TDS - the wild one!

I sometimes sign up to races without fully understanding what they entail - the TDS was one of these.   I read the race technical specification (you should do this first) and it had huge climbs, including one of 2000 meters and the terrain was classed as very difficult.  GULP!

The temporary transfer that was very temporary!

I spent most of the summer injured and ended up with a 6 week training window.  I charged up as many Munros as I could and for six weeks my life was all about hills, hills and hills!  I managed to sneak in a three day route recce with Carol and we established that the terrain was not as bad as we feared, but the climbs and descents were brutal.

  

A fun UTMB week was planned - seven of us (Dawn, Matt, Caroline, Lorna, Gavin and Carol) were sharing a lovely Chalet and all running different races in the UTMB series.  Rich and Ross were staying nearby and would be frequent guests at our "party chalet".

Chamonix is a busy place during UTMB week and I was relieved when race day finally arrived.  Carol and myself headed through the night to the long line of waiting buses and made ourselves comfortable on one.  Rich looked overjoyed to be excitedly yelled at when he accidentally got on the same bus as us.  Dave also looked pleased when we found him.  I was feeling very nervous and I also discovered that my temporary transfer had stuck to the sleeve of my jacket.  Not the best buy then..!

We all said good luck to each other and took up various positions in the scrum of people.  Dawn started to creep over the mountains and suddenly the sea of elbows was moving.  I dodged and dived through the streets of Courmayer - trying to find some space to run without stabbing anyone with my poles.

I shot up the first ascent much faster than I anticipated and soon I was scoffing some noodle soup at the first checkpoint.  I pushed on and let out a loud cheer when I finally reached the high point at Col Chavannes.  No one else cheered - no one...!

It was a really hot day but I was doing a good job at smiling at all the photographers.  The next climb started, but on my transfer it didn't look that far to the next checkpoint at Col Du Petite Saint Bernard.  It took a very long time and every time I turned a corner there was nothing in sight.  I started trying to ration my water - this wasn't good.  Finally, after being without water for 40 minutes, I got to the checkpoint.  There were loads of people cheering but I just headed straight for the water and drank as much as I could.  I was faced with another long descent and I realised that drinking a litre of water in 5 minutes may have been a mistake.  Some sloshing later and I was finally heading along the road to the next checkpoint.

Bourg St Maurice is quite a big town and it was was packed.  The atmosphere was amazing and it really gave me a boost especially as I was hours ahead of where I expected to be.  It was sweltering though and  I stood by the water fountain for ages, again drinking as much as I could.  I ate some more noodle soup - hmmm, getting a bit sick of it now.  I lined up for the kit check and then got frustrated at being barged out of the way by folk skipping in front of me.  I put on my best scowl and my elbows came out - kit check done!  I pushed up the hill and I just concentrated on climbing steadily.  This was made more complicated by the slower guys in front as they weren't keen on getting out of my way.  I started passing casualties on the path - lots of men laying by the side taking a rest.  I stopped and asked a few of them if they were ok as some looked a little worse for wear.  I was a bit gutted by a false summit, especially as I got to the real top another hour and a half later.  I wasn't my most cheerful at this point and my language may have deteriorated slightly.  I also had a bit of hot spot developing on my left heel.

I was shattered by the time I got to Passeur Pralognan and my legs had turned to Jelly.  They shook like crazy with fatigue as I tried to pick my way down the really technical descent.  I ended up scooting down on my arse quite a bit.  I was relieved to get to this point in daylight and I knew the big climbs were done.  

I got through Cormet De Roselend feeling pretty good and moved on across the hill as the light slowly faded into dusk.  I was moving through a herd of Cattle when I started to hear shouts and yells coming from the valley below.  Someone was trying to move the cattle off the path by panicking them.  This worked and I could hear the commotion and cowbells ringing out from below.  Unfortunately, the herd I was in the middle of started to grow uneasy at the noise. A cow behind me panicked (the bells, the bells) I glanced over my shoulder and saw a shape moving - Shit!  I panicked and ran like hell until I was through them.  I looked again and realised I was looking at my stupid poles - idiot!

I took a moment at the bottom of the Gorge to look at the trail of torches ahead and behind me.  The moon was full and was casting a cold light onto us all.  I started the next climb and suddenly my blister was agony.  The inevitable happened and I climbed 1000 metres putting most of my weight through my right leg.  I finally got to what I thought was the top and Col Du Joly was in sight - a glowing tent in the dark.  Then I spent an eternity following the path in every direction except straight to it.  I think I swore a lot at this point - possibly at other runners too.  

A lovely announcer welcomed me into the tent over the microphone - I reacted by starting to sob!  A marshall grabbed hold of me and dragged me straight down to the medical section.  I took my trainer off and finally realised the scale of the blister.  I do feel that the term blister does it a bit of an injustice  - 'gaping raw wound' is perhaps more appropriate.  The next part was fun - the medic had to remove the two compeeds I had earlier applied.  I didn't scream, I didn't cry, but it was not an experience I would want to re-live.  Next some pink stuff was injected into the blister and a bit of padding applied.  I was told to stop at the next checkpoint as they could apply a better dressing to get me up the final hill.

I left the checkpoint and attempted the descent but my right leg was now in agony and impossible to straighten.  Trust me - I tried!  I hobbled the long way down the hill through the forrest and eventually popped out on a path.  I have no idea how long this flat 4k path took me, but I think I cried every step of the way.  I could barely walk and I had to face the fact that my race was over with only 12 miles to go.  At the pace I was going it would take me 10 hours to cover the distance and I knew the final climb was too steep for me to manage.  It was a lonely night - I can honestly say that I have never felt more alone in my entire life.   Runners would come and go, but they couldn't help me and I was left alone with my thoughts for hours.  

Then it got harder.  I had to face the cheers and shouts of "courage" as I entered Les Contamines, but courage just wasn't enough today.  There was one lady standing with her two children shouting and clapping for all the competitors.  Her kindness was recognising that I was broken and I will always be grateful that she quietened down her children to let me pass with a little dignity.

I entered the checkpoint and headed straight to the medical tent to withdraw.  I was told there was a bus in 2 minutes if I could hurry..!  The medic looked at my face and radioed the bus to hold it.  Dawn and Matt got up at 5.30am to meet me in Chamonix and help me hobble home.  I am forever in their debt for this as I'm not actually sure I would have made it on my own - I just wanted to lie down on the road.  They did an amazing job of looking after me that morning and everyone else in the Chalet was lovely to me.

'Knalf' or 'Thankle'?

Rich had an incredible run and finished in the top one hundred.  Carol and Dave also had great runs and ended up crossing the line together - thankfully I was up in time to see them.

I spent two days hobbling about Chamonix with a huge leg that I couldn't straighten.  My race memories started to fall away and I realised how well I had done on so little training.  I whipped those French guys on the big climbs and next year they don't stand a chance against me.  It's also impossible to stay sad with crazy friends as amazing as mine.  

A sensible moment.

It was now time to party - the UTMB kicked off and we had about 30 hours free until the runners we knew started finishing.  Not wanting to spend the 3 days in the pub, Carol, Rich, Ross and myself decided to go up the Aiguille Du Midi and Helbronner cable cars.  We had a fantastic day and finished it off by going to the pub (again).   

It was incredible following all our friends doing the UTMB.  Wondering how they were and worrying when they appeared to slow down.  Matt and Caroline ran amazing times and it was a privilege to be able to watch them both finish - thankfully, for us, this entailed being at the pub again.  It wasn't just the 9 of us either, there was a huge Scottish contingent present in Chamonix that weekend.  You couldn't go anywhere without bumping into someone you knew.  

This was one of those rare holidays that taught me something about myself.  I wouldn't say I take the easy option in life, but in one area I had been and for quite a long time.  Sometimes quitting, although difficult, is the right thing to do.  Perhaps it was being fully stripped down during that long night that made me think things through.  I've made some changes on my return and it's time to look forward to the new possibilities that wait ahead.  TDS - I'll be back!

Scottish UTMB Support!

Stopped in my tracks - dealing with injury!

The whole point of training is to push your body and make it stronger.  Occasionally, you will push too hard and some part of your body responds by giving up on you.  For me, the miles of flat road training required for the Anglo Celtic plate ruined me and I ended up with plantar fasciitis and a tear in my spring ligament.  Being told you can't run for six weeks when you are four weeks away from your A race (the West Highland Way) is a bit of a killer.  However, as someone said to me (wish I could remember who it was) "it's only a tragedy if it matters in five years time"!

There are two ways you can deal with injury - be a pain in the arse and harp on about it all the time, or accept it and try and find something else to do.  I hope I went for the latter approach.  I will admit to one day of pretty impressive public self pity combined with the worst mood ever.  Apologies to everyone I work with.....!  If you think I was concerned about six weeks with no exercise, my work colleagues were terrified at the prospect.

I discovered that cycling was one of the few things that didn't aggravate my foot.  I began commuting to work on a borrowed mountain bike.  As a runner - the top of the range shoes really won't make you faster, but as a cyclist, a good bike will.  I was getting annoyed at being passed by men who were clearly not as fit as me - 'MAMILs'.  The competitor in me was getting tetchy so a road bike was bought and my cycling career began!

Emma!

I didn't realise that road bikes are a lot more difficult to ride than a mountain bike.  I may have managed to crash into a bin on Queen Street and there have been several unclipping fails.  It has taken me four weeks to transform myself into a semi-competent cyclist and even now there are things I'm not good at - going downhill is one of them. 

Emma (also injured) has adopted me and taken me out on two brilliant 55 mile cycle rides around  Stirling.  I am proud to say that the Duke's Pass was easily conquered.

I'm quite happy battling my way through traffic to get to work now!  Eyeballing drivers and taking the 'primary position' are now second nature to me.  The majority of drivers are good, the ones who aren't are frightening.  If you  decide to  overtake when there isn't really enough room you are risking my life and that is not your risk to take.  Rant over!

Pedal House Studio

Hugh, Seona and Nicky have opened a spinning studio (Pedal House) and I decided to try a session.  To be honest, I went to that first spinning class just to show my support - I had no intention of going again.  An indoor class to music?  Bleurgh!

What happened next was surpring - I absolutely loved it.  I pushed myself so hard and tried to just focus on peddling to the beat of the music.  For an hour, I didn't think about anything else.  The mop up required afterwards was not that attractive though.......!

The Pedal House team have been really welcoming and encouraging.  They've given me lots of cycling advice and I feel like I'm a more efficient cyclist because of them.  Out of everyone they have probably helped to keep my spirits up the most.

If you get told you have "inactive glutes" you NEED to go to spinning.  It is the only time that mine have actually burned.  Go visit Pedalhouse.

www.pedalhousedinburgh.com

Next is swimming.  Ok, this hasn't really been a massive part of my recovery, but it does deserve a mention.  I haven't swum properly (head in the water, breathing to the side, etc) since I was 17.  I think trying to re-teach myself was concerning and hilarious for the lifeguards on duty.  Just as I was "powering" along I would breathe in at the wrong time and end up choking in the middle of the lane.  I can now swim front crawl again, just not for very long.

So, six weeks later and I have learned a few things.

1.  It is really hard to keep your training focus when you can't train.  My diet has gone completely out of the window.  I'm now feeling slightly lardy but getting back on track.

2.  Riding a road bike is hard!  Being clipped in complicates matters and does make uphill starts at traffic lights a bit of a concern.  Yes, I have toppled over at traffic lights and yes, it was humiliating.  Don't even get me started on downhills!

3.  I understand why cyclists seem angry a lot of the time.  Firstly, a lot of car/bus/lorry/van drivers are total idiots and do their best to kill you.  Other cyclists and pedestrians also get in on the act.

4.  Bike chafing is so much worse than running chafing.  I will not complain about running chafing ever again.

5.  You DO NOT wear pants under your cycling shorts - see point 4!

6.  Weather has more of an impact on a cyclist than a runner - windy days are terrifying on a light bike.

7.  Apparently it is really uncool to leave the reflectors on your recently purchased road bike.  Proper cyclists take them off....!  I have also been told that I need to "trend up" my bike.  I still don't really know what that means.

8.  Spinning is tough and there are no downhills in spinning world - only long flats and heavy ups.  "Heavy, heavy, steep steep"seems to be spinning mantra.

9.  Swimming is a skill - you do forget it!

10.  You really appreciate the running friends who stick by you.  It is so easy to get caught up in your own training and forget 'the fallen'.  I've been guilty of this in the past, but I won't be guilty of it again.

First little run in 6 weeks! 

I am happy to say that I have been out on a few short runs and so far so good!  I have survived a six week running ban and I've found a new sport and made new friends.  I will actually keep cycling and attend a weekly Spin class.  There might even be a teeny tiny little Iron Man thought germinating.   

Almost every cloud does have a silver lining, just sometimes you need to look for it.

Thank you to Andrew Murray at FASIC and George Rendall at the Brougham Foot Clinic for diagnosis and treatment.  

FASIC

http://broughamfootclinic.co.uk

First biggish run in 8 weeks!

Anglo Celtic Plate 100k - The Battle Within!

A road 100k is a bit of a departure for me - I'm more at home on the trails, but the chance to wear a Scotland vest was too strong a pull.  I switched my training and focused on the flat between February and May.

Ten days before the race I picked up a foot injury, this wan't just a niggle, but something that concerned me.  I saw my physio, chatted about it with Donnie and after 5 days tried another run - the next day it hurt!  I stopped running again and alerted the team managers that I was a potential DNS or DNF.  I kept this largely to myself as I didn't want well meaning friends asking about my foot progress on a daily basis.  Val and Adrian advised me to line up on the day and just see if it held or not.

Andrew, Rosie, Charlotte, Me, Grant and Ross!

The best thing about the weekend was running with Rosie, Charlotte, Ross, Andrew and Grant - a gutsy crowd with impressive running CVs.  We met at the airport and spent the Friday bonding whilst also 'touring' the course and picking up race supplies.  My favourite moment was the Tesco trolly dash whilst wearing Scottish Athletics branded jackets.  The Scottish stereotype was well and truly enforced by the supplies of race food we had all purchased - coke, milkshakes, bounty bars - whatever is going to get you through!  God only knows what people thought!

The morning had the usual pre-race anxious feel.  This probably wasn't helped when the Scotland Team left the hotel and immediately drove in the wrong direction for 3 miles!  Oops!  We were being supported by the team managers Val and Craig, and the epic ultra-running duo of Lorna and Noanie.  Support is a tough gig and we couldn't do it without them.

Usually, after a long run you can write about the scenery, the people you meet and the friends you make.  It wouldn't take me very long to describe the two mile loop I ran 31 times and after the first few laps I didn't see very much of the 17 other people.  Instead I will focus on the brief emotional ups and long emotional downs of my race.

The huge field!

The race began and immediately the men tore off - us 5 girls kept a slower pace and we were fairly close together for the first 5 laps.  My legs felt heavy from the start.  At about 15 miles my stomach started feeling pretty rough - I headed into the checkpoint and dashed for the loo.  I hoped that was it, but after another lap it became clear that I wasn't going to have a good day.  I am grateful for the fact that it was quite a nice loo as I was going to be spending some time in there.  This continued for a while until we stumbled upon the correct dosage of Imodium - 6 in 3 hours.  FYI - this is NOT what is advised on the packaging.  I felt a bit better at 26 miles and managed a couple of cheery checkpoint visits.  

At mile 34 I was struggling again and it was clear to me that I was going to have to battle to even finish this one.  My sub 9 hour goal had gone a long time ago.  Ross was storming around and looking good - I gave him a little cheer every time he went by no matter how grumpy I was feeling.  Rosie was going strong too and was sitting very comfortably as second lady.  Grant and Andrew were fab and every time either of them passed me they did their best to encourage me and spur me on.  Grant grinned the entire day - he is possibly the happiest runner I have ever seen. 

I had a few sobs to myself at various points whilst continuing to run along the road.  Thankfully, most of the course was on quiet country roads so there wasn't anyone about to witness this.  I remember getting to 36 miles and thinking that I "only" had a marathon to go.  I think I started sobbing again as my legs were burning and I just had nothing left.  I've never DNF'd and this race wasn't going to the one to beat me - especially not in a Scotland vest - I fought on.

At one point I was convinced that everyone had lapped me twice and I was going to be the last person on the course by about 40 minutes.  Was there a cut off?  Everyone would be stood there waiting on me?  I ran into the checkpoint and tearfully asked Noanie and Lorna if I was going to get timed out.  They didn't know but forced me to eat something - I think Lorna handed me some "slablet" and sent me on.  The next lap I was informed that there wasn't a cut off and my Dad shouted that I wasn't last.  I wasn't last.....!  Who on earth was behind me and how far away were they?  I pushed on - now I was determined not to be last.

There was one teeny tiny downhill - it lasted about 2 steps, but I found myself really looking forward to it, except for the one walking break I was taking just after the checkpoint, it was the only rest my legs had.  A few things happened during the day that gave me brief moments of joy.  The first was when a chicken crossed the road - how can you not laugh at that!  The second was the growing abandoned food pile just after the checkpoint!  I just knew that crew were diligently forcing their runners to take food which was being slyly abandoned 10 metres around the corner!

The advantage of a small field is that all the supporters soon learned my name (thanks to Noanie for correcting everyone's pronunciation of it) and I got cheered and encouraged by lots of people during the day.  I managed to give very pathetic acknowledgements most of the time.  I kept going!

I had another low point.  I had decided that 100k, equated to 60 miles and that obviously meant I was on my 3rd last lap - there was light.  Then it dawned on me  - 100k is 62 miles and I was on my 4th last lap.  I had another sob at this point, but I had no choice, I was moving forward.  I was still ahead of the person who was last and I had passed another man during lap 5.  I could see him on the straights so I knew he wasn't gaining on me.

Finally, it was my last lap - I kept going and going and suddenly a flag was being handed to me and I was crossing the line.  I burst into heart-wrenching sobs and was hugged by Noanie and Lorna and then my Dad.  I wasn't crying because I was disappointed, I was crying because I was so relieved it was over.  Despite feeling awful from mile 15, I had managed the full 62 miles in 9:48.  18 people started that race and only 16 people finished it.

The whole team!

Ross was first man and Rosie was second lady - Rosie and Charlotte had won the ladies Anglo Celtic plate for Scotland.  I was so proud of everyone.  It turns out that Charlotte was only about 18 minutes ahead of me and had also had a difficult race.  After lap 5 we managed not to see each other for the rest of the race - an achievement on such a short loop!

The evening was difficult - my legs stopped working and I had a really sore spot on my calf.  I had another little sob after dinner and then it was off to bed.  Both myself and Charlotte were in too much pain with aching legs to really get any sleep!  I remember her stumbling around the room in the dark at one point until I pointed out that I wasn't asleep.  

I am so pleased I found the strength to keep going and finish.  I could blame the two weeks of enforced rest, but at the end of the day I just think I am not suited to road ultras.  I made some great friends that weekend and I have no regrets about the race.  I wish I had gone faster, but I just didn't have it in me on the day.  Sometimes you learn more from the ones that don't go well!

Back in the hills!

Get Active Running - Training on the Costa Blanca

In my quest for improved fitness I decided that spending an entire week with Donnie Campbell was a good idea – usually one hour a week is quite enough.

Day 1 – Tuesday

Sandra and myself were ready at 9am (as instructed) and after a 10-minute wait Charlie and Donnie eventually appeared.  This was the start of a bit of a theme for the week.  Anyway, within this ten minute window we learned all about the local toxic caterpillars and were warned to stay away from webs and dead foliage….!  You can imagine what followed for the rest of the week.

This is the Puig Campana and it is a Skyrunning Vertical Kilometre route.  It starts off nicely enough (not including the 2 miles uphill to get there) and then becomes a rocky scree filled scramble up an almost invisible trail.  I loved it!  Sandra wasn’t very comfortable on the steeper sections, but she held her nerve and got to the top.  We were rewarded with amazing views.  The descent off the summit was tough and rocky but the trail soon became a bit smoother.  

The views were amazing wherever we were - it was odd being so close to Benidorm. 

We were out for over 6 hours and only covered 18 miles in total.  The run was supposed to be longer, but we were all tired, it was a hot day and I hadn’t been drinking enough.  I also suspect the Sunday marathon PB had not done my legs any favours. 

Day 2 – Wednesday

Today was going to be double day!  In the morning we were running to Sella where Donnie had left the car.  I had a much better run today and felt really good.  Saying that, we were only out for 3 hours and covered about 13 miles.  The mountain trails we were on were rocky and technical and really challenging. 

After lunch we all set off in the car for a sunset run – spirits were high at this point.   There was a lot of up and for the first hour or so I was running really well.  Then the engine just died and I gave up.

Before my massive mood.

It didn’t help that I had no idea how much further we had to go.  Every time we got to a peak on the ridge there was another one to be climbed just beyond it.  I don't really cope when the goal posts are moved (which Donnie knows fine well).  I had a "bit" of a strop at this point and it took another thirty minutes before I could even begin to contemplate cheering up.

We eventually made the top and began a steep rocky scramble down in the dark.  Before long we hit the trail and my legs came back to me and I was able to start running again.  I left Donnie and Charlie practicing running with their eyes closed (don't ask) and made it back to the car.  I think this was the night when I was very close to falling asleep on the sofa afterwards.

Day 3 – Thursday

Group Selfie!

This was going to be another long day and Charlie had a flight to catch so we had to be finished by 4pm.  Nothing like airport pressure during a long run!  We left the car and headed up a road, which turned into a land rover track, which eventually turned into a trail.  We went up, and up and up some more.  We soon came to a lovely ridge-line run that went on for ages.  The views all around were beautiful and there was hardly any wind.  The descent off this involved a lovely scree field that I happily plunged down whilst screaming away

We were soon onto a section of the route that Donnie had not personally run before.  We found a single track road and it looked like this would follow the side of the mountain back to the main road.  Donnie and Charlie were running ahead when suddenly two huge dogs charged out of a nearby house and took an aggressive stance in the middle of the road.  Sandra followed me to relative safety behind a tree.  Eventually the owner appeared and got the psycho dogs under control.  We continued along the road for about 300 metres, then it just ended.  It was ok - Donnie had a plan!  If we climbed over the hill to our left we would be able to drop back down and join up with the main road.  We trudged to the top of the mountain hoping to pick up a trail, there wasn't one!

Really - that way?

Donnie was still confident we would hit a trail so we started heading down.  The yellow Gorse was getting thicker and thicker and we were all in shorts.  The Gorse was tearing at my legs but we had no other option.  I tried to find the sparser sections but it wasn’t easy.  Donnie and Charlie were soon out of sight, but I could hear Sandra yelping behind me.  After about 2k, I could see a bit of a ditch ahead and a clear section after it. Donnie was shouting at me to try and make it through to where they were but I still couldn't see them.  I got to a drop off and it was filled with Gorse - there was a pine tree about 2ft away from me and I found myself attempting to jump onto the pine tree – I failed.  Eventually I stumbled out into a clearing quickly followed by Sandra.  We both sat down and began the task of clearing the thousands of thorns out of our trainers whilst laughing (slightly hysterically).   Donnie offered to get us Pizza that night and Sandra and myself were immediately on our feet.  We soon found a land rover track and that soon turned into a road.  Donnie sped off ahead leaving a trail of belongings for us to follow.  We all cheered when a white car appeared and it was him.  We stopped at a wee village for some sightseeing and to consider our shredded legs.

Back at the Villa Sandra and myself had a bit of a debate about who should shower first.  I won so Sandra had to go first.  I listened to the expletives whilst dreading my turn.

We said goodbye to Charlie and waited for Donnie to return with the Pizza.  We both decided to reward ourselves with a couple of glasses of wine.  Whilst the cat's away.....!

Bloodied but standing!

Day 4 – Friday

Offfft!

Sandra and myself were in for a treat – this had been billed as an “easy” day.  It turned out that this would involve a morning session of hill reps for an hour…..!  Donnie had found a suitably steep hill in Finestrat that he made us run up and down with his unique style of encouragement.  I pushed to pull ahead and make sure that Sandra and myself weren’t going up at the same time.  I figured that would ensure I only got 30minutes of “encouragement” rather than the full hour – the plan worked (sort of).

Donnie made an amazing salad for lunch and then we relaxed for a bit before we headed out again.  Sandra wasn’t feeling great and it wasn’t long before she was being sick.  She decided to head back to the Villa and go for a sleep.  I continued on with Donnie and we had a nice low level run.  I did get another opportunity to show my bravery during another mental dog incident.  I bravely ran behind Donnie!  I don’t like dogs – give me an angry cow any day!

  

Day 5 – Saturday

Last day and the forecast wasn’t great.  Donnie and myself headed up for a last VK whilst Sandra ran around the mountain.  Donnie took me on a proper scrambling route this time.  Being the gentleman, he climbed behind me in case I fell.  I'm not sure how this would have helped as I'm fairly sure I would have just taken him out on my way down.  We got to the top of the Puig Campana and the rain started.   Sandra called to say she was heading back to the Villa rather than stay out in it.  We came off the mountain and started climbing again – at this point it started to snow!  I was starting to chill rapidly and lost all feeling in my hands.  At my request we turned back and planned to run the rest of the route missing the peaks.  The rain got heavier and we decided to cut the run short rather to stay out drenched and cold.

We found ourselves on a nice trail – I picked up speed and started flying down the trail – we came to a 2ft drop off and I jumped, landed it and sped off.  Another drop off came and went, I was feeling confident and enjoying the pace.  We got to a third drop and just as I loaded my take off leg my foot slipped on the wet rock.  Suddenly I was heading over the drop sideways and headfirst.  I definitely remember thinking that this was going to be bad.  Somehow I managed to bring my trailing leg forward and under me allowing it to take most of the impact.  I landed sitting upright in a pile of rocks.  It took me 3 seconds to realize that I wasn’t hurt – I let out a cheer and leapt up to my feet.  Donnie had actually gone quiet and looked really relieved that I was ok.  He told me that he was quite impressed I had managed to land it as he had seen my head heading towards the rocks.   I think he had been imagaining having to carry me off the hill.

I slowed down considerably for the rest of the descent – the running Gods had sent me a warning and I was going to heed it.  I only picked up the pace when we got to the road and we powered through Finestrat in the pouring rain. 

No words!

Donnie went out for another hill run in the afternoon, but after the earlier fall and my increasingly unstable ankle I decided to give it a miss.  Instead myself and Sandra combined a 5k run with sightseeing and cross training!  We got more than a few bemused and often suspicious looks from the locals (can’t imagine why).

That night we got a treat - we were off to Benidorm!  Don't worry, it was Tapas and Sangria, rather that Shots and dancing!

Day 6 - Sunday

I was so sad to be heading home - I loved my week of training, eating and sleeping!  Donnie had done an excellent job of cooking for us, training us and making sure we didn't get up to any mischief.

I’m definitely coming back next year – although I will do one thing differently – I will bring my oldest pair of trail shoes as the rocks out here eat them.  My Brooks Pure Grit 3s were amazing to run in but I seemed to have left a lot of the grip behind.