Why We Run: A Story of Obsession

On as Sunday morning, post-run, I settled down with a coffee to read a colour supplement extract from a new book ‘Why We Run’ by Robin Harvey. My interest was drawn because it was, broadly, about his experiences of running the Spartathon – the legendary 152 mile race across Greece (with a 36-hour time limit) which is firmly on my ‘to do’ list. The style was clunky and truncated, but I put it down to the editorial process that reduced the extract for magazine consumption, and ordered myself a copy. I do wish I hadn’t…

Harvey’s book is ponderous, heavy-hearted and oh-so pretentious; full of references to Plato, Nietzsche, Goethe, Bertrand Russell, Virginia Woolf and others. More an exercise in proving how well read, rather than how well trained, he is. Naturally he also name-checks all the usual ultra-running suspects – Christopher McDougall, Dean Karnazes, et al – but if your interested in endurance running you will already be familiar with their (infinitely superior) books. Worse, Harvey offers up so much irrelevant or downright inaccurate information you suspect the research was limited to Wikipedia. Try this: ‘No ultra-distance marathon in the UK can be run continuously’ (really?) or how about quoting VOMax as percentages? Or that ‘hitting the wall’ is something that happens at around mile 20 due to lactic acid (sooner, surely dependent on blood sugar and carbs with lactic acid playing, if anything, only a very minor role.) Or claiming: ‘Outside the world of elite athletes and running clubs, only rudimentary advice can be found on how to train for a marathon.’ Honestly.

But the greatest failure of this book us a complete and utter lack of joy and humour. Whilst he quotes Joyce Carol Oates as saying: ‘Running! If there’s any activity happier, more exhilarating, more nourishing to the imagination, I can’t think what it might be’, there is no evidence whatsoever that Harvey believes this. Personally I’ve never run an ultra, however tough, where the defining quality of those involved hasn’t been one of humour (even if it is, on occasions, of the gallows variety).

There are rare moments of interest to be found – some good potted histories of various aspects of the running revolution – but ultimately I think Harvey has proved that his book makes only for a mildly diverting Sunday supplement feature.

Why We Run: A Story of Obsession, by Robin Harvie, is published by John Murray. ISBN-10: 9781848541764. RRP: £12.99

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Lessons from the MdS

Like most people preparing for the Marathon des Sables (MdS) I’d spoken with a lot of people and read a lot of advice before hand; some of it good some of it terrible.

So what lessons did I learn from the 26th Marathon des Sables? What worked, what didn’t and what can you do to improve your race experience? Let’s start with the training, picture the ground of the Sahara and what comes to mind? For many it’s firm sand, for others sand dunes, but how many of you have a picture of rocks, loose sand, pebble plains, rubble, slate and sandstone mixed into your ground? The reality is that is the type of terrain that you will spend most of your time running through, during the 26th MdS in places there was even what appeared to be lumps of concrete thrown into the mix! The truth is that rather than a sand box for the most part it’s more like running across a badly managed building site. Running on flat tarmac is not going to prepare you well for what is ahead of you. So what kind of ground should you be training on? Trails are better than tarmac, and trails over big hills (the bigger and rougher the better) are better still; best of all of course is regular running on dry sand, up, down and across dunes for miles if at all possible. Train on terrain that matches as closely as possible the terrain you will be crossing. If you can’t run on sand dunes regularly then keep to trails, and consider supplementing your training with use of a wobble board to work your ankles and lower leg muscles to help prepare them for uneven ground. If you’re stuck in a city some parks have sand horse tracks around them; make use of them in your training.

One advantage of training on sand is that you will learn how to run efficiently across it. A common mistake that people make when running over the sand is to follow the people who went in front. Many runners from Northern Europe treated the sand as they would mud, but flat loose dry sand doesn’t remain compacted when run upon and subsequent runners wasted a lot of energy trying to do so. One of the best lessons learnt from the MdS is to be a Wolf not a Sheep, find your own ground and plan your own route between markers. I passed loads of people blindly following the person in front who was doing the same, crossing soft boggy sand churned up by the passing of hundreds of feet in 54 degrees of heat, when off to their side by a couple of meters was fresh compacted sand which was far more economical and easy to run on. When it came to climbing dunes the same held true for the shallower dunes (running on untouched ground) but on steeper ones the most economical way was to tuck in behind another runner and place your feet in the footprint left by theirs the second they had vacated it.

Some people who physically trained hard for the MdS then went on to suffer needlessly during the week simply due to poor personal admin. Away from the comforts of home on a race like the MdS your body becomes a machine and like all machines it needs regular maintenance. Keeping clean is essential, yet some people didn’t do the basics. As soon as you’re in to the bivouac get clean, get out of your race clothing and refuel. It sounds obvious but the amount of people who just slumped down and left themselves in a state was apparent by the end of the week by the amount of salt and sand rashes and infections. Make no mistake poor hygiene can finish your race before you do! Added to this was some horrendous sunburn, remember why you came to the desert, if it’s a suntan you want pick one up after the race, but during the race cover up and use sun-block often. When placing your heart under the strain of an Ultra, the risk of cardiac damage from bacterial infection is increased so teeth brushing should never be skipped. Foot care is also essential, I got through the week with only one very small superficial blister on one heal and that was preventable. My laces had become slightly loose and rather than stop at once to fix them I decided to push on to the checkpoint that I could see a few hundred meters ahead, by the time I got there it was too late. Always deal with hotspots and problems immediately. I wore Injini bamboo liners under Hilly Mono socks and they were great. In the evenings I massaged aloevera Vaseline into the soles of my feet and heels to prevent them from drying out and cracking thereby introducing a route for infection; this worked well and felt revitalizing.

Also essential is the religious use of hand sanitizer before food preparation and after going to the loo. I also found the avoidance of shaking hands and eating anyone else’s food and sweets helped to keep diarrhoea at bay. One great innovation on the 26th MdS was the introduction of ‘Poo bags’. These supplanted the old long drops and dramatically reduced the incidence of diarrhoea in the bivouac. The ‘Poo bag’ (yes you place it over a frame and crap into it) is watertight and so has many uses, best of all it can double as a washing machine. Simply place your filthy running kit into the bag along with some detergent (Likeys sell great liquid detergent) and add half a bottle of water (don’t worry you’re given plenty). Tie a knot in the top and pass from one hand to another giving it a squidge. Do this for half an hour ignoring the strange looks of runners passing to and fro in the bivouac, then untie it and wring out your kit, turn the bag inside out and repeat without the detergent and hang up using your safety pins onto the tent. Hey presto, salt and sand free running kit for the next day!

Before you head off to the MdS be sure to visit a Fish and Chip shop and pick up a couple of sachets of Vinegar. The carbohydrate and electrolyte powders you put in your bottles along with the heat make for a perfect breading ground for bacteria and mould, so at the end of the day simply add the vinegar to an empty bottle and sluice it out and then rinse. The vinegar will kill the bacteria and mould keeping you fit to run.

I was amused to find that I was able to compete with faster runners than myself by simply not stopping at checkpoints. At all the checkpoints tents were erected and in all honesty the atmosphere in them was far from positive a lot of the time. These places are time vampires and if at all possible should be avoided like the plague, get in, get out and get moving. Just ten minutes at each checkpoint on the long day will add an hour to your finishing time.

In all I loved the MdS, a fantastic experience with great people in an amazing setting, I even loved the food but I’ll tell you about that another time.

Feature by Jamile Siddiqui

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Camelbak Better Bottle

I have to confess to being something of a lazy runner. Not so much when it comes to the training or upping my game when it comes to running an ultra, but I’m lazy when it comes to using kit on a run. If it’s not to hand it’s out of mind. A hot spot developing on a toe? Plasters are at the bottom of my pack – so forget it! Same goes for bottles and with hydration being one of the most crucial factors in running this can be disastrous. In this respect the Camelbak Better Bottle has been something of a lifesaver. Made from 100% BPA-free polycarbonate the key to its success is that it integrates a bottle-top bite valve with a straw that extends to the bottom of the container making it possible to drink on the run without removing it from a chest-pack holder or indeed of going to the troublesome length of even having to tilt the bottle.

This may seem inconsequential but the fact that I can keep hydrated by doing nothing more than moving my head slightly is, for me, genius. Weighing in at a rather hefty 150g (500ml bottle) they aren’t the lightest bottle in the world and I’ve never found the bulky carabiner component useful, but here the pros outweigh the cons and, as they are dishwasher-proof, I also like the fact that I can get them really clean after a long session. Available in a variety of colours for the fashion-conscious, pretty much spill-proof for the clumsy, and also in a 750ml size for the extra thirsty.

RRP: £10.99 (500ml)

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Reflections on Pacing the VLM

The London Marathon had never really been on my radar. Not on my ‘to do’ list to any extent. I couldn’t really tell you why for sure either. Too big? I’ve run plenty of mass-participation events. Too commercial? What isn’t in all honesty? Too popularist? God, I hope not – I don’t think I’m that elitist about my running. No, it had just never really occurred to me to bother to enter. But when I got a call asking me if I’d like to be an official pacer I said yes in an instant – the opportunity to pace changed everything, it flipped things around and made my head constantly tell me that London was something I had always wanted to do.

It took a day or two for the responsibility associated with pacing to sink in. The process was helped along nicely by everyone saying ‘Pacing London? Shit! That’s quite some responsibility’. To clarify: I hadn’t been asked to pace one of the elites (anyone that knows me would be falling off their chair laughing at the thought), but rather to run the 9min/mile pace for the mass participants – still daunting when you consider that means getting a couple of thousand runners (around my start pen size) through the course in sub-4hours. Naturally not everyone aiming for that sort of time is going to depend on their pacer, but many, many do…

The official pacers (around 20 of us in total) gathered at the bandstand in Greenwich Park a little after 8am on a day that was already shaping up to be more than a little toasty. Each pace time had four runners – two for each of the starting pen areas – so that in case of catastrophic failure on our part at least the masses wouldn’t be left without anyone to follow. We picked up our giant lolly-sticks with pace and predicted finish times emblazoned on top; for a nasty moment several of us though we had to run the whole course with these, but naturally they were just for the pens with additional mini-lollies dished out for the run itself. Suitably equipped we headed to the start zones.

Entering the start pen felt almost gladiatorial – eyes followed me and a ripple of voices commented that someone ‘official’ had turned up. I looked around to see who, before realising it was me. People began questioning me the second I took my place; runner’s nerves (particularly understandable first time marathoner’s nerves) manifest themselves in many ways but most frequently by asking lots of questions. Reassurance is a major part of the pacer’s job and I did my best to field as many questions as I could. Most were of a practical nature: ‘How far to the first drinks station?’, ‘When do the red and blue starts merge?’ Some where unanswerable: ‘Do you think I will finish?’ ‘Are my chances of a sub-4hours good?’ (Stock answer ‘yes’).

Other questions required more diplomacy.
Runner: ‘Will these shoes be okay?’
Me: ‘Erm… How long you had them?’
Runner: ‘Since Thursday.’
Me: ‘Oh! Hmmmm…Yes they’ll be just fine.’

What all this proved was what I think I had known all along: there would be no time on this run to find my own head-space, no time for personal reflection. So be it. Let’s get running…

Trying to set a steady, constant pace is tough in such a crowded event. Running your own race you can saw-tooth your speed as much as the course demands, taking advantage of gaps ahead to make up time when needed, relaxing into spaces for longer periods when the exertion of running 26miles demands it. But with pacing consistency is important, it requires greater forward planning when considering the crowds ahead and on the occasions when I found my route blocked by slower runners I was constantly looking for the largest spaces to get those running my pace through with me.

The answering of questions and the dishing out of reassurances remained a constant throughout the race – certainly the main function of a masses pacer is to be as close to a human metronome as is possible, but equally important is the psychosocial boost (both verbal and non-verbal) that can be offered. I was utterly blown away by the commitment of those I ran with, the determination to stick with me and push limits throughout the course was inspiring and I’m certain that the people I ran with had no idea that they were motivating my performance every bit as much as I was (hopefully) motivating theirs.

Whilst I ran much of the race with the same sea of faces, many fell back and each time I realised I had ‘lost a runner’ I felt the same twinge of sadness, the same temptation to hang back, slow the pace and let them catch me again. But, of course, that was never an option; I had to constantly remind myself that I was not there as any one individual’s pacer, my responsibility was collective.

I finished the VLM in 4:01:48. I had had four minutes of stopped time across the course (an accumulation of moments spent picking people up either mentally or literally) which meant that I was in the region of 90seconds adrift from my estimated finish time, but with an average moving pace of 8.56second/miles I couldn’t complain – nor, I hope, could those that followed me round this iconic course. Failing to hit a sub-4 is gutting on a personal level, but this was never a personal race. I hope I encouraged enough people to go for their ‘blaze of glory’ sprint finish over the last 500m, whilst I hung back with those whose eyes already told the fact that they new they were going to be just outside of that magic hour mark.

Pacing is as draining mentally as any marathon is physically, but VLM 2011 is undoubtedly one of the most rewarding things I have ever undertaken. I hope I made a difference to those I ran with and to each and everyone that finished: well and done and I hope to see you in my starting pen again in 2012…

Feature by Justin Bowyer

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dhb Triple Lens Sunglasses

The price range for sports sunglasses seems to cover a greater spectrum than almost any other bit of kit aside from shoes, but at an utter bargain price of £28 I’ve long been a big fan of dhp Triple Lens. Not the most technical accessory in the world, but they are incredibly tough, well appointed, light to the point of often thinking I’ve forgotten to put them on and, paramount, stay absolutely put either on my face or on top of my head.

The scratch-resistant polycarbonate lens wraps round enough to block all peripheral sun and are, it almost goes without saying, 100% UVA and UVB absorbent. The ‘Triple Lens’ bit refers to the fact that they are supplied with three interchangeable sets of lens (more than a little tricky to fit and not something you’d ever want to consider on the run) – Grey lens for bright conditions, Blue which provide enhanced shadow contrast and Clear for when you need them purely as your very own windscreen. All three lenses are “Hydrophobic” meaning that they quickly and efficiently repel sweat or rain.

For my money, I would forget about the upper-end of the sunglasses price range and go for dhp every time; they do exactly what you need them to do and are cheap enough that if you’re fool enough to leave them at a CP or the roof of your car as you drive off (oh yes I did!) you won’t be crying all the way to the bank.

RRP £27.99

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Demystifying the Ultra

marathon des sablesIs an ultra-marathon so special? Is it really difficult to do? Are the people involved with ultras some magical creatures in the shape of man, performing uncomprehendable feats?

Well that is not how I see it. Every time I have been to an ultra-marathon I have met a truly great crowd of people. But at none of these occasions I have ever doubt if they were human or not (ok , with a few exceptions of the likes of Drew and maybe Irish Tom)… These are simply quite ordinary people doing something extraordinary. It still doesn’t make them foreign or space travellers visiting the Earth…

Yet we so often read about the ‘Toughest race on earth’ and how impossible it was to run so far in such short time through such dangerous place. Take now when Marathon Des Sables – MdS – one of the more famous ultra-marathons take off and many people write about this as if they are going to the Moon, but without the use of a space ship… If ultras were so difficult, why is it then that people that have trained for less than a year make it to the finish line? People that have ordinary day-to-day jobs manage to complete what is the ‘Toughest race in the world’.

I think it is time to stand up and demystify the ultra-marathons. Stand up and say that it is not so different to what many other people do. Of course it requires dedication, mental and physical preparations, and most of all the will to finish. But it is hardly something that is beyond most people to complete, if they only wanted to do it badly enough.

Having said that, of course there are other risks with ultras then with playing tennis one hour with a friend on the course in Hampstead Heath. When you go into an ultra you have to know your body and be prepared to listen to the signals your body sends and be in control to know when you should ignore them, and when you should truly listen.

But it has not stopped many of the people I have seen on the start AND finish lines of these events. Single-mothers, people running their own business, people that were told that they would never walk again, people that are overweight and the list goes on and on. Of course these people didnt walk on to the start-line by chance or without training. But when you stand there on the start line the most important asset is your ambition – your will to finish the race. This will power is what will keep you going, not the fact that either of the participants have super-human powers or strengths.

To me ultras is not about doing something that is risking my life or incredibly dangerous. To me it is about pushing my body to what I thought was the limit, only then to discover I can go further. It is about feeling alive, and taking strength from the experiences. But it is not about doing something that would be impossible for any of my friends. In fact it is quite the opposite. Any of my friends could do an ultra-marathon if they wanted it bad enough.

(having said this, I guess I am a little bit happy that all of my friends are not into running ultras. Just so that I from time to time can still ride on the mystical wave of ultra running – enjoy it whilst it last *smile*)

Feature by Joakim Jonsson

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Wuthering Hike 2011

wuthering hikeThe Wuthering Hike, a 32 mile circular ultra from Haworth. Consider and contrast two runners approaching the final checkpoint before the climb to the Top O` The Stairs towards the end of this Wuthering Hike; one of my favourite races in the year. For the first time that day a flash of sunlight falls on them as they exchange words. ‘One of the worst times I’ve done for this race’ confirms the lady at my side, and with whom I’m losing the battle to keep pace with. No shuffler here, she’s one of the best ever to grace off road running and is only back with me in the long grass due to a lack of mileage training although she ominously admits to still being ‘ok’ at climbing. Still as competitive as ever, proved by casually remarking that two girls in front of us were easily bested by her only last week on a 9 miler that had over 4000ft of ascent. The other conversationalist is the shuffler and is secretly on his way to a Personal Best by a country mile, the pb is mine, the other is Wendy Dodds.

Earlier I’d exchange words with several other runners and gained much insight into these events, still being only a couple of years into this distance lark I’m like a magpie! Pinching as many hints and tips as possible from all the people who have so much experience. I shamelessly plod after Amanda Calvert who demonstrates that you can keep a decent pace going, even up hill and through boggy ground. I’m also on the look out for Nick Ham who will surely overtake me long before the finish.

To the minutiae of today: I’m aiming to get under 6 hours 30 minutes – against my 6.47 last year and have a sneaking suspicion that I can do it. Had a half decent training year so far – getting mileage in: generally having at least three good days out per week but, and its a biggy, the elephant in the room remains my shortage of hill work. Living south of Doncaster, we get dizzy on a thick carpet so this will prove my weakness: I know it, everyone else does and Wendy confirms this to me prior to disappearing up the hill.

As always, the start climb to Top Withins is into a headwind and the stone slabs that make up the path across being as slippery as soap have me over far too early in the race and not totally unscathed. My waist bag then loosens and I have to step off the path to redress and tighten all up – as runners including Nick stream down passed me on the descent to the path by Walshaw Dean Reservoir.

Without further mishap, my group then makes Widdop in good order. I don’t stop for any refills, preferring up and over to Long Causeway in one and with very little to note: hydration OK, gels OK and I’m trying to monitor my progress, making mental notes for further ‘improvement’.

All the way back down the rocky byways towards Todmorden I get, once again, the nagging pain in my right knee that seems to bedevil my downhills, caused no doubt this time by the bang on Withins Height. Facing upwards to Stoodley Pike things are on track but the climb to Mankinholes tests me, and the knee, and I’m blowing hard at the checkpoint.

Glancing up at the Pike, I realise that here at the 20 mile marker in 3 hours 40 would mean the next 12 miles home would take about the same time so mindful of my aim, I`m straight off to scale the climb to the top. Always does for me and no exception today and I must stand for a minute to catch my breath. The views from here are stunning. Where we’ve come from but also where we still have to go and a big downhill is immediately in the offing.

Legs are hurting and a stab of cramp in the right calf hints at dehydration? Lack of electrolyes? Another lesson for next time which I shalln’t forget as the descent to Hebden Bridge is murder – all sorts of stabs of pain in the right knee and cramps again have me concerned for actually reaching the finish.

These last few miles encompass what the second half of this great race is all about: Flat fields, stiff climbs on tussocky grass, descents on wet grass and then calf deep bogs followed by a stony woodland path with finally a stiff descent on a perfect cobbled road before crossing a main street. Then, yet again climbing up stairs and a tarmac road to Heptonstall village.

Through the village and down the tracks to horse bridge, I hope to simply repeat last years ‘run the flats – count to 50 strides, once with the right foot, then the left and don’t waver – walk as fast as possible up the inclines’ and I should get home!

I realise now that you absolutely cannot neglect:
a) Time on your feet for the long training runs i.e. a minimum of 4-5 hours per go.
b) To do your hill work.
c) To take electrolytes along with water.

So pleased to crest the moor and lookdown on Leeshaw Reservoir and, trundling down towards it, I notice that my Garmin tells me 6 hours has passed – I’ve 30 minutes to get back. So, managing a decent hobble towards Penistone Hill at 6.18 I must press on and get through these ramblers who are hacking along the path. With a shattered knee, I’m down the final path and turning left towards the church I daren’t now look at my watch.

Onto the cobbles, immediate left, passing quizzical looking day trippers, and through the short-cut across the car park, I hare across the road and into the finish, stopping my Garmin at 6.26.

Not exactly a walk in the park or a time of note but realising the shortcomings in my training routines then I’m well chuffed with that. I’m even in time for the awards ceremony! I recall two years ago when I first fronted up here that the flags were coming down when I returned. I’ve knocked 1 hour 1 minute off that time but I’m fully aware that to keep improving at that rate then I’ve an awful amount of work to do. Thanks Brett and KCAC, you pulled off another cracker, see you next year.

Feature by Mike Dobson

To read more about Mike’s running click here.

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Just a Little Run Around the World

People run for many reasons. There are as many stories about running as there are runners, but still Rosie Swale Pope’s yarn and indeed her incredible achievements stand out.

Devastated by the loss of her husband to cancer, she vowed to turn a negative into a positive with the hope that by raising awareness we would all hear one less time ‘If only I had gone to the doctor sooner…’ Her decision then was to run around the world and this book chronicles her 5-year exploits as she battles some of the toughest conditions imaginable.

Although at times her prose are slightly clumsy – and the book could certainly have benefited from closer editorial control to eliminate numerous clumsy typos – her story and her spirit shine through. It’s all to easy to bandy about the term “inspirational”, but there can really be no other word to describe not only her journey, but her outlook on life. With regards to the latter, she sees good and beauty all around her; she admires the wolves and wild dogs that pose such great threat, she sympathises with and forgives would-be rapists and muggers, she sees good in all yet is never pitying, condescending or guilty of ‘cultural tourism.’

Not only is this a fine tale of running of the most ultra nature, it also manages to impart a feeling of goodwill to all; she is helped along her way by an incredible variety of people (many who can barely afford to sustain their own humble existence) and her “glass half full” attitude is utterly infectious.

Just a Little Run Around the World by Rosie Swale Pope is published by HarperCollins. ISBN 978-0-00-730620-6. RRP £6.99

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Beyond the Jungle Marathon

Jungle MarathonFollowing Running Monkey’s feature on the Jungle Marathon (click here to read), Joakim Jonsson takes up the story of how, in failing to reach his goal, he found new strength and purpose in supporting his fellow competitors…

So I was out… Lying in the stretcher, carried by six local firemen, and a seventh that held my IV-drip, I was thinking about what had happened. The jungle had hit me hard, already when we arrived I was feeling that I was about to faint.

But now I had to make a new decision. How should I handle the fact that I was not in the race any longer? I remembered how supportive John had been to me at the Namibia 24h Ultra marathon, and I now wanted to do the same. Already on the medical boat (where I received a further two bags of IV-fluid) I decided that I was going to go back to camp and as soon as possible try to support the others that were still in the race.

I told myself to remember Miles Hilton-Barber’s comment: ‘you cannot control the circumstances, but you can always control your response’. It was now clear what that meant for me. I couldn’t change the fact that I was out of the race, but I could control how I let that fact impact me. I was going to be positive and see what cards I would be dealt over the coming days and try to play them the best I could.

The first two days after pulling out I was at different checkpoints trying to cheer on as much as I could. When I was at the finish line I helped the runners to string up their hammocks, fetch warm water, and fill up their water bottles. Having done these events in the past I know how much that means when you come in and are about to collapse from exhaustion.

However it was on the long day that my experience from this race changed. I was at checkpoint five together with two of the doctors, Mez and Anna. The night before we had arrived in the village where the checkpoint was at eleven o’clock at night. Whilst wading ashore from the boat the local boatsman suddenly pulled me back and a sting ray about half a meter from me quickly moved away. It was only later that I understood that one of the runners had been stung by one when he trod on the sting ray during a water crossing, I had never even considered this a real risk, I thought it was something that the locals talked up without any real high risk of happening. I remember thinking I have much to learn about the jungle!

The next day turned out to be a very busy one. The front runners came through at about 12 and from then the runners started to trickle in slowly. We arranged shade, water and seating for them. As they came in we took their backpacks, and filled their food bags with hot water. The smile on their worn-down faces told the story how much they appreciated our help. The local community were gathered around and watched with big eyes as the doctors started to tape up feet to try to keep the participants going. On the picture below is Anna sorting out Nick’s feet.

We had a situation that worried me a while when David came to the checkpoint in a poor state. He was seriously dehydrated and had not been able to eat the food he carried with him for the past days. After the IV-drip was in he quickly deteriorated and started to drift in and out of consciousness. We made the call to evacuate him and after a few reminders the military comms guy seemed to get the urgency to get a car here. 45 minutes later was the end of David’s race and he was taken to the medical boat for further attention. Luckily they managed to turn his condition and he looked ok, although frail, the next day I saw him. I was very worried for a while, and equally relieved when I saw that he was ok!.

Our checkpoint, no5, was more or less half-way through the day. Having said that, there was still another 48km to go, so the participants were not fooled that they had a quick finish at all. About ten people had to sleep at checkpoint 4, and came through early in the morning on the second day at our checkpoint. At about 12 we were all done and packed up the checkpoint. One of the local firemen asked me if I wanted to join him walking to checkpoint 6, it was about an 8km walk. I was in doubt, I only had flip flops on my feet since I had lost my shoes when I was carried out on the stretcher. But the offer of walking with the locals through the jungle was too tempting so I left the camp with my backpack and 1 litre of water (I had given away two of my water bottles, because two people had not enough and they were still in the race).

We had the most amazing time walking in the jungle. I spoke a simplified Spanish and they did the same in Portuguese. We laughed and spoke about everything and anything as we were sweeping at the back, staying about a kilometer behind the last competitors. We were soon at CP6 where we picked up another local fireman and quickly left for CP7. We said that we would do one more section and then see what was going on. 15Km through the jungle (albeit it was easier underfoot, we had local community paths to follow most of the way) in flip flops still seemed to be a big ask of my body, but I was feeling good so far. We made the most of the day and stopped to cool down whenever we found a spring or a little river.

When we saw houses we went in to say hi, and without asking they always served us water and coffee. To start with I tried to stay with drinking only from my bottled water, but soon I realised that I would be dehydrated if I didnt take on any more than 1 liter per section and it was a bit difficult to explain to the locals why I didnt want their hospitality. It moved me to see how simple these fishermen / hunters lived and still without any questions asked they shared what little they had with us when we walked through.

At CP7 the guys said that they would walk the full length of the course… 48km in flip flops? There is only one thing to say to that – Hell yes!

So now I was in it for the long ride and we started walking. By now we were five or six of us. The firemen were great and we had such a good time. They were singing, laughing and I think that I was tricked into singing a few ABBA songs too! *smile*

It was the best of times, without any worries in the world. We took a photo of us all smiling and they said that I should look at the photo and remember how good times we had together in the jungle.(See picture at top of page…)

Not a worry in the world. We all shared all we had (even though they were not too keen to share the freeze dried food I had with me!) and it felt that we bonded very quickly!

We came to a few huts and across the dirt track there were to guys playing football. We borrowed the ball and had a little Sweden vs Brazil moment in a penalty shoot out. I think if you look at the photo you can see what I thought about the fact that my penalty licked the outside of the post… Well, they are five times world champions after all!

When we came to CP8 we were all tired and I believe a bit dehydrated too. They were given cooked food, a stew of beed and potatoes with rice, and when I sat outside they quickly came to get me and I had a plate in my hand filled with proper food. The first cooked food I had had for more than a week now and it tasted so so good! The best meal ever!

The participants were struggling now. It was still a long way for them to go, and from now on it was all in deep sand on the river bank, which was actually more like a beach than anything else. We set off and soon it was sunset. I will never forget that sunset. We were a few guys, sat down on the beach, shared our food and watched the sun set into the water and took some great photos.

Over the radio we heard that a participant was missing so we started to jog and shout out. All of a sudden we were all pushing on and at this point we had already covered 30km that day (and I was still in my flip flops!) and we carried 10-12kg (the food had gone down considerable since day 1, but there were still hammocks and all other equipment in my backpack). After about 30min running the message that the guy was found came through. We had all enjoyed to move a bit fast though so we decided to carry on our jog to the next, and final, checkpoint. At 9pm we came into the checkpoint. There were a few participants catching their breath and filling up on water and food.

Here my firemen friends said that they would leave me. There was about 10km to go, but they were going to be up working the next day, and they were aching all over. I was in two minds what to do, I had set out to do the 48km, but on the other hand I was aching in my feet from the 38km in flip flops…

I looked at saw Karen and Debbie and they asked me if I would continue and sensed that they needed moral support so it was then an easy decision to make. I would push on and do the last 10km with the two girls. At this time of the night Debbie was struggling and Karen and I did our best to keep the moral up. We started singing and I think that over the next few hours we covered everything from ABBA (of course), the Swedish national anthem, the Canadian national anthem, Bruce Springsteen, Elton John, various Swedish drinking songs, Whitney, Michael Jackson etc etc.

At one point we had an interesting discussion with the head-doctor how much pain killer I could give Debbie, but with an enormous determination they both made it to the finish line at about 23.30 in the evening. That means that they started the long stage at 6.30 in the morning of the day before, walked until 15.30, slept in the thick jungle that night (from 15.30 they couldnt go beyond checkpoint 4). The next morning they got going at 6.30 and came in at 23.30. It was emotional to see them crossing the finishing line, knowing that they now had only one stage to go to complete the race. That is what I call hard going! I was so inspired…

For myself I was totally knackered. I had only set out to do a single stage, 7km between checkpoint 5 and 6; and now I had managed to push through 48km, with a 10-12kg pack and done this in flip flops. I think it might have been the longest distance anyone has ever travelled in a pair of Havanna flip flops! My feet were absolutely knackered, but having just seen what Debbie and Karen did I could not complain at all. I downed a liter of water, filled up my bottle; strung my hammock up and it was lights out of what had been a brilliant day with so many surprises. My feet looked worse for wear, but in my mind I was very content with what I had experienced that day!

When I summarised this second stage of the Jungle Marathon I was really surprised. My experiences with the local firemen, singing and dancing in the jungle tracks, meeting locals in their houses who had little but offered all they had to us I was very touched. I had set out to finish the jungle marathon but already on day two the race was over for my part. Looking back at the choices I did and the experiences I had I must say that I got to experience something very, very special. These photos of the smiling firemen I will always carry with me.

You cannot always decide what cards that you are dealt, but do make sure you control how you play the cards you get.

Feature by Joakim Jonsson

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Survival of the Fittest

Mike Stroud has often been relegated in popular imagination to something approaching Sir Ranulph Fiennes’ “bag man”, having accompanied the great adventurer on so many global expeditions over the years. But he deserves higher recognition than that; not only is he world-class achiever of the seemingly impossible he is a renown doctor specialising in nutrition and gastroenterology (often working with the Ministry of Defence to advice on combat and training nutrition regimes) and as such Survival of the Fittest deserves a place on any right-minded endurance runner’s book shelf.

Subtitled The Anatomy of Peak Physical Performance, it examines the limits human endurance under the most arduous of circumstances and is amply illustrated by a diverse collection of his own extreme experiences. Whilst not specifically a book on running (though it does cover the original 7 marathons, 7 days, 7 continents that he and Fiennes undertook for the British Heart Foundation in 2003) it provides the kind of insights and expert knowledge that anyone thinking of tackling an ultra (or 7) would be well served in reading. It also makes an excellent companion-piece to Fiennes own Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know memoirs, if only to take stock of how identical exploits can be viewed so differently by two such close companions.

Survival of the Fittest, by Mike Stroud, is published by Yellow Jersey. ISBN-13: 978-0224075077. RRP: £8.99

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