Jurassic Quarter May 2017
Tuesday, 23 May 2017
Jurassic Quarter - 19th May 2017
It must be five or six years since I first thought of racing on the Jurassic Coast. Of the four ultras I entered this year this was the one I really was looking forward to. A minor ambition to be fulfilled!
The logistics were slightly tricky. A small matter of wedding anniversary weekend clashing with the race to deal with, and then the actual travel to/from a linear race. Both were solved with booking a hotel not far from the race bus pick up point, with entertainment and activities to keep the family happy!
Race day started early, with a 3.45am alarm call. I found the night porter at the hotel and, although slightly bemused, he was good enough to make me a coffee and then let me in to the kitchen to fill my camelback and get hot water for my instant porridge.
Not long after 4am he showed me out of the hotel to the still pitch-black road. I put on my head torch and started walking towards the bus pick up point. It was a couple of miles walk. I had figured out a two options; firstly if I did walk all the way it was pretty flat - and what was a couple of extra miles walk on the back of 46miles, secondly I figured that with the Studland ferry closed any cars heading to the bus would pass me, and might stop and offer a lift. It did not take long. Just a couple of minutes down the road the first car pulled in. I must have looked pretty conspicuous in OMM jacket carrying a running backpack and drop-bag! "Fancy a lift" asked the driver, who turned out to be Martin. We had a good and brief chat on the way down, comparing notes on "never run this far before".
It was still pitch dark at the bus. We filed in to be indelibly marked, tagged and numbered. Now I know how cattle feel. All very friendly though. I found a spare seat and tried to doze. The bus filled a little, but was not crammed and after we started on the 1 hour drive to Portland I quickly fell asleep.
We tumbled out of the bus on arrival at the lighthouse, and headed for loo stops and bag drops before the briefing. It was cold and breezy, but beautifully clear. I decided to ditch the long tights and start off in shorts, rather than leaving my shorts in the drop bag. As I walked across the car park Ian found me. As near-neighbours we had been Strava-stalking each other for a while, but had never actually met! Such is the strange world of running.
We were called to the briefing, and I was surprised about the small field, no more than 50 of us huddled around the trestle table. The small numbers made it feel special, as did the mid-briefing shower of rain accompanied by full 180 degree rainbow. The rain shower was brief and we quickly assembled by the memorial at the cliff edge just beyond the lighthouse. A quick count-down 5-4-3-2-1 and we were off.
The pace at the back (where else?!) was relaxed. We worked our way around the East side of Portland, before heading up steps and towards the prison. I chatted a little to Martin, we compared pacing notes. The view from the top of Portland just before dropping down to Chesil was amazing, and the only bit of the whole course where the sea was on the left hand side (key briefing instruction, keep the sea on your right!). A small navigational error just at the bottom of the town (turn left not right at the T junction), then we were on the causeway - and soon at the first water stop. The first 6 miles went quickly.
After that it was flat and easy running on the road side, and then along the disused railway track - actually quite pretty with the overlying tree canopy. Arriving at Weymouth was a bit surreal, needing to dodge pedestrians and cars before popping out on the sea front. Just beyond the town there was a good view of Portland, looking back. It already seemed a long way away.
Checkpoint 1 was a welcome sight after a short climb out of the far end of Weymouth bay. Friendly, chatty marshals, and a quick dib-in for the timer.
The course after that was fairly uneventful, up until the first big climb of Swyre Head, just before Durdle Door. I felt that one, but it was still felt well within the comfort zone, and I was enjoying the stunning views. At Durdle Door the tourist count went off the scale, and the two or three of us sporting race numbers were clearly conspicuous with a few "well done's" and "keep it up", and one "are your nearly finished - how far to go" - I am not sure the "about 25 miles" reply was taken seriously!
The drop down in to Lulworth village was hard on the feet, hard paved stones with meter-long steps, and although I enjoyed taking it at pace I was worried about losing it on a step, and wrecking an ankle. No such drama though, and it was great to arrive at CP2 and find my drop bag. A few runners were having an extended break - including Matt and Rich who I was to get to know more later in the day. I drank a Weetabix drink (desire for something creamy) and ate a quarter of a crumpet, putting the rest in my backpack for later on.
After CP2 the first challenge was Lulworth beach. I failed to find any part of it that was run-able. It was either gravel or small loose stones, and had no traction at all. Trying to run was exhausting so I walked, being a bit humbled by the guy behind who came racing through - I think he was part of a relay team with fresh legs. As it happened he headed off on the wrong track at the end of the beach. I shouted him back, and he waved in appreciation.
It was about then it started to go a bit wrong. A big squall came off the sea, bringing with it wind and rain. I was glad of the new running jacket (previous one a sieve). As I climbed up I started to feel a bit sick though, not sure whether it was the exertion or the Weetabix drink finding vengeance. The course flattened a bit, but as we approached Mupe Bay I was aghast at the sight of Bindon Hill looming seemingly vertically above me. I started up, not too quickly, and was rapidly over-taken by Matt and Rich as they headed up at impressive speed. I felt ill though - my heart was pounding and I felt weak, and thought for the first time that a DNF might be on the cards. This was not good. I stopped and rationalised it. The climb was ridiculously steep, and from the heart pounding I was clearly pushing towards or above my aerobic threshold. I tend to avoid doing that these days - definitely a comfort zone runner. The problem was that the hill was so steep, to avoid caning it meant going ridiculously slow, and I felt more like a plodding hill walker than an ultra runner. Still I forced my pace down, taking a short breather after a series of steps, and making sure my HR stayed low. It worked. I made it up, and was elated when the gradient started to settle.
At the top I caught up Rich and Matt who were having a post-anaerobic climb breather, and we chatted briefly. They headed off, and it was just after, I think, that Ben caught me up. He was a muscle bound guy with a couple of walking poles making good progress up the slopes. I later learned he was an army PT instructor and clearly a very fit guy, although on his first ultra.
For the next hour the four of us crossed tracks and exchanged places. Ben was faster than me up the hills, I was faster on the descents. Matt and Rich seemed to appear, and then disappear after either a rest stop or the occasional navigational error.
Kimeridge was a high point. As we approached I saw a couple of small figures waving frantically and I realised it was the kids and my wife Anne. There were big hugs all around, and I stopped running and walked with them towards Kimeridge, and past the nodding donkey. The brief stop with them really boosted my spirits and I had a spring in my step as I left them and headed for the Kimeridge check point.
I found Ben, Matt and Rich all still there, and we ended up leaving the CP more or less together, and again we crossed paths up and down hills for the next 6 miles or so. As we approached Worth Matravers a supporter girl was ringing a cow bell and opened the gate for us - the little things really mean a lot. The four of us had been walking up the incline towards the WM checkpoint, but as we approached we started trotting. The CP marshals seemed to appreciate the sight of a team of four of us arriving all at once and cheered loudly. Coke and crisps were to be had here, fantastic!
I left the CP first and made good progress past the coastguard lookout and along the cliff top. I stopped briefly to pay respects at the Royal Marine memorial. These guys gave everything for the rest of us, and I suspect they would have loved nothing more than to be doing what I was doing right then.
Onward then towards Swanage. I started to fade again, so I pulled out my secret weapon number - my iPod nano. I "never" run with music, but know I needed something then. Just for a little while I ran along singing my head off to various 80s classics, hopefully only the sheep heard me.
The view of the Endurancelife race flags by Durlsdon Head lighthouse caused near elation as I realised this was the final checkpoint - just 5.5 miles to go now. A marshal took a photo of me with an unforced smile.
Ben and I left the CP together for the final leg. Once again it was a little surreal through the town and sea front, running past people having a late lunch on the quayside. The beach was the main amusement. The easiest running was on the hard sand nearer the water, but here the perpendicular breakwaters were higher, and seemed to get progressively higher as we climbed over each of the 7 blocking our way. At 70Km an obstacle course is not what you need, and it was hilarious feeling like old men trying to climb over them. As we headed up off the beach Ben got a bit of thigh cramp and eased off the climb pace, I was happy to drop the pace with him, and we climbed up together.
At the summit we could finally see where the finish should be - lost in a sea of meadow grass but down there somewhere - yes happily downhill. I wondered about staying with Ben, but I knew my kids and wife would be waiting for me, and my downhill pace throughout the race had been faster than his (he went faster up!) so I gently pulled away and headed down the hill alone. After a few hundred meters I saw a speck of peach in the distance and realised it was my daughter. I waved frantically and she waved back running towards me. As she leapt in my arms I told her "Izzy you have a very special and important job to do - you have to help me to the finish, can you do that and hold my hand all the way?". She nodded and we ran on together, quickly joined by my son. It was the perfect end to the race, crossing the finish line with my kids in each hand, and my wife taking the photos!
After crossing I was given my medal, and I shook hands with the marshals then posed for a finish line photo. Looking back up the hill I saw Ben descending, and after a few minutes he crossed - and I shook his hand. Then oddly I saw another couple of figures - I had not thought there was anyone else behind us. It was Matt and Rich. "Went the wrong way" they said, with laughter. It was great to finish all so closely after a few hours of playing tag with each other.
Looking back at the race, it was really hard. Much harder than the 50k I did a couple of years ago, and much harder than the 60k from a month before. The hills are the killer. I had assumed that, given I would be walking up them, they would not be a huge deal. The problem is the hills are just so steep and so brutal that walking up them is like being on the step machine in the gym, and descending is punishing.
I think though the race will stay with me always - it was a really very special day - special for the difficulty, for the amazing scenery, and for the company - both of the marshals and fellow competitors.
And now I have another race in my sights along that coast - which I now believe is do-able. The Oner. Before too long.
The logistics were slightly tricky. A small matter of wedding anniversary weekend clashing with the race to deal with, and then the actual travel to/from a linear race. Both were solved with booking a hotel not far from the race bus pick up point, with entertainment and activities to keep the family happy!
Race day started early, with a 3.45am alarm call. I found the night porter at the hotel and, although slightly bemused, he was good enough to make me a coffee and then let me in to the kitchen to fill my camelback and get hot water for my instant porridge.
Not long after 4am he showed me out of the hotel to the still pitch-black road. I put on my head torch and started walking towards the bus pick up point. It was a couple of miles walk. I had figured out a two options; firstly if I did walk all the way it was pretty flat - and what was a couple of extra miles walk on the back of 46miles, secondly I figured that with the Studland ferry closed any cars heading to the bus would pass me, and might stop and offer a lift. It did not take long. Just a couple of minutes down the road the first car pulled in. I must have looked pretty conspicuous in OMM jacket carrying a running backpack and drop-bag! "Fancy a lift" asked the driver, who turned out to be Martin. We had a good and brief chat on the way down, comparing notes on "never run this far before".
It was still pitch dark at the bus. We filed in to be indelibly marked, tagged and numbered. Now I know how cattle feel. All very friendly though. I found a spare seat and tried to doze. The bus filled a little, but was not crammed and after we started on the 1 hour drive to Portland I quickly fell asleep.
We tumbled out of the bus on arrival at the lighthouse, and headed for loo stops and bag drops before the briefing. It was cold and breezy, but beautifully clear. I decided to ditch the long tights and start off in shorts, rather than leaving my shorts in the drop bag. As I walked across the car park Ian found me. As near-neighbours we had been Strava-stalking each other for a while, but had never actually met! Such is the strange world of running.
We were called to the briefing, and I was surprised about the small field, no more than 50 of us huddled around the trestle table. The small numbers made it feel special, as did the mid-briefing shower of rain accompanied by full 180 degree rainbow. The rain shower was brief and we quickly assembled by the memorial at the cliff edge just beyond the lighthouse. A quick count-down 5-4-3-2-1 and we were off.
 |
| Briefing rainbow |
The pace at the back (where else?!) was relaxed. We worked our way around the East side of Portland, before heading up steps and towards the prison. I chatted a little to Martin, we compared pacing notes. The view from the top of Portland just before dropping down to Chesil was amazing, and the only bit of the whole course where the sea was on the left hand side (key briefing instruction, keep the sea on your right!). A small navigational error just at the bottom of the town (turn left not right at the T junction), then we were on the causeway - and soon at the first water stop. The first 6 miles went quickly.
After that it was flat and easy running on the road side, and then along the disused railway track - actually quite pretty with the overlying tree canopy. Arriving at Weymouth was a bit surreal, needing to dodge pedestrians and cars before popping out on the sea front. Just beyond the town there was a good view of Portland, looking back. It already seemed a long way away.
Checkpoint 1 was a welcome sight after a short climb out of the far end of Weymouth bay. Friendly, chatty marshals, and a quick dib-in for the timer.
The course after that was fairly uneventful, up until the first big climb of Swyre Head, just before Durdle Door. I felt that one, but it was still felt well within the comfort zone, and I was enjoying the stunning views. At Durdle Door the tourist count went off the scale, and the two or three of us sporting race numbers were clearly conspicuous with a few "well done's" and "keep it up", and one "are your nearly finished - how far to go" - I am not sure the "about 25 miles" reply was taken seriously!
The drop down in to Lulworth village was hard on the feet, hard paved stones with meter-long steps, and although I enjoyed taking it at pace I was worried about losing it on a step, and wrecking an ankle. No such drama though, and it was great to arrive at CP2 and find my drop bag. A few runners were having an extended break - including Matt and Rich who I was to get to know more later in the day. I drank a Weetabix drink (desire for something creamy) and ate a quarter of a crumpet, putting the rest in my backpack for later on.
After CP2 the first challenge was Lulworth beach. I failed to find any part of it that was run-able. It was either gravel or small loose stones, and had no traction at all. Trying to run was exhausting so I walked, being a bit humbled by the guy behind who came racing through - I think he was part of a relay team with fresh legs. As it happened he headed off on the wrong track at the end of the beach. I shouted him back, and he waved in appreciation.
It was about then it started to go a bit wrong. A big squall came off the sea, bringing with it wind and rain. I was glad of the new running jacket (previous one a sieve). As I climbed up I started to feel a bit sick though, not sure whether it was the exertion or the Weetabix drink finding vengeance. The course flattened a bit, but as we approached Mupe Bay I was aghast at the sight of Bindon Hill looming seemingly vertically above me. I started up, not too quickly, and was rapidly over-taken by Matt and Rich as they headed up at impressive speed. I felt ill though - my heart was pounding and I felt weak, and thought for the first time that a DNF might be on the cards. This was not good. I stopped and rationalised it. The climb was ridiculously steep, and from the heart pounding I was clearly pushing towards or above my aerobic threshold. I tend to avoid doing that these days - definitely a comfort zone runner. The problem was that the hill was so steep, to avoid caning it meant going ridiculously slow, and I felt more like a plodding hill walker than an ultra runner. Still I forced my pace down, taking a short breather after a series of steps, and making sure my HR stayed low. It worked. I made it up, and was elated when the gradient started to settle.
At the top I caught up Rich and Matt who were having a post-anaerobic climb breather, and we chatted briefly. They headed off, and it was just after, I think, that Ben caught me up. He was a muscle bound guy with a couple of walking poles making good progress up the slopes. I later learned he was an army PT instructor and clearly a very fit guy, although on his first ultra.
For the next hour the four of us crossed tracks and exchanged places. Ben was faster than me up the hills, I was faster on the descents. Matt and Rich seemed to appear, and then disappear after either a rest stop or the occasional navigational error.
Kimeridge was a high point. As we approached I saw a couple of small figures waving frantically and I realised it was the kids and my wife Anne. There were big hugs all around, and I stopped running and walked with them towards Kimeridge, and past the nodding donkey. The brief stop with them really boosted my spirits and I had a spring in my step as I left them and headed for the Kimeridge check point.
I found Ben, Matt and Rich all still there, and we ended up leaving the CP more or less together, and again we crossed paths up and down hills for the next 6 miles or so. As we approached Worth Matravers a supporter girl was ringing a cow bell and opened the gate for us - the little things really mean a lot. The four of us had been walking up the incline towards the WM checkpoint, but as we approached we started trotting. The CP marshals seemed to appreciate the sight of a team of four of us arriving all at once and cheered loudly. Coke and crisps were to be had here, fantastic!
I left the CP first and made good progress past the coastguard lookout and along the cliff top. I stopped briefly to pay respects at the Royal Marine memorial. These guys gave everything for the rest of us, and I suspect they would have loved nothing more than to be doing what I was doing right then.
Onward then towards Swanage. I started to fade again, so I pulled out my secret weapon number - my iPod nano. I "never" run with music, but know I needed something then. Just for a little while I ran along singing my head off to various 80s classics, hopefully only the sheep heard me.
The view of the Endurancelife race flags by Durlsdon Head lighthouse caused near elation as I realised this was the final checkpoint - just 5.5 miles to go now. A marshal took a photo of me with an unforced smile.
Ben and I left the CP together for the final leg. Once again it was a little surreal through the town and sea front, running past people having a late lunch on the quayside. The beach was the main amusement. The easiest running was on the hard sand nearer the water, but here the perpendicular breakwaters were higher, and seemed to get progressively higher as we climbed over each of the 7 blocking our way. At 70Km an obstacle course is not what you need, and it was hilarious feeling like old men trying to climb over them. As we headed up off the beach Ben got a bit of thigh cramp and eased off the climb pace, I was happy to drop the pace with him, and we climbed up together.
At the summit we could finally see where the finish should be - lost in a sea of meadow grass but down there somewhere - yes happily downhill. I wondered about staying with Ben, but I knew my kids and wife would be waiting for me, and my downhill pace throughout the race had been faster than his (he went faster up!) so I gently pulled away and headed down the hill alone. After a few hundred meters I saw a speck of peach in the distance and realised it was my daughter. I waved frantically and she waved back running towards me. As she leapt in my arms I told her "Izzy you have a very special and important job to do - you have to help me to the finish, can you do that and hold my hand all the way?". She nodded and we ran on together, quickly joined by my son. It was the perfect end to the race, crossing the finish line with my kids in each hand, and my wife taking the photos!
After crossing I was given my medal, and I shook hands with the marshals then posed for a finish line photo. Looking back up the hill I saw Ben descending, and after a few minutes he crossed - and I shook his hand. Then oddly I saw another couple of figures - I had not thought there was anyone else behind us. It was Matt and Rich. "Went the wrong way" they said, with laughter. It was great to finish all so closely after a few hours of playing tag with each other.Looking back at the race, it was really hard. Much harder than the 50k I did a couple of years ago, and much harder than the 60k from a month before. The hills are the killer. I had assumed that, given I would be walking up them, they would not be a huge deal. The problem is the hills are just so steep and so brutal that walking up them is like being on the step machine in the gym, and descending is punishing.
I think though the race will stay with me always - it was a really very special day - special for the difficulty, for the amazing scenery, and for the company - both of the marshals and fellow competitors.
And now I have another race in my sights along that coast - which I now believe is do-able. The Oner. Before too long.
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