to tell them that I was giving up and heading home. Tactically, I resolved to turn and plough on to the next CP (3), Tilshead, which was then just 2.4 miles away.

As the run progressed, it was the lovely volunteers and Rotarians who kept me motivated. Each new horizon being the next checkpoint and hopefully I was going to keep within the cut-off times.

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checkpoint 3 to 4 is bleak. This is Salisbury Plain for real.

En route is the famous ‘German Village,’ constructed by the military in 1987/88 to enable the Army to simulate urban warfare, in the event that there may be a future battle for the heartlands of Europe. Tank movements have left what seemed like acres of deep tank tracks, filled with water, due to recent weather, which I could barely walk through. The ancient, abandoned village of Imber is also nearby. Military activity on Salisbury Plain began in 1897, increasing rapidly during the First World War. Troops were billeted at Imber Court in 1916.

From 1927 the War Office began buying up land and leasing it back to the farmers. By 1932 all the farmland was owned by the War Office. The village of Imber was evacuated in November 1943 to facilitate training of American troops for the D-Day landings. The village has remained in military occupation ever since.

After a very testing, desolate stage, I descend into civilisation, CP4 at the village of Chitterne.

By the time I got to the CP, I was worried that I might be close to the cut-off, but reassuringly co-RD Ian was there and confirmed that I was well within time and that I could “throttle back.” I nearly choked, as I suspected he had no idea that I was then in “limp home” mode.

What a relief though. I am reminded that the race notes stated that CP4 has a church and a defibrillator, thankfully I managed to leave the CP without needing either. There were now just over 13 miles to the finish.

The final part of the race is characterised by more mud and hills. As I approached 26 miles the Iron Age hill fort of Scratchbury came in to view, and although the hill had to be overcome CP5 was waiting on the other side. As I made my way down the singletrack path from the hill fort the last CP came into view. I could now virtually realise the final section and I started to believe that I could make it to the end, after all. As at every CP, the kind volunteers filled my water bottles, provided some tasty snacks and heaps of encouragement to keep going.

I thought to myself that at least the weather had been kind today, although I know the volunteers would be there, equally fired up and supportive if there had been violent storm in progress. Leaving the CP, I reassured myself that there were just 6.5 miles to the finish.

I well knew what laid ahead, a ludicrously steep hill known locally as ‘Heartbreak hill’. Clockwise, this hill must be climbed! Although this would be last hill, my body was staring to complain about any further punishment. Very annoyingly, having decided to wear a more lightweight pair of running shorts, with a shorter than usual inner lining (thinking that this might better fit over my support belt and strap), the seam of the lining had been chaffing the top of my left leg, adding to my woes. I ticked myself off again, for changing something that had worked perfectly previously. When I needed a boost, right on cue, back to the rescue came Westbury Running Group. My friends Viv and Dave were out walking their dog Rosie and had waited for me at the bottom of the hill. It was so great to see them, have a chat, stroke Rosie; giving me a moment where my mind was in a much nicer, positive place. I strode up the hill, with a new purpose, knowing that I was going to finish this!

At the top of the hill, I arrived back on the Imber path and then it was only a short distance down a chalky path towards the finish at Leighton Leisure Centre.

These last couple of miles, all downhill or flat, were managed on autopilot. A further last-minute boost lay just a few hundred yards along the lane, leading to the finish; my friend Claire was there with her dog and ready to run in with me; we started but then the dog needed to take a toilet stop. “Keep going,” Claire says to me!

I rounded the corner, into the leisure centre car park, the finish line in front of me. I could not quite believe I had made it and to my great surprise (although I know how lovely my running mates are), I was humbled to see many friends from the Westbury group to cheer me in.

Teresa was there too, winding down after a great run (coming first in her Ladies Age Group).

I crossed the finish line and was handed a goody bag containing the coveted Imber Ultra pottery mug, hand thrown by Trevor at the White Horse Pottery, only a mile away. Now I have 10!

As I stood sipping cider and cheering in the last few runners, surprise of surprises, the RDs Ian and Martin appeared and presented me with a special award for being the “ever-present” for the 10 years of the Imber Ultra. I was bowled over! Making me feel even more special, they ask the Lady President of the local Rotary Club to present the award to me. The local newspaper reporter was also on hand to capture the moment on camera and gather a few quotes.

At that moment, it really registered how inclusive and caring the race directors had been in their planning in that as well as the race winners, the category and team winners, they thought about me too. They and all the volunteers had been so committed and giving, to make this such a momentous event for all the participants.

I do not dwell on it, but I cannot help thinking “what if I had turned back at 12 miles?” What I would have missed?

As I write this, I have had back lumbar fusion surgery three weeks after the finish and am recovering well.

Hopefully once recovered, I will have wound the clock back a few years.

I am already thinking that 12 months should give me time to recover, in time for Imber 2025, although I will not want to take any risks and ensure I make a full and permanent recovery.

If I cannot enter as a runner, I wondered if, as a fall back, Ian and Martin would let me be the tail walker next year!

— Steve Nuttall is a social runner, living in Trowbridge, Wiltshire on the edge of Salisbury Plain, and leads in a local Run Together group, Westbury Running Group.

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Barkley Investments The incredible emotional rollercoaster that was Jasmin Paris’ finish at the Barkley Marathons this year is continuing more than a week after the event. Jasmin took some time out to speak with Robin about the race, and how it all panned out.

Interview: Robin Bush Photos: David Miller

Five years ago, Jasmin Paris made headlines after becoming the first woman to win The Spine Race, setting a new record while along the way expressing milk for her then 14-month-old baby. She has often broken down barriers, such as when scrapping to the last with Jim Mann for the overall win at Dragon’s Back Race in 2015; in 2016 setting an overall record for Ramsay’s Round along with women’s records for the Paddy Buckley Round and the Bob Graham Round; winning the Skyrunning Extreme Series that same year; and then The Spine success which catapulted her to fame.

In 2023 she became only the second woman to attempt a fourth loop at the legendary Barkley Marathons, in Tennessee in the US. As veterans of Barkley say, the only way to recce that race is to enter and run it; so with four loops attempted last year this set her up well for her climactic finish this year.

Jasmin is now in front of me drinking a cup of tea out of a large mug. Did she know how much she had set the world on fire? “I’ve not really had time to think about it, at least until today when I was cycling into work,” she recalls.

“A really warm feeling comes over you when you realise you actually did it. But you know… the hero thing, that’s not true. I’m good at persevering, I think. Even I surprised myself with how much I persevered on Barkley.”

Since the race, the media demand has been high, with radio, TV and newspapers all clamouring for interviews, and so Jasmin says she’s had to learn to say no to some of them, and to put off some of the magazines and podcasts that can wait until a little bit later, especially as she had to return to work. With all of the attention we’re lucky to have the chance for this chat, but she’s been a great supporter of ULTRA over the years and vice versa, and we get on well. Did she have any idea, as she was running up the hill towards the finish, just how big a deal it would be? “I knew that it would probably be pretty big if I finished it,” she admits with

a grin. “But then I didn’t really think about that very much, it was just a personal challenge that I wanted to do. It was just all about me trying to get to the finish.”

I’m dying to know all about the race, and I’m sure you reading this are too, so I just wanted to get to it, to find out all about it. The most interesting thing, though, was what did Jasmin do differently from last time, the socalled ‘fun run’, where only three of the five laps were completed? “There were some things that changed,” she says. “I did a lot of climbing [in training], hill repeats; and in the last month I did quite a lot of double training.

I’d do my session in the morning, whether that was intervals or just a long run or whatever, but then I’d do a session in the evening as well, just before picking the kids up from nursery or after school club. I tried to do the equivalent of 1,000m in about 40 minutes, just kind of squeezing it in. And then, you know, there’s the cycle commute and everything else.”

In training Jasmin had several significant runs that she describes as memorably as the race itself.

“The most memorable long run that I did was my last long run before the race, on a local hill,” she says.

“I went to bed at 8pm with our three-year-old, then got up at midnight. It was one degree, and really throwing it down outside. I went out and I was climbing up and down the same hill. But because it was so cold the rain changed to sleet, and at the top it was snow; and it was so slippery on the way down, it was impossible to stay upright. I ended up kind of sledging down, climbing up, sledging down. I did about 8.5 hours of reps on this hill for, like, 4,700m of ascent on quite rough terrain.”

And then Jasmin took the kids swimming. No joke.

“Conrad met me at the pool, so I got 20 minutes in the sauna to warm up first,” she admits. Wow, what luxury!

“Sometimes you have a training run that’s almost as memorable as the event, and that was definitely one of those I’ll remember. It was kind of special.”

There’s a mental side to ultrarunning as well, of course, and that’s particularly the case with Barkley. In looped races like this where there’s a chair to sit in, food, and maybe a leg rub every time you make it back to camp, it becomes exponentially harder to get out of that chair to do another loop, especially when you get tired.

I asked Jasmin how she prepared for this; how she got her head in the right space.

“Even as I was doing the Ben Ledi training run, it was one in the morning and I was going through this sleet storm into a blizzard, and most people would say, ‘this is completely bonkers,’ but that is what you have to be to run Barkley. I think the knowledge that I did it and persisted and managed to do the whole session, that’s where it gave me the confidence that I did that really bonkers thing and then returned to normal society.”

Jasmin kept telling herself that it’s going to be good, “I’m gonna pull it off at Barkley”, and went there with confidence that she would finish. “The big, obvious problem would have been if the weather hadn’t played ball. But the weather did play ball.”

This confidence comes from experience, of having completed seven loops of the Barkley in previous years, many of them on her own, and in some… let’s say ‘highly changeable conditions’. She tells me that she knew what she was doing this time.

“The advantage of previous Barkley experience is that not only do you learn the way, but you’ve made all the mistakes. That doesn’t mean you don’t make the mistakes [this time], but you correct them more quickly.

I ran with both Jared and John this year, and they both make mistakes as well. The kind of people that have been there and finished it multiple times before, they still make mistakes.” And according to Jasmin you have to be really quick at correcting those mistakes, because if you end up with a two-hour loss of time, that could be race over. “It needs to be, like, ten minutes loss rather than two hours.”

Jasmin, and in a very sportsmanlike way, offered her the clockwise option. “I was basically… ‘Yes, please!’” recalls Jasmin with a light in her eyes. But she knew that meant she needed to fuel up and go, and she was struggling to eat. “I couldn’t eat pasta and I couldn’t eat porridge,” she says, “so I shovelled down this rice pudding, and then when I stood up, I threw up. I’ve never thrown up in a race before. I was saying sorry to the people around me, before I went and got a banana and set off. I was feeling pretty miserable when I went, but I was definitely buoyed by that kindness.”

So the race to finish the last loop was on, and Jasmin’s careful pacing strategy was about to pay off. Her plan had been to get round the first three loops in 32 hours, and she had been a little over that but within touching distance. “Basically,” she says, “my aim was to try and stay with John Kelly or Jared, somebody in that kind of ballpark, and to run with them for the first few loops.

Then I would have enough of a buffer to get around the last two loops. As it was she had taken a bit too much out of herself on those first three loops, and started to feel awful, but needed to manage that. “It’s not really like I had a choice, you know?” she says. “Because if I hadn’t [gone out hard], then I wouldn’t have had enough time to do the last loop. The advantage you gain from running with people is huge.” If it’s a group of three or four, she says, then you stop each other making mistakes and there’s comfort in that collective.

“When you’re having a bad moment, all you need to do is follow. Do you know what I mean?” Also she finds that when that group reach a book and need to find their page as proof that they arrived at that checkpoint, someone would pull the pages out for the whole group and hand them out, saving vital minutes. “So the strategy was really to try and stay with people in those first few loops and then, you know, I was prepared to go it alone, probably for the last two. As it was, I got to run quite a lot of number four with Greg and Jared, which was wonderful.”

As Jasmin mentions Jared [Campbell], a previous finisher of the Barkley Marathons, it reminds me of the video clip I saw of an interaction between Jared and Jasmin just prior to loop 5. It seemed like quite a significant moment – certainly a very sportsmanlike moment. What happened? “Damian, John and Greg went out pretty much as soon as I came in,” she recalls.

“And I said, ‘is anyone else still here?’” Someone told her that Jared’s still there, he was just getting ready to go, and it was clockwise next. Clockwise is the favourite direction of travel in Barkley. Runners have to run the first four loops alternating between clockwise and anticlockwise, but for the fifth loop each runner is sent in an alternate direction. This is to stop pairs of runners leaving together and potentially supporting each other to the finish – just another of Laz’s tricks to make this race the most difficult it could be.

About those last two loops then – I guess Jasmin would have felt against the clock, but how did loop 4 feel, and how did it work out? “I struggled,” she admits.

“I couldn’t really get eat that much. And then I tried to eat some gels, and that definitely didn’t agree with my tummy, which is part of the reason that I threw up at the checkpoint. But it was really nice to be running with Greg and Jared, and they were they were super, super nice. We did the new section together, which involves a lot of brambles, and it’s a really slow section so it was nice to have company. It’s almost like you’re taken out of the race for a moment, and you just have to find your way through all these brambles; and you’re chatting, cursing together. There was a lot of cursing. So yeah, that’s kind of fun. And then you get through it, and then you need to actually start trying to race again and up your speed. But yeah, we did all that together, which was really nice.”

“Somebody told me, ‘If you want to go clockwise, you need to go before Jared’,” Jasmin continues. “But they also said, like, ‘He’s getting ready to go.’ I was pretty broken and I didn’t really want to get out of the chair, but I needed to get off. But it felt like a bit wrong to jump up and sneak in front of Jared. It’s just not like us, you know?” Just then, Jared came over and spoke with

And then she was on loop five. On her own. ”I set off and I was really determined to do it,” she recalls. “I made a mistake in the first bit of the new section, which cost me probably 20 minutes - a lot of time in the context of Barkley – and then I was a bit too hesitant in the bit after that, in terms of my decision-making.” But overall, she says, she didn’t make too many mistakes, and actually

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it went pretty well – but that didn’t stop people at the firetower, seven miles from the finish, speculating that she wouldn’t make it. “In my head I was doing okay,” Jasmin says with a confident look. “But I think people had sort of written me off already. They said, ‘Oh, there’s no way that Jasmin’s going to make it back because she’d have to run quite a lot faster than Ihor.’ But I didn’t doubt, I just went. I was really moving much better at this point on loop five than I was on previous loops.”

With Barkley it’s possible to experience all weathers, and at this point it was particularly warm, so Jasmin and the other runners were taking advantage of the natural water sources around Frozen Head Park, dipping into pools and rivers. “I went right underneath the water, and then carried on,” she recalls. “I wasn’t worried about shoes or anything, I just kept everything on and just went straight in and under. Without doing that, I definitely would not have finished, because it makes me go quite a lot faster.” And she was not only positive, and running well, but happy. “I was running with this kind of inward joy, but trying to tame it, to not get excited too soon,” she says with a smile. “If there ever was a race where things can change, it’s Barkley.

So I was coming off that last hill and I thought I had enough time to do it, but I needed to run fast. Going down the zigzags, at one point I tripped and I just flew straight forward into the bank; but it was all dry leaves.

And I was, like, ‘thank God.’ Half an hour from the end and it could have been all over.”

The way Jasmin describes the last loop you can tell just how tricky it is. Bearing in mind everything that she has done before – Dragon’s Back, Spine, etc, none of which are mean feats – if this lady says that it was tight then you can pretty much guarantee it was tight! She used all the tricks in the book to motivate herself to keep going, like chanting the names of her family “like they were all giving me a push, like it was a joint effort.” This was the culmination of months, years of work, and stars had to align to make this race achievable. The fatigue she had been suffering with for a year, an “intermittent tiredness” as she calls it that forced her out of Tor des Geants, “just went away late last year.” The left knee that has no cruciate ligament and could have blown up at any time, just “behaved itself,” - but through no accident, actually through a regime of strength training and gruelling runs and climbs to build up resilience in her body to the level required by the race.

And then, minutes before the 60-hour cut-off, the people at the finish line saw her, in shock and disbelief, and unparalleled joy. She was going to make it. She was going to be the first woman to finish the race, in 35 years. They were witnessing history. With 99 seconds to go, she slumped like a ragdoll over the infamous yellow gate, before collapsing to the floor. Did she know how close it was going to be? “According to my calculations,” Jasmin says, “I would have had more like 10 minutes when I finished. Not 99 seconds. I don’t really know where the minutes went in that final descent.

I felt like I was pushing it quite hard. It was super close.”

During those 59 hours, 58 minutes and 29 seconds she had only managed to catch a short nap, closing her eyes for three minutes and maybe not sleeping but getting some peace, some comfort. But over 60 hours, that’s small beer. I told Jasmin that at the end, in that

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dramatic finish with just 99 seconds to go before the cut-off, I’d never seen her that goosed, ever. It seemed to go beyond fatigue, her body seemed to shut down in front of the cameras. As the RD Laz ordered the photographers, obviously eager to grab that shot, to MOVE AWAY as Jasmin slumped to the floor, totally drained. Jasmin’s husband, Konrad, ran up to her, rolled her over to one side and while we all expected him to be seriously concerned about her welfare, the first thing he did was to get in her pack and pull out her pages to verify the finish with Laz. I was honestly laughing as he pulled out that little Ziploc bag, and Jasmin remembers it with fondness. “He knew I was all right,” she laughs.

“I was breathing really hard. I just couldn’t speak, and he just… he just let me breathe, you know? I couldn’t say it, but I just needed to breathe. I’ve never had an oxygen deficit like that, and it just needed a moment to dissipate.” Sometime after that, when Jasmin was sitting up and more lucid, Laz gave her the opportunity to press the little button he always takes with him to the race for just these moments. When pressed, it simply speaks, in a loud voice, “Easy”. Gotta love Laz. “John Kelly’s little daughter was standing nearby,” Jasmin recalls with a grin, “and was, like, ‘But it wasn’t easy.’”

Irony is sometimes lost on the young.

My thought is that Laz, usually apparently quite stoic and at the helm of this legendary gruelling race, must have been as pleased as Punch with Jasmin as the first female finisher of the race, and Jasmin agrees. “I can’t remember what his exact words were,” she says, “but he made it clear that he was delighted. I think he saw how much it cost me. Yeah, I think he was impressed.”

So, over and done with. Back to normal with, as Jasmin describes, “just a little bit of tendinitis, some blisters and slightly swollen feet and legs.” Back to work and family, chores and routine. “The kids are a wonderful kind of leveller,” she says. “They bring you back to the present, and don’t let you get too big-headed. You’re immediately in the same battles about bedtime, about tidying up clothes, doing the washing up and making the dinner. It’s just right back to normal life.”

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#citizensofthemountain Anton Krupicka, Dolomites.

FIND YOUR FLOW.

Finite Loop Emma Harrison takes on the Fisherfield Round in a day.

Words & Photos: Emma Harrison Among the giants of the North West lie arguably the best hills in Scotland. To reach any of the peaks in the area will reward you with some of the best views out there – stretches of coastline, the Isle of Skye and the Outer Hebrides. Many people have heard of the North West Munros – Liatach, Beinn Alligan, An Teallach but how many have attempted the most remote hills in the area?

The munros are a big deal in Scotland – any mountain over 914m is considered one and many people decide to summit them all making them a munro bagger. I’m one of them, and I’d thoroughly recommend taking your time to try all the munros to explore the most rugged areas in the Highlands. Though, in my heart of hearts, my favourites have to be in the area known as Great Wilderness, and among those are the adventurous Fisherfield Round munros.

Unless you’re fluent in Scottish Gaelic, you might not be able to pronounce these, but the Fisherfield Round consist of five munros - Sgurr Ban, Mullach Coire Mhic Fhearchair, Beinn Tarsuinn, A’Mhaighdean and Ruadh Stac Mor. They translate into different descriptions such as ‘the maiden’ and ‘big red stack’.

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A grand day out The facts and figures of this grand day out is approximately 44km and a rocky rollercoaster, so be prepared for a very full day out. The route is generally described from a well-known bothy in the area, Shenavall which is a good 7.5km and not a particularly easy one either. Just for fun, we decided to include this onto our day both ways – we love a challenge! However, we saw tonnes of wild campers (brushing their teeth, wringing their socks out, you get the picture) so you could easily break this up and enjoy a peaceful evening in the wilderness, and it really is wild out there. People seem to clump around the bothy as their campsite, but there’s no toilet available, so it might be more beneficial to push on if the weather’s looking good – which it should be if you’re planning on this expedition no matter how much of it you want to cover. The bothy must be one of the most photographed buildings in Scotland, so of course, take a courtesy photo to add to the album.

The round is described as steep, heathery, scree, with boulder fields, narrow ridges and grass slopes.

Oh, and ‘the worst sections of bog you can imagine’.

How exciting I thought!

We were told setting off horrendously early is the only way to avoid being eaten alive by midges, though it didn’t seem to make too much of a difference, they are creatures of all hours apparently. On the plus side, we did see a sunrise on route, which set the day off nicely.

Walking the path to the bothy is pleasant, and a really nice warm up on a great path. To your right, you’ll see the well-known An Teallach – some ridgey pinnacles with some great exposure on them that can’t be missed when the time’s right to climb it – adding this on would make an extremely long day out and you need to appreciate it, it’s worth the wait.

Let’s go for a ride You’ll instantly see why this place is called the Great Wilderness as you’re surrounded with hills from all angles, but there’s something that feels so peaceful about the place with its roaming wild goats and luscious forest. You might not feel quite as peaceful when you look up at the first peak to climb which feels like the travelator on the old (and new) TV programme, Gladiators. It’s a heathery dome and a pain to climb (literally) but it does eventually come to an end, and you’re eventually on a flattish shoulder to a lovely pile of scree to climb to reach the summit. You get your money’s worth - the views are nothing but spectacular and I’m afraid you’ll need to get used to scree, it’s everywhere and it doesn’t give in.

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In true Scottish style, the day throws in some occasional lochans and you’ll be gifted with quartzite boulders to help you reach the viewpoints. Getting to the ridge of Sgurr Ban felt great and knowing the area well, being able to point out all the other mountains was great fun. Though, looking at what was still to come is debatably fun, but we kept plodding on. The ridges were nothing like the razor ridges of Liatach in Torridon or even An Tealalch, so although difficult to reach, the tops didn’t require spare pants, just another set of legs by the halfway point with all the climbing.

With the terrain, a pair of grippy shoes are absolutely essential but cushioned enough to feel comfortable throughout.

Counting the Munros The next mountain is the highest on the round, and with a hop step and jump we were there – although it looked miles away from the last, we were there in no time with a little determination and some Chia Bars (the banana ones of course) The hills started to become a little more broad and grassy now and a grand reveal at the summit gave us even more views than before. There is a part of the round that’s described as a tennis court, so I was constantly looking for it and eventually, a nice, flat green area was in view so we got our strawberries and cream (aka a jammy dodger) out and enjoyed a rest. Soon after, the scenery became dramatic with pinnacles ahead, but this was soon whittled away from us as we descended down a steep slope and very boggy bealach. At this point, we passed other runners coming the other way after which passed a good half an hour considering which was the better route to take. We decided the one we were on was best, to keep morale high as this section was pretty exhausting.

After a slog, we eventually got to A’Mhaighdean and at the top of this, the whole effort seemed worth it. There are dramatic crags that look over Dubh Loch that are absolutely beautiful – though, there was a group of walkers hogging the entire top – one of my room 101s, but we scoffed our cheese sandwiches regardless, got a snap and kept going. It’s worth pointing out that this is the remotest of all the munros and people think it is the finest viewpoint of them all.

Just to spice things up, there’s a small section of easy scrambling, but that was welcomed at this point – using your arms rather than just your legs felt quite refreshing. Still, we hit the weather just right and the sky was so blue, the weather, even though it’s Scotland, was on our side.

Grab your swimmers!

Squeezing your way through a gap in the boulders to the next summit craig of Ruadh Stac Mor gives you a view of dramatic rock peaks and shimmering lochans, the stuff dreams are made of. Now for the best bit – descending down to eventually meet a river crossing that for most, is a swim crossing.

We got pretty lucky, but earlier in the year, I was treated to a Fisherfield Spa in that very river!

Crossing very carefully, we eventually waded across, and made our way back via the bothy once more for a tiring walk back to the car.

One of the best mountain rounds you’ll ever complete, and certainly one of the most remote. The mountains are serious, and the views are outstanding. With the hills each holding their own interesting terrain, it makes your day very varied. We were delighted to see the car, but the day was an unforgettable one, but as always, don’t forget your sandwiches – extra fuel is needed for these beasts.

— Emma likes to think of herself as a mountain goat, usually found in the Scottish Highlands. Ridgeline running is her passion, mountains, and will always run for beer and crisps. Long distance running has a big place in her heart, and exploring the world’s best trails is her priority!

Old enough to know better? Ha! Tim Laney muses on how age and experience should bring wisdom, but in ultrarunning often does not.

Words: Tim Laney Photo: Joyce Hankin It all started with a little niggle on Day 1 of the OMM in Snowdonia. Setting off up the first climb I noticed a new tightness in my right thigh, in the middle of my quadriceps. I initially discounted it as just one of those little aches and pains that crop up all the time when running on rough ground, but by the time we descended into the overnight campsite later that day, the niggle had developed into more of a discomfort, and then started cramping up as I went through the contortions of removing shoes and donning tights inside our tiny tent.

“A bit of stretching at the start of Day 2 should solve it,” I thought. Surprisingly it did, and I went through most of day without issue… until the final long descent when the niggle became a pain, and the stiffness became an impediment to free movement. Running along the track towards the finish became a limping hobble, but we got there, even catching up a few places over the day.

November is usually my ‘off month’ when I take a bit of time out, and I didn’t give my quads much thought, and was running more-or-less pain free on my few gentle, short outings through that month. Next in the calendar was one of my favourite winter runs, the 36mile Tour de Helvellyn. Without having done anything much in the way of specific training, I set off to run it on a cold, wet December morning, and actually had a great outing - until the slippy, rocky descent off Chapel Hause, when that same niggle reared its head again, making any running over the last quarter of the route increasingly stiff and uncomfortable. Two days later - rather stupidly - I thought a light road run might improve matters, but after ten minutes I was struck by painful spasms in my right leg that put me back to hobbling again.

I called my physio friend Rachael and fixed an appointment.

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Annoyingly, the pain I was experiencing while running was very difficult to localise in the clinic, and she wasn’t able to suggest a specific cause, though she did advise that I stop running, and avoid any gym exercises that gave any discomfort. Which I duly did.

At a second appointment a week later Rachael said light running might be in order, but to stop before any pain reached 3/10 ish. I continued, more-or-less pain free again… until it was suggested that some of us took on a mid-winter challenge run of about 25 miles, with 1,500m of up and down… which seemed like a great idea. Such a great idea that I finished in so much pain that walking down the hill to my house was a challenge.

I’m sure by now you’re thinking to yourself, “Isn’t he old enough to know better? Surely when you have a niggle you know better than to push on through and turn it into a chronic injury?” I know I would be, and this is exactly what my lovely wife said several times, as well as the physio. I’m sure that many of us have done exactly as I did though, and carried on running even though it was evident that it really was a less-thansensible thing to do, and actually ended up doing harm. I had successfully turned a minor muscle pain into a full-on Grade 2 tear in my rectus femoris which took me off the hills and trails for way longer than the short rest that was all it really needed.

So. Am I old enough to know better? I should be, but no, not really.

Did I learn from this? Possibly.

Will it happen again? Very likely.

Like us all, I think I take the ability to just go out running very much for granted, and close my mind to the possibility that injury might have to put a stop to it. I’ve been fortunate enough to run injury-free for a long time, and hope that I’ll go on for many years yet. Maybe it is time though, to pay just a little more attention when the body starts to complain?

— Tim is a sometime mountain marathon and ultrarunner with far too many years of running behind him. He’s up and running again at the moment - but for how long?

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Andy Milroy / Race Across Snowdonia / Ultra sustainability / Kerry Ultra / Menopause vs The Spine / Metropolis / The Running Granny / Dragon’s Back / The history of the 50-mile race / SVP50 / All in the mind / Kev Webber / What’s in Paul Tierney’s bag? / Bush on head torches and more

Vassos Alexander / The Spine Race / Jasmin Paris / Coast 2 Coast / Running with poles / Menopause pt2 / Layering to keep warm - the expert view / The Plague / What’s in Nicky Spinks’ bag? / A Pennine Journey / Tracker guide / Are we runners or thinkers? / Irish 48hr and more

Strength Training For Ultrarunners / 450 miles, Three Peaks / Five Days in Andalusia / Ancient Aboriginal Messengers How to Layer Garments to Stay Warm / Running Out Of Time / The Hurt 100 / Advice on Dealing With Runner’s Gut Ultra-Trail Snowdonia / History of Women’s Six-Day Events / Jo Meek / UTMB / Running the Gwynne-Harris Round

How to train your mind to help you run ultras / Running five deserts in a year / Berkeley Marathons UK style / How to layer hands and feet to stay dry and keep warm / Tarawera Ultramarathon / What’s in Robert Hajnal’s bag? / Benefits of coaching / The UK’s hardest 100? / It’s a long way to Tipperary and more

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In THIS ISSUE

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Cape Wrath Ultra / The first female winner of Comrades / Running the Dartmoor Tors / The sustainable journey / Peaks and Pennines / Are race numbers in decline? / Dolomites / Tanzania / What’s in Eoin Keith’s bag? / Dragon’s Back / Six-day treadmill record / The Last Secret and more...

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TIME WOUnDS ALL HEELS

David Bentham takes the rough with the smooth at the Trails and Tarmac Backyard Ultra.

Words: David Bentham Photos: Andy Gale Photography

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Running an ultramarathon in winter is a dark and lonely business, but someone has to do it. It was certainly dark and lonely, not to mention extremely cold, setting off at 5am and driving through the Brecon Beacons to Crickhowell for the Trails and Tarmac Backyard Ultra.

For the uninitiated, the rapidly growing ‘backyard ultra’ phenomenon is a race where participants follow a set course of approximately 4.2 miles, on the hour, every hour, until only one person remains. Most people tend to complete each lap in a time of about 45 to 50 minutes, leaving just over 10 minutes to eat and recuperate before a bell rings to signal the imminent start of the next lap. These races are open-ended, but a minimum of eight laps (33.33 miles) is usually required to be regarded as having completed an ultra distance and therefore earning a medal.

The race I entered took place on January 20th, and runners set off on the first lap at 7am. There were 49 of us, all wearing head torches as obviously it was pitch dark at that hour. We ran along a mainly flat, straight section of road for about a mile, before turning right and heading uphill into steeply sloping fields.

Brief bottlenecks formed at each of the three stiles we encountered, and I knew immediately that, as the race progressed, these stiles would become harder and harder to negotiate. At the top of the slope we turned right onto a narrow track, passed through a few gates, down a steeply sloping field, and back onto a stretch of tarmac road. We were now high above the road we ran out on, heading in the opposite direction. Eventually we turned right again down a series of gullies on uneven hard-packed dirt, covered in loose stones. We ran through several fields separated by gates or stiles and finally came out on the road we started on, where we turned right to get back to base.

For me, lap one proved more difficult than I’d imagined, but I finished in 47:42, allowing me plenty of time to eat and drink. That’s one of the advantages of this type of race, that you don’t have to carry all your supplies with you. By the start of lap two, dawn had broken so people abandoned their head torches and, in some cases, shed a layer of clothing. The three-minute warning rang, then the two minute, and we scrambled to be in the starting corral for the start of the next lap.

On lap two I felt much better — I was warmed up and getting into my stride. The first signs of the disaster to come became evident about half way into lap three — I noticed some discomfort in the heel of my left foot and so had to run more on the ball of my foot to ease the tenderness. I’d never had this problem before, which I now know to be plantar fasciitis, so had no idea what was to come. Starting lap four I could barely put any weight on my left heel and consequently had to run more heavily on my right leg, putting increased strain on my right calf.

Back at base between laps I was getting to know some of the other runners. One of the great aspects of this type of competition is, unlike most long distance races where runners such as me watch the pack disappearing over the horizon never to be seen again, the backyard ultra format brings runners of very differing abilities together. I had a number of friendly exchanges with people that I would normally only see briefly at the start line.

As the race progressed the situation with my heel repeated itself on each lap, getting gradually worse.

Nevertheless, I was still doing reasonably well until lap seven, when my energy levels plummeted, possibly due partly to the extra effort necessitated by the heel problem. As I came to each of the aforementioned stiles, I took longer to climb over. I wasn’t alone in this — from about lap four I’d noticed runners ahead of me struggling over them and catching a knee or a foot as they failed to lift a leg high enough. During lap seven I looked back and realised that, for the first time in the race, there was nobody behind me. Checking my watch I also saw that in order to make the cut off I was going to have to increase my speed considerably. I made the best time, as with all the previous laps, going down the stone-strewn gully, and managed to get back to base in 55 minutes and 49 seconds. By now I was pretty worn out, and I dragged myself up the steps to where I’d left my chair and slumped into it, with only a few minutes to recover before the bell rang again.

I was more or less convinced that I wouldn’t make the cut-off on this lap, but I couldn’t allow myself to give up — as Samuel Johnson said of his final illness, “I will be conquered; I will not capitulate”! I’d been in similar situations before, and I’d rather be timed-out trying, than give up without a fight. The bell rang for what proved to be my final lap, and I limped out of the starting corral and did my best to stay with the pack. By the time I began climbing up the hill I was on my own — I could see other runners on the path above, but there was no way I was going to catch them. I was exhausted, having to break the route into small sections in my mind, ‘Just get to the next stile, then you can walk a bit’, and so on. As always in these circumstances, Kipling’s words came back to me;

I held on as best I could, but I was inevitably too late crossing the line — 14 minutes over the eight hours since setting off. I was absolutely delighted however, as I approached the finish, to hear the same cheering and cow bells and applause that had greeted runners at the end of all the previous successful laps — it was the warmest reception I’d ever encountered on any of my previous marathons and ultra marathons. Everybody was smiling and shouting congratulations even though, clearly, I was now classified as DNF. To cap it all, I was given a finishers’ medal! The eventual winner of the race, paradoxically the last one to finish, was Rebecca Hormann, who completed 20 laps and a distance of 83.34 miles, in 17:28:35, an amazing achievement.

It had turned out then, that this particular ultra marathon was neither dark nor lonely. All in all, it had been a superb experience with the friendliest support crew you could wish for, led by Ellen, the race director, who had lots of time for everyone and even gave me a hug as I was leaving. I would highly recommend Limitless Trails events and shall certainly be looking for more to enter. Having said that, I am aware that at 71 years old, time isn’t on my side, but I fully intend to follow the advice of Dylan Thomas, and ‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light’. ­— David Bentham got involved in long distance running while working in Brunei, where one of the very few ways to get a beer was by running with BH3, aka the Brunei Hash House Harriers. Since then he has run marathons and ultramarathons in Sarawak, Uganda and Spain, not to mention his home in Wales, where he is now retired and enjoying the trails on his doorstep in the Brecon Beacons.

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If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

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THE MENTAL GAME: How can a marathoner mentally prepare for an ultramarathon?

Words: Charles Moore Photo: Johnny Zhang Everyone knows the saying “That’s a marathon, not a sprint”: something that you say when there is a long journey ahead, when there is so much work left to do that the last thing you want is to start working too hard, that you need to let up on the accelerator before you wear it out altogether.

The only problem? There are distances beyond the marathon; challenges that are even more massive, races that push their runners far past the marathon’s finish line.

For a marathoner, ultramarathons can boggle the mind.

The category will encompass a wide range of distances.

At 31 miles, you have run nearly ten more kilometers than a marathon would have demanded. Just as marathoners talk in whispers about the wall that they hit, at mile markers fifteen or twenty, ultramarathoners will refer to the marathons they complete in the midst of their longer races — as segments rather than as the goals themselves, as pieces of something so large, so overwhelming, that only a clear mind and a steady eye will do to address them.

To train for an ultramarathon, to prepare for something that daunting, calls for another level of psychological preparation and deep introspection.

Before we get into all of that, let me go over my background as a runner. To date, I have run over twenty full marathons. I have travelled the world to run in these races, visiting beautiful cities and even traversing the boroughs of my home city, New York. There was a time that, for me, the marathon seemed like a vast ocean that I needed to cross in a row boat. That distance, 26.2 miles, felt like a weight that became only heavier the deeper I leaned over to pick it up.

In 2022, I set my sights on a new goal. I transitioned from training for the marathon to training for the ultramarathon, setting as my goal a 50K. I knew that this task was not one that I could approach lightly. I knew that it’s not one I can walk into on the day of the race. On the contrary, I am already thinking of my own health and my own state of mind. Because I have done the marathon before, gone from the state before it into the state after it, I understand what a challenge like this necessitates. There is no showing up with questions, no appearing on race day and wondering how it will all work out, because sooner or later, the race is happening in the mind.

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After the toes cease to ache, as they have cried out all they can cry out, and after the calves have begged for relief and found none, there is the quiet exhale, the generous inhale — the mind that accepts the world as it is, the changes that will come only at the finish line.

To go into a marathon, let alone an ultramarathon, asking for outside validation: there is one way to run headlong into disaster.

Preparing for an ultramarathon requires physical strength, of course. The calves and the thighs become hard with muscle, yet flexible too. They become durable so that they can pass over the ground step after step after step after— …and then it stops, it’s the end, the race is over, and I can celebrate.

I try to think of that. When the race is at its longest point, and it feels like it is verging on never-ending, I remember that every other time I have run, at every other race like this one, it has ended. The pain has ceased. The breathing has slowed, has relaxed, and I have felt wonderful, knowing that I did it. Despite the pains and the aches, I made it to the end. I decided to do it, and then I did it.

Physical training will only go so far. Your willpower, your sheer choice, is the indispensable component.

Think about it like this. You are training for a marathon, and because you have seen other people finish marathons, you suspect that you can do the same.

Perhaps you have even seen yourself finish a marathon.

Those are both wonderful pieces of evidence to provide to your brain. They will help you out along the way.

An even better strategy, though, is to resolve that even in the complete absence of all evidence, you are going to choose to believe it’s possible. That way, when you are standing on the starting line of a 50K or a 50-miler, or even a 100-miler, a distance that far fewer people have ever completed, you can decide that you’re going to do it, no matter how impossible it seems.

That’s endurance. That’s relentlessness.

Is this to say that if you choose “no pain” then no pain will come? Definitely not! You will feel pain on the course.

It will be right there with you, waiting for you to respond to it one way or the other. As Alex Hutchinson, author of Endure: Mind, Body, and the Curiously Elastic Limits of Human Performance wrote, “Achievement is not possible without discomfort.”

How will you respond?

You can put it in its proper place, tuck it away somewhere neat and tidy, or you can focus on it, let it overtake you.

In an ultramarathon, as in a marathon, the next step is always just one length in front of you. Think of that. What I have learned through finishing my first ultramarathon is that perseverance is unlimited. As long as you keep tapping into it, it doesn’t dry up. Then, the next time you go tapping into for more, it will feel like the most natural thing in the world for you to do.

“Wouldn’t it be so great to be done now,” I pondered in my memoir, Apropos of Running, unknowingly that, “Mental toughness is hard for me to measure, and I’m unsure how it can be taught.” To push more. To push harder.

To go further, further than you ever thought you would be able to go. Mind over matter.

— Charles Moore is a New York-based art historian and curator. He is the author of Apropos of Running, a memoir chronicling his life as a marathoner.

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AIN’T THAT A SHANE

Shane Ohly, CEO of Ourea Events, talks to Robin about how he formed the company and set up iconic events like the Dragon’s Back Race.

Photos: Grand Day Out Photography/ Stephen Wilson

Nestled in the eastern Cumbrian lowlands is the office of Ourea Events. You would be forgiven for missing it, as there are no corporate signs on the farm lane, marked private, that leads to the converted farm buildings that now serve as industrial units.

Inside the office spaces are well appointed, professional yet not ostentatious. Pictures of key moments from the many events hosted by Shane and his team over the years decorate the walls. A quiet energy filled the room, which when broken by the intrusion of a magazine reporter was replaced with a cordial and friendly welcome. Settling down to begin the interview it was clear that this was an environment where shit gets done, in a way that’s comfortable yet focused.

I started out by asking Shane how Ourea Events started.

Shane: So, rewind to 2009/2010. I had just finished a long block working with INOV8. It was a fantastic time to work with them because they were new into the market.

Brilliant products, massive energy in the business. I had the comfort of having a little bit of money in the bank, I was doing a smidge of consultancy for Berghaus about event work, and a little ad hoc event planning and directing work for Rat Race Adventure. So I wasn’t a novice to event planning, but I didn’t ever think I would have a career in it. It was just a novelty to plan a race in Ireland or an adventure race in Birmingham. Without too much thought, I pitched to Berghaus the idea of resurrecting the Dragon’s Back Race. That came to me because I had recently read Feet In The Clouds and it had this wonderful chapter about the original 1992 race, and I thought, “You know what, in 18 months’ time it’s the 20th anniversary. Why not do another one?” I really like difficult challenges, business or personal running.

Robin: Because you’re an accomplished runner and climber and general outdoor kind of enthusiast yourself, right?

S: Yes. As I started to put together what would be required, I was like, wow, this is difficult. And Berghaus said, ‘yes, we’ll sponsor it’, so I walked out of that meeting with a sponsor and an idea, but no plan, really.

Thanks to the INOV8 work I could dedicate the next 18 months to understanding how to build and recreate the Dragon’s Back. And the very first thing that I did was track down Ian Wardle, the original organiser from ’92.

That took a bit of time, I tracked him down in this pub in Abergavenny and we had a pint and lunch together. I explained my ideas and he shook my hand and wished me luck.

R: Because the original race, there was a lot of military involvement, wasn’t there?

S: Ian had just come out of the Parachute Regiment and he was able to get 100 soldiers who did all of the logistics for him - driving, catering, building the camps, marshalling the hills, everything. They put it down to a training exercise. And as we would never have that level of support, we needed to solve these challenges ourselves, Much of the time in that period was doing landowner consultations. If you imagine a 300 [now 380] kilometre route, all the different landowners that you interact with are stakeholders. Some of them, you genuinely need their consent, some of them it’s a courtesy. There are very few patches, now, where we don’t know the landowner, but it’s taken years and years to get to that point.

R: So in 18 months you put together this event; that’s quite an explosive entrance onto the market. What is Ourea’s primary purpose?

S: Our mission is to create world-class events for participants to have genuinely challenging but lifeaffirming experiences. The Cape Wrath Ultra, Dragon’s Back Race and Northern Traverse, they fit into that characteristic. Something like the Great Lakeland Three Day is not quite the same level of challenge, but it’s still that kind of world-class event experience. We want to operate with responsibility and integrity and do good as a business; focus on sustainability, have integrity as an organisation. Do good, do good. Yeah.

R: From experience I know your safety briefings are very robust, particularly around your volunteer team. I guess this feeds into the doing good. How do you feel that messaging lands for your participants?

S: All participants and team crew get the same message. First priority: event team safety; second priority: participant safety; third priority: logistics.

Everything else is a distant fourth place. We’ve built some very robust safety management systems over the

years. This allows us to go to places like Crib Goch, Glen Coe skyline up the Aonach Eagach ridge, and it allows us to operate in weather and conditions that would be testing for a lot of other organisations. Honestly, I don’t think many of the participants get a glimpse of what is going on in the background. And that’s fine. It comes back to a question about perceived value and cost of an event. But when a participant is in need of our whole package of support within an event, the system works really well and we can look after people to a really high standard. I do not want to organise events for the lowest common denominator. If you don’t have good safety management systems, you’re constantly worried about Joe Bloggs at the back who is struggling with the whole thing. They’ve just overestimated their ability.

R: So participants have to take some responsibility for themselves, but your primary responsibility is your support team?

S: To an extent. There comes a point, like with severe weather, when you say this is not tenable. And then you have to think about safety on a kind of very broad level.

And we do that all the time. As you know, we decided to end the Glen Coe Skyline at the halfway point last year, and it was painful and we did everything possible to try and run that full course. But it just became untenable.

And yeah, sometimes as a race director, you have to go, you know what? This is a line and we’re not crossing it.

R: Some of your events require quite a significant financial investment. How is the cost made up?

S: That’s a very, very good question, where do I start? I passionately believe that the events are amazing value for money, and yes they are expensive. I would say the greatest expense is the emotional time and energy in preparing. For most people getting to Dragon’s Back Race with a good chance of success means hundreds of hours of training, missing family birthdays and dinners. That’s the investment, the real pain point for most people.

As a volunteer at one of our events you then get a credit equal to the value of the race entry, effectively doing the race for free. That’s really important to me and now we have this amazing community of really experienced runners who volunteer one year, race the next etc. The experience they bring and the ethos of how we deliver our events is absolutely priceless.

Back to the price itself. I’ve got 10 full time permanent staff, and we work year-round to plan, deliver and organise our portfolio of events, which are pretty complicated. Ten staff gives you a pretty significant fixed overhead for us to just be here. Then there’s a cost ensuring things run smoothly on the day: we use a lot of professional staff, really experienced people who make things happen smoothly and safely. Finally I would say I’m driving around in a 15-year-old van.

Nobody’s getting rich. I created events that I would like to do, and I pour passion into those events and I am not the right person to maximise profit. I want them to be awesome. I want participants to have an amazing time, and that is what drives my decision making.

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R: I haven’t done one of your events for a little while, you know, through health issues, and you’re an evolving organisation. What would my world-leading experience look like? Where’s the added value from my investment?

S: So ultimately, at first glance, you’re in a field with marquees, just like lots of other events. We are in the business of delivering experiences not races. We call it the Dragon’s Back Race, but it really should be called the Dragon’s Back Experience. There is a big difference between race and experience. We all know there are brilliant £10 fell races you can go and do this weekend and that’s wonderful. But you’re not going to reflect back in 10 years’ time and go, that was a defining moment of my career as a runner. We have a commercial kitchen feeding all participants and staff, like a school kitchen feeding 500 pupils a day, with two shifts of professional staff working from 2 a.m. to about midnight every day, preparing and serving food.

Then there are regulations around how you deliver an event, the law doesn’t care whether you’re professional or volunteers. Gantries, gazebos, portables, all covered by construction and design management regulations.

And, you know, you legally need a wind management plan for these structures. How many event organisers have got those? We have. It’s all these details that build and build and build to create robust safe, wellmanaged events, and that is where a lot of our additional costs come from.

Going back to the real core of your question, though, is where’s your added value as a participant? I guess it’s part of how we present the race. The Dragon’s Back Race is well-known, there is kudos for being a participant; the fame from that race comes from delivering successful, safe, well-run events, one after another after another after another. You build that reputation. It’s the way the media wraps around the event. It’s our communications, it’s the media team. It’s the live social media feed, it’s the BBC documentary, it’s live ITV News at the finish line. It is the fact that you are finishing in Cardiff Castle. People would fall over if I talked about the costs to hire Cardiff Castle. You know, these are really big investments. Although we’re still in a field, we ain’t operating in a field. Not really.

But we’re always learning. We organise the Adventure Sport Event conference every year, as a not for profit, to share good practice and learning. Any event organiser can come to that. It’s a fantastic open forum of sharing ideas and the latest legislation or good practice guidelines. And I am very keen to share what we are learning and I guess formalizing into processes.

R: Some of the discussions that I picked up at the last Dragon’s Back were around the different levels of finishing recognition. Back in the olden days you either won the thing or you got a little tiny dragon for getting to the end. And now you’ve introduced different levels of completion, like the Hatchling.

S: Yeah. First of all, I would say anybody who would criticise the idea of celebrating what the Hatchlings achieve needs their head examining. They are running on average about 250km in a week. That is a massively hard challenge. Any other event you

would be celebrating that, no question. I think a bit of perspective is required; the Hatchlings are doing something extraordinary in their own right.

Also historically, we always offered what we used to call a short course. But you only discover this once you got to the event and you’ve had that heart-wrenching moment of, “I’ve picked up an injury,” or “I’ve been ill all night,” or “it’s just too hard.” Lots of people who failed to finish, left the event. And it’s sad. They are sad. We are sad as a business. We want happy customers, you know? We would get to the end of Dragon’s Back or Cape Wrath with 50% of the people who started. This year something like 85% stayed with the events and 79% completed the races, the full course or the Hatchling or the Explorer.

I think the message will filter through. I totally understand that if you’re focused on completing that full course, maybe it doesn’t sit so well with you. But it’s the right thing for the participants who are there. They’ve made that investment in training and commitment and missed family time and all the rest of it. And then shit happens.

They get a little sprain here or they feel ill or it’s hotter than they expected. Whatever it is, it’s like, hey, stay with us. Enjoy this amazing journey through Wales.

R: Return on your investment. Totally. I think there is a hardcore within our community that is do or die. All or nothing. I think I’m probably guilty of that to a certain extent, but there is also a need, in my view, to encourage more people into the sport. The Hatchling is probably a very good gateway into multi-day racing.

S: It’s an absolute stepping stone to completing the full course, for sure. And yeah, I do think as a race organiser you need to think about your participants and your future participants and how they come to the race.

As an organisation we know from research we’ve done that the average time between a participant hearing about Dragon’s Back and taking part is between three and four years. Wow. So how on earth do you measure anything when you know any marketing and communications you do has a time lag of three to four years? It’s because the challenges are really hard. Most people take time to get their head around them.

I think the other key message that I would say about the finishers at Dragon’s Back, Cape Wrath, Northern Traverse, the vast majority of those finishers are middle of the pack runners. They’re not superstars. They’re not the people winning your local races. They’re not the ones speeding off at training sessions. These are the runners that apply themselves. Train hard, focus on the outcome, come to the event really determined. You know about determination. It is absolutely amazing what you can achieve when you try hard. And that’s the majority of our participants and finishers.

Trails World Series. I think it’s likely that our 2025 Skyline Scotland will be back in that World Series, and I think that’s great. I’m really happy to work with Salomon.

Fantastic brand and really focused on the trail running community as well.

As an organiser though, I’m not particularly motivated to get involved with World Championships Series. I’ve seen so many of them come and go. Skyline Scotland’s been in the Skyrunning World Series. It’s been in the Spartan World Championships, Golden Trails World Series, we’ve organised the World Skyrunning Championships. I think in all honesty, the market needs a bit of a shake out – the elite athletes don’t know whether they’re coming or going, and the general consumer participant has no idea which series has the greatest value or kudos. I think in the next 10 years it will all change.

R: Recognising that, while you’re a bit humble about it, you are an elite athlete, what would you say to somebody who’s thinking about entering? Maybe not just one of your events, but a significant multi-day event?

S: I would say you do not know what you can achieve until you try. That would be my absolute core message, I guess, followed up pretty quickly by if you don’t enter, you’ll never know. Don’t procrastinate. Preparation.

Glorious consistency. It’s no good having that 100-mile training week and then having two weeks to recover from it. The physical training is part of the process.

Give yourself every opportunity by entering a long time in advance. Preparing your kit, getting the nutrition right. And crucially, take joy in that process. Last year I had some really brilliant weekends running with the community and talking about nothing but running almost all weekend. And that’s the joy, isn’t it? You can get that right. Actual execution. The last 5% of your journey is the easy bit. Okay, not easy… but, you know, invest in the process. Train hard. Race easy. Yeah.

R: And what next for Ourea?

S: If I’m honest, Covid was a frigging disaster for us as for so many other businesses, especially events. We are carrying legacy debt from Covid at a time when entries are a bit suppressed, and operating costs are up. Brexit creates challenges for us all the time, the supply chain with labour and suppliers. It’s a really challenging time for the outdoor industry. For us as a business it’s hold steady. Have confidence in the events that we’ve got. Don’t be reckless with the choices we make. I am desperate to create new events. I have this growing list of ideas. But now is not the time to start pushing forward with them. We’re very lucky that we’ve got some really well-regarded events that have good participation. And for now, this year, it’s steady away.

R: Watch this space?

R: You have this quite diverse portfolio of races. Are there any plans for a grand slam of events?

S: Absolutely not. There’s enough of those. But we’ve got amazing plans for next year. In fact, the file that’s open on this machine right now is the plan for Skyline Scotland 2025. Salomon is very invested into the Golden

S: Watch this space. There’s more coming.

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Pack it up, pack it in...

James Elson shows us what’s in his bag.

What kit I pack depends entirely on the adventure being pursued and it’s a decision I make every day.

How long am I likely to be out, what is the weather going to be while I am out and how much ‘stuff’ is out there on my run e.g.., if I have an accident how long might I be waiting for help/are there any shops or supplies on route.

No matter the route, distance or time I will always pack a buff, some loo roll and some bodyglide. They are an absolute must and can be carried anywhere.

Spare base layer top and bottoms, I like a slightly thicker option just in case I get stranded. My trusty La Sportiva Drizzle Waterproof Trousers which pack down small and stand up to almost all weather. Montane Phase Nano Waterproof Jacket — lightweight but the Gore Tex Active material makes it the most bomb proof lightweight waterproof out there. A Lifesystems Heat Shield Thermal Bag is a must, so much more effective than a simple survival blanket and barely any bigger.

Lifesystems Hurricane Whistle. Vaga Beanie and pair of Montane Prism DryLine Mitts — these are both waterproof and warm. Lastly, always, whether I plan to be out at night or not, an emergency headlamp like the Petzl Actik Core and a Petzl Bindi or E+Lite too for the flashing red option. If I am out in the cold or mountains I will always carry an insulating layer, ideally primaloft in case it wets out such as the La Sportiva Koro Jacket. I know with all that kit, that I am going to be able to spend the night out in almost any weather safely, albeit uncomfortably.

For day to day training around my local Chiltern countryside I will try to get away with stashing everything I need in my trusty Naked Band which can easily take a 250ml soft flask, a few gels, my phone in a waterproof Exped case and a lightweight waterproof or windproof.

For the bigger journeys, the pack gets upgraded to my old Ultimate Direction Fastpack 20, or the Montane Gecko 20 litre. Both are so comfortable and take that next level of kit including sleep and eat systems — the Gecko was my choice for the Spine and will be again in 2025.

For slightly longer journeys and any races up to 100 miles I revert to an old Salomon S/Lab 8 Set race vest.

It’s essentially just a couple of pieces of material which do now have several holes in but it recently stood up to the Arc of Attrition once again and I find it to be simply the most comfortable option for me. Always a five-litre dry bag in the back — which I will then fill with kit that will keep me safe if I come unstuck out training in cold weather or the mountains, or the mandatory kit for a 100-mile race. These two lists are basically the same thing.

— James began running ultras in 2006 and has completed many of the prominent global ultras including Badwater, Spartathlon, Western States, Leadville etc. He has represented Team GB twice at the 24hr format. In the UK he began organising events in 2011 and has so far directed over 50, 50 and 100 mile trail ultras through Centurion Running. He has been coaching athletes for ultra distances since 2012.

Because we own a running shop (Centurion Ultrarunning Store) it is VERY hard not to continually pinch the best new kit each season but the truth is some of my go-to day-to-day items have been in my armoury for 10+ years and are still going strong. Old favourites that will one day die but stood the test of time, albeit with a few waterproof repair patches and some Grangers wash-in re-proofer!

THE UK ULTRARUNNING HALL OF FAME The UK Ultrarunning Hall of Fame has been established by this magazine to recognise the incredible people we have enjoyed following and supporting in UK ultrarunning, athletes at the highest level of performance and those who have dedicated the time and effort required to maintain and grow the sport.

The UK’s tradition in ultrarunning goes back far longer than it initially appears. It felt wrong that American ultrarunners were celebrated and recorded in this way, their Hall of Fame having been established in 2004 by the American Ultrarunning Association, but we don’t have an equivalent to honour our rich local history.

ULTRA reached out to Andy Milroy and Robbie Britton, two of the most knowledgeable people on the history of ultrarunners in the UK, and to Joe Faulkner, with his great knowledge of long-distance fellrunning, to help create the initial long list of individuals and focus it down to the first seven inductees. We also consulted with Davy Crockett of the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame.

There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of potential candidates for inductees, so we matched the American HOF’s simple policy: to be considered for the UK Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, candidates must either have been retired from competition for 10 years, or have reached the age of 60. That still left dozens of candidates, so much discussion ensued!

Of course many will wonder why certain individuals have been omitted, but this is a long-term play - we plan on regularly inducting individuals, and discussion on our Facebook group ULTRA Magazine Community is encouraged.

You’ll always find the latest list of inductees on our website ultra-magazine.com/hof.

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at Epsom of 2:43:52. In May he won the Isle of Wight marathon in course record time. During the summer he struggled with his performance because of the heat, but In August, he won the classic Two Bridges (36 miles) in Scotland.

In September Woodward ran again at the London to Brighton Road Race. From the start, he went out fast, grabbed the lead running 10 miles in just 55 minutes.

He explained, “I felt that if I wanted to win the event, I would have to be three minutes ahead of the opposition after 30 miles. In fact, I was four minutes up on them. But even at that stage I couldn’t relax. There were 24 South Africans in the field of 100 and I didn’t know what they were capable of doing. I always start fast, but for all I knew they could have been strong finishers.” He won, finishing only a minute off the course record. He had finished on the podium for this international race four years in a row.

CAVIN WOODWARD Cavin Woodward was an accountant from Whitnash, England. He started running at the age of 16 in 1963 when he joined the Leamington Cycling and Athletics Club (LC&A), starting a lifetime membership.

He took up marathon running in 1971 because he “felt sorry” for Leamington’s veteran marathoner, Tom Buckingham, who seemed like he always was the only club member competing in marathon events.

Buckingham had started running in 1946, and was himself a former runner-up in the 52-mile London to Brighton Road Race and 4th-placer in the Comrades Marathon. Woodward said, “Tom never seemed to have any support so I decided to run with him. Other distance runners then joined the club.” Soon several runners in the club started to compete in the 52-mile London to Brighton Road Race.

At first Woodward competed in races more for enjoyment than for winning. He said, “But my wife Carol changed that. She was fed up with coming to watch me do not good, so she mapped out a training schedule for me and made sure that I kept to it. It proved a great incentive because Carol comes to watch all my races and gives me encouragement.” She would also bring along their twin boys. Woodward ran his first London to Brighton in 1971 and finished 17th. He said, “I was more interested in finishing than my final position.” His best marathon time was achieved that year, 2:19:50.

By 1974 he was racing nearly every week from 5K upwards. He found that running competitive events was far more rewarding than slogging out the miles in training stints, but still trained about 70 miles per week.

It was said of Woodward, “He is the man who runs marathons as often as most folk exercise their dog.

Most distance runners are content to run a couple or perhaps three marathons a year. Woodward reckons to run one every other week” By 1975, Woodward was winning nearly every long race he finished. In April, he set the world record for 30 miles

But then in October Woodward won what is perhaps the greatest 100-mile race ever staged, with 18 carefully chosen competitors lined up in Tipton including Ron Bentley and New Zealander Siegfried Bauer. Cavin planned to go for as fast a 50 miles as possible and then “hang on” to see if he could cover the 100 miles, as his longest distance had been the London to Brighton three weeks earlier. Again Woodward took off like a marathon runner covering 10 miles in 0:56:27 became the first person to run faster than 10 mph over 50 miles with a time of 4:58:53. He took a world best 150km with 10:44:15 and then picked up the pace with the end in sight running 8-minute miles and a 7:07 final mile, taking the world record with a time of 11:38:54, knocking 18 minutes off the previous best set by Derek Kay in 1972 in Durban.

Afterwards Woodward said “I proved that it could be done. I hope I have altered the outlook of some runners.

I hope I proved that running even-paced is not the only way of winning races and breaking records. I would like to think that if a runner wants to try and run ultras fast right from the start against the wishes of his coach or trainer, he could convincingly argue that that was the way Cavin Woodward did it.”

There was no doubt that Woodward was the most dominant ultrarunner in the world in 1975. Since 1972 he had finished on the podium of 16 or 17 races. By 1975 he had finished 26 marathons and 19 ultras. At age 52 his ultra career finished where it had started, at the London to Brighton Road Race.

Similarly, when Andy Milroy once asked Don Ritchie why he ran 6:10:20 for the 100km, his laconic reply was “Cavin Woodward was chasing me.”

Cavin Woodward passed away in 2010.

world record at Coatbridge in just over 16½ hours, 12 marathon wins at Moray, Black Isle, Caithness and Lochaber, and hill run successes at Cairngorm, Mamore and Achmony, among others.

In 1992 he was also awarded the coveted George Dallas Memorial Trophy by Scottish Athletics.

For services to athletics and charity Ritchie was appointed MBE in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list in 1995. His appetite for running was near insatiable and between 1962 and 2011 his records show he ran over 200,000 miles in training and almost 1,000 races.

DON RITCHIE Don Ritchie is justifiably regarded by many as one of the greatest ultrarunners of modern times. With world’s best performances on the track at 50km (twice), 40 miles, 50 miles (twice), 100km, 150km, 100 miles and 200km, plus world road bests at 100km and 100 miles he has an unparalleled record in the sub-24 hour events. Added to this is his excellent competitive record both at home and abroad. He has numerous Continental 100km wins to his credit, including setting a world 100km road best, a 100-mile road best in the USA and a clutch of highly prestigious race wins in Europe and the USA. In 1990 he won the IAU International 24-hour Championship and in 1991 he produced the best 24-hour performance of the year, some 14 years after setting his first world track best.

Ritchie began long-distance running in the 1960s, and in both 1967 and 1968 finished second behind Alistair Wood in the Scottish Marathon championship, and then in subsequent years went on to finish second (twice) and third in the highly competitive Scottish 10 miles track championship. This was achieved while studying Electrical Engineering at Aberdeen University, which led to a career in the oil industry.

He realised that marathons just weren’t long enough, and his first ultra-distance event was in 1970 at Two Bridges, a 36-mile race across the Forth and Kincardine bridges, where he finished seventh. He continued to improve his positions with ultra-distance events until 1977, where he set his first World Record, 50km in 2:51:38 at the Epsom and Ewell 50km Track Race.

In 1977 and 78 he won the historic London to Brighton road race in record times (5:16:05 and 5:13:02 respectively).

Among his myriad achievements he also counted 10 Scottish and 17 British international vests at marathon and ultra distance events, numerous world age best performances, running 166 miles for a 24 hours record, 100 miles in 11½ hours for another world record, a 200km

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Such are his multiple achievements it is almost invidious to single any out but most observers would agree that Ritchie’s 100km record is worthy of particular mention.

In October 1978 he covered 250 laps of London’s Crystal Palace track, 100km (62.2 miles) in 6:10:20, equivalent to two consecutive marathons plus 10 miles, at an average of under six minutes per mile. This record stood for more than 40 years until Aleksandr Sorokin ran 6:05 at Bedford.

Another mind-boggling feat was his record for the 846 mile John O’Groats to Land’s End run in 1989 of 10 days, 15 hours and 27 minutes.

This was achieved in challenging conditions during which Ritchie developed bronchitis, endured stomach and chest pains, intestinal blood loss and regular nose bleeds.

It took him five months to recover fully during which he was prescribed seven courses of antibiotics. Little wonder that when interviewed once about the qualities required for ultra distance running he responded: “You require a suitable mental attitude, ie, you must be a little bit crazy!” He possessed mental fortitude in abundance and an exceptional capacity to tolerate pain and discomfort over protracted periods.

Friends set up the Ritchie Foundation in his honour which over the years has raised large sums of money particularly for cancer charities. Despite being diagnosed with diabetes in 1996 with consequent wider health issues, he continued running till 2011.

Don Ritchie passed away in 2018.

challenge to Americans Tom Crawford and Mike Witwer.

Reportedly Critchlow found Robinson via an advert in Athletics Weekly and, upon hearing that Robinson was running, Witwer pulled out, concerned that he would be beaten by a woman. Robinson took the lead early on and never relinquished it, finishing in 52:45:00 while Crawford and his new partner Jean Ennis finished in 58:57:00.

Also in 1987, Robinson set a world record for 1,000 miles of 16 days, 23:09, at a stage race in England. (in 1998, at the Nanango 1000-mile Track Race, she completed the same distance in another world best of 13 days, 01:54:02).

At the first 24-hour international championship in Milton Keynes in 1990, on an indoor loop of 890m around the shopping centre, Robinson reached 200km (100 miles) in a record 19:00:31. She went on to win, covering a total of 237.9km (147.8 miles).

ELEANOR ROBINSON Eleanor Robinson started her ultramarathon career in 1983, the year she finished as first female in the 153-mile Spartathlon in Greece finishing in 32:37:52. Since then she has won six world titles and held more than 40 world records across a number of distances.

At the Road Runners Club of America’s 1984 National 50-mile and 100 km championships, Robinson took the 50-mile women’s title in 6:19:25 and went on to win the 100km in 8:11:37.

She then set a world record of 739.36km (459.42 miles) at the 1984 New York 6-Day Race, where she was up against the 100-mile record holder Donna Hudson.

Robinson and Hudson would go on to run against each other many more times, each time Robinson prevailing although Donna broke several American records along the way. At Australia’s first international 6-day race, in Colac, Victoria, Robinson took sixth place overall, breaking 11 world records and becoming the first woman to surpass 800km (500 miles) for the event, while Donna ran 770.5km (478.8 miles) to set a new American record.

Robinson won Colac a total of five times in consecutive races, setting world bests of 838.8km (521.2 miles) in 1987 and 866.8km (538.6 miles) in 1989.

At the 1985 Westfield Ultra Marathon, a 960km (600 mile) race from Sydney to Melbourne, Robinson once again lined up against Donna along with Margaret Smith of Melbourne, who were both favourites for the win.

Although they both started well, Robinson won the race in seven days, 17:58:00.

She broke the women’s record for 24-hour racing at the 24-hour Track Race in Nottingham in 1985, with a distance of 222.8km (138.4 miles). She became the first British woman to compete at the 100km World Championships in 1988, in Spain, taking Bronze in 8:07:38.

In 1987 at the first official Badwater Ultramarathon was organised when British Adventurer and ultrarunner Kenneth Critchlow partnered with Robinson in a

The 100km National Ultramarathon Championships for Great Britain have been held every year since 1989.

Robinson won in two successive years, 1996 and 1997, in Edinburgh. Hilary Walker won in 1995 and 1998, having previously won in 1989 and 1990. The championship record is held by Carolyn Hunter-Rowe with a time of 7:34:54 set in 1993.

Robinson is the only woman to win the World 100km twice, first in 1990 in Duluth, beating Ann Trason on home territory, and the second in 1991 in Faenza.

Robinson’s career came to an end in 2001, when a persistent foot injury failed to respond to treatment.

Following retirement Robinson became a critical part of England Athletics supporting runners at the Perth 24 Hour race in 2010, at the 2013 Anglo Celtic Plate 100 km race, and Team GB team at the 2014 IAU 100km World Championships, which Ellie Greenwood won for the second time.

Eleanor Robinson continues to be active in running, as a member of Belper Ten Twenty Triathlon Club and Club Secretary of Ripley Running Club.

It wasn’t just 24hr world bests that were under threat, in 1988 alone Walker set world best marks at 100 miles (twice under 15 hours), 24 hours and 48 hours. The 48 hour of 366.512km stayed as British record under it was broken by Joasia Zakrzewski in 2023.

Over the years Walker won classic ultra races such as Spartathlon, London to Brighton, Barry 40, Two Bridges, the 1992 European 100km Championships in Winschoten and was a medallist at the 1989 World and 1993 European 100km Champs.

Outside of her own running, Walker has been vital to the progress and continued existence of our sport.

HILARY WALKER Hilary Walker has been a key figure in the world of ultramarathons in recent history, as an athlete, an official and an organisational figure and it is difficult to say where she has had the biggest impact.

Her own running journey started in 1982 and after around 15 marathons Walker stepped into the world of ultramarathons in 1985. Even in that first year, with a second place in 9:48 at the Lincolnshire ultra races 100km there were signs that the Serpentine Running Club athlete would make some waves in ultramarathon.

1985 saw a first 24hr race that ended with a win and 203.251km on the board and progression in 24hr format didn’t take long. In 1986 Walker’s total was 220.568km and the world best was in sight.

In those first few years the progress came from race experience, but after the training mileage started to grow as well and at the start of 1988 the previous 12 months had seen a 100-mile-per-week average.

Consistency is key and a lot of this training was undertaken around a important job as a civil servant in the UK’s Department of Health.

1986 was the year Walker and Eleanor Robinson first raced together and both athletes would be the best of British ultrarunners for years to come. Their competition would spur both onto greater achievements.

Robinson set a new 24hr world best in 1985 of 222.8km and in 1987 Walker took the title herself with 230.618km.

What followed was a four-year battle that saw the top spot change hands five times until eventually AdamsRobinson over 240km in 1989, which stood until 1993.

Walker’s PB reached 236.453km.

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As a British National Endurance Official/Referee she is key to the smooth running of championships and record attempts at both domestic and international level. Events such as the Centurion Track 100, where both Camille Herron and Aleksandr Sorokin have set world bests would not be possible without the officials involved and Hilary has been serving the sport in this way for over two decades.

In addition to this she has served as general secretary for the IAU over five terms since 2004 and continues to do so to this current day, and she is a member of the World Athletics Road Committee and thus able to ensure that the influence of ultrarunning is felt in the wider sport. Ultrarunning is in a better place globally because of the work Hilary does, and has done for 20 years.

Hilary Walker’s inclusion in this Hall of Fame was a very easy decision. Not only has she been one of Britain and the world’s foremost ultrarunners, she has also served the sport as both an official and a member of its executive council for decades. Either of these factors alone would warrant inclusion, but combined it is simply common sense.

By this time Hartley’s status as a world-class ultrarunner was in place, after several wins at The Fellsman, first in 1984, and setting records for traversal of many of Britain’s long-distance trails. In 1988 he ran the 212-mile Southern Upland Way in 55:55:00 and then a year later set records for the 80-mile Dales Way in 13:34, the 92mile Staffordshire Way with a time of 16:10:00.

Incredibly, also in 1989, Hartley completed the 268-mile Pennine Way in a record time of two days, 17:20:00, a time that would not be beaten for another 31 years.

During the run he didn’t sleep, and managed to beat the previous record time, set by Mike Cudahy, by over four hours.

His Pennine Way effort earned awards for Performance of the Year from both the Fell Runners Association and the Bob Graham Club.

MIKE HARTLEY Of all the male fellrunning legends it was difficult to pick the first to be inaugurated into the Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, but we felt that Mike Hartley deserved the honour after a lifetime of excellence in long-distance mountain running.

Hartley found a love of the mountains at secondary school, where a student teacher introduced him to rock climbing and persuaded the school’s PE department to buy a rope and sling; and then after the teacher left the school Hartley and his friends would borrow the kit and go climbing themselves to the Roaches and North Wales, eventually joining Stafford Mountain Club and Lichfield Mountaineering Club. He joined the Rucksack Club in 1989 and became active in outdoor pursuits such as sea kayaking to add to walking, climbing and running.

Arguably Hartley’s most impressive running performance came in 1990, when he completed Ramsay’s Round, the Bob Graham Round, and the Paddy Buckley Round one after the other, making him the first person to consecutively complete all three of the UK 24-hour rounds. He did all three in a time of three days, 14:20:00 minutes including travelling time.

Hartley also finished first in several 100-mile races organised by the Long-Distance Walker’s Association, and in 1991 he set another long-standing record for the 190-mile Wainwright’s Coast to Coast route, finishing in a time of 39:36:00. This time would stand as the record for 30 years.

Showing his diverse capabilities as a runner, Hartley went on to finish third at the London to Brighton Road Race in 1992, and won the Barry 40 mile track race twice in 1992 and 1993. He represented Great Britain at the 100k European Championships in 1993, finishing in fourth place with a time of 6:37:45 – the fifth fastest time set by a Brit at this distance – and competed in the 1993 and 1995 World Championships at the 100km distance.

CAROLYN HUNTER-ROWE Carolyn Hunter-Rowe deserves her place in the inaugural Hall of Fame with seven British records to her name and many ultra-distance wins in the UK and around the world. Hunter-Rowe cites her best friend, Liz Smart, for inspiring her to get running “when I was a chain-smoking couch potato,” and of ultrarunning says “Nothing else gives me the same sense of satisfaction.”

In 1992 Hunter-Rowe won the British 100km Championships in Nottingham with a time of 7:39:59, the sixth best time recorded on a certified course. 100km Championships, May 1992. It was only her second 100km race (her first was in the 1992 World Cup at Palamos, where she took Bronze in 7:56:50), but she broke the British record and achieved one of her long-time ambitions – going on to cite this finish as her happiest memory, as she “knew I could do it.”

Hunter-Rowe set seven British records in athletics between 1993 and 1994, including four world bests at 30 miles, 50km and 40 miles at the Barry 40-mile track race at a time when Ann Trason, the top US runner, was making repeated attempts at the 30 mile/50km distances. She won the London to Brighton Road Race setting the women’s course record of 6:34:10, winning the 56km Two Oceans Marathon in South Africa, a 56 km race held in Cape Town, South Africa, in 3:51:37.

She was the 1996 winner of the IAU 100km European Championships and won the IAU 100km World Championships in 1993 (7:27:19 – a British record that stood until 2023) and 1998.

In 1997 Hunter-Rowe ran the London Marathon, finishing in a time of 2:40:32, and then in 1998 she won the World 100km in Shimanto, Japan.

In 2002 she won the Dartmoor Discovery - a 52km road race which starts and finishes in Princetown.

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Despite only going to America once, for Duluth World 100km, the US National 24-hour running team showed his global importance with this social media post, in 2022: “It is not an understatement to say that ultrarunning as we know it today exists largely because of Andy Milroy. His meticulous management and compilation of records across road and track, particularly ultrarunning, are legendary.

He is one of the reasons why athletes like Ann Trason and Yiannis Kouros and now, Aleksandr Sorokin and Camille Herron and so many others have world, national and AG records to chase and in turn, set.

Through Andy’s advocacy, he helped shape how ultrarunning distances and records were viewed and they became legitimate, alongside the traditional shorter track and field distances.

We are reminded of the quote:

ANDY MILROY And finally, someone who isn’t an ultrarunner but has been one of the most important figures in world ultrarunning over the last 60 years. A quiet figure hailing from Trowbridge, Wiltshire, Andy Milroy is now a – possibly the - world authority on ultramarathon running, juggling his teaching vocation with travels around the world to major running events and meticulously compiling data of running records across road and track. Full disclosure, although Andy has been heavily involved with the initial setup and curation of the UK Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, his own inclusion is purely the work of Robbie and Andy - and we are sure that nobody will disagree.

A founding member of the International Association of Ultrarunners (IAU) in 1984, and later its technical director, Milroy oversaw the organisation of the World Ultrarunning Championships from 1990 to 1999, and co-founded the Association of Road Racing Statisticians (ARRS) is 2003. He has written or co-written several books including Training For Ultrarunning, The Ultramarathon Race Handbook (translated into many other languages including Greek and Korean) and The Long Distance Record Book (with progressive record lists for 10 miles up to 2,000 miles going back to the Middle Ages and even ancient times) along with many articles for a cornucopia of publications. Additionally, Milroy has been an official at many races including referee, race director and chief recorder.

“If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants,” Isaac Newton wrote in a 1675 letter to fellow scientist Robert Hooke, For everyone involved in ultrarunning - runners, crews, fans and supporters - we owe gratitude and acknowledgment to those giants who helped grow and define the sport into what it is today.

Andy Milroy is among the giants whose shoulders we stand.”

Now retired, Andy continues to work with the Deutschen Ultramarathon-Vereinigung (otherwise known as DUV), the German Ultrarunning Association, to ensure that their worldwide historical results are complete.

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GET DOWN ON IT

Debra Bourne takes on the inaugural Winter Downs 200.

Words: Debra Bourne. Photos: Pierre Papet, Jamie Rutherford and Nicky Kidd

I’ve been ‘200-miler curious’ for a little while, so when Centurion announced the inaugural Winter Downs 200, much of it on familiar trails, I found myself signing up.

That was in May, with plenty of time for training and recces. Starting and finishing at Juniper Hall, Dorking, the course would take us east on the North Downs Way (NDW), south on the Vanguard Way (VGW), west on the South Downs Way (SDW), then northeast on the Wayfarer’s Walk (WW) and St Swithun’s Way (SSW), finishing back on the NDW. My initial aim was to cover 70 miles a day each of the first two days and finish in about three days. However, regaining the fitness I’d lost due to a bout of COVID in 2022 was taking longer than expected, and I knew that I wasn’t great with no sleep. My revised plan was to cover 60 miles a day on each of the first three days, reach Farnham on Saturday morning with 25 familiar miles to go, and finish within three and a half days. Plan B was to finish by Saturday midnight; plan C, as always, was to finish.

Race morning, with all the other runners gathering outside the hall, I found the bottom of my pack soaking wet. By the time I’d dug down and sorted out the leaking water bottle, James was starting the final countdown. I hurriedly poked at my watch to select the course – it was still loading when he reached “1”, and I hadn’t started the timer yet.

Day 1: NDW & VGW It was mild for the time of year and although it rained on and off, sometimes heavy enough to make donning a waterproof worthwhile, it was never torrential.

I ran for much of the day with Alan, who lived in the north and had not managed to recce much of the route, so I enjoyed a bit of playing native guide. Up and down the hills from Box Hill to Caterham, then less rugged slopes.

The NDW got pretty muddy in places, but I stayed on my feet until a small stone or root tipped me straight forward, emerging with muddy thighs and forearms but no injuries. Onto the section where the NDW and VGW run together, past the recessed plaque noting the Greenwich Meridian, then south on the VGW. A brief pause at the Limpsfield Chart crew stop, where my friend Nick met me to restock food and water.

I normally love running on the Vanguard Way, but I’m more used to it dry and cracked in summer. Recent recces had prepared me for the mud, in all varieties from sticky to slippery. Long sections were so treacherous that running was impossible; my poles really helped with balance. Muddy paths, muddy woods, muddy fields, periodic stretches of road.

Then the unexpected: where on my recces there had been two rather wet meadows with a bridge between them, instead there was a field-wide slowly-moving river with a bridge in the middle. My heart sank. Looking left and right there was no possibility of going round, so we shrugged philosophically and set off wading towards the bridge, Alan first, using his poles to check

the ground ahead; I followed, very glad of my kneehigh socks. The water got deeper, reaching to and then past my knees, and a few inches deeper still just before the bridge, where I was very glad for Alan’s helping hand up. Back down into the second half of the riverfield, very glad we had reached this still in daylight. I reassured Alan (and myself) that underfoot conditions would mostly be better once we reached the SDW – except for a stream section, and the muddy forestry trail before Alton… I decided not to tell him about those – time enough to worry about them later.

Where the route was runnable, part of me wanted to push on faster to ‘bank’ mileage, but that’s rarely a good idea in ultras so I held myself back. Was it the right decision? Given how much sleep deprivation and sore feet, rather than tired legs, slowed me later, I’m not sure.

It gradually became evident that Alan wanted to slow the pace while I wanted to push on a bit, so at Buxted we parted company. I joined a group of runners for a while and we chatted and wondered when we would reach Blackboys, the first aid station, at 49 miles. Finally there, we wrestled muddy shoes off before heading inside for food and drinks, clothing changes, topping up supplies. Then back out. The hardest part was wrestling my muddy shoes back on.

Outside, the sky had cleared, the stars were out and several times I stopped briefly, turned my headlamp off and just looked up at them, spending a few minutes simply appreciating the still, silent night. During one of those times I had the extra reward of seeing a meteor – wow! I was alone for this section, which was fine – I’m happy with company but also enjoy peaceful solitude on the trails.

Into the woods after Chiddingly and a deep stream to cross – thankfully another runner told me to use the bridge and after a brief confusion (what bridge?)

I found it – surface under water, but much better than wading thigh-deep.

At Berwick Station I met Nicky, my friend who had offered to crew and would be alternating nights with my husband, Aidan. As planned, I stopped for a longer break. Food, tea, muddy socks off (amazingly they were dry inside), warm socks on. I thought I would never get to sleep – then Nicky was waking me and it was no longer totally dark outside. One day and 61 miles done.

Day 2: VGW & SDW I left the station as dawn was breaking, and looking back across the fields, the sky was lit with glorious colour – a great mood-lifter. Soon I was descending into Alfriston, where normal people were going about their normal lives, then up the steepish ascent from the village, now on the SDW. I passed a couple of other runners, one looking particularly sleep-deprived, so I offered him a caffeine tablet (he looked a lot better when I saw him later).

I had somehow failed to fill my water bottles at Berwick, but thankfully was able to do so at Southease Youth Hostel.

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It was another grey day, with a fair amount of drizzle and mist. Past Housedean Farm I entered the 60-mile stretch that I hadn’t managed to recce. Some bits were familiar from running it in the other direction, but not enough to give me a good feel for where I was. I kept expecting to see the beacons ahead and knew that it wasn’t far to Truleigh YHA, yet each hill or corner I reached, they were still not in sight.

By the early afternoon, my apparent lack of progress was getting me down – I had hoped to make better time on the drier trails and now I felt sure I was slipping behind on my schedule. That was when I was lucky enough to stumble across two amazing trail angels: Bex and Steve. I was able to sit in their van, hear and come to terms with the bad news of how far I still had to go to get to Truleigh, and get water, tea and a dose of sympathy that helped me to set off again feeling a lot more positive.

Visibility was low enough that I could only partially see the closer of the two windmills at my closest approach, but about 10 minutes later the clouds parted, the mist lifted and for a few minutes I was treated to an amazing combination of light and mist, reminding me how lucky I was to be out here. The last few miles before Truleigh were difficult, with the mist and dusk making navigation, even with the GPX, harder.

Leaving the aid station after food and a 90-minute sleep, the mist had lifted, giving another clear, dry night.

This hugely improved my mood and I happily started off down the hill, running easily on the decent track, only to glance at my watch and realise I’d missed a turning. How??? I trudged back up the hill and rejoined the route. Down, over the main road at Botolphs and a ridiculous search for the path, which was hiding in shadows behind a crew car. Up the lane, up the long concrete path through the pig farm, with grunts and occasional squeals on either side, and onwards, up further. I felt that I was still moving pretty well.

Somewhere along here Sonny, who I’d met on previous races and last seen sitting at Truleigh Hill as I left there, caught up with me. We continued together for some time, each encouraging the other to keep moving, until the Cocking crew point where I met Aidan and got a very welcome hug. 120 miles.

Day 3: SDW, WW & SSW It was getting light, and I didn’t want to waste daylight hours (only eight per day), so I decided to try only a brief nap rather than a proper 90-minute sleep. A mistake, as I felt groggy, took ages to get re-stocked and back on the trail, and then moved at a snail’s pace. I eventually had the sense to take a caffeine tablet, which helped a bit.

It was difficult to work out the distances to crew points and checkpoints. Elapsed miles on my watch was useless, since it kept adding miles while I was sleeping (GPS watches do that!). My husband texted me the key points in ‘miles to go’, but even those distances were sometimes quite inaccurate. Finally I reached Queen Elizabeth Country Park. The GPX said 72 miles to go, and I was back on trail I had recced, boosting my confidence and my mood. My next stop would be

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the Sustainability Centre aid station at 137 miles. First, up a long hill, past some grazing ponies. It was dark some time before I reached the aid station, where I had another 90-minute snooze.

After waking I saw a message from Nicky saying she was waiting for me at the Beacon Hill Beeches crew point. Oops – I’d forgotten to tell her I was stopping!

Having recced, I wasn’t surprised when I had to wade for some time along the stream that had taken over the footpath in addition to its usual channel, although I was heartily glad that I was wearing knee-high waterproof socks. Eventually onto a path that was only muddy rather than covered with running water. Yay! Onward.

Somewhere along here, two people walking a dog called out to me – two members of my running club, who had tracked me and come to give their support.

I really appreciated it and we chatted for a minute before I went on.

At Beacon Hill Beeches it was lovely to see Nicky, but I only stopped briefly for water and food top-up (and to apologise to Nicky!). Through Cheriton, with false starts down the wrong alleys, on to Bishops Sutton where I had another snooze. I couldn’t face wrestling off my wet, muddy waterproof socks, and decided warming them with a handwarmer would be enough. I woke with feet that felt clammy and damp – and I still didn’t change the socks. Big mistake.

It was 11 muddy miles to Alton. The worst stretch was the section along the edge of a wood, where the wide track had been well chewed up by machinery. Into the town and Nicky had stopped by a bakery where I was able to buy a hot vegan sausage roll and make use of their toilets. I wanted to get moving, so although I had a 10-minute snooze, I stupidly still didn’t change my socks.

It was about 8am when I left – the time I had expected to be leaving Farnham, and I felt really down: how could I have managed only 50 miles in the past day?

Day 4: SSW & NWD My feet were feeling tender on the soles, which slowed me down, but it was daylight, and much of the way felt at least partially familiar from my recce. I didn’t feel like the feet were blistering, so decided they would keep until my next stop. I finally made it into Farnham about noon, to be me totally unexpectedly, by Bex. Aidan was delayed by traffic so Bex and Steve provided tea and a seat in their van, where I snoozed a little.

Finally Aidan arrived and I moved to our car. Gingerly taking off the waterproof socks and the now-wet liner socks revealed white, swollen, waterlogged skin on the soles of my feet – I was on the way to trench foot. I spent the next 20 or 30 minutes trying to dry them out using hand sanitizer gel (apply and leave for a bit to suck out the water, then wipe it off with paper towel).

Then I donned normal Injinji trail socks – I thought I remembered that most of the NDW was pretty reasonable underfoot.

With Aidan expecting to meet me at every crew stop, I discarded some of my ‘just in case’ gear and supplies and set off with a lighter pack and a lighter heart - until I passed Farnham golf club, turned off the road and was confronted by muddy water nearly knee-deep covering the path as far as I could see. I had never seen it flooded like this, and it came as a huge shock. I took a deep breath and started wading. It was cold. I rapidly developed additional appreciation for the protection that the waterproof socks had given me on the previous flooded sections.

I know this section of the NDW quite well, but with a tired brain parts didn’t look familiar. Nevertheless, I finally reached Puttenham, where I dried my feet and changed my socks - again. I popped into Puttenham Aid Station very briefly to use the toilet and was a bit depressed to learn that there were only a few runners behind me. During 2018-2021 I’d got used to being towards the front of the midpack; this was a reminder that I hadn’t regained the speed I lost after getting COVID in 2022. I had to firmly remind myself that I was still more than seven hours ahead of cut-off and didn’t need to panic.

Onward towards St Martha’s where I was due to meet Aidan again, but a confusion over naming (Aidan said it was named “St Martha’s”, as written on the board in the car park, but the entrance sign said “Half Penny Lane Car Park”) led us to miss each other. By the time we realised this, I was past and wasn’t going to turn back – we could meet at Newland’s Corner instead.

When I finally got there, after a little diversion due to missing a NDW sign, this turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because Bex and Steve were there, waiting for their runner. Bex gave me a pep talk while Steve gave Aidan directions to Denbies Hillside for the final stop.

Ten minutes with the weight off my feet, then back out into the dark. Soon I passed Zoe Norman, injured but gamely inching along, one painful foot at a time. She urged me onwards.

Just five miles to Denbies. It felt like 15. Normally I love running through these woods, but this night they seemed to go on forever, like a nightmare in which I was always moving forwards on a path through the trees but never getting any closer to my goal. Without the GPX I would have sworn that I was running in circles.

Trees and trail, trees and trail. Then suddenly a gate and a sign I knew well: “Steer’s Field”.

Another brief but welcome sit-down in our car and I gathered myself for the last effort. I could visualise the remainder of the route from here to the top of Box Hill steps very well; the end was mentally within sight.

This gave my legs a bit more energy and I managed to move a little bit faster, jog a little more, particularly on the downhill stretches, even though I was definitely footsore.

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Above Denbies vineyard, down through the estate, through the brick arch and I looked longingly across the dual carriageway to the Stepping Stones car park before turning left and following the footpath down to the subway. I remembered one of the other runners telling me that from there to Juniper Hall was just a few hundred yards if we didn’t have to go back and up and over Box Hill. I found myself getting annoyed about that – illogical because nobody was forcing me to do the 200-mile race!

That illogical anger – probably really frustration at being so far behind my goal finish time – gave me energy that pushed me forward: up the road, plunging into the little bit of woods and over the bridge, then up the steps a lot faster than I would have thought possible after 200+ miles. I overtook two runners, including Sonny. The last step climbed, I started looking for Centurion markings – James had said that the route from the NDW back to Juniper Hall would be marked. My watch buzzed just as Sonny called out to me, “We’ve missed the turning.”

We retraced our steps and spotted a Centurion marker some distance off the path.

I jogged and ran as best I could, first with Sonny then ahead of him, dividing my attention between looking for the next marker, scanning the ground so I didn’t trip, and stealing quick glances at my watch to confirm the direction. I reached the stone tower at the top of the crazily steep section. Normally I would have descended slowly, extra-cautious on tired legs, but my anger gave my feet wings and I hurtled down it, then along the last bit of woodland path before plunging on to the driveway and through the finishing arch.

I felt odd – drained, happy to have earned my buckle and coaster, and to have maintained my no-DNF record, but also disappointed with my finish time – 88:28:26, missing my B goal by half an hour. Could I have done better? If I’d banked distance on day 1, slept before tackling day 3, and not let my feet get waterlogged and sore, probably. Would I do it again?

Well, there are other 200s out there and I find, slightly to my surprise, that I am still 200-curious.

— Debra ran her first ultramarathon in 2013 and has since run 123 ultras (and 33 marathons), with no DNFs. She is event director of Lloyd parkrun, Croydon, and author of parkrun: much more than just a run in the park, giving the story of the first 10 years of parkrun. She is currently owned by three cats.

THE UK’S OLDEST ULTRA— RUNNING MAGAZINE IS NOW AVAILABLE IN A DIGITAL FORMAT. Supported by INOV8 For more information go to: ultra-magazine .com/digital

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BIRTHDaY PaRTY Dr. Gavin Spickett reflects on the Kielder Ultra, and what the future holds for smaller events.

Words: Dr. Gavin Spickett Photos: Stephen Wilson www.granddayoutphotography.co.uk & Amy Gatenby

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The secret ultrarunner piqued my interest with the article in Issue 18 about smaller ultra events. I have completed one ultra – a 32-miler around Kielder Water in Northumberland, put on by a small organisation called High Terrain Events. I was only ever a slightly above average club runner and was doing fine until I did the London Marathon. I had a good time and afterwards I thought I could do anything. Cue over-training and over-racing and a rapid decline in performance. I couldn’t do anything much for quite a few years and stopped entering races. Work, as a hospital consultant was becoming increasingly onerous, with little time for training in the week.

Eventually, I started doing outdoor fitness classes in the parks around the hospital where I worked, as I could do these straight after work. I started entering races again, including trails races which I had never really done before. My knees and hips were less keen on lots of road running and experimentation with different types of shoes didn’t really solve the problem.

I found my way to a run re-training course, via a work colleague and this was transformative. The couple who ran the course (Ironman triathletes) laughed when they saw my running style and thought at my age (wrong side of 50) it would be difficult to retrain my running style, but I persevered and the hip and knee pain settled.

I decided to celebrate my 60th birthday by doing the Kielder Marathon. This is a hilly trail marathon. I was aiming for 4:30-5:00 and achieved 5:02. I blamed the two minutes on several stops to empty pine needles out of my shoes! This went so well that I thought I might have a try at an ultra. I didn’t want to have to travel a long distance, so picked the High Terrain Events Kielder Ultra. Two distances were offered, 32 miles or 55 miles. The cut-off for the 32 miles was a nice generous 12 hours (mainly to allow for the 55 milers) so I knew I could get around. The course also didn’t deviate too far from the main lakeside track. The year I did it, the 55 milers were sent on a very long extension into the wild parts north of the reservoir, very remote, and I didn’t really feel confident about being out there potentially in poor weather, needing to navigate and almost certainly running by myself as I would be one of the last. The event was 18 months after the marathon, so I had plenty of time to train, including doing a lot of half-marathon trail races. I was anxious about the weather. The event was in April and the weather in north Northumberland can be quite variable at that time of year.

When the day came, I made my way to the registration point at the Scout Hut. There were plenty of cars there already as the 55-milers would go off before us.

I checked in and I was surprised to be welcomed by the mother of one of my patients, who promised me that they would look after me. This lifted my spirits a bit. They asked whether I had a drop bag. I said no, as I had pretty much everything I thought I would need in my pack, including food: cheese and pickle sandwiches were recommended by my coach, as he said my sense of taste would be rubbish! However, more on drop bags anon!

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Once I started looking round at the other competitors, I noticed that I did not seem to fit their physical appearance. They all looked lean, mean and weather beaten, whereas I am rather short and muscly. I knew I wasn’t going to be coming in the top half! I was relieved that the weather was perfect, a cold clear day with fantastic visibility from the high points on the course, which made navigation easy: always keep the reservoir on the right!

To get the 32 miles, the route diverged at several points from the Lakeside trail. This involved going on less well used tracks, some of which were extremely boggy so I had wet and soggy shoes and socks after less than a quarter of the distance. At this point I began to realise that having a drop bag with some dry shoes and socks to change into would have been a significant advantage. The course was well-marked and marshalled and there were feed stations with proper food and plenty to drink.

I pressed on, walking the climbs and running the downhill and flat sections where the terrain allowed. I had running poles, which were hugely helpful. I had set a single goal: to get round safely. I set no time goal. As it was such a beautiful day, I just enjoyed the event as much as I could. Because it was a small event, I was rapidly running by myself, although a young couple passed me and shared some of their sweets with me.

I reached the finish in 7:41:46 and came in at 110 of 113 finishers (three didn’t finish at all!). I was the second MV60 (but there were only two!) and was very proud of my achievement. In all honesty, I enjoyed the ultra more than the marathon: there was no cut-off time pressure and I had set no other goal than getting round to the finish safely. In subsequent years High Terrain Events have made the 55-miler a two-circuit loop and added a 20-mile option, which I have done too.

They have always run a winter 10-mile race at Kielder early in January, but I was sad to see this year when I tried to book that the race has been cancelled, because Forestry England have put up the charges that they levy on race organisers by so much that the race has become uneconomic to run.

This is another sad development and means that the only way into these sorts of events is going to be through larger organisations who can get away with huge charges for participants. We still have a few local organisations that provide ultras (Lakeland Trails, Wild Deer Events among others) but who knows how long they will be able to fend off the competition from the major national event organisers.

I did the Kielder marathon again in 2022, just before my 67th birthday and as expected I was slower and felt I was struggling a bit by the end (there’s about 3,000 ft of climbing over the whole course). My head has always told me that I could do another ultra, but my joints are not so interested. A friend and I did enter the Lakeland Trails Ultra, as she too wanted to do an ultra. However, she developed a serious hip problem early in the training and had to pull out. The Lakeland Trails ultra has much tighter checkpoint cut-offs. I didn’t really feel confident that I could manage them and for an even longer race I wanted to run with someone, so I downgraded my entry to the 14-mile distance. Lakeland Trails stick to their knitting and focus on great events from 5K to ultra just in the Lake District. Over the winter they organise two virtual ‘ultras’, where you can choose a range of distances to complete over four to six weeks (not all at once), and once you have completed your target you can carry on accumulating. This really helps the motivation for winter training. I still feel I would like to try a real ultra in the Lake District.

The pandemic put paid to organised racing, and I continued to age. On the positive side, full retirement in 2021 has meant that I have been training more and clocked my fastest time for a 10-mile road race for more than 12 years. I also used the extra time in retirement to pen my first non-medical book – on running and what I have learned over the last 30 years (If I Knew Then What I Know Now: A Runner’s Handbook. Crowood Press).

I think about what the legendary Joss Naylor was able to achieve in his 60s and 70s: maybe I just need to fill in the entry form and go for it! However, Joss was simply a one-off. The biggest deterrent is the cut-off time limits. I know that the volunteers don’t want to be out for unreasonably long periods, but so many ultras set time limit cut-offs at checkpoints that I know I would struggle to meet. The experience of my one ultra was that it became really enjoyable, once there were no unachievable cut-offs. Perhaps organisers should look more carefully at the cut-offs: some runners don’t go very fast but can keep going for long periods.

Of course the logistics of putting on ultra events is significantly greater, both in administrative work and ensuring enough volunteers to marshal and man aid stations, this adds substantially to the costs. It will be a shame if the smaller events disappear though, priced out of the market by national event organisers.

CREDITS Team ULTRA

Thanks

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Our thanks go to Andy Milroy, Robbie Britton, Ross Woodward, Joe Faulkner, Davy Crockett, Adrian Hope @ INOV8, Corin Burdon @ Petzl, Michelle Castro @ Scott, Shane Ohly and Eleanor Claringbold @ Ourea Events, Christine Findlay @ La Sportiva, Richard Weremiuk @ Track Trail, the families Nuttall, Weston, Forrester, Bush and Allen, Mike Parsons and all at The Outdoor Gear Coach, the members of the Facebook groups ULTRA Magazine Community and Ultrarunning Community, and finally all of our readers, followers and subscribers for supporting us!

Social @theultramag Editor Andy Nuttall andy@ultra-magazine.com Commercial director Robin Bush robin@ultra-magazine.com Design + art direction Stuart and Kate Weston stuart@wdcstudio.co.uk wdcstudio.co.uk Features editor Amy Forrester amy@ultra-magazine.com Digital marketing lead Kate Allen kate@ultra-magazine.com Advertising enquiries robin@ultra-magazine.com Print + reproduction The Manson Group Ltd mansongroup.co.uk Publisher ULTRA Evolution Ltd Cover Photo: Geoff Lowe geofflowe.com

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James Adams David Bentham Debra Bourne Robbie Britton Hugo Day James Elson Emma Harrison Tim Laney

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Andy Milroy Charles Moore Steve Nuttall Shane Ohly Jasmin Paris Mike Parsons Dr Gavin Spickett

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Words & Photos: Emma Harrison

Ultra adventure holiday Inspiration.

European Vacation

For a lot of people, holidays are generally about where’s good to go for the kids, and if that encompasses some decent morning or evening running too then you’re quids in. For others like me, booking a holiday might be specifically all about going running somewhere new for a change of scenery and a great excuse to get up some new ridges and experience great views and great food. Either way, running adventures can lead to epic experiences so be selective about where to go before you book.

There are far too many options out there for an indecisive individual like me, but you can’t go far wrong with the Alps. It’s got everything you need – generally decent weather, plenty of climbing, divine scenery, and a good set up of accommodation for runners most of the time. The French Alps, The Swiss Alps, The Italian Alps, and The Slovenian Alps tick all my ‘must’ list but they all come with varying levels of cost and effort to get to. To date, my favourite running destination has to be the Italian Alps in the Dolomites for an all-round authentic, photo-worthy experience but there’s a lot to go at yet including the Austrian Alps.

If you don’t fancy navigating your own trip, booking races is a really easy way out in a world of too many choices. All you need to do is book your travel and accommodation and off you pop for a few days before race day to either acclimatise, fill your face, or both. The hard work is taken care of for you and all you need to do is hand over the entry fee – though, races aren’t as cheap as they used to be, so get as much trail as you can for your buck and all that!

If races aren’t really on your agenda, a simple solution is to research the races you’d love to do and break it up bit by bit. For me, it’s all about the altitude, varying days, seeing some wildlife along the way, climbing, and the feast at the end of the day to look forward to. Epic ultramarathons I may never get into or have time to train for don’t seem too hard to reach and this way, I get to stop and stroke the wild horses (or sheep) rather than just look at my watch. As a running holiday obsessive, here’s my tuppence-worth of where you could think about going with the hope of inspiring at least a few adventures this year.

UK It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t sing praises about my home country, Scotland, but there’s a reason I moved here. My doorstep is Loch Ness, but that’s the gateway to mountains and trail running galore in Torridon, Isle of Skye, Loch Ness itself and The Cairngorms.

The Cairngorms National Park is full of great climbs and long-running days on soft trails for the most part and it’s such a great place to pick for long days out with nice spots of interest along the way. There’s some nice accommodation on most of the routes too. I take trips to Cairngorms a lot and one of my favourite days out is running Cairngorm 4000s’, a bit of a classic incorporating mountains over 4,000ft that can be ‘bagged’ using a circular route from Glenmore.

Honestly, if I didn’t live down the road, I’d be making it an annual getaway if only to run the Speyside Way to stop off at the ‘Alvie food truck’ halfway for a fish wrap and to breathe in the gorgeous forests.

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Scotland-wise, I reckon Skye has the best mountain range in the UK, so if you were asking me where to go and train for some mental toughness and climbing, get yourself on the Cuillin Ridge. However, this is for experienced climbers so research and experience are required before planning that particular trip. There are some record-breaking times, but only completed by top athletes who know the region well, so don’t try this at home, kids, without a guide. Skye is rough for running, but I’ve had some of my most rewarding days up there, and the scenery is most definitely holiday-worthy.

Of course, the fellrunner’s paradise, Lake District, also makes a decent breakaway and is home to some integral ultras including the Lakeland Trail series, Hellvelyn Sky Ultra, and Lakes in a Day. There are some lovely country B&Bs and some old school hostels to choose from too in this part of the world so a real contender for a holiday option for me with plenty of luxury options if you fancy a treat. Also, the portions of food in the Lakes pubs are notoriously massive. I’ve had some great breaks down there and would love to go and run the Wainwright’s one day. The downside is I hate going in the summer because it’s so busy, but once you’re out of Tourist Ville, you’re out I suppose.

THE SWISS ALPS There are masses of great big distance running routes all over Switzerland and the one most iconic Swiss mountain people first think of is the big Toblerone, the Matterhorn. I really wanted to go and see it, so I took my own advice of pinching race routes a couple of years ago and ran the Tour De Monte Rosa route and it was one of the best, and hardest routes I’ve ever done. Over three days, I ran from Zermatt right round the base of the Matterhorn. It was picture-perfect for most of the three days and I’m pretty sure I ate cheese fondue every night. For that reason alone, it’s one of my favourite ever running holidays as well as the crazy suspension bridges and fearless ibexes on the tracks.

I’ve been lucky enough to run in Lauterbrunnen and Mürren all so I could see a view of the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau mountains too, and the trail running here is very typically Alps-like. Marked trails, and so much softer underfoot than what I’m used to in most Scottish terrain. I loved this place as a destination because it’s so easy to use the marked paths and you can easily run the Eiger Trail- whether that is the organised race or just running it yourself.

Though I’ve never been, another contender I’ve researched into is Davos Klosters. It’s a big resort, but I’d read about a new multi stage trail Via Grischuna that has seven stages and 9,000 metres of altitude, finishing at St Moritz so it’s one for my bucket list for sure.

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SLOVENIAN ALPS I headed over to Slovenia last year after reading a lot about their great climbing routes and trails and I’m so glad I did. This holiday was a hut-to-hut adventure which meant we pre-planned the huts we had hoped to arrive at. Taking an educated guess at what sort of time you’d arrive at a place can be difficult to do especially when the terrain is rough and mountainous so it is always good to keep some backups in mind if there are any but bear in mind, they can be few and (very) far between. The huts were about £35 for a night that included dinner and breakfast, which is a bargain by anyone’s standards and the food was more than just cabbage soup! The accommodation is mainly bunks and all are mostly shared so it’s no luxury, but just an all-round great experience. By day two I was fully immersed in showering with my socks on and ringing them out ready for the next day – spare socks mean more weight! If you’re into Via Ferrata, you’ll love it some enormous drops, but some nice bits of running in between. Via Ferrata is a metal rail you clip yourself onto to assist you in climbing up mountain sides and this was one of the first times I’ve ever done this in long stretches between running. Slovenia was such a great pick because it was from point A to point B which I like because I felt like you’re making progress on a journey.

There was so much to see, and I loved the harsh terrain, but my particular route wasn’t great for getting momentum, but more of a mountain venture which I loved just as much.

FRENCH ALPS A regular break for me because it’s just too good not to be is Chamonix in Mont Blanc. I think every avid runner deserves a trip to Chamonix and if you can go experience the atmosphere of the Ultra Tour Mont Blanc (UTMB) then you really should, whether that’s being part of it or like me, just being in the crowd.

Sandwiched between mountains, and having Italy as its next-door neighbour, the bakeries and pizzerias alone make this place worth a visit if you’ve never been before. Well-signposted trails around Chamonix and the surrounding areas make this a super easy place to navigate, plot, and plan before you even get there.

I’ve run the Tour Du Mont Blanc a few times at my leisure and the gîtes (family-run hostel type accommodation) along the way are so set up for runners and generally really welcoming. The Tour Du Mont Blanc runs through France, Italy, and Switzerland so you’ll be promised fantastic scenery and terrain, but it’s not the cheapest running adventure you’ll ever go on.

ITALIAN ALPS I’ve been over to the Dolomites for both running and road biking and it’s hands down my favourite running holiday to date, I can’t get enough. Do it properly and get yourself up high on the Alta Vias (High Routes) – there are at least five of them. I’ve been over to run the Lavaredo Ultra Trail route which was stunning, and I’ve also run the Alta Via 2 which for me, was just superb and such a highlight because it’s practically rock climbing as well as long-distance running – the match made in heaven for me. The accommodation is rifugios, familyrun mountain huts in the middle of nowhere, which serve up the most delicious food – usually a proper stodge fest so plenty to eat after a full day running. You can also camp for free in a bivouac in the mountain-sides.

This holiday is the winner in my eyes because there’s so much climbing and differing landscapes. One hour you could be running through Alpine meadows and the next, you’re halfway up a rock face with vertical drops – I just love it! The people are friendly and in particular, the AV2 (Alta Via 2) is a route that’s not shouted about very often, so is relatively quiet, or at least was for me at the end of June. With marmots squeaking away it feels wild, and I just feel like there’s a new rock face looking at you every hour or so which keeps you interested.

The people seem to be so friendly and very accommodating to runners which is a real deal maker when you’re knackered and in need of some TLC. However be aware that most rifugios don’t have hot showers I’m afraid, so if you get one, it’s golden!

There are so many great destinations that offer a bit of everything – what I haven’t mentioned is the Pyrenees for their wild horses all over the place, and the USA and Canada where I’ve dabbled. For me though, the short flight over to Italy is the best value for time and money and I’ve already planned a trip over to complete the AV4 this year. Planning properly is always key for a great running holiday to save faff, but it doesn’t always need to be anywhere too far away from home – sometimes a change of scenery is all we need!

— Emma likes to think of herself as a mountain goat, usually found in the Scottish Highlands. Ridgeline running is her passion, mountains, and will always run for beer and crisps. Long-distance running has a big place in her heart, and exploring the world’s best trails is her priority!

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