Training for the GUCR while in Italy has been a problem. I need long, flat runs, and flat speed work. Long runs around Venice were a problem because of the number of canal bridges, long runs around Siena were difficult because everywhere’s hilly, long runs around Amalfi were difficult because the roads were death traps (and hilly), it took hours to drive anywhere, and the only local lengthy stretches of trail involved huge numbers of steps (see previous blog posts).

So getting to Rome, and its relative flatness, was a relief from a running perspective. After 7 days of carb-loading on spaghetti and pizza, a long run would finally be mine. My plan was to do 15 miles total, 10 miles of easy and then 5 miles of decent effort, leaving myself feeling fatigued and happy before further carb input.

I knew that I had propensity to get lost, so I checked Mapmyrun for routes that I could upload to my Garmin. I found one that looked good at around 15 miles, and then found that the export button on the site didn’t work. 20 minutes of research down the drain. I tried Mapometer and found a good-looking route of about 12 miles, and altered it to suit my start and end points down by the Colosseum.

I set my alarm for 6:15 and went out at 7am, ran 3 miles easy on a route I’d run a couple of days before, and then hit go on my new route. All set. Except for… people. And traffic lights. And traffic. And more people. I couldn’t get any kind of rhythm with all the stopping and starting. Even my semi-aggressive London running style didn’t work so well here, where a slightly wrong move could literally get you killed by the vehicles that hare around the streets. Even the green man at a crossing doesn’t mean you’re safe, cars can go through if they see it’s clear – so a rapidly moving runner can surprise a motorist when crossing the road at speed on a green man, and I was always wary of collisions.

Added to this, I got lost around the Vatican. The route had a way into the city-within-a-city somehow, and I couldn’t figure out how to get in. There was a crossover of route at one point too, which was tricky to navigate on the Fenix 2, and I ran the wrong way a few times.

On the positive side, Rome is stunningly beautiful on a warm cloudless morning like it was today, and without my run I wouldn’t have seen the river Tevere so closely, I wouldn’t have seen the wonderful view of Rome from the Piazza di San Pietro in Montorio, and although I’m neither a Catholic nor religious in any way, it was good to see the ol’ Pope’s residence and the majesty of the Vatican’s architecture. (We later further celebrated this by purchasing a Pope-themed fridge magnet for Sarah’s brother, which I thought was fitting.) Also positively, in terms of effort I managed to up it for the last 5 miles as planned, so although from the Garmin data it looked like a washout, I definitely feel fatigued, ready for a rest and a recharge, then back to England before getting back to a normal running cadence on Saturday.

I had the strangest experience today. Scary, because I’d been stupid and underprepared, and exhilarating… because I’d been stupid and underprepared. I descended the cliffs from San Lazzaro, where we were staying, to Amalfi, along Sentiero dell’Antica Repubblica (the Path of the Ancient Republic). We drove there the other day, around 20 miles via winding roads, but I was told that the steps reduce that to a small number of miles and it would take 100 minutes to walk. I do love a challenge, so I wanted to see how fast I could run it.

I figured I’d run for an hour total including the steps and dodging traffic on the road into Amalfi, then that would give me 90 minutes to get back and get up the steps. I knew it could be nightfall before the end so I took my headtorch. One of the wiser safety decisions I’ve ever made.

Getting down the steps was a doddle. I lost count at 1,500 steps down, I’m told it’s 4,000 but I don’t think that’s right. Maybe 2,000 down and 2,000 up, that could be it. Anyway, although some were broken they were largely complete and much more recent than their title suggests, so I was safely down the 2,000 feet in 25 minutes and down to the Amalfi beach in 40 minutes. Sorted. I stuck to my hour plan, so ran through Amalfi and out the other side, through Castiglione and almost to San Cosma before turning back for my 90 minute return. Or so it was planned.

What I didn’t bank on was ascending the wrong set of steps on the way back, twice. The truth is, one set of steps looked pretty much exactly like another – to my, the untrained, eye – and I thought I knew the direction I needed to head (up!) so I stubbornly stuck to that plan. I kept climbing, always looking up to see where I was going and seeing a wall, beyond which I thought would be a road that I could run to San Lazzaro, family, and dinner. There were no steps any more, just a series of rough paths and higgledy piles of rock. I’d get over the wall, or through it where a gate was available, and beyond that would be a climb over some rocks and yet another wall. It was all getting a bit weird, and it was only after I’d done this six or seven times that I realised where I was standing. I was on a terrace.

The beauty of the Amalfi coast is enhanced by ancient agricultural terraces, that look like this:

People farm the slopes using these terraces, which are large channels dug into the rock where crops are grown. When you’re looking at these from your car, or standing and marvelling at the view, they look utterly magical. Timeless. Wonderful.

When you’re standing in one, unaware of the way either up or back down, realising that each of these terrace drops to the next by around 10 feet, and the sea is several hundred feet below you, with sunset approaching, they are fucking terrifying.

I remember clearly saying out loud to myself “You could be in trouble here,” and I think that galvanised my senses and I decided to try to find the path back down. That was a sensible decision but it was really tough – I kept choosing a path that ended in serious brambles or some other dead-end, and having to turn back to try a different fork. My legs were getting torn to shreds and the sun was going down. I passed a very large aloe at one point and then found a few steps that I recognised. I went down them as fast as I dared. I got back to the road, relieved, and ran west towards San Lazzaro and therefore, surely to the correct steps. There they were. Excellent. I got up them double-quick, only to find that they fizzled out into trail again. I scouted around to find some trail, and spotted something that looked like steps – but east. I ran along there for a while, and found… the aloe. I couldn’t tell for sure if it was the same one, but the sun was now seriously setting and I could hear duelling banjoes playing in my head, so I retraced my steps, switched on my headtorch,  and bolted down the steps.

I found a house on these steps and knocked on the door, half-blinding a small child with the awesome beam of my Nao, before her dad appeared and I explained in my basic Italian that I was lost and looked for the steps to San Lazzaro. He pointed back up the steps, left, then up again, then left, and continue doing this until I reached the target. I thanked him and gave it a try. I eventually found my way to the original trail, and then just had the simple task of climbing 1,500 or so steps , and around 1,500 feet of climb in 1.5 miles, to reach San Lazzaro. That was a bloody good workout I can tell you! For those of you who know the North Downs Way 100, Detling should be pretty simple now I know I can get up these!

As you’ll see from the trail here, it was indeed the same aloe plant that I found from a different direction, and I did ascend the wrong steps twice. Next time I’ll take much greater precautions, as I would not have liked to have been negotiating my way around those terraces in the dark.

Total recorded ascent was 3,200 feet, but my watch crashed at one point for a few uphill/downhill minutes, so there’s a few more to be added in. About 12 miles, 2 hours 40 mins. Not the greatest of GUCR preps but about the best I’m going to get around here.

We’re off to a relatively flat Rome tomorrow, hoping to get some decent (rather than descent) miles in.

Not much to report this week. A bit of a washout week following illness, and chest infection continuing. I took the weekend off and rested, and then Tuesday tried my little 4.68 mile loop. Wasn’t too bad, but a couple of times I had to slow down because my lungs were coughing up some horrible gunge. Felt good to clear the tubes, and I did it at around 9 min/mile pace so not altogether bad. Rested again Wednesday, with still another four days of antibiotics to go, and then went to the gym for a little run on Thursday. I forgot my trainers so ran in my socks, and cut it at 2 miles as my feet hurt (at the top, oddly) and stretched for a while.

And that was that! Back stronger next week.

Total miles planned: 45

Total miles actual: 6.68 (!)

Whoa. Sick week, again.

Started off well with a B2B – a 13.5 mile road run late Saturday night, and an 11.6 mile hilly run with Alick at 6:30 Sunday morning. All good, the road run particularly so and managed it in around 2 hours which was pretty good time for a training run. Just a giant loop made up as I went along, aiming for around 15 miles but cut it a little short largely because that’s when I ran back past my house. But… really heavy legs in the hilly run, walking all the steepest hills, and I was glad when it was over and I could have a tea and a bacon sarnie from the little cafe at Newlands Corner on the North Downs.

Rested Monday, and then Tuesday banged out 7 miles on the treadmill at the gym. I don’t particularly like treadmills, but they serve a purpose from time to time and this was one of those times. A good tempo session, lightly uphill, always close to 8 min/miles.

Then… crashing to earth. On Wednesday I felt a bit of a sore throat and a slight fever, just like a couple of times recently where a cough/chest infection was starting. I went out for a curry and a few jars on Wednesday night, sticking to some fairly healthy stuff (Goan fish curry to be precise), but I felt pretty nauseous Thursday morning when I woke up. I planned the day off as holiday to spend with my son Billy, we’d bought tickets in the afternoon to go see The Croods and we thought we’d stay in and play games the rest of the time. Good dad and lads day. I didn’t feel like breakfast but we all went to the local cafe before Sarah left for work, and I ate something but 20 miinutes later I was in the cafe toilet throwing up. Not pleasant. I took my daughter to nursery and then Billy and I went home, and I promptly went to the toilet and my body purged itself over the next few hours of pretty much everything it had. I spent the whole day, from 10 in the morning until early evening, either on the toilet or lying on the floor near it. I dislocated a finger fainting and falling off the toilet. I bruised my knee at some stage. Billy came up every hour or so to see if I was alright, and I told him I was, but I really wasn’t. My whole focus was getting out to see that movie at 3:40, and as 1 and then 2pm approached I realised we weren’t going to make it. There’s nothing like disappointing a child to make you feel low, regardless of how low you already are. But he was fairly philosophical about it, good lad.

I slept OK that night, and immediately I woke up Friday morning I knew I wouldn’t be able to go to work, but my next thoughts were to wonder if I’d be able to make running that weekend. I have big mileage plans at the moment for training, and although that week I’d clocked up 32 miles already I wanted to add another 10 on Friday. No chance of that, honestly. Just too unwell. A pattern seemed to be forming.

Total miles planned: 41

Total miles actual: 32.2

Saturday: still feeling the after-effects of the cold, still guzzling various remedies. Much better, and I was quietly confident that I’d wake up on Sunday with no real problems.

And as it transpired. I wouldn’t say 100%, but definitely good enough, and nothing on the chest – so I went for a run around the block. My usual 4.5mile loop, wearing new boots – Saucony Kinvara 3. Ran with the Garmin but didn’t look at it until I was a couple of miles in, just ran as I wanted to, applying a bit of effort but not too much. Shoes felt great, and I was feeling quite OK at around 8 minutes/mile – which is pretty quick for me. I did the whole loop in 8.07 minutes/mile, and felt good afterwards, no real problems. Looking forward to running on the NDW around Dorking tomorrow morning with John Pickup.

And then Monday came around. I met John around Dorking station, at the start of the loop. We got going pretty early, and both felt good. We talked about stuff, getting to know each other as we’d only met once before. We talked about John’s recent Pilgrim ultra success, and about how he hadn’t trained much for the six weeks following that; and how he was now getting back up there for the forthcoming 3 Forts Challenge – which I’m running too. We also talked about my upcoming ultras. And then! I realised we were about 25 minutes in and I hadn’t taken in any water. This isn’t what I’d normally do; ordinarily when I’m running on my own I regulate my water and food intake pretty well, but this time I just forgot. I had a drink and resolved to drink more regularly from then on.

The countryside around Dorking really is stunning. Some of the views make you want to stop to take them in. At one stage John pointed out a hill that looked an awfully long way away, and that that was the third of a few big hills we’d be climbing today. It reminded me of the run last December between Marathon and Athens; when we recced it we stood on a hill near the Acropolis and looked in the general direction of where we’d be running from, and saw a mountain way, way in the distance – and then worked out via the map that this was, in fact, a small hill about halfway – the actual mountain (Mount Penteli) was the much larger, darker shadow even further back. This sort of view really brings home how far something like 26 miles really is – it’s a REALLY long way. So bugger off, anyone who thinks that running 26 miles is easy. It’s not!

The running was good – great, in fact. We both felt good and strong, and while John ran up all the hills I’d already resolved to walk up the steepest, but that seemed to work OK as I caught him up again (most of the time) on the flat or downhill. There were some really good hills around there, with picturesque views – Holmbury Hill, with the iron age fort remains on top, is a favourite of mine by car so it was good to have run there. I remember John racing with some mountain bikers to reach the top, and sprinted off into the distance to the fort area – beating them too – but I deliberately held back and conserved my energy, not being too aware of what was yet to come.

On Leith Hill, which I’d previously cycled up once or twice so I knew of its magnitude, we made good progress getting up and to the summit, where there’s a tea shop. I really fancied a drink because my backpack, the UltrAspire, has a bladder which makes the water taste funny after a while. John bought us a coffee each, and we stood and drank it – a massive mug of REALLY good coffee. We probably spent about five minutes standing around, drinking and chatting, and then we resolved to head off back down the other side. After a few minutes, though, I started to feel weird. I felt a little bit nauseous and dizzy, and my calves started to cramp. I stopped and walked for a bit, and not for the first time that day John did too; he could see I was flagging and was happy to run/walk at my pace. I carried on for a time, running a little bit and then walking when I felt dizzy or crampy again, and eventually I had to sit down because I knew I was going to be sick. The whole coffee came up, pretty much in one go. I felt much better almost immediately, and got up soon after and started moving again. The cramps continued periodically, so I was now walking and running the whole way, but there was only one more hill to cross before the descent into Dorking and back to the car. I took an S! cap at some stage when I though I could keep it down, to get the electrolytes in. I don’t remember much about this part, except John telling me there wasn’t far to go, and the whole of that part of the run seemed to take forever. I think it may be that my brain had decided that I was at the finish already, and so it shut down my body a bit, but there was still a decent way to go through Dorking and up to the station where I’d parked.

We got to a small convenience store that was open, and I said I wanted to go in to find a toilet and get a drink. John offered to go get my car and drive it back to me, which he did while I went into the shop. The shop owner wasn’t happy to see a dishevelled runner come in and refused to let me go to the toilet, so I bought some Oasis and went outside. I felt an overwhelming need to lie down, so I did – on my back first and then, because the pack was in the way, rolled onto my side into the foetal position. I must have looked pretty tragic. I lay there for a while, and then sat up and sipped some Oasis. My legs were still pretty locked with cramp so standing was painful, but I did a bit of stretching and it loosened up a bit. John brought back my car (thanks again, John) and then after asking if I was OK he made off for the station. I got in the car and turned the engine and heater on, and sat there for a good while with cramped legs, with my body uncontrollably shivering – I just couldn’t stop. It was quite cold outside but not that cold, and so I must have had something wrong with me. We’d run 21 miles, up and down some hills but not particularly taxing – I’ve certainly run longer and harder before and not had this reaction. After 20 minutes or so my shivering had died down and I decided to sort out my cramp – so I turned off the engine and got out of the car. It felt freezing cold now, but the stretching felt good. I bought another Oasis and drank most of that, texted Sarah and then started to head off home – I felt at that point like I was safe to drive and the cramping was under control, and the drive home was thankfully uneventful.

The rest of the day went OK. I recovered after a couple of hours and I felt great. So not sure what happened to be honest – could it just be that initial lack of water intake sparked off the cramping, and then the coffee was just too much for my system? I was ill again in the coming days so it’s possible some illness was coming at this stage, but I’m just chalking it down to experience. One thing’s for sure though, I need to do this run again (or something very like it) soon to practice drinking, electrolytes, food etc for longer distances, and make sure this was just a one-off.

Total miles planned: 37.5

Total miles actual: 34.2

Planned an LSR Saturday, anywhere between 22.5 and 30 miles. I knew with the missing miles in previous weeks that I wouldn’t reach 30 miles, that would cause all sorts of problems, but I’d see what I could do.

However, I had session #2 of Running School on Saturday morning, and that meant a couple of miles on and off the dreadmill, so I decided to put the LSR back to Sunday morning. The school helped me continue to think about form – leg strides, heel height, knee driving and also a little about arms and overall posture. All good things to work on. It still doesn’t feel like it’s going to be easy to replicate that good form when running slowly over 50+ miles, but it feels good to do – and the exercises tuned to improving my form I’m convinced will help.

On Saturday a couple of Bosh friends of mine, Luke Ashton and Kevin Smith, were running the Thames Path 100. It was the first 100 mile race for both of them, and much of Bosh were rooting for them on Facebook. Around 7pm I could see via RunKeeper Live that Luke was heading towards Shepperton, so Billy and I drove out to see if we could find him and wish him well. We stopped in Shepperton when we could see a couple of runners with head torches, and had no real idea if Luke had gone on already or was behind these two guys. We waited in the cold for five minutes or so, and then saw a headtorch moving towards us, and then when we could actually see it was indeed Luke, it was too late to wave to him. So back in the car, drove half a mile and waited – as he approached, Billy waved his Bosh flag and we shouted some words of encouragement. Luke came over and shook my hand, looked a bit dazed (I think he was about mile 60 at this point), and I told him he was about fourth and a couple of guys were just five minutes ahead. He said “Is that all?”, then thanked us and ran on. Billy shouted “Good luck!”, and was pleased to get a couple of thumbs-ups in response. I realised afterwards that this was the first time I’ve met up with someone in the middle of an ultra. He looked strong and up for the rest of the run. We got some fish and chips and went home. When I got up in the morning, at 6am for my COD LSR, I loaded up Facebook and found out he’d come second in the race, some four minutes behind the winner. Amazing, inspiring stuff.

So, dedicating my LSR to Luke, I set off, toast and jam in hand, UltrAspire pack on with a litre-and-a-half of water, a couple of gels and a bag of assorted nuts, raisings, flapjack pieces and Jelly Babies. Slightly annoyed that I couldn’t find my 2XU tights, or gloves, but still – I would go far today.

Rather cold, I headed down the towpath towards Guildford. Felt bright and breezy and soon warmed up. I got to about five miles in about 45 minutes and started to feel a stomach ache coming on. I would normally go for a… number two… before heading out on an early morning run, but I hadn’t this morning for some reason. It was hitting me quite quick and I knew I had to do something about it. I was in a quiet area, I hadn’t seen anyone all morning, and there was a handy remote clearing that was reasonably free of brambles. Cursing myself for not packing any TP, I sought out a few big dock leaves and did the quick business. Feeling much better, I decided to turn back at that point and head back past my house and towards Walton Bridge on the towpath. That would mean I get to my house at about 10 miles, and then see where I go from there – but importantly if my stomach got bad I wouldn’t be far away from home and a proper toilet. I had a gel and some food, and then a couple of miles later stopped for the call of nature again. More dock leaves desecrated  🙂  However, I really did feel OK then, so when I got back to the canal lock close to my house I felt good about running towards Walton.

I’d run to Walton Bridge before, it’s about five miles from home and it’s a nice run – mostly towpath with a little bit of tarmac as you go through Weybridge – and it has the added bonus of ending up next to the Thames. I hadn’t realised this beforehand, but when I saw the sign “Thames Path” I realised that this was the same bit of route that Luke and Kevin had run the night before. Muddy as can be, and really quite difficult to run on – like a skating rink in places – I thought about how tough it must have been to have gone past here a total of three times at something like miles 10, 50 and 70 of a 100 mile race. Respect. I felt good, and ran to just over 15 miles before turning back toward home, knowing that pushing on could cause problems – particularly injuries, which I fear most of all with the ultras coming up!

I got back home with 21.5 miles on the clock, pretty tired but happy. I’d taken 3-and-a-half hours, but that’s not too bad particularly with a couple of poo stops. On the negative side, I realised I still had quite a bit of water left in my pack, which with hindsight wasn’t great; and although I’d eaten both gels and taken an S! cap, I still had quite a bit of food left.

Next day, I rested (again at work) and went for a sauna and steam at the local gym. Felt great. Slight niggly pain in left Achilles, but nothing to worry about.

Tuesday I rested again, and in the evening I started to feel a little rough. Slight sore throat, slight fever. Uh-oh. I knew what this meant. On Alick’s advice Wednesday I went and bought echinacea and lots of vitamin C to blitz my system. Continuing to rest, I also made a big decision about diet. I realised that over time I’d been eating quite poorly. Most mornings I’d have a pastry of some sort and a cup of coffee, then a sandwich (a good quality sandwich, but still a sandwich) at lunchtime. In the evening we usually eat well, but overall during the day I had been eating very little fresh fruit and veg, lots of carbs and protein but not many vitamins. Little wonder, then, that after a big run my immune system could be down, and surrounded on the train, tube and at work with coughing, spluttering people, I get another bug.

So I determined, from Thursday, that I would eat better. Porridge, muesli and/or fruit for breakfast most mornings, or at least avoiding pastry. Big salads for lunch. Cut down on snacks. More fresh vegetables in the evenings where we can. I rested the rest of the week, doing some core strength exercises on the Friday. I bought Manuka honey and started having a couple of spoons of that per day, I bought coconut water, chia seeds and lots of other good stuff to follow some good recipes from Scott Jurek’s book Eat and Run. Not sure where this will take me, but I figured I’d been eating badly, so to try eating better for a month at least would be good for me.

Total miles planned: 34

Total miles actual: 23.5

Better.

Saturday and Sunday were frustrating running-wise, because I just couldn’t risk going out. On the plus side I spent the time with my family, getting up early with my son to play (and have him beat me at) FIFA 13, and generally chilling out.

Monday, I had the day off on holiday from work and around lunchtime I went to Horsell Common determined to do a 10-mile walk. I couldn’t run, but I wanted to do then next best thing: a good-paced walk, at least 4 miles per hour. 2 and a half hours on my feet, good ultra training I thought. It was muddy as all hell, flooded in the most part. I trudged around, feeling like I was the only one on earth for most of the time – there must have only been half a dozen people in the whole place, but then again it was thundering and the air had that strange colour so I’m not surprised people stayed away. I tentatively stepped for the first hour, and then once my feet had got completely soaked I didn’t really care, so just splashed through the almost knee-deep puddles in places and had great fun.

Note: the DryMax socks I’d bought are definitely not waterproof. Neither do they claim to be, but they do say that they will keep your feet dry, which isn’t the case. Still, I had no blisters afterwards, and I did the 10 miles in just over 2 and one quarter hours, so pretty good overall.

Tuesday I rested (at work), and Wednesday I went to the gym to do some 4 miles of intervals on the dreadmill. It was the only time I had, really. Thursday I did some core work, and Friday another 4 miles. All good.

Total miles planned: 34

Total miles actual: 18

Washout week.

Illness developed into a chest infection, so with antibiotic meds from the doctor I prescribed myself rest for the week. I went to work as normal, but no physical exercise until I felt much better.

Thursday I did a spinning class. Friday I felt OK, so I did an 8-mile run in the evening, around the roads near home. Felt like a real grind, a struggle to get through it. Think with hindsight I shouldn’t have done it. Live and learn. Norman Conquest 50 is on my mind.

On the positive sid, the whole time I’ve been ill I’ve been doing a lot of reading about running ultras. The Ultramarathonrunning.com site has a bunch of links to valuable information, and I read through most of them – it made me feel better and took my mind to a place where I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself or dying to get out for a run. Recommended reading: http://www.ultramarathonrunning.com/training/index.html

Total miles planned: 30

Total miles actual: 8

Bah.

Up and down week. Did really well at the G3 on Saturday, plus a 2-mile cooldown with a lady who’d come second in the race – so maybe a bit quicker than my normal cooldown pace, but felt good anyway. Then on Sunday I felt great, so went for my planned LSR – ran along the Thames Path to Walton Bridge, a towpath route mostly that ended up around 12 miles total. So already in one weekend I’d done just over 20 miles. Great.

Rested Monday, and then on Tuesday morning I didn’t feel good. I had a sore throat, and a slight fever. Took medication, went to work, and came home normal time. On Wednesday and Thursday I stayed home from work, in bed mostly. On Thursday afternoon I felt better, so went for a four-mile run and felt OK afterwards too. But I clearly wasn’t – that evening, and the following day, back to sick again. So after a great start to the week, it didn’t go so well overall.

Total miles planned: 27.5

Total miles actual: 24.8