Day one started well, although somewhat cooler than in previous years. We were all either over or under-dressed for various sections of the course. My steady run/walk pace worked nicely and by the end of the day, following a couple of one-hour breaks and a three-hour sleep, I had 58 miles in the bag.
Day two was tough for everyone. We were all tired and the colder temperatures were beginning to wear on everyone. I found 10 mile blocks a struggle, and it seemed to take all day to do 20 miles. Oddly enough an unexpected sudden onset of rapid heart rate sent me to the medical tent. Pulse of 167 but no chest pain, shortness of breath or other symptoms. We agreed that a full cardiac workup was unnecessary as a Valsalva manoeuvre brought my rate down to the 80s, but I did agree to a minimum five hour rest. I had gagged on some electrolyte capsules just before that happened, so think that was the cause. I was up and moving by 7am and checked in with my medic friends. All was well, no further problems. Other than only 35 miles that day for a total of 93, that is. Blew that 300 mile plan.
Day three started fine and cold but I felt much better. The 10 mile plan was working, although I could tell by mile nine that it was certainly time to think about that break. I soldiered on, feeling generally quite good, with no issues of blisters, chafing, nausea, or other situations guaranteed to make life difficult. I enjoyed another sleep in that warm bed, awoke by 6am, ready to cook a hot breakfast, and hit the road again. All good, and 135 miles on the clock.
Day four brought the predicted bad weather, although a fine sunny morning caused doubt. Not to worry, by late afternoon the storm system rolled in – 40 degrees Farenheit with heavy showers, a muddy course, and generally chilled runners. It was interesting to see who had planned for unexpected bad weather. Runners in shorts with plastic bags or flapping ponchos seemed to be really slammed. I have found that a ‘storm bag’ is essential – rain suit, gloves and hats, scarves, long wool underwear. Despite this, and with three layers underneath the Goretex, by midnight I could face it no longer, and couldn’t make myself go beyond 168 miles in that weather. Andy and I called it good, and retreated into our warm cave.
