A 50 Mile punch in the face

A week on and I’m still getting to grips with the “race that went wrong”.

It’s been a strange week. The physical battering seemed bad this time., much worse than usual recovery weeks. And in my head, if I am honest, I am still glad it’s over but it has got me thinking about my approach and preparation in comparison to past events and most definitely future events. The blog is telling enough, I only write this shit down when I am learning a big fat lesson. As my dear friend said this morning ‘it’s cheap therapy H’.

I should also say here that my last ‘big’ race was Ring o’Fire and many of you may already know that was my first DNF, and not because I had enough but because I was tight on time, (like 7 minutes at one point), sort of gave up and got timed out. https://manage.wix.com/dashboard/3f0c58da-e766-4e6d-88d0-54884e809921/blog/5b03cc10-790c-4aa0-8ca9-74d297b5b65b/edit

There’s so much to say about SDW50, but not really the actual race, so bear with me. I have spent a week sitting in the shit, I really think you have to do that sometimes. But eventually all the positives start peering over the fence, you just have to be in your head to spot them so it’s time to move on. It’s smelly here.

First off – my training. I felt uncomfortable with my training plan, something just didn’t feel right. Despite this, I am well aware that a coach should be trusted so much so that all my own anxieties and worries should be pushed aside. That is just noise not required and not helpful. So for the second time I gave it everything and not half-heartedly. I did all the training. Every single session.

I will be clear, I am in no way blaming my coach for a DNF at RoF or how difficult SDW became for me. But for the second time I felt trained but underprepared. However, this is not about coach bashing, it just didn’t fit so needed to change. I like the accountability of having a coach but I also need 100% confidence in the person I am paying to help me. I can tick this one off now, I no longer have a coach …… it’s just ‘lil old me.

Secondly – the week leading up to the race was the most surreal week. I was already paranoid about covid so close to the day then Sophie tested positive on Tuesday; so we then spent a week at home wearing masks with me in denial every time I felt tired or my throat hurt or if I got any sort of headache.

Then we couldn’t get fuel for almost 2 days.

These two things triggered uncertainty in abundance and anyone who knows me well knows that I DO NOT DEAL WITH THIS WELL. I say I don’t deal with it well, I don’t deal with it at all.

Then I missed my sports massage appointment as there was a fire in Warwick and the place came to a standstill – Warwick the giant carpark. Perspective though, the person who’s flat was on fire definitely was having a worse week than me.

Then I had an unexpected visit from mother nature that was not only ridiculous but insane.

All that said I realised that Twitter was wonderful. I have made some very special friends through Twitter and have also met some very lovely, kind and cool people that I have a LOT of time for. I had offers of beds, lifts, and a very kind offer of dinner the night before which of course I snapped up.

I made it to the start line and was like a coiled spring, raring to go and really happy to be there.

Spencer picked me up and I met Frankie and Lenny.

We got to the start and hung out with Mike, Jon, Kyla, Keith, Ben, I met Coops and Mrs Coops and Ally had come along to say Hi. Lovely. Big smiles all around.

The race started dead on 8:30am and off we went. It seemed to be a congested but quick start. The paths are very narrow to start with and there’s a lot of adrenaline. I got stuck on the first incline and as everyone was running I had to join in otherwise there could’ve been a domino of runners. Then we got to first big hill so people started to walk which was much more sensible.

The next few 15-18 miles were my happiest of the whole race. I ran a lot of this section with Jon and have to say am in awe of the length of his legs and the ease with which he moves up hill. It’s like poetry. We had nice chats, he disappeared on the up sections and I was catching him back on the down sections. It was fun.

My HR was nearing 200 in some of these sections and my clothes were absolutely soaked through with sweat but I was in good spirits. I was already off target but that didn’t matter. This was going to be good.

Jon then disappeared from my view, I couldn’t keep up with him on the up’s and there wasn’t enough downhill to give me time to catch him up. That was OK, he was moving at a fair pace when he was running too and I knew he was going to do well as his bruised ribs seemed to be holding up well.

Around mile 22 (I think) I started to feel cramp in my calf, and pretty soon it was in both. Little bastard was moving around and giving me a sharp reminder it wasn’t going anywhere with a twinge every now and again. I remembered I had salt tabs for a reason so stopped to find those and carried on ignoring the fact I had sweated buckets and taken on salt way too late.

Then just as I was getting my head back in the game, relaxing and starting to enjoy the scenery I took at tumble over a stone or rock and hit the deck hard. I landed on my right shoulder and face. I thought I had broken my glasses but thankfully they were still in one piece otherwise #speccyhelen wasn’t carrying on! I was pretty shaken, sort of sat up and then both legs completely seized with cramp and I was stuck. A very nice runner soon came along and stopped to pull me up and after a few moments I was able to carry on albeit sulky. And feeling like a dick.

Mike caught me up and I had a good moan about my fall and cramp. And the fact that I then couldn’t find my salt tabs and I needed them. Both calves now were regularly twinging every few steps and I knew I had to sort this out. I have to say Mike was pretty cool in the midst of my drama so Mike – I am thankful you were there listening to my whining.

We soon got to Housedean, I found my salt tabs, breathed a sigh of relief, saw Spenny and had a hug and off we went again and found the next hill. Now both my abductors were cramping, no one cared I was disabled by this (lol) and as we got further up the hill it moved into my quads which was ball-breakingly painful. I think I made the huge mistake of stopping and then the pain shot through my quads. I have nothing to compare this too expect I had to labour breathe – on top of a hill – in a race – with 3 or 4 men stopping to help me (thankyou to you all) looking at my legs both cramping up as I kept squeaking “I am fine, you go on …. “

It wasn’t physically possible to move until this had passed. I then had 2 or 3 more cramp ‘attacks’ within 2 or 3 minutes of each other. I was taking on more salt but I know this was way too late. It was cold on top that hill, I put my coat on as I knew I was slowing down to what felt like a crawl. I also had to do woman admin which was not very pleasant (for god sake). After all the years I have been running this is a first in a race so I was fuming about this.

I fact I was just fuming now. I was still 3 miles away from Southease so I took the option of going there instead of turning back. I didn’t want to drop but I knew if cramping carried on it wasn’t going to be possible to continue.

I tentatively started to run again with the aim of getting to Southease and then making a decision.

I got to Southease with no more cramping drama and thought I would try the next 7. From here the distance between CP’s reduces and I was in second half or the course. I found by easing off and walking more I stopped feeling anxious about hurting myself and being out for weeks and also my HR came down to something resembling a person that doesn’t need to be hospitalised so that was good. :/

But my head was a disaster zone. I had made a big mistake. Many in fact, but at this point the mistake was having no real plan for what I did when my plan had gone pear-shaped.

20 miles is a long way when your head is no longer in it, there’s nowhere else to go but just grind it out. How many of us forget that 50 miles IS STILL A LONG WAY. I have come out of this knowing my mental capacity is on point but it’s exhausting being in that zone for hours.

That said, the closer I got to each CP, and ultimately the finish I just wanted it done and over.

My last text to Curly was along the lines of “I have just done women’s admin AGAIN and I am nearly done. THANK f**K”. She was waiting at the track and I couldn’t wait to get there.

The last 2 miles coming off the trail and into town was very welcome. My legs felt destroyed but I wanted to run them. The track appeared sooner than I expected and I saw Curly waiting on the road waving. The track was right there and ridiculously I took the racing line – ha ha! Well, having never run on a track before I guessed that was the racing line.

And that finish line. Man, that was good. I could stop! I didn’t have to do this anymore. Then just as I was about to cross Spencer shouted “come on Sharon!” and I nearly died on the spot.

This race did not go as I planned. How I envisaged it. In the end it wasn’t a race – it was a 50 mile long fight with my legs and head, that could’ve just turned into me crying for miles and miles and I hated that it had turned into that but I still finished it.

I wrote down everything that I did wrong. Quite honestly you would think it was the first time at an ultra so that’s all my own fault. It has helped - from kit I chose to wear that turned into a sweaty mess to a terrible hydration strategy leading up to the run.

I have seen fit to deal with some of the bigger stuff.

Physically it has been the worst recovery - I have recovered better and quicker after 100 mile runs.

But what I have realised, and this is just as if not more important is why I used to love this running far business. The peace. The simplicity of it. The fact that you can be right there, right in the moment and everything else can just bloody wait.

Chatting with a friend yesterday who had to DNF I said “no-one will ever remember how fast you finished a race when you’re dead” and actually, I think this is pretty much it.

It’s NDW50 next. My only aim is to start and finish that run. I won’t say actually enjoy because it’s 50 miles so you get the picture.

I am hugely grateful to all the lovely ones there on the day and the lovely ones who have been on the end of the phone this week. The laughs at the end were very much needed.

SDW50. The race that came along and punched me in the face for 50 miles. Things don’t work out as planned but maybe they work out for a reason after all. I would be foolish to file this away so I will take the lessons and run. Literally.