Rockhoppin' trail

moving to the TAR-k side

2012-01-25T15:39:00.003+02:00

The silly season can do strange things to the brain...

The brain then asks strange requests of the body… and then spends the next however-many-months begging the body to co-operate, hold together, and hang in there whilst request is executed.

There’s usually a pattern to this phenomenon:

- 1) Brain dreams up Goal

- 2) Brain gets oh-so-excited by Goal

- 3) Brain works out Plan of Action to achieve Goal

- 4) Brain informs Body of said POA, and expects Body to fall in line.

Then, if Body likes Goal and agrees with Plan, Brain+Body begin the (sometimes long and often arduous) Journey Towards Achieving Goal.

Eeezy peezy. Just like that.
Well, that’s the theory anyway!

So, in December this brain of mine had a minor brainwave. It then slipped into oh-so-excited mode and before Body could state its case, Brain had committed, the Plan was on paper and the B+B Team began its Journey.

Said Journey: The Big C 2012

(for those true trailers untainted by tar, in road running speak The Big C is not that unmentionable disease no one likes to think about, but rather a long and rather painful day of running between two cities in KwaZulu Natal...)

Body+Brain have signed a pact, waved a temporary g’bye to the thrill of single track, the exhilaration of steep descents and the slosh of muddy trails, and opted for the mindless monotony of The Long and Winding Road.

This Rockhopper has moved to The TAR-k Side (thanks J, and apologies George Lucas).

I won’t be forsaking trail forever – just for a short period of insanity. My 10^th Comrades is calling and I need to heed it.
I’ll be pounding the hot black stuff from now til June 3, and then after that I'll be hitting the soul food again – forever!

So, for now, I’ll pretend to get excited about dodging traffic, inhaling fumes, bumping shoulders with thousands at race starts, and enjoying the luxury of water tables every 3km. And I’ll try and deal with the first black toenails I’ve had in years.

Comrades #10 here I come!

Sky Run 2011, the long story

2011-11-23T11:50:00.002+02:00

Unfinished business isn't healthy. It's heavy baggage to drag around, and if left unattended, it can cause blisters on your psyche and eat into your soul.
There're only two ways of dealing with unfinished business: you either come to terms with the job not done and put it to rest (risky though, for fear of it waking up years down the line when it's too late to act on it), or you keep trying until you can tick the box that it's finished.

Until last weekend I had unfinished business with Sky Run, undoubtedly the toughest endurance challenge on South Africa's trail running calendar. I had raced Sky Run twice and both times finished 2nd lady. My first one, in 2009, had given me the heaviest baggage: I'd been the leading woman from the start and about 75km in my GPS battery had died and found myself stumbling around a mountainside under the night sky without a clue where to go. Then, in 2010, my navigational skills were still a bit wonky, and I was beaten fair and square by the far better runner on the day (thanks, Hobbit!). (see my race report of last year at Sky Run 2010 )

This year I was more determined than ever to get my race right - I wanted this badly and I needed to toss my unfinished business, it was getting heavy! I did my homework - I knew my weak point was navigation and I made sure I researched the route, albeit from 1000km away via Google Earth! As always with any endurance race, nutrition and hydration would be fundamental and I planned what I would eat and drink, when. The unknown for me would be whether I still had endurance in my legs after my four-month layoff earlier in the year from the stress fracture in my femur. My main competition in this race was also a concern: Su don Wauchope is fast, strong and, importantly, her coach is husband Iain don Wauchope, one of SA's top endurance athletes and the Sky Run record holder for this longer course.

Sky Run is special. It’s tough, run on an unmarked course (self-navigational between checkpoints) of rugged terrain, on an average altitude of around 2 400m above sea level, kicks in a full 5 316m of leg-burning ascent, and a nasty 5 158m of quad-trembling descent. This one's not for the faint-hearted.

The 4am pre-dawn start to Sky Run is always exciting - everyone's hyped up and nerves are running high. The route starts with a 300m dash to a hikers' path that begins a 700m climb up the side of a mountain to the first check point 11km away, high above the tiny, dusty town of Lady Grey. That climb sets the tone for the rest of the day... and night!

My strategy for this race was no different from other endurance runs I've done: to go steady, gradually picking up the pace into the day to maximise the daylight (every hour run in the light is time saved; running in the night by the light of a headlamp is considerably slower). I watched Su bound off with gusto into the dawn at the top of the first climb, and I forced myself to hold back and stick to my plan - there'd be plenty of time to pull her in. And it happened that way - I caught Su just after Snowden (CP3), at about 33km. We ran together, with a small group of guys, for the next 20km or so, and once we dropped down into the Balloch valley, I pulled ahead and picked up the pace. I ran the 7km along the valley on my own and reached Balloch, the "halfway" point (65km), in 9hr30 as 1st lady and, more importantly, feeling strong.

Every Skyrunner knows the real challenge begins after Balloch. It starts with The Wall, a 500m climb over about a 900m distance, with a mirror image descent down the other side. A 13km flat section is then rudely interrupted by a river-crossing-and-hill-shunt (together known as Wildfell), and a seemingly endless slog up the Bridal Pass to reach 2 700m. At this point, the lungs of coastal runners (ahem...) are working so damn hard that brain and legs politely take second skivvy - everything's moaning all at once, and there's still more than 25km to go!

All was going according to plan, and by the time I'd got onto the Bridal Pass, I'd managed to pass Isaac Mazibuko, who'd been in third position. When I checked in at CP7 halfway up the Bridal Pass, which was manned by a handful of jovial students huddled in a tent, passing the time singing pub songs and suiping lager, there was much excitement. The first guy stuck his head out the tent and yelled "Hey, it's the third runner! No wa-a-a-ay, she's a CHICK, she's a CHICK!"

Distance does strange things to the mind. And to the taste buds. Strange, unexplainable things happen with +60km under the belt. There in front me was a bunch of excited students, all yodelling in delight that a "chick" could be in third spot... and all I could focus on was the brown bottle of beer that the guy closest to me was clutching.
Now, let me explain... I don't drink beer. I don't like the taste. Simple.
But I eyed that beer so longingly that before I could say Charles Glass I was swigging it back, first one big sip... and then another, for good measure. It was cold, it was bitter, and it went down like liquid gold.
And I can still hear the guys' cheers ringing in my ears - this beer-swiggin' chick was their HERO!

Now, back to the race. Isaac, adrenalin probably pumping overtime at the shock of having been passed by a woman, overtook me near the top of the Bridal Pass and sped into the distance, not to be seen again. As I reached the top, Lance Chapman caught me and we chatted - he'd very gallantly given his GPS to his wife, Sue Chapman, who was also running, and he was navigationless. I had the route on my trusty Foretrex 401, so we agreed to run the rest of the distance together.

We pushed to cover as much distance as we could before dusk, and we donned our headlamps just as it was getting dark, about 4km before the Turn (CP 7). There was an icey wind blowing and by the time we reached the Turn, we were damn cold. I downed two mugs of hot, sweet tea made by those brilliant marshals, and we set off - not before learning the news that I had widened the gap between me and Su to a solid 70 mins, which was great to hear.

It was soon after that that things started going pear-shaped for me. I guess in our pre-occupation to maximise distance in the light, I'd forgotten to eat. And now I was feeling it. The idea of food held no appeal, and as I munched a baby potato, it fought hard to not be swallowed.

And then suddenly, out the darkness, we saw a headlamp moving towards us. Much to our surprise it was Nico Schoeman - he'd been in 2nd place some 10 mins behind Bruce Arnett at Balloch and running well, but as he'd reached the top of the Bridal Pass, the batteries in his GPS had died and he had no spares. He'd been directionless since nightfall - he'd not only lost his way but his second place (to Isaac, who'd long since passed him in the dark), and he was really annoyed with himself.

So now we were three: two strong guys sans navigation, and one beer swigging "chick" who was running on empty and feeling nauseous at the thought of consuming anything. A sad looking trio!

The haul up to the final CP, Halstone Peak, was gruelling, and the descent just as bad. Those final 4km took forever, and I was pathetically slow. Lance and Nico were brilliant - their patience could've lit up the nightsky!

Lance Chapman, me, Nico Schoeman crossing the finish line

And then, at last, the finish - the Salomon banners, the lights, the cameras, the cheers. It was all a blur of relief and exhaustion. At last I'd done it - 1st lady, tie 3rd overall finisher. 20hrs58min. No more unfinished business. I'd more than Touched the Sky :-)

Thank you to Adrian Saffy, the strongest gladiator of all, not only for organising this wonderful, gutsy endurance challenge, but then for completing the entire event as race sweep. Every year Adrian is out there longer than anyone, +30hrs of long, hard slog, bringing up the rear in the essence that truly reflects this great race: human spirit.

Happy Daze :-)

(All photos courtesy of Kolesky/Nikon/Lexar)

T minus 1 and counting down...

2011-11-11T12:33:00.000+02:00

Just one more sleep til we touch the Sky. Not that most people's pre-race night involves much sleep - it's more like toss and turn.

If the image above isn't enough to get the butterflies a'fluttering, the adrenalin pumping and the stomach churning, add to it 100km of endless mountains, thin air, dry heat, unmarked route, self-navigation, night running, potential thunderstorms, and +20 hours of hard slog.

And then spice it up with the best parts: running along a Dragon's Back, climbing a Wall, lapping up views across Lesotho, the old Transkei, the eastern Free State and the Eastern Cape all at once, catching a glimpse of the forlorn and neglected ski slopes of Tiffendel, before skidding down Halstone Peak on your butt to the final 4km stretch to the finish.

Welcome to the Sky Run - the best and toughest trail ultra in South Africa!

can you feel it?

2011-10-15T15:58:00.000+02:00

Every runner comes across them – the Run Naysayers: usually couch potatoes with an insatiable curiosity about what it is that makes us “need” to run.

They’re filled with suspicion, determined to uncover some sort of deep-seated psychological disturbance we’re hiding, and convinced that our running is a means of fleeing from some sort of horror from our past.

Why do you run, they ask. Do you need to run? When will you stop running?

And then the classic, what are you running from?

Only runners know the real answer to those questions:

We run because we can.

We run because we love it.
We can run practically anywhere, anytime - just pull on the shoes and we're out there.

It’s as simple as that.

Running gives us joy, it energises us, it gives us perspective.

Best of all, it makes us feel alive!

We know the truth: life’s too short to not run. (But then if you’re reading this blog, you already know that!)

Running is about so much. How about the exhilaration of conquering a tough uphill; the natural high we feel after a long run; the buzz of feeling fit; the joy of sharing a trot with a group of friends; the buzz of getting to work feeling 100% alive after an early morning run (and knowing that the others in the office aren’t likely to understand – they’re still half asleep at the coffee machine); the satisfaction of seeing improvement and achieving time/distance goals; and the knowledge that every hour spent enjoying a run is 60 minutes lived more enriched.

I reckon there’s only one answer to the naysayer’s question: it’s not what we’re running FROM... it’s what we’re running TO that counts!

Table Mountain Challenge 2011

2011-09-19T12:18:00.001+02:00

Saturday 17^th September – sunny, 23 deg, not a breath of wind: a perfect day for running around, up and over the most picturesque mountain in Africa. What’s more, a designer day to showcase Cape Town to visiting world class international trail runners as the most beautiful city on the continent.

Kilian Jornet rockhoppin' down Kasteelspoort

The Crazy Store Table Mountain Challenge 2011 did exactly that: it displayed Table Mountain at its best. For those not in the know, the TMC takes trail runners in front, along the side, across the back, up the furthest corner, over about 10 of the Twelve Apostles (well, Seventeen actually*) on the top, and down the far side of the mountain back to the starting point at Kloof Nek.

This year the route held an extra nasty in mid-course with the addition of the 3km Rooikat Trail on leg 2 above Kirstenbosch, stretching the original 35km route to a gut-wrenching 38km.

Ryan Sandes making cliffs look easy

And who knows how he does it, but every year race organiser Trevor Ball somehow manages to wangle a deal with the weather gods for the sun to shine on race day – and pelt down with rain the day after.

Will Robinson hauling up Llandudno Corner

As if that was not enough, this 6^th running of the TMC was graced by the current kings and queen of international trail running, two of whom travelled thousands of miles to race on our iconic Table Mountain.

Salomon athletes Kilian Jornet from Spain, Anna Frost of New Zealand, and our very own international champ-of-trail Ryan Sandes had the rest of us chewing dust as they burned up the course in mind-boggling times, barely breaking a sweat.

Records were smashed, legs were stretched, hearts were pounded, and knees were given a monster workout. It was CRAZY trailing!

Anna Frost about to leap off a ledge

(photos courtesy of Eric Tollner/Red Earth, Jacques Marais and Chris Hitchcock)

RESULTS

Top 5 Men Top 5 Women

Kilian Jornet 3:41 Anna Frost 4:11

Greg Vallet 3:46 Susan Sloan 4:27

Allan Benn 3:49 Su don Wauchope 4:38

William Robinson 3:56 Hanlie Booyens 4:57

Bruce Arnett 4:02 Linda Doke 5:07

Top two teams

Nicholas Rupanga, Greg Goodall, Ryan Sandes 3:27

Ryan Scott, Andre Gie, Mark Collins 3:41

* the 17 Apostles – from the Llandudno (southern) end: Grove, Victoria, Grootkop, Kleinkop, Corridor, Slangolie, Spring, Wood, Postern, Kasteels, Valken, Barrier, Jubilee, Porcupine, Grotto, Fountain, and Cairn buttresses.

Get ready for a Salomon showdown in September

2011-08-19T22:06:00.000+01:00

Exciting news hot off the trail running press: some of the world’s most successful trail runners will be coming to South Africa in September.

Kilian Jornet and Anna Frost will join South African Salomon team mates Ryan Sandes, Cas Van Aardenne, Linda Doke and Hanlie Booyens as well as key international and local Salomon staff for a mountain-running seminar tour of SA.

Seminars are scheduled to take place in Gauteng (11 Sept), Durban (13 Sept) and Cape Town (15 Sept).

Salomon sees itself as ‘the mountain sport company’ and is dedicated to the global growth and improvement of trail running. “If the rapid growth in participation; and the wide variety of events on the calendar is any indication, trail running is poised to explode in South Africa. This trip is an opportunity for the international team to share their incredible talent, experience and expertise with the local trail running community,” said Salomon South Africa’s brand manager Lee Besnard.

SEMINAR SPECIFICS

Topics will include:

Technical insights into the use of compression and other performance garments (by one of Salomon’s international R&D experts).

The company’s sports marketing strategy (by Greg Vollet, Salomon’s Global Outdoor Sports & Community marketing manager).

Talks by the athletes on their racing and training experiences, notably Kilian Jornet, Anna Frost and Ryan Sandes.

Talks by experts on topics ranging from podiatry to physiotherapy and recovery.

The latest designs in Salomon trail footwear will also be on show, and guests will be able to test and provide feedback on new models. Salomon values all feedback and uses input from a broad spectrum of athletes, from elite racers to trail newbies, to continuously evolve their products and help drive the progression of the sport.

See the Salomon SA Facebook page for details on how to secure your spot at the seminar. Seats are limited!

TABLE MOUNTAIN CHALLENGE

The International Salomon team’s South African tour will culminate in them competing in the Crazy Store Table Mountain Challenge on 18 September. One of the highlights at this 35km trail race around and over Cape Town’s iconic Table Mountain will be the Sandes/Jornet dual.

“Kilian only races one way and that’s to win,” said Sandes. “He’s had an awesome year and won just about everything he has entered. But I also love winning and this is my home mountain...”

“I may need some help from some of my Cape cobra and puffadder friends though,” he joked. “Kilian’s often told me how he hates snakes. My advice: if he runs slowly the snakes won't be a problem.”

Compiled and issued by Jazz Kuschke Media on behalf of Salomon Sports.

THE INTERNATIONAL SALOMON TEAM

New Zealander Anna Frost has enjoyed a spectacular 2011, with wins at the Motatapu Off Road Marathon, the gruelling 6-Foot Track Marathon in Australia’s Blue Mountains and the prestigious Salomon 4Trails race in Germany. Frosty has clinched numerous short and middle distance trail running wins over the past four years, including the 2008 World Mountain Running Grand Prix, the 2009 Commonwealth Trail Championships and, most notably, the Everest Marathon in 2009 (4hrs 35min), in which she not only broke the women’s record by 27mins, but was also the first non-Nepalese finisher, male or female.

Frosty made her debut in ultra distance trail with her win at the The North Face Endurance Challenge 50 Mile Championships in 2010 (7hrs 45min), beating renowned ultra-distance athlete Lizzy Hawker by 13 mins.

Ryan Sandes, the winner of all four of the Four Deserts Marathon series, has shifted his focus from stage-racing to the big mileage one-day events. He will chat about his meteoric rise in the trail-running world, but specifically about his experiences at the Leadville 100 Miler (taking place this weekend, 20 August, in "the two mile high city" in Colorado).

“I’m hoping local runners will be inspired by the International team being here and that the seminars will help grow the sport,” Sandes said from Colorado where he’s been training and acclimatising for the past three weeks. “It’s not every day you get to run with the likes of Kilian Jornet.”

Killian Jornet is arguably the most prolific and successful trail runner in the world. The 23 year old Spaniard has twice won the 166km North Face Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (informally recognised as the world champs of ultra trail running), was three time champion of the Skyrunner Series (2007-2009), holds more course records than can be counted on one hand, including the 100 mile Grand Raid du Reunion, this year’s Western States 100 miler and the North Face 100km in Australia.

Most noted for his Kilian’s Quest achievements, which include running across Corsica in 2009 (188 miles in 32hrs 54mins, world record), setting a new course record for the 165km Tahoe Rim Trail (circumnavigation of Lake Tahoe) in 38hrs 32min, running the 849km length of the Pyrenees in just 8 days 3hrs (world record), and scaling Kilimanjaro (world record for the ascent [5hrs 23min) and the round trip [7hrs 14min], Kilian has proven that even the impossible can be achievable...

To regulate, or not to regulate - that is the trail running question

2011-07-24T20:41:00.000+01:00

SA team at IAU World Trail Championships 2011

From left to right: Jeannie Bomford, Katya Soggot, Bruce Arnett, Su Don-Wauchope,

William Robinson, Iain Don-Wauchope

Now that the IAU Trail World Championships is long done and dusted, it’s time to digest, dissect and then encourage discussion as to how to from here for trail running in South Africa.

Most trail runners out there have heard mutterings about the event and its build-up (or lack thereof), but few know the details – and many, being the carefree trail runners they are, don’t really care either way.

If you’re reading this blog, chances are 1) you’re a trail runner, 2) you live in SA or have some link to or passion for running in SA. Whether 1, 2 or both, you’re a valuable spoke in the wheel of SA trail running, and you need to read on.

Without going into unnecessary detail, here’s some background:

- on June 5, ASA announces that SA will be competing in the IAU Trail World Championships 2011 in Connemara, Ireland on July 9, and announces the team of 3 men and 3 women.

- The trail community is taken by surprise by 1) the short notice; 2) the team selection (all the men in the team were ultra runners, but at least 2 of the 3 women selected had never run an ultra distance; and 3) why ASA is involved in a trail running event at all.

Less known, the facts:

- Way back in Feb, the event was brought to the attention of ASA by one of SA’s top ultra runners. Any team participating in an IAU event needs to be represented by some sort of federation or governing body, and as trail running in SA is footloose and fancy-free, in order to send a team to the event, it would have to fall under ASA.

- The months passed... the event came closer...

- Suddenly in May there was a flurry of emails from ASA to a small number of trail race organisers (mostly middle to long distance races, not ultras), requesting suggestions of team members to represent SA.

- BAM! The SA ultra trail team is announced, all of FIVE weeks before the event.

The outcome:

With just five weeks to train, and don’t forget taper, for a 70km event, the six team members had limited time. All are as surprised by the announcement as everyone else in the trail running community, but of course are excited by the privilege of representing their country. They squeeze in a quick month’s worth of training, and off they jet to Ireland in early June.

As could be expected, the performance of the SA team was disappointing. This bears no reflection, it must be emphasised, on the runners themselves, for they are all superb athletes in their respective distances. Instead, it’s more a result of the reality that they were given insufficient time to prepare for the event. That’s hardly a fair deal, particularly as at least one of the athletes had never run further than 42km before, never mind raced an ultra.

The conclusion:

Big events, particularly international ones that involve national representation, require much time and planning – for organisers AND participants. Five weeks is simply selling SA trail running short.

Had team selection taken place several months in advance, as it should have, then

1) more of SA’s ultra-distance trail runners would have been able to make themselves available for the event;

2) team members would have had the appropriate time to prepare themselves for the race.

This rather unfortunate mess up has left many in the trail running community even more determined not to be governed by any form of association or federation, or body of any sort. After all, they say, (and I quote) “isn’t trail running about freedom, running free without limitations of rules and regulations, about not having to belong to a club, be licensed, be told what to wear, etc etc?" and "Isn’t the very essence of trail running a breath of fresh air from the regulation that is road running?" and then "Aren’t trail runners like wild animals, who don’t do authority and can’t stand cages?”

Perhaps, but without some form of governing body to represent us, SA trail runners can never qualify for opportunities like the World Trail Championships. Instead, we’ll all simply potter on, always loving our sport and the exhilaration it brings, but never stretching ourselves beyond that.

Personally I think SA trail running has reached a point of maturity where it needs to decide on its future. As the great bard surely would've said, "To regulate, or not to regulate, that is the question."

Do we need regulation? Do we want regulation?

My personal view is I don’t want it, but we might need it, if we’re to prevent poor organisation like that for the IAU event from happening again.

Perhaps regulation need not be a swear word, and maybe there’s a way of having a governing body that represents the trail running fraternity without subduing the vibrant energy we all love about our sport.

Let’s throw open the chat floor to discussion – let’s hear your thoughts and get the ball rolling on where-to-from-here for trail running in SA.
Please comment with your thoughts and get the debate going.

tick... tock... tick... tock...

2011-07-10T21:36:00.000+01:00

... BONG!

That’s 2 016 hours of stress fracture rehab in the bag, 12 weeks of no-running done and dusted. Today I went for my first proper run in three months – a very gentle but steady and continuous 10 whole kays, and I’m happy to report I can officially be called a runner again.

This 10k epic was by no means easy: my lungs complained continuously, but my legs loved it and my mind was in heaven.
I felt alive again!

So now it’s Operation FitSpeed – I’ve got 10 weeks to blow the cobwebs out these lungs, pack maxi fitness into these legs and load a good dose of speed into this body in time for a Salomon showdown in September. Watch this space!

Squeezing life’s lemons

2011-05-05T11:48:00.000+01:00

(supposedly royalty-free clipart...)

What’s that one about what we’re supposed to do when life throws us a lemon? Something about adding a bucketload of sugar and turning it into a sickly sweet fizzy drink... uuugh, sounds pretty icky to me.

I reckon rather just stick with the lemon the way it is. Juice every drop out of it and drink it straight. It’ll be sour beyond belief, and you’ll feel every cell in your body’s puckered for a while, but before you know it, the sourness is gone and life’s good again. And the bonus is that you’ll feel more awake than you ever thought possible!

I got handed my lemon the other day. One week I’m running through the desert, up and down dunes, having the time (and race) of my life, and the next I can’t even walk properly.

Physio + sports doc + bone scan = stress fracture of the femur.

BAM!

Grade 3.

No weightbearing exercise for 6 weeks, and no running for 12.

A big, firm, juicy, bright yellow lemon.

Picked straight from the tree of life.

TWELVE weeks?? That’s three months! I’m still not sure which sounds longer.

That’s a lot of arms-only swimming.

Rest, I’m told, is the fast – and only – way to heal bone. So rest I must. Dreaming of when I can feel awake again.

So for now my exercise is to walk as lightly as I can on my legs, and to make friends with a set of borrowed crutches for the 23 steps up to our house. Meantime, I’m told, I should MILK the crutches!

According to a crazy trail running mountain man I know (mentioning no names, hey Eric!), having crutches opens up a whole new world of sporting delights.

Some creative uses for crutches:

- marshmallow toasting sticks

- pool cue

- fishing rod

- jousting

- pole vaulting

- hooking a waiter when you need service

- giant pair of tweezers for changing a light bulb on the ceiling

- stoking the fire (although that one’s a bit dubious)

- waving around vigorously to clear space if claustrophobic in crowds

- flag pole

- for tapping the shoulder of the person ahead of you in a queue (quickest way to get to the front of the queue!)

Any more ideas most welcome. They'll help me pass the time...

Namib Desert Challenge 2011 race report

2011-04-12T15:24:00.002+01:00

The Namib Desert Challenge: five days and 220km of running across sections of the oldest desert on the planet. The race is tough (self-sufficient per day), long (average distance each day 44km), gruelling (the highest dune in the world was saved for Day 5) and unbelievably hot (we ran in temperatures hot enough to slow roast a leg of lamb).

Many wonder why do we do these things... and voluntarily?
Only runners know that answer: we run because we can.
And because we love it.
Simple as that.
Running gives us joy, it illuminates our lives, it gives us perspective.
Most of all, it makes us feel alive!

This year was the third staging of the NDC and the biggest field yet – 42 runners from 10 different countries: SA, Namibia, UK, Ireland, Germany, Italy, France, Australia, USA and Canada. There were some top names at the start line – several very experienced desert runners (Marathon des Sables, Sahara Desert, Atacama Crossing), a Jungle Marathon kid, and a handful of fearless adventure racing champs. It was obvious from the start this race was going to be a tough one.

The race covered an extensive area of Sesriem and the Namib Naukluft National Park, ending in the heart of the Sossusvlei – after summiting Big Daddy, one of the highest dunes in the world.

Day 1: 42km
Our race started in the Sesriem area, and took us over grassy gravel plains, through rocky outcrops (speckled with bushman paintings, which I missed and only heard about later) and over a couple of low mountain passes. Typically for the first day of a stage race, we went out at a fast pace. (It happens every time, but I’ve learned to just go with it – enjoy the fresh-leg feeling while it lasts!)

Inevitably, as is common for day 1, everyone was checking out their fellow runners, seeing who slotted in behind who, observing pace and style, and watching out for any strengths or weaknesses evident. Of course a race like this is long, much can change over 220km, but from the very first starting yell, the competition began.

And this year the winner ran clear within minutes of the start: Australian adventure racing demon Damon Goerke dashed off into the heat shimmer every day for five days, leaving Graham Booty (UK) and Wayde Kennedy (SA) waging battle for second and third positions.

I was never close to those speedsters, but I had my own battles to fight. I was well aware that Erica Terblanche, ladies winner of the 7-day Sahara Desert Marathon in 2008 (she beat the 2nd woman by a clear 12hrs), is a desert-running machine and would be hungry for first spot. I knew I’d have to keep my eye on Erica, but wasn’t sure who else. That’s always what Day 1’s for: gauging the field.

Distance running over fairly even terrain requires steady pace and consistency, and that’s pretty much what NDC is about. It calls for head-down-and-dig kind of running – with a good deal of multitasking thrown in to ensure you don’t miss the incredible landscapes and the occasional ostrich, oryx or springbok trotting by.

By the end of Day 1, I had a rough idea of who I was up against. Coming in 5th overall, I’d managed to glean a 22 min lead on Erica, which I was relieved about, although I was well aware it was very early days and anything could happen. Just two minutes behind me was last year’s men’s winner, Andrew Collier – I knew he’d be hungry for a win this year, having come second overall last year to ultramarathon desert queen Mimi Anderson (UK), who cleaned up the entire field in a very tidy 25:23.

Day 2: 46km
It took me all of the first five minutes of yesterday’s stage to realise that I’d brought WAY to much food for this race. Each day I had enough food on my back to feed half the field, dammit, and I was lugging this for 42km+ each day. The Italians had it right: after each day’s run, they’d munch their way through a pile of crackers and a fat wedge of parmesan cheese (36 month matured...). Bang for bucks calories in a single brick, and not a heavy brick, at that.

Today’s route gave us our first taste of sand – and a healthy dose of it, at that. The first 20km or so were easy underfoot, varying between narrow sandy track, dry riverbeds and wide open gravel plains. And then we hit Elim Dune, said to be the world’s longest dune. Now, don’t let the biblical name conjure up images of goodness and grace – there should be no such associations when trying to run along this damn dune. From afar Elim Dune looks completely innocuous - there’s nothing dramatic about it at all. In fact, right now with all the rain Namibia’s enjoyed, it barely looks like a dune at all for all the grass growing on it.

the end of Elim Dune

But be not fooled, this Elim is the devil in disguise. The jeep track we had to follow was of deep, dry, dark red sand that was thick underfoot, making it virtually impossible to run on. Every step was a slog that made the calf muscles scream and our swollen feet shift in our shoes.

Eventually the dune spat us out into a dry riverbed just a couple of kilometres from the finish line. What is it about the last couple of km’s of any race/stage that they’re far l-o-n-g-e-r than any other? They go on forever, particularly when they’re in a dry riverbed in a desert under the baking noonday sun...

That day I bagged another 28 mins on Erica, widening the gap to a more comfortable measure. I’d also managed to get a 27 min lead on Andrew. What sparked my interest was that only about four or so minutes ahead of me in the overall running was Italian Francesco Galanzino, winner of the 4 Deserts overall championship award in 2007. Maybe... perhaps... possibly there was a chance I could catch him over the next three days...

Today chewed up five runners and spat them out with feet so gruesomely blistered they could barely walk. Forget the speedster runners, the true superstar in the camp was our medic, Amy Lichtenstein – she treated every blistered toe, every loose toenail and every suppurating chafe as if our lives depended on it, and she saved the race for more the half the field.

(Not for sensitive viewers!) Amy working her wonders on some rotting toenails

Day 3: 42km

Sandy riverbeds, rocky ground and long stretches of grassy gravel plains made up today’s route. It was my favourite day. I saw springbok pronging (such a perfect phrase that!), ostrich strutting their stuff, and a beautiful black-backed jackal dashing through the bushes just ahead of me as I run across a dry riverbed.

At around 25km I caught up with Francesco, who seemed to have slowed down. We chatted for a bit before I went ahead, and he seemed to be battling a bit. If I was to get ahead of him, now was my chance to make the break, so I put my head down, picked up the pace and dug. By the time I’d reached the finish, I’d established a gap of just under 10 min, putting me 6 mins ahead of him and in 4th position overall. Erica was now an hour or so behind, which was reassuring but knowing her endurance capability, I knew I’d have to run strong, not only to maintain my lead but, if at all possible, try my best to further establish it.

rain sodden dunes

Sleeping out in the bush is always a special experience. Of course where we were in the Namib, there were no predators to worry about, and at times out the darkness we’d hear the shrieks of jackals in the distance, the hoot of owls and the gentle cooing of a disturbed wood dove. Around midnight that night we had a terrific rain storm that had us all scurrying out our two-person tents to drop the flaps and keep the rain out. In true African storm style, the lightning, thunder and pelting rain was over in half an hour, and the night was peaceful again.

Day 4: 56km
We were all apprehensive about today – it was the big one, and probably the make or break of many people’s race. From the route description, the daunting factor of today’s route wasn’t the terrain so much as the distance, particularly considering we already had 128km in our legs. Not at all daunting, that is, apart from the #*% dune we had to slog up and down in the 56th kilometre before crossing the finish line!

Apart from that (place expletive of choice here) dune, today involved a lot, and I mean a LOT, of long, flat, endless running. We had a lot of ground to cover in order to get from where we started – the Sesriem Canyon (highlight #1 of today) – to halfway to Sossusvlei: Dune 45 (highlight #2, cruel though it was).

wading through the Sesriem Canyon

About 8km into the route, we hit the canyon. With all the rain of the past two months, the water was deeper than we expected, and shorties like me needed help... forget wading, I couldn’t even touch the bottom! Race organisers Terry and Gary had rolled the dice for which of them would be on canyon duty, and Gary had lost: he spent more than an hour wallowing in the (apparently snake-infested, we learned afterwards!) muddy water helping runners keep their packs raised above their heads as they swam across.

Many hours, and a lot of running later, came Dune 45. As we’d been warned by last year’s runners, the enormous red New Balance branded finish line was placed at the base of the dune, and could be seen by the runners from miles away through the heat haze. In a cruel twist of sick humour (sorry guys!), the organisers required the runners to pass the banner and head on up the dune, slogging all the way to its summit to touch the New Balance flag. After 55km of running, it’s a BIG ask – the mind protests madly and the muscles agree. But the feeling of reaching the summit, turning around and charging down the dune is as exhilarating as the slog up is punishing. All the pain and effort is forgotten and momentum takes over!

me heading up Dune 45

But it was the heat that was the toughest challenge of day 4. Being the longest stage, we were all out there for far longer than on the other days, and by afternoon the sun had heated the earth to scorching point. The heat was grilling down and baking upward. I felt like I was running in a furnace. My every instinct screamed for me to slow down and walk, but walking was worse:

Note to self: three reasons to run rather than walk when in the desert:
• Flies LOVE walkers (what the hell are flies doing in the middle of the desert anyway??)
• When you walk, you lose the breeze you create when running (Proof that running’s cool)
• My favourite mantra in the heat: the more you run, the sooner you’re done.

By the end of Day 4, I’d established a 31 min gap between me and Francesco, which I was happy about. Erica had had a strong day and I only managed to add two minutes to my lead, but it meant that I was 1:02 ahead, which was reassuring... providing tomorrow went well.

Day 5: 28km
For me today’s stage started with a scare: when I got up and out my tent, I was limping – I wasn’t able to put weight on my right leg! I’d had a slight niggle in my hammy for a couple of weeks (caused during a 100km week of road running I did a month back after I’d twisted my ankle – blame it on tar) but it had eased and felt ok. Seems instead it had saved itself til now, the final day of a five-day stage race. Nice.

At the starting yell, I hobbled off like an amputee late for a bus. Everyone ran past me and away into the distance. Great, I thought, so this is how my first ever desert race is going to end – for four days I work hard against top male runners to establish 4th position overall, and on the final day with just 28km to go, I can’t even walk properly. That’s cruel.

I shuffled my way along for the next few km’s, determined to shed the damn hammy issue – or be able to just ignore it if I had to. Ever so gradually it eased, and by the 5th km I was running evenly, had picked up pace and was able to make my way one by one through the field. Such relief!

the pan we sloshed through, with Big Daddy in the background

Today we had two dunes to conquer: one at 14km (a baby in comparison with yesterday’s Dune 45) and one at 23km (appropriately named “Big Daddy”, known as the highest dune in the world). To waste words on the first half of today’s stage would be a shame – the magnificence of this stage began in the last 14km. I’ve never touched such contrasts: one minute we were crunching our way across a parched, cracked clay pan that felt like bone china underfoot, and the next sloshing through shin-deep muddy water across a 400m wide pan, surrounded by age old burnt red dunes.

Then, the NDC’s piece de resistance: Big Daddy. OMG, what a whopper this daddy was. He towered above us, stretching his spine up and up like a winding staircase. Only this staircase wound very s-l-o-w-l-y and had no stairs, just thick, loose sand of 45 degree incline, that wound its way into the heavens for 345m. This daddy was a monster with a sick sense of humour.

view looking back from a third of the way up Big Daddy

It took 1.5km of slog to mount the highest dune in the world, and it took me 27 min. I just put my head down and ploughed. Eventually I reached the peak. Then ooooover the side I shot, down an almost sheer drop that was bliss to run on. It took a couple of seconds and a not-so-tidy head-over-heels to learn that deep heel placement was the way to go, then I let gravity do its thing. Damn, I haven’t had that much fun in sand since I was a kid!

Running across Dead Vlei, the starkest “dead pan” imaginable, was eerie – it was the very epitome of desert. But then the final couple of km’s to the finish line was brilliant – knowing the race was over and I had my win (women’s) in the bag. I crossed the line in 2:58, bagging 4th place overall (22:55) and the breaking the women’s record by 2hrs 28min.

NDC, what a race! And the Namib Desert, what a place to run a race!

A huge thanks to Terry & Gary and the whole Kinetic Events team for staging this brilliant run, and for going the extra mile in so many ways to make the race so memorable for all of us. NDC is a must on the international ultra running calendar!

From me personally, a huge thank-you to Velocity Sports Lab for backing me for NDC and enabling me to do this race – it was a privilege to represent Velocity Sports Lab again!

Thanks too to PeptoSport and PeptoPro for powering me through the desert at pace! I did the entire five-day race fuelled only by PeptoSport. It’s The Bomb!

And to my long-term sponsor, Salomon, for always providing the best kit I ever need. I’m proud to be a Salomon kid and be able to fly the Salmon flag high!

* photos credited to David Montgomery

Namibia, horizons of green desert

2011-04-09T20:09:00.000+01:00

Time to sneak in a non-running-related blog post. Just because I can :)

Back home after two fantastic weeks – the first spent running an average of a marathon a day for five days, and the second doing so little that I’d have made a sloth look energetic.

Cape Town and Namibia are contrasting worlds in so many ways, and coming home after even just two weeks there, takes some adjusting. During our week of exploring, we clocked up about 3 000km of driving, and I’ve never seen so few people. There was just no one about for miles and miles. I guess that’s understandable when you think that Namibia, with its surface area of 824 268km2, has just 2.2 people per km2. It’s three-quarters the size of South Africa and yet its population is about half a million less than Cape Town’s. Gets you thinking.

And when I say there was nobody about, I mean really nobody. Driving through Namibia is not like driving in other African countries. There’re no settlements to be seen, no kraals, no little roadside stores, vendors or fruit sellers, no village kids running around, no herders, no huts. Instead there’re just miles and miles of bush.

I’ve travelled in many countries, developed and developing, but I’ve never experienced one that felt so remote, so isolated, so empty. To me Namibia was endless space personified.

It’s also a land of contrasts. From the burning red dunes of Sossusvlei and the bleached white crustiness of Dead Vlei, to the lush green thorny bush around Etosha and the knee-high grass that coats the country from north to south since the heavy summer rains, Namibia is filled with visual contradiction. In the past two months there’s been flooding in various regions of the country, with roads and bridges washed away from the heaviest rains experienced there in 120 years. And yet Walvis Bay remains one of the driest established cities in the world, with an annual rainfall of only 10mm.

Travelling around Namibia is an eye-opener. It’s one of the last untouched, unspoilt landscapes on the continent, giving us a window into how it’s always been, but sadly, the way we're messing up our world, probably won’t always be.

Catching my breath after NDC

2011-04-03T15:43:00.001+01:00

What a special week: running 220km through the Namib Desert in the land of big skies, vast horizons, towering dunes, canyons, and mile upon mile of now grassland bursting with life, and sleeping each night under star-studded skies illuminated by electric storms.

That’s the Namib Desert Challenge – a gruelling five-day stage race with a touch of class, self-sufficient with style, where the runners are sweaty but not stinking for long, the desert water is not only plentiful but cool, and the finish line is followed by a bush banquet beyond expectation.

It was a tough race and competition was stiff. The sun grilled us mercilessly and the dunes were higher than I’d ever imagined. But the most memorable aspect of the NDC has got to be its brilliant organisation.

Gary and Terry, hats off to you and the whole of the Kinetic Team for putting together this fantastic event in the middle of the desert where there’s virtually no infrastructure – the logistics alone must’ve been the REAL Namib Desert Challenge! The entire team behind this race went out of their way to make the event really special.

And to Amy and the medical team, you guys shone your socks off (no pun intended) – without you most of us wouldn’t have completed this race.

Very importantly, thank-you to Velocity Sports Lab for believing in me and making this race happen; to my sponsor Salomon for always ensuring I have the best kit in the world (come stone or sand, mountain or plain, S-Labs ROCK!); and to my fuel sponsor, PeptoSport, which fuelled me the entire race and gave me the vooma to run as well as I did. PeptoSport is the BOMB!

Thanks to everyone for all the messages during, before and after the race – you gave me strength! And to all the wonderful people who donated to Solomon's Haven - together we've raised R40 000! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I’m still in the Namib for another week to catch my breath. There’s not much in the way of technology in the desert, and I’ve sniffed out the only Internet Cafe within a 300km radius to post this quick blog. For those keen to hear a bit more about this brilliant race, I’ll be posting a more detailed report when I’m back in civilisation in a week’s time.

Til then, happy trailing!

tick tock... tick tock...

2011-03-26T07:07:00.000+02:00

Just 23 hours and counting before we hit the desert start line.

I’m sitting in Cape Town International with a while til I board the plane, so keeping the Vida guys busy as I load up with enough quality latte’s to see me through the next five days. Anyone keen to set up a Vida franchise in Namibia?

My bag’s been packed, unpacked, re-packed and then emptied out and packed again for good measure. It weighs a ton – I’ll be sweating bricks that the sniffer dogs at Windhoek International are only trained to find cocaine rather than vacuum-packed biltong...

my menu for the next 5 days

The past few days have come with the usual agitation of taper time – smashing in the food while not clocking on the mileage is never good for the psyche, but I was warned that one should get to the start line of a self-sufficient race with a bellyful of kg’s to spare. So I’ve tried my best, and have to admit, I’ve eaten for the week ahead. I think I might have to be helped across the start line.

How am I feeling? Excited, nervous, filled with anticipation, and impatient now to get started. It feels like this race has taken forever to come. Funny to think how time will slow down once the sand’s under the feet, no doubt.

And most of all, I’m thrilled to see the Solomon’s Haven barometer rising so rapidly on the BackaBuddy site – it’s about to hit the R30k mark! Thank-you to everyone who’s donated – I’ve tried to thank each of you personally but yesterday I couldn’t quite keep up, they were coming in thick and fast!

Please spread the word and keep those donations streaming in! http://www.backabuddy.co.za/champion/project/backabuddynamiblinda

Thanks everyone for all the good luck messages! I’ll be clocking out of connectivity now for the next five days, but will update once I’ve survived the desert :-)

Now I'm off to find me some sand...

taper time

2011-03-20T16:41:00.000+02:00

Today began the 7-day countdown to the Namib Desert Challenge. That’s certainly frightening enough to shake off my blogger’s block and get me posting again. (It’s all the running I’ve been doing, y’see, that’s kept me away from my screen. Well, at least that’s my story, I’m sticking to it.)

With less than a week to go now, the training’s over, it’s too late to squeeze in any more. I have a love/hate relationship with tapering. I hate the waiting part, as my mind always plays tricks – either it tells me I’ve not done nearly enough training, or I’m sure I can sense a sniffle coming, or teeny little tweaks or niggles suddenly appear in inexplicable places. But I do love the eating part – carboloading’s always good. I’m the most eating-fit person I know!

I wonder what percentage of athletes get to a start line feeling confident that they’re properly prepared and fully trained? I never do – there always seem to be curveballs thrown in somewhere in the build-up, whether it be a bout of flu, a twisted ankle or simply that I feel I could’ve/should’ve done more hillwork, speedwork or, in this case, sandwork!

And then I wonder, when it comes to the crunch, how much all that actually matters. Prof Noakes has always maintained that providing you’ve done the training and preparation, performance in a race is 10% physical, 90% mental.

Sounds easy, doesn’t it. But it’s tapping into that 90% that’s the tricky part!

So I should get back to my preparation now – seeing to all the final fidgety stuff of what to squeeze into one’s pack for a self-sufficient multi-day desert event. The learning curve has been steep: what sunblock, what kit, which pack, what style of gaiters, and how best to be minimal. This week I’ve learnt about counting calories, and have been on the search for which foods provide bang-for-bucks in the sustained energy department while weighing as little as possible in the pack. Needless to say, I’m still searching.

Best I get back to it...

PS Huge thanks to those wonderful people who've supported my fundraising effort so far. Thanks to you I'm halfway to the goal of R50k! Anyone still keen to donate, please hop onto www.backabuddy.co.za/champion/project/backabuddynamiblinda and click on the "donate" button - it's that easy! Please support Solomon's Haven - every rand counts!

slogging the desert for Solomon's Haven

2011-02-21T12:32:00.000+02:00

I've run many miles over massive mountains, next to picturesque lakes, across glacial moraines, through forests and grasslands, along stretches of exquisite coastline, through day and night. Now it's time to put my endurance to the real test by taking on a desert run.

On the 27th March 2011 I'll be taking on the Namib Desert Challenge, a 5-day 220km self-sufficient race in the Namib Desert (http://www.namibdesertchallenge.com/). Temperatures will be extreme, averaging in the mid-40 degrees, and distances each day will be 40-50km. Runners will be required to carry their own food and fuel each day, and will only be provided with water.

I'm an experienced trail runner, sure, but this will be my first time in a desert, and the first race I'll have ever run in real heat... I'm no fan of the heat, so desert temperatures are likely to be my nemesis. I find the thought of five days of them quite terrifying!

This will be a massive personal challenge - it'll undoubtedly be the hardest feat I've ever taken on. But I want to make the slog worthwhile. And I'd love all the help I can get to do so. I've chosen a very special cause that's close to my heart - it's called Solomon's Haven.

Solomon's Haven is an emergency shelter in Mitchell's Plain, Cape Town that is home to +/-16 children, all of whom have been either abused, neglected or abandoned by their own families and referred to Solomon's Haven by the Magistrate’s Court or the Department of Social Welfare. Maria and Alec Solomon provide a secure and loving environment that focuses on building self-esteem in preparation for the children’s eventual healthy integration into society.

Solomon’s Haven is a registered non-profit organisation and receives a government grant of less than R200 per month for each child in its care. This has to cover school fees, food, clothing and transport. Often transport expenses alone amount to R250 per month for children temporarily in the care of the Haven if their school is situated further afield. These government grants are supplemented by Alec’s small income as a builder, and by donations.

In addition to her role as mother and counsellor, Maria represents many of the children in court, providing testimony and dealing with the legalities regarding stewardship of the children. The Haven provides a place of safety for children of all ages, from small babies to teenagers, many for a few years, some for just for a night or a few days. Often Maria receives children in the middle of the night needing immediate attention, care and refuge. As tribute to her enduring work for the community, Maria was runner-up in the V&A Woman of Worth 2003 and very proudly won the full award in 2004.

Solomon's Haven is a street miracle, plain and simple. It heals souls and changes lives. It's an inspiration to society. And it needs all the help you and I can give it. But without outside assistance, Maria and Alec are unable to give these children the love and care they so desperately crave. Please help me to raise as much as we possibly can to help change the lives of those in need.

To raise funds for Solomon’s Haven, I’ve registered with www.backabuddy.co.za, an online donation site through which donating is simple, fast and totally secure. It's also the most efficient way to donate directly to where funds are needed.

Please support me in raising as much as I can for Solomon’s Haven. Here’s the deal: I’ll do the sweaty work and slog across the desert, and you click on the DONATE NOW link at the top of my backabuddy page!

My donation page is http://www.backabuddy.co.za/champion/project/backabuddynamiblinda

Please contribute to this very worthy cause. Remember, every donation big or small counts for a lot.

And please, spread the word far and wide!

Bruce hits the Peak

2011-02-13T18:07:00.002+02:00

No runner ever needs an excuse to run Chapman's Peak Drive – it’s there, that’s reason enough.

Runners from the Republic of Hout Bay (Noordhoek too, of course, but I’m biased) have one of the most scenic roads in the world on their doorstep – it’s just minutes away from anywhere in our valley and it beckons us at all times of day... and night.

Recipe for an unbeatable start to a week

Take a handful of runners, mostly from Hout Bay, and mix evenly in the beach carpark in front of Chapman’s Peak hotel at 4:50am on a Monday morning.

Add running legend Bruce Fordyce, who’s down from Jhb for the day and keen to enjoy the oxygen advantage of running at sea level.

At Hout Bay Time 5am (or 5:05 SA Time), start running up Chappies.

Ensure pace is comfortable, temperature cool and the air crisp.

Ignore when Fordyce complains that the wind’s blowing – it might be by Jozi standards, but the ocean below looks like glass. Jozies don’t know what real wind is.

Be smug when cyclists ride past and have to move over – it’s not often we runners outnumber cyclists on Chappies, especially during the pre-Argus training panic. This morning the road is ours!

Don’t stop at the viewpoint – run on another 2km to the sharkspotter’s corner and watch the mist rolling in across the 4km stretch of beach from Kommetjie towards Noordhoek.

As you take a gentle trot back towards the viewpoint, feel the majesty of Chapman’s Peak towering above, the power of the waves smashing into the cliff way below, and the first rays of sunlight fingering the mist that’s caressing the Sentinel as it guards the entrance to Hout Bay.

Keep temperature moderate. Enjoy the 5km downhill from the viewpoint to the beach – for once it really IS “downhill all the way to the finish”!

Ok, so it wasn’t trail, but it’s hard to beat such an experience: running on such a stunning route, in perfect conditions, with a world champion running legend.

Wally & Chippy Steel with Bruce - 74 Two Oceans Ultras between them!

An exercise in horses for courses

2011-01-31T08:21:00.000+02:00

Yesterday morning involved exercise – or better put, AN exercise. Said exercise not only involved a vigorous workout (which, of course, it would have to in order to earn the acclaimed term of exercise), but also an experiment.

Subject of said experiment: me.

Aim of said experiment: to determine whether subject’s legs are willing to increase speed over short distance.

Conclusion of said experiment: definitely not.

However, the outcome of said experiment was a damn good lung workout, the thrill of yet another Boland trail, and a new found appreciation for short distance speedsters!

The said exercise was Race 4 of the Cape Summer Trail Series, staged on Paul Cluver Estate in Grabouw. I usually stay away from shorter races – my legs aren’t enthusiastic about any distance less than 20km... they only wake up after about 13km, which as with today’s race tends to be w-a-a-y too late to do much with the speed they acquire, or in even shorter distances, only after I’ve crossed the finish line. That’s really not much use.

But my mind always has different plans. Maybe, it thinks, the legs just need some encouragement, like the pressure of a short distance race to push the muscles from slow twitch into fast twitch mode. And that’s how I found myself on the start line of this morning’s 15.8km “long course” race, blindly hoping my legs had heard they were on the “long course” rather than on the 9.1km short course option.

But alas, my legs weren’t that gullible. Or maybe it was my lungs that refused to co-operate. Whichever it was, I soon found myself chewing the dust of the runners who’d opted for the long course (15.5km) in Oak Valley, Elgin last week, while I’d gone for my better distance, the XL course (26km).

Last week's XL race - no experiment!

I chose well last week – legs, lungs and mind were all in sync (XL race results); this week, I definitely didn’t! (Race 4 results)

Hat’s off to Owen and Tam and their team for another brilliant Trail Series. All events of Owen and Tam’s are not only well organised, efficiently staged and executed in style, but the routes they choose are always guaranteed to be the real stuff!

Tam & Owen

get ready for a HOT 2011!

2011-01-01T18:18:00.000+02:00

It’s a strange phenomenon, New Year. In our culture we’re programmed to see it as a new start, a time to reflect, look ahead and set goals for the next 12 months.

And yet Jan 1st is really no different from any other of the 364 days in our western calendar. Logically there’s no reason why we should suddenly start doing things differently, turn over new leaves or, in some dire cases, uproot entire trees (figuratively of course) in our need to make a change in our lives. Wouldn’t it be more appropriate for us to rather use the start of each day to reassess how we’re progressing towards our goals?

But what the hell, most of us see Jan 1st as rather special anyway. And by the end of January all the unrealistic resolutions have been sifted out and the achievable challenges remain intact, there to keep us on our toes for the rest of the year. So, welcome 2011, and may you bring us all a healthy dose of positive challenges, a generous measure of achievements, and bags of fulfilment in every aspect of our lives.

I’m looking forward to this year. I’ve spiced it with a good few challenges to keep my toes twiddling. The first I’ve chosen is sure to throw me completely out of my comfort zone and have me sprinting for the shade. So, here it is, officially on paper, so to speak:

I’m to be (temporarily) trading the rockhoppin’ rigours of mountain trails for the desolate delights of the desert in a five-day 220km self-sufficient trot through the Namib in the Namib Desert Challenge 2011.

Fun in the sun, as they say – and there’ll be lots of that. Sun, I mean... Temperatures in the Namib at the end of March average in the mid-40’s. And let’s face it, you know it’s pretty damn hot out there when the temperature is higher than your age.

I love the sun... I love the sun... I love the sun...
Do I sound convincing?

Who am I kidding? I only love the sun when the temperature’s less than 28 degs! I HATE the heat. I wilt like a delicate flower when the temp’s up. So that’s the challenge I’ve picked. I’ll run in a desert for five days. And just for good measure I’ll do my training at midday between now and then to prepare myself.

And I have the privilege of being sponsored again by VELOCITY SPORTS LAB. A huge thank-you for enabling me to take on a desert. I may not love the sun, but I can’t resist a challenge!

delayed update on C2K

2010-12-29T09:59:00.001+02:00

The start line of Coast to Kosci 2010

Apologies: delayed Rockhoppin’ update on the C2K due to festive season slow-down :-)

Marie achieved her third Coast to Kosci, finishing as 4th woman and 11th overall in a blistering time of 37:28. Seven of the 38 competitors did not complete the full 240km, and the final finisher crossed the line in 45:49. This race is gruelling.

Despite her good result, my crazy SiL says she’s disappointed. She’d wanted her PB – a sub 35 hour. To achieve this she knew she’d not be able to sneak in any breathers or rest breaks. And that she did: aside from two 5 min massages, she went continuously for more than 37 hours. But, in her words, she got her nutrition wrong, she felt nauseous so couldn’t take in enough calories, and she ran out of energy.

“Anyway, I feel reasonably pleased that I was only an hour slower (than last year) even though I felt so weak. I've learned a few things for next year!”
Spoken like a true fighter – bring on Marie’s C2K 2011!

Competitor + crew in the mist at the summit

The weather conditions of this year’s event were not great. The runners fought a headwind for most of the 240km, and it became stronger as they neared the summit of Kosciuszko. This was even worse for those finishing later, as conditions deteriorated into the afternoon and it became dark, cold and misty.

“But while it was bad out there, the conditions were nothing compared to the 2008 run when we couldn't get on to the mountain at all. This year, although the wind made it harder, closing the summit route was never considered.”

Most of the times this year were slower than in 2009 except for a few stand-out performances. Of the 15 repeat offenders, four were quicker and the rest were slower than last year. To put this into perspective, Jo Blake, winner of C2K in 2009 and 2010, was a full 2hrs45 slower this time, finishing in 28:45. Still a phenomenal time though.

my incredible SiL

2010-12-10T20:54:00.002+02:00

In case anyone’s wondering, I’m not the only nutter in my family. There’re actually two of us. My sister-in-law, Marie, is a complete and utter, dyed in the wool, pedigreed Nutter of Note. There’s almost no running challenge that scares her, no distance that makes her laugh in disbelief, and virtually no endurance feat on two legs or wheels that she wouldn’t try.

Marie is, without a smidgeon of doubt, the most mentally strong woman I’ve ever run with. I’ve witnessed her block out pain as if the injury isn’t there. I’ve been with her when she’s commented that she had “something in her eye” and chosen to ignore it so she didn’t have to slow down or stop... and then three hours later when we crossed the finish line, I picked the blade of grass from her eye.

Distances just don’t frighten Marie. Ten years ago she was a 21km road runner. Now she has more ultras under her belt than I can keep track of. And I’m not talking about ultra marathons that just sneak over the 50km mark, I’m talking ULTRAS. Try 204km in 24 hours (when she represented Britain at the Brive 24 hour champs in France, May 2010 – and yes, that’s the one where they go round-and-round-and-round a 1.25km circuit to see how far they can run in 24 hours. Fun stuff!).

And then so not to lose the edge, she did a 48 hour round-and-round-and-round race in Australia just two months later, in which she clocked up just over 261km. (Her incredible achievement shows that while 48 hours may be double 24, but it sure as hell doesn’t mean the runners double their 24hr distance. The 48hr is mindblowingly gruelling, never mind the physical strain of pushing through continuously for that long.)

Now it’s December, and time for Marie to do her favourite ultra: it’s the Coast to Kosciuszko in Australia, affectionately known to the nutters that run it as the Coast to Kosci, or the C2K. It’s a 240km race that’s mostly on tar, and goes from Twofold Bay on the NSW south coast to the top of Australia’s highest peak, Mount Kosciuszko (2 228m).

This will be Marie’s third running of the C2K. Her goal this year is to finish the 240km in under 35 hours. The weather conditions this time of year can be perfect... or they can be foul, with icy temperatures and gale-force winds.

The event started this morning, Aussie time. Excitingly, it can be followed with almost-live updates on (http://www.coast2kosci.com/live2010.html)

And as I write, the most recent update has Marie at the 148km mark, it’s just before 2am there and she’s been going for just over 20 hours.

Sheeez, my fingers are tired just typing that!

Next blog post, Marie will have her 3rd C2K in the bag. Watch this space :-)

Sky Run 2010

2010-11-16T12:15:00.005+02:00

One hundred and forty-eight trail runners touched the sky this weekend in the 13th running of the Sky Run. But two runners did more than that: Ian Don Wauchope and Tatum “Hobbit” Prins carved their names across the night sky by blitzing the race in true champion style – Ian in 14:56 and Tatum in 20:12. Both were brilliant times for this new course, which was undecidedly nastier than the original route that finished at Tiffendel. Huge congrats to you both!

Sky Run is a unique event in SA – not only is it the most technically challenging trail race in the country but it’s on an unmarked course, requires self-navigation, and is staged in a vast and distinctly remote corner of the Wartrail / New England section of the Eastern Cape.

The race starts at 4am in the little town of Lady Grey and ends 110km and, for some, up to 36 hours, later.

It’s tough, harsh and rugged, peaks at an altitude of more than 2 700m above sea level, has 5 316m of leg-burning ascent, and 5 158m of quad-trembling descent.

If you have guts and love a rough challenge set in the most awe-inspiring surrounds, this race is for you.

This was my second Sky Run. Having messed up rather badly last year by getting lost in the dark when the 20-hour battery life of my Garmin died after just 14 hours (even though I’d deactivated all unnecessary functions, dimmed the screen intensity, etc beforehand), I had unfinished business with this race.

This time I came more prepared. Craig and I got to the New England area a day early to recce Wildfell, which was where all had gone pear-shaped last year for me and my buddy Guy Jennings. What I remembered as nothing more than a confusion of thick bush in the dark of night now made sense in the daylight and I was relieved to finally have that section clear in my mind.

Being self-navigational and often with long sections without any sign of path or trail to follow, this race requires either intimate knowledge of the route (which very few have), or the navigational assistance of maps (provided and mandatory) and/or GPS devices. This, and the fact that the terrain is generally very rough, is what makes this race hard core. The winning times for this event simply cannot be compared to other trail races of similar distances – this course is barely visible!

Two of the many things that make Sky Run extra special are how well organised the race is, and the unbelievable hospitality of the farmers in the area. The amount of planning and preparation that goes into staging a race of this type is immense, and every year Adrian Saffy and his team do a superb job.

A HUGE thank-you must go out to Saffy the Star of Sky Run for organising this great event, and to all the marshals from the 4x4 club in Bloem, who voluntarily spend hours and hours up on the ridges and peaks waiting for us crazies to stagger through.

An equally enormous thanks must go to the local community of the Wartrail/New England area, for sharing their mountains with us, allowing us to run over their land, and then for feeding us the wonderful meals at Balloch and at the finish. You make the checkpoints and the finish line such a pleasure to reach!

Andrew & Janet Viedge of Bidstone Guest Farm, you rock! Your hospitality surpasses all, thank you for everything!

And thanks as always to my sponsor Salomon for the best gear ever. For feet to survive 110km of tough technical trail running without a single blister or hot spot, the shoes must be the best.
Long live S-Labs, they're the BEST!

Single Trouble and aiming for the Sky

2010-10-28T12:17:00.001+02:00

Hello. Apologies for the October silence – let’s just say it was so good to be back in the beautiful Cape after six weeks away that the thought of tapping away at a keyboard featured fairly low on my list of things to do.

I’ve been back nearly four weeks now, long enough to run all my favourite local mountain trails again, and to explore a whole bunch of new paths – that’s always fun.

I’m embarrassed to admit that on my very first run – which happened to be none other than the intrepid MountainMan-Tollner’s Hout Bay Triple Trouble, and also happened to be just 14 hours after an 11-hour flight back from the UK, I fell over my own feet on the descent from Suther Peak and managed to twist my ankle good ‘n proper. So alas, my Trouble didn’t even require a Triple – the very first peak did it for me, and I hobbled home to nurse a fat ankle.

And trust me, no girl likes fat ankles at the best of times.

So there I was, freshly home from running 310km across the Alps at pace without injury, and I can’t even manage 8km on a local hill at home. Go figure. At least I know what I did wrong: I did the unforgiveable... I sneaked a peak at the view. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist.

But I patched up well, and when the ankle had suitably deflated and gone through the necessary shades of blue-to-green-to-yellow, I was able to hit the hills again. Just as well really, as Sky Run is now just over two weeks away. Sky Run’s by far the toughest continuous 100km self-navigation trail race in the country. It’s so tough it’s been known to make runners weep.

And this year with Tiffendel finally having breathed its last (after doing a death rattle for some years), we no longer have to haul ourselves up to the final checkpoint at Ben Macdui (the highest mountain in the Eastern Cape, a tidy 3 001m above sea level).

Race organiser Adrian Saffy, bless his smelly socks, tells us he’s found a far better spot to finish the race. But anyone who has run one of Adrian’s races knows better than to fall for his choice of soft adjectives when describing his routes. This time he’s cushioned the description of the final 45km of this year’s Sky Run in comforting words like “along” and “down”, but all Sky Runners should know better than to fall for that one... We know this new route will be no less tough than the original – in fact, we already know the distance has grown to 110km... Thanks Saff!
I wonder what other delights await us Sky Runners this year?

still R&R'ing, but a BIG thanks

2010-09-27T21:23:00.003+02:00

After a couple of weeks of very welcome R&R in Italy, Germany and (still) the UK, it's time for one final Trans-Alpine post: a somewhat belated but very heartfelt thank-you to my sponsors.

Salomon and Velocity Sports Lab, you're the greatest - without you Ryan and I would not have had the fantastic experience of running, and racing, the Trans-Alpine Run.

Our Salomon S-Labs carried us safely up, over and down more alpine peaks than we can count, and our kit was as comfortable and light as always. (And one of the many great advantages of Salomon kit: even after hours and hours of running, it's never stinky!)

A big thanks to MULE for all my energy bars - always perfect for ultra distance nourishment (not to mention being completely natural and so delicious!)

Thanks to Oakley for my brilliant pair of Endure shades - the polarized lenses made them ideal for all conditions, from the glare of white snow to the dim light of forest paths. I love 'em!

And to GU for the gels that kept me fuelled through the miles of mountains we covered.

And then, very importantly, an enormous thanks to all the family, friends and followers from around the world who sent us messages of encouragement before and during the race. The bundles of good wishes gave us energy that helped keep us motivated and charging up those mountains at pace!

Thanks to you all - it was a fantastic experience.

Running with The Machine

2010-09-16T13:03:00.000+02:00

“Fatigue is inevitable. Managing fatigue is a skill that may take years to learn, but it’s what makes the difference between a good runner and a great runner, whatever your speed.” Lindsay Weight

It’s a question I’ve often been asked – both in the preparation for and since completing the Trans-Alpine Run: what’s it like running with Ryan Sandes. So I thought I’d leave it until after our event to put the answer into a blog post.

Ryan (aka Sandman, as many like to call him, although clearly that name wasn’t appropriate for this race so I prefer to call him Mach1, as in with reference to speed and to Machine) was, every minute of every one of the eight days of the race, an incredible team partner.

As many of you will know, racing – whether running or cycling – in a two-person team requires tremendous buy-in by each partner. It calls for 100% commitment and constant communication, otherwise the partnership simply won’t work. If either team mate isn’t on the same page as the other at any time, things fall apart.

And, usually, both members of a two-person team are of similar running ability. Usually, that is...

Before the Trans-Alpine Run, I’d done four stage races, three of which were two-person team events: two Cape Odysseys (the first with Sylvie Mazurkiwitz [nee Harris] and the second with Karoline Hanks) and one African-X (with Tatum Prins). All three of those partners are not only great runners but were superb team partners, and the result for each of those races was a ladies category win. Each time we were well matched in all the essential ingredients for a good team – ability, temperament and goals.

With Ryan and I, there was no doubt we were well matched in terms of our hopes and goals for this race, and the same goes for temperament. We’re both consistent in temperament and know the importance of constant consideration for team work. But whoooa, when it comes to running capability, everyone knows that without a shadow of a doubt that no one matches Mach1. This man is a phenomenon. Now, I know that’s stating the obvious: his racing history shows that. But running this race with Ryan gave me a front row opportunity to watch this man in action. And sheeez, can he run!

But it wasn’t his running capability that startled me the most. It was his patience, his tolerance and his constant unselfish approach to us as a team that impressed me. Never once in the eight days of our race did Ryan show any sign of frustration or exasperation when I wasn’t able to maintain his pace or push harder than I was already. Instead, he gave me constant positivity and encouragement to keep me going, keep me digging deep.

And while it was obvious that I found the degree of difficulty of alpine running harder than Ryan did, this race was by no means easy for him. After all, as the far stronger partner, his role of packhorse and engine room put much physical pressure on him – I just had to put my head down and trot behind! I was responsible for gauging of pace (ie. telling the said engine room that we were going too fast) and, inevitably, the heavy breathing for both of us.

Not once did Ryan whinge – not even when he jolted his back on Day 2 jumping from a steep forest path over a ditch onto a tar road. I could tell he was sore, and every morning he would stretch it carefully before the start, but still he never hesitated to throw me the tow rope when the next huge hill came.

Running this race with The Machine has shown me a glimpse of the guts and determination that a winner has to have. To push through fatigue, face harsh conditions (like extreme heat or cold, as is often the case in Ryan’s races) and still have the determination to push the pace takes tremendous guts and determination.

It was a privilege to run with Mach1.

the final four days of TAR

2010-09-13T17:54:00.007+02:00

Apologies everyone, I really wanted to be able to update my blog regularly and give you daily updates throughout our race, but alas, connectivity was almost as challenging as each of the 8 stages so I had to let it slip. Now here I am, two days after Ryan and I crossed the finish line, I've caught my breath and put my feet up, and am ready to tell you all about the final frontier: the second half of our mammoth challenge!

I know that by now you all know how the story ends... but with all the trememememendous support we received from everyone, I owe it to you to give you all those promised gory details. So, sit back and enjoy - and this time, with the long-promised photos!

DAY FIVE (34.5km from Prettau to Sand in Taufers, Italy) was meant to be the shortest stage of the TransAlpine Run but the organisers had a little sting in the tail for us at the start line - there'd been mudslides on the original route so they'd diverted the course slightly and added in another 5km. Nice...

The start was chilly - I donned my gloves thinking I'd shed them after a while, but the weather remained grim so I ended up wearing them for the whole run. The stage began with a sheer uphill, and both the Brits and the Swiss teams hit the hill hard to get ahead of us. The hill became steeper as we ascended what's known in winter as "The White Wall", which in summer was a zigzag of shale with snow on the top (2537m). It was pretty chilly up there and thankfully we didn't have to stick around long - the summit was sharp and almost straight away we started the radical descent.

Another haul up through some goregous forest trail, and then down again, this time towards the valley where we knew the finish was. But we also knew it involved an extra 5km - only far of course if you're aware that it shouldn't have been there in the first place! The extra distance was really beautiful though, winding us down past a massive waterfall before the final few km's of flat path into the gorgeous little town of Sand in Taufers.

I'd been able to run strong today, which was a huge relief after Day 4's gut problems. The other teams had flown though, and we finished in 4th place: Iona & Casey (Team TPC Freight Mgt) had stormed in 2nd, with the Swiss +Austrian duo of Gaby & Seppi (Team Salomon) close behind them. The gap between them and us was now 22 mins. Definitely too big for comfort.

DAY SIX (39.7km from Sand in Taufers to St Vigil) was going to be an interesting one. It started with 20km of tar road (uurgh) before lurching us up a massive ascent (from 900m to 2275m), and then down 1100m to the finish. Our motto for the day: "It's just a hill - get over it."

We knew that after the gruelling terrain everyone had been through the past five days, the tar would take its toll on many legs, but the number of dropouts on during that tar section was scary. It was cruel. And from a beauty perspective, this stage was the least picturesque. We were happy to see the finish line. Again, in 4th position, we knew that the next two days would be the make or break of the race.

DAY SEVEN (42.2km from St Vigil to Niederdorf) was for me the hardest of the entire race. Starting with a 400m climb over the first 12km, and then two steep ascents of 800m (to 2380m) and 600m (to 2194m) over the next 18km, the day's profile was by far the toughest of the race... particularly as we'd already done 235km by this time. But experience has taught us both that in stage racing, the final couple of days are the most critical. That's when everyone's legs, and minds, are fatigued and mistakes can happen. It's also when injuries are most likely. It's never something I'd wish on anyone, and after all, we were just as likely as anyone else to be the victims of "The Final Days"...

Day Seven was tough, really tough. And I can certainly say that racing downhill on scree is most definitely NOT one of my natural talents. I'd heard the secret to speeding down scree mountainsides is to surrender to gravity and let the momentum take you. Hah! That's all very well but when every smidgeon of your body is screaming "survive", you want to screech on the brakes... which of course is the very worst thing to do, and all hell breaks loose with balance and your knees get the jitters and you doubt your footing and your eyes can't keep pace with your feet and everything around you is one big blur of panic...

The final six km's of the stage were on jeep track and tar into the town of Niederdorf. And I'll never forget them. As I hit the tar I felt a jab of pain under my left knee cap. Uuurgh! It was debilitating - and worse, I'd never had this feeling there before. I stopped for a few moments to rub it, and then we pushed on. Dammit, I thought, I hope this wasn't going to be our undoing... I ran on, gingerly, and thankfully it eased. I was worried.

Then, just minutes later we were pushing along at Ryan's usual comfortable pace (note: RYAN'S, not mine!) with my head down and my lungs burning, when Ryan blurted out "There they are, it's the Brits, just ahead!". Sure enough, there were Casey & Iona, just ahead, walking. Good grief! Ryan wasted no time - this was our chance. He threw me the tow rope, I hooked on and off we went - and not at Ryan's comfortable pace: his race pace. Oh my God, did we fly! My legs have never experienced such speed. In those next several minutes I witnessed firsthand what Ryan must've done to achieve his record sub-24hr Atacama Desert time. It was crazy! And we made it across the finish line that day as happy kids - a podium place in 3rd position!

Those moments changed our race. This was the chance we'd been waiting for, this could be our break. Casey had injured his quad coming down the scree so hard. We were sad for them - they'd raced so brilliantly and were storming the run. This was to be their second year in a row of achieving 2nd position in the mixed - a huge achievement. But we didn't know the extent of Casey's injury - we had to presume it was just a niggle, and that he'd be patched up and anti-inflammatory'd, ready to race hard on the final day. What we'd have to do is go HARD, really give the 8th stage everything we'd got, and hopefully make up enough time to eat up the minutes that had accumulated between us and them.

DAY EIGHT - The Final Race (33.4km from Niederdorf to Sexten) was not tough in profile but if time depended on it, it would be a nasty one. It started with 15km of gradual uphill along a jeep track, and then a 1000m ascent over the next 7km, followed by 8km of downhill to the finish. Simple. And we lined up at the start knowing that this would be the big test - particularly for me, as let's face it, trying to run at Ryan's pace is a near physical impossibility for me!

Ryan and I ran those 33.4km as if our lives depended on it. We pushed a pace that, for me, was only just sustainable - and which, until then I'd thought I'd never be able to maintain. It's amazing what panic can achieve! We crossed the finish line in 2nd position in the mixed category, the happiest people on earth.
What we only then learned was that Casey had had to pull out after the first three km's, his injury was too severe. This automatically saw Gaby & Seppi into 2nd place, and us into 3rd overall. But what was most important for us is that we fought hard to that finish line - for us nothing had been automatic, and not for a moment did we ever consider that we'd not have to pull out all the stops to get there.

There's a great quote I love by world marathon champ Paul Tergat:

"Ask yourself 'Can I give more?' The answer is usually 'Yes'."

Until running the Trans-Alpine Run, I thought I understood how to dig deep. I thought I'd often dug deep, and could even remember specific times when I'd called on myself to really push hard. But this race I took that to another level. During the 8 days of TAR, there were many times when I had to search so far within myself to give more, and every time I could - and did. This race taught me so very much about perseverence, endurance, digging deep, trusting and the strength to be had in believing in myself.

And it showed me just how incredibly strong my partner was. There was barely a moment over the 8 days when I didn't marvel at Ryan Sandes: not only his natural talent as a runner but his incredible determination mixed with a constantly even temperament of patience and quiet fortitude. Having the opportunity to partner Ryan in a race like Trans-Alps was for me the highlight - it was such a privilege. I have enormous respect.

Ryan, partner, you ROCK!

Hopefully I'll be able to supplement my next blog post with even more pics. Keep an eye out!

TransAlpine Run - a gutsy day 4

2010-09-07T18:01:00.000+02:00

Today was Day Four of the TransAlpine Run (43.9km, from Neukirchen, Austria to Prettau, Italy) and although 3km shorter than yesterday's stage, it took us just as long.

It wasn't so much the profile that was to blame for that, although it was indeed tough (we climbed from 850m to 2669m over a distance of 30km, with the final 800m in 2km, taking us well above the snow line). The best description for today's run was gutsy - in more ways than one. My stomach acted up from the time I awoke at 4:40am, I had to go to the loo twice before race start, and over the 5:19 it took us to complete today's stage, I had to take 5 pitstops. It was crazy. I swear I must've given the cows along the way serious poo'ing competition.

And even though I made sure every dash off the trail into the bushes was at top speed, we lost valuable time. And it was difficult to make up those minutes - my energy was drained, and I had to dig deeper than imaginable to press on. I was so annoyed with myself, even though there was absolutely nothing I could do about the problem, other than to make sure each pitstop was lightning fast!

Enough about those gories. The views today were spectacular. We ran up zigzags next to thundering waterfalls, along green valleys with snow capped rocky peaks towering above, and over a peak (at 2669m) where the wind was howling such a gale that the chill factor must've dropped to below zero. At that point the only way we could see the path ahead was using other runners' footprints, most of which were about 60cm deep. Add a steady drizzle to this, and the white-out you're picturing is about spot on. Fortunately that section only lasted about 10 mins.

Fortunately my energy levels picked up on that descent and we flew the last 10km (a 1000m drop) at pace, to the finish line in the hamlet of Prettau, to finish 20 minutes behind the 3rd placed mixed team. So we're now lying in 4th position in the mixed category, a radical drop from yesterday's 3rd placing.

The race is only halfway done - there're still another four days to go, and much can change. We're certainly going to do our best to make sure it does! (And a good start will be the Immodium I've taken this afternoon!)

At 29.4km, tomorrow's stage is a lot shorter than the past two have been, and we're hoping to really make it a good one. It'll be tough (I learning that in this race, there're no "easy" days), starting with an 11km climb up to 2537m.

And I'll carry the Immodium with me this time...

first report on TransAlps

2010-09-06T17:55:00.002+02:00

Three days done & dusted of the TransAlpine Run for Team Salomon / Velocity Sports Lab. Five days to go..! 116km km in the bag, and just 189.6km to go! (ok, it's far too early to be looking at how many km's to go - bite size chunks, bite size chunks...)

Apologies for this being my first blog since race start - today's the first day we've had connectivity :-(

So, three days of TransAlps and I already have a new respect for mountains. With each day of this race the mountains we slog up get higher and more dramatic, and the scenery ever more beautiful.
By the way, I'm afraid I won't be posting any pics to accompany the next several blog posts - I won't have any. I'm relying completely on peripheral vision for appreciation of this incredible scenery, and only occasionally do I sneak a peek at what's around us. We're in waaay too much of a hurry to look around!

My second challenge of today (my first having run 47.3km at pace up and down some frightening mountains) is to try and squeeze three days of unbelievable trail running into a quick blog before I fall asleep into the keyboard.

Day One (36.3km from Ruhpolding, Germany to St Ulrich, Austria) went really well. The first 10km followed a jeep track on a gentle ascent alongside a river, and we set a cracking pace. The rest of the route was a mixture of non-technical single track, some nasty grass slopes (ever tried running UP a ski run?) and a lot of deep, slimy, squelchy mud. We finished in 2nd position in the mixed category in 3:20 - really happy with a podium finish!

Day Two (33.2 km from St Ulrich to Kitzbuhel, Austria) and involved a LOT of climbing. The profile was scary - or so I thought until I experienced today's profile. The route was more technical than Day 1, and involved two v-e-r-y nasty, long ascents that climbed for seemingly ever. We finished Day Two in 4th place in the mixed, and in 3rd position in the mixed overall, just by about 4 mins.

Day Three (47.3km from Kitzbuhel to Neukirchen, still in Austria) was nothing short of frightening. I knew from the profile to expect that, and it didn't disappoint. Today was the longest stage, but by just 3km. I had to dig deep today like I've never dug before. The ascents were long, and the descents sheer - my legs kept telling my brain they should hold back and save themselves for the next 5 days ahead, but my brain refused to listen - I knew we had to fly down those downs as fast as my legs could carry me, because the next mixed team was hot on our heels. The finish couldn't come quicker - another 5km and I think they would've caught us. We finished today's stage in 5:20, in 3rd position in the mixed, and still in 3rd place overall in our category. It's tight though, very tight - the next mixed team is just 40 secs behind us overall. And they're still looking strong...

So far I've learned that I'm pretty damn useless at running through snow, slushing through sludge, skipping over tree roots, and running down hills at sub-4min km's. Ryan is, of course, brilliant at all of the above. And very patient!

Ryan is a powerhouse - I have HUGE respect for this man we all know is a running phenomenon. We're working brilliantly as a team - he's permanently strong and pulls me along... literally. We're using a tow rope / bungy cord - whenever we come to a hill, he hooks me in and I'm pulled (gently) along behind. The idea of using a bungy cord was something I initially resisted - that's just not how things are done. But our adventure racing friends enlightened us - Tats & Cas, you,d be so impressed with us! This is team work like I've never experienced: towing slows Ryan down a bit, and speeds me up a bit, so that we as a team make faster progress. The ultimate in team work. (Our other mixed competitors are using a bungy too, while many other alpine runners prefer the advantage of ski poles. For us, the bungy works better!)

Tomorrow's stage (43.9km, from Neukirchen to Prettau, Italy) will be slightly shorter than today's but tough - we'll be slogging up to 2669m above sea level. Let's hope our time spent up the Sani Pass helped!

So that's my wrap up for today. I hope we have better luck with connectivity as the week progresses, so I can keep you in on the race gories!

Now it's feet-up-the-wall time!

Route description of Stage 1 - copied from website

2010-09-03T21:03:00.000+01:00

2010 Stage 1: Ruhpolding (GER) – St. Ulrich im Pillerseetal (AUT)
Start: 11:00am
Vertical distance:	1223m ascent, 1034m descent
Horizontal distance:	36,30km
Estimated time:	ca. 5,0 hours (10 km/hour horizontal, 600 Hm/hour vertical)
Timelimits:	V1 = 2,5 hours, V2 = 4,5 hours, V3 = 5,5 hours (7 km/hour horizontal, 500 Hm/hour vertical)

Opening the Gore-Tex® Transalpine-Run 2010, we have this ideally suited starting stage leading across the Chiemgau Alps via the mountain range Steinplatte from Ruhpolding to Waidring in Strub Valley. From there, beautiful hiking paths lead to the idyllically located stage finish in St. Ulrich at Lake Piller located to the west of the Lofer Steinberge. With more than 1200 meters to climb, this stage does not demand exceptional climbing skills, but with a distance of 36 kilometers it’s just short of the regular marathon distance.

counting down...

2010-09-03T20:47:00.000+01:00

Finally Ruhpolding's busying up - the town's a-buzz with trail runners, most sporting Salomon kit from head to toe. (These Europeans know the best brand!)

And Team Salomon/Velocity Sports Lab has its very own fan club present: today the founder of GoTrail, James Hallett, and fiance Susanne Wirtz, arrived in Ruhpolding to cheer us on. It's great to have them here!

Ryan and I went for our final run this morning - an easy trot along the river to keep the legs ticking over and to do a final kit check, etc. We're feeling great. But we've had enough waiting now, we're itching to start the race! And we've just heard the start tomorrow's been shifted out from 10am to 11am - a bit of a bummer, that's half the day wasted.

The weather forecast for the next three days is looking good - let's hope it's reliable... we don't want a repeat of last week's UTMB disaster.

We're off to the pasta party and race briefing shortly. Tomorrow dawns the TransAlpine Run 2010.
Bring it on!

alpine meadows and Ferrero Rocher ice cream

2010-09-02T19:45:00.001+01:00

From the cracking dry cold of the Sani Pass, Lesotho, to the sunny skies and lush alpine green of Ruhpolding, Germany, with a brief stopover in Cape Town to throw all our kit in the wash and say g'bye to loved ones, these past four days have been a whirlwind.

The 11 days at the top of Sani Pass was certainly a unique experience. One thing's for sure: from it I learned that bucket-washing's not my thing... particularly in average daily temps of 5 deg Celcius. I'd have killed for a hot shower.

Once down from Sani Top, I took so long in my first shower that I almost dissolved.

We're now in the scenic town of Ruhpolding, where our race will start on Saturday. It's quiet and quaint, with every second shop a coffee shop or bakery, which suits us just fine.
(This evening's most valuable discovery: Ferrero Rocher icecream. OMG!)

Today we took the cable car up to the top of Rauschberg, Ruhpolding's local peak - not notably high (1645m) but with dramatic panoramic views of more than 600 alpine peaks in the region. It even boasts its own touch of modern art - an enormous metal sculpture of "Adam's Hand" leering from the highest point. A little strange perhaps, but the locals seem to like it. (I'm not sure how well Capetonians would take to the idea of Adam's hand - or Eve's for that matter - waving gayly at the world from the top of Table Mountain...)

My "countdown to TransAlps" widget is starting to give me the jitters - there're less than 36 hours to go before Ryan and I start our TransAlpine Run.

I think I need another cappuccino, quick...

rockhoppin' the escarpment

2010-08-25T19:14:00.007+01:00

Crazy adventure photographer extraordinaire Kelvin Trautman kicked off his Durban beach slops to brave the chilly air up here earlier this week to take some great shots of Ryan (aka Mach1) and I on the very edge of the escarpment above the Sani Pass, doing what rockhoppers love to do.

Kelvin said he was disappointed he’d missed the snow.

We weren’t!

two nine and counting...

2010-08-20T11:17:00.005+01:00

Yesterday I learnt a new phrase – a rather astonishing one at that. But then, it’s American, so go figure! When something is absolutely brilliant, or really great, they say it’s “the shit”.

As opposed to when something’s awful, they say it’s really shitty.

So there I was, hauling up the Sani Pass in a 4x4, having made three unsuccessful attempts in a rather crochety Landrover the previous day, with two very enthusiastic American tourists and one polite Italian student, all travelling around SA on separate adventures. The pass was as winding and steep as I expected, but sadly we weren’t able to see the massive drop-off because the mist was so thick that in parts we had almost total white-out.

We took 50 bone-rattling minutes to drive the 8km from the SA border post to the top, and as we created the escarpment, we literally popped out from the wall of mist into clear blue sky and bright sunlight. It was spectacular.

And that’s when I heard it – “Hey man, this is The Shit!”

Ok, so we know they do things a little differently on that continent, but how can something so good be given such a terrible phrase??

“The Shit” or not, the top of the Sani Pass is incredible. And within 10 mins, the weather was proudly strutting its stuff... first mist, then drizzle, soon sleet, and by 5pm it was snowing. Overnight the temperature dropped to -13˚C. And this morning the landscape was draped in a soft white carpet of thick powder snow.

I’m here to get my lungs used to breathing thin air. Having done all my TransAlps training at sea level, there’s no doubt they’ll scream every time I run. Hopefully 12 days at 2 900m will see my system generating a whole crop of brand new red blood cells excited to hit the Alps!

From pole to pole

2010-08-09T09:50:00.001+01:00

Well, I’m happy to report I’m back running again... again. It feels good not to feel, for the first time in more than a month, that I’m not popping a lung every time I run uphill.

So, to celebrate I thought I’d take up pole dancing.

Alas, there’s nothing exotic or erotic about this kind of pole – sure, it involves dressing in lycra, looking rather flushed and doing a good deal of heavy breathing, but graceful I am not. In fact, when I’m at my pole, I look as ungainly as a tarantula on a tightrope, or one of George Lucas’s giant metal walkers off the set of Star Wars.

You see, this kind of pole dancing involves not one but two poles, and no saucy sliding or gyrating. These poles are handheld and have only one purpose: to get me up steep, winding alpine paths faster. There’s not a lot that’s sexy about that.

I’m still a beginner at this poling lark, and I have to say, I’m pretty bad at it. I’m told there’s a technique to it – it’s all about rhythm and flow. But right now my poling technique, if I can even call it that, is more about clumping along at negligible speed, splaying these lightweight sticks about in every direction and desperately trying to think about placement for four feet instead of two.

I’m told that, like riding a bicycle or learning to balance on ice skates, running effectively with poles is simply a matter of practice, and that it won’t be long before I’m “one with my poles”. I’ve got to hope so... so far I‘m a trail hazard with the things – tripping up Ryan won’t be the ideal way to try and keep up with him in the Alps.

So, if any of you have any handy tips about mastering the poling technique - or have any pole dancing tips to offer, feel free to make them known!

Snot without the trauma

2010-08-03T14:49:00.001+01:00

People say if you want something badly enough, you’ll make it happen. Put it out to the universe, believe with all your heart, do all the necessary groundwork to prepare for it, and it will be.

I do believe that, and I live by it. I believe positivity attracts good things, and that self-belief is the way forward. There’s no point dreaming about goals and hoping that by some flash of chance they’ll just happen. It takes hard work, determination, planning and a lot of perseverance to make those dreams real.

And often, the journey is not a smooth one – there’re often bumps and hiccups along the way. I’m in mid-bump at the moment: as I write this blog post, I’m just 31 days away from Day One of the biggest, most difficult and exciting physical challenge I’ve ever taken on, and somehow I’ve managed to pick up yet another %*# bug. Unlike a month ago this one’s just a head cold and there’s no coughing involved, but my nose is so bunged up that I feel I’ve forgotten what it’s like to breathe through it.

Noses aren’t the most attractive appendages at the best of times but right now mine could win awards – for size, colour... and contents (sorry).

My TransAlps partner Ryan Sandes, aka The Machine or Mach1 for short, is being ever-encouraging – it’s just a hiccup, he assures me, the legs will enjoy the rest... But truth be told, I’m terrified these legs have been so long off proper training that they’ve forgotten HOW to run up mountains. And in 31 days, they must see Mach1 and I safely through 8 days and 296km worth of the most mountainous terrain they’ve ever encountered, up 18 000m of ascent, and the same in descent – all without flinching.

For months we’ve prepared, we’ve planned, we’ve visualised our race. We both want to do our best – for ourselves, for each other, for our sponsors, for our loved ones and friends who’ve supported and encouraged us along the way. We all want this race.

And damn it, I’m not going to let a snotty nose get in the way!

“Racing teaches us to challenge ourselves. It teaches us to push beyond where we thought we could go. It helps us to find out what we’re made of. This is what we do. This is what it’s all about.” (Patti-Sue Plumer, US Olympian)

Hout Bay Trail Challenge 2010

2010-07-25T21:43:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was the annual running of my favourite race, the Hout Bay Trail Challenge. What makes it my favourite? That’s easy – it’s special: not only because it’s another reason (if I ever need another reason) to play on the beautiful mountains surrounding the valley of Hout Bay, but because it’s tough, really tough.

Just as running a fast Two Oceans is said to be more punishing than Comrades even though it’s 34km shorter, so the HBTC can be deceiving in its degree of difficulty. After all, it’s only 36km, so what’s the problem..?

Hah, if you ever hear those words said about the HBTC, you know the speaker knows less than nothing about it! Those who’ve tackled the race know that kilometre for kilometre, it’s the hardest race on the trail calendar. It’s not called a “challenge” for nothing!

Starting and finishing in the Hout Bay harbour, the route covers
2 224m of ascent and, of course, the same again in descent.

This year we scored incredible weather – and equally incredible winning times. The men’s record tumbled from 4:17 by 6 mins (Ake Fagereng in 4:11), and the women’s was smashed by an astounding 11 mins (Katya Soggot in 4:40).

And for the first time ever the race saw a sub-3:40 time grace its record books – the men’s team of speedster champs Ryan Scott, Mike Bailey and Ryan Sandes whizzed across the mountains in lightning time of 3:39, a full 27 mins faster than the previous men’s team record.

Now, that’s moving it!

Temporary delay over, now all systems go

2010-07-17T05:34:00.000+01:00

Isn’t it crazy how science has managed to work out how to split the atom, create stem cells, map the human genome, conduct surgery via remote control, and even possibly have achieved a vaccination for HIV... and yet there’s still no cure for the common cold.

And common it is – if anyone in the northern hemisphere is wondering where their flu bugs go during the summer, the answer’s simple: the lurgies fly south. Right now they’re visiting South Africa, pouncing on all who wants them least. We’re in the grips of a particularly chilly winter this year, and the flu bug seems to be spreading like wild fire. You don’t have to be Einstein to work out why colds were named as such!

This year the bug’s got a particularly snotty attitude. I think its first six months of training in the northern hemisphere must’ve made it especially grumpy, and now it’s determined to show us down here just how nasty it can be. Instead of a simple 3 - 5 day head cold, this year it’s knocking everyone for 6 to 10, and just as we think we’re over it and even think of heading out for a run, it bashes us again, just to be sure.

I’ve had 16 days of forced rest, compliments of the flu bug. Hopefully it’s thoroughly bored with me now and will find some other place to lurk – preferably under a rock somewhere so it doesn’t bother anyone else.

There’re 49 days to go before TransAlps. No time for lurgies – every day of training counts!

Dare to challenge

2010-07-05T04:44:00.000+01:00

“No one can say ‘you must not run faster than this, or jump higher than that.’ The human spirit is indomitable.”
(Sir Roger Bannister, first person to run a sub 4-min mile)

They say the greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do. There’re so many examples of that in running – of people who’ve set their goals higher than people have thought possible, and dared to achieve them.

Over the next while I’ll be profiling famous trail runners who’ve achieved seemingly impossible things and shown that by believing they could, they did.

Trail Champ profile: Ann Trason

2010-07-05T04:39:00.003+01:00

Born in 1960, Trason is an American ultramarathon runner from California. Her racing career spanned two decades, and during that time she smashed 20 world records.

She’s most well known for her dominance of the Western States 100-Mile Endurance Run, said to be amongst the world’s toughest ultramarathons for its extreme temperatures and an infamous 526m climb at the 74km mark. Interestingly, she didn’t finish her first two attempts at the race – in 1987 she dropped out because of knee problems, and the following year from dehydration. But in 1989 she finished and won, and did so for the next 9 years. She has won Western States 14 times in all, most recently in 2003, and still holds the women’s course record of 17:37:51, which she set in 1994.

Trason’s obsession with the Western States 100-Miler was born from her passion for trails: “I just immediately fell in love with it. I’ve always felt protected by trails – all trails, but Western States in particular.” (Trason, 2001)

Inspired by Alberto Salazar’s Comrades Marathon victory in 1994, Trason attempted her first Comrades in 1995 but withdrew at Drummond, suffering the effects of a viral infection. Said to be devastated and embarrassed by her “failure”, she returned in 1996 and won Comrades, setting a new record for the up run (6:13:23) – a time that would only be broken 10 years later by Elana Nurgalieva.

Then, just 12 days after her ’96 Comrades victory, she travelled halfway around the world and crossed nine time zones to score her 8th Western States win.

She did the same the following year: despite surgery on a persistent hamstring injury in November 1996, followed by a strict three months of recuperation and rehab, she returned to competition in May 1997 and repeated her Comrades victory of the year before in just 5:58. Her win made her the second woman ever to finish in under 6:00, just four minutes outside Frith van der Merwe’s course record.

And then again, just 12 days later, she scooped another Western States win.

In 1998 Trason established another landmark – she won five 100-mile trail races in 14 weeks: in June, the Western States in 18:46; in July, the Vermont 160km Endurance Run in 17:11; in August, the Leadville Trail 100-Mile Race in 20:58; and in September and October, the Wasatch and Arkansas 100-Mile Runs, thereby winning the Grand Slam of ultrarunning.

Course records

6:09:08 – American River 50 mile

6:13:23 – Comrades Marathon 90km

3:59:32 – Cool Canyon Crawl 50km

7:31:24 – Firetrails 50 mile (1987)

6:13:54 – Hunter Thompson 50 mile

18:06:24 – Leadville Trail 100 women's record (3rd overall in 1994)

8:55:49 – Miwok 100km Trail Race (2001)

6:43:00 – Quicksilver 50 mile

7:29:36 – Silver State 50 mile

22:27:10 – Wasatch Front 100 mile

17:37:51 – Western States 100 mile (1994)

7:00:47 – World 100km (1995)

No time? It's the lamest excuse of all!

2010-06-20T21:30:00.000+01:00

Those lines: “Gee, I really wish I could start running... but I just don’t have time...”

We’ve all heard it said, and we’ve all chuckled.

But sometimes I hear it said with such sincerity that I struggle to laugh it off – and I marvel that the person saying it actually believes it.

I wonder if they think that we runners run because we’ve got bags of free time on our hands?? As if we’ve got nothing else to do, so hey, let’s take up running!

Over the years I’ve come across so many runners who, in a determined effort to fit in their training, juggle their time to make sure they do their daily – or three times weekly, whatever it may be – trot. And ironically, it’s often runners who have the busiest schedules of all.

I know of mums who refuse to be restricted by wet nappies and Baby’s yodelling by simply popping said Baby into stroller and dashing out for a speedy 5km zip around the neighbourhood.

I’ve met high-powered business people who could say they don’t have the time or the energy to run, but instead prioritise their lunch hours for a session on the treadmill or a city run in the sun.

Then there was the couple who, finding themselves stuck for two days in a foreign airport during a host of airline industry strikes, helped to pass the time by doing twice-daily 8km runs back and forth along the highway to the airport.

And the good friend of mine who has to travel to London on business every month for five days at a time – rather than bemoan the fact that most of the time the temperature in the UK is way too damn cold to run in, and that her busy work schedule wouldn’t allow it anyway, she simply sets her alarm clock astonishingly early each morning while she’s there, pulls on all her winter woollies and heads out for her 10km run through the business heart of London in the pre-dawn darkness.

I once met a marine biologist who was training for his first marathon. He’d built up from zero fitness to marathon level over a period of eight steady months, despite having to spend six of those months on a research vessel based on Dassen Island. How did he manage to train? Some days he ran around the boat, and other times he ran round and round Dassen Island – much to the utter amazement of the penguins!

Time is a relative thing. It’s always in short supply. But it’s how you use it that determines what you get from it.

And if we want something badly enough, we’ll make the time to do it.

So the next time you hear someone telling you how they’d sooo LOVE to start running but they just don’t have the time, know that it’s actually nothing to do with time at all... the truth is simply that they just don’t WANT to start running.

And that’s their loss.

wild and wet Western Cape

2010-06-15T21:34:00.003+01:00

Winter in southern Africa is the dry season – several months of cloudless blue-grey hazy skies stretched over vast expanses of veldt, all shades of textured browns and golds, dusty roads winding into forever and thick, burnt-orange sunsets seeing dusk turn to night.

< ...heavy stuff, I know, but bear with me... >

But the Western Cape is not that same Africa. It’s very much its own Africa – still wild, still harsh, but completely different from the rest of the continent. In winter the Western Cape blossoms – it glows in soft, wet abundance in as many shades of green and gold as the rest of the continent has ochres and browns.

Winter officially arrived in the Western Cape in May. At least that’s what the newspapers told us. But winter really arrived this past weekend, and in no half measures. An icy cold front moved across the peninsula on Saturday, tearing temperatures down to single figures and sending our World Cup tourists shivering for their waterproofs.

But while roadies run for cover when winter hits, trail runners welcome trail season! Sure, we run trails all year round, but for Kaapies true trail happens in winter. For us real trail means mist and rain, sloshing through puddles, slipping on moss-covered rocks, and picking our way carefully up what the rains have made into rivers.

It’s wet, it’s wild and it’s true Cape trail.
Here’re a few photos I took on my run this afternoon - the mountain is gushing waterfalls where just last week there wasn't even water :-)

footie fever!

2010-06-11T12:34:00.001+01:00

World Cup 2010 is finally upon us - today's the day!

There're so much excitement here in South Africa, there's exuberance on every street corner and the place is rocking! If ever there was a day when I'd become more excited about soccer than trail running, then today's that day.

And to try and put the energy South Africans have today into words is not something I'd be able to do even half as well as a good friend of mine did this morning. So, I know he won't mind if I crib his words - I just think he put it in a nutshell:

"Goooooooooooal-isimo! No more sleeps! It's finally here! The greatest spectacle in world sport is upon us and the country's bursting with excitement! Vuvuzelas, guguzelas, kuduzelas, gorgonzolas, makarapas, diski dance, flags fluttering wildly, exuberantly, passionately, from every location imaginable - street poles, buildings, buses, cars, taxis, bikes, trolleys, dustbins, caps, hats - the heartbeat of a miracle nation! What a sight to behold, experience, enjoy and embrace!

Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaduuuuuuuuuuma!"

Thanks Marcel! (",)

Today, more than ever, is a day to be Proudly South African!

What's not possible?

2010-06-03T21:45:00.002+01:00

I read a quotation today that grabbed me. That’s what great quotations are meant to do, sure, but some just don’t crack it. For me, this one did:

“Unless a man undertakes more than he possibly can do, he will never do all that he can.”

It got me thinking about the barriers we build, and the limitations that we all set ourselves. So many things are said to be not just out of reach but not humanly possible. And yet so often these are merely boundaries we set ourselves. The breaking of the four-minute mile was a classic example – for years it was thought to be an impossible feat... until 1954 when Roger Bannister achieved it with his 3:59.40. Since then his record has been shattered time and time again – it’s now almost 17 seconds quicker than Bannister’s time, on 3:43.13. How fast can the mile really be run?

So really, what is impossible? Or rather, what isn’t possible?

Well, how’s this for mind-boggling: Kilian Jornet, a young Spaniard from Catalonia, is a running freak – he’s proving that the impossible can be shattered, and that there should be no such word. This week he’s achieving something that’s never been attempted before – simply because no one ever thought it possible. He’s running the length of the Pyrenees mountain range, from the Altantic to the Mediterranean. That’s 700km of distance, some 40 000m of climbing, and his challenge is to achieve this in just 7 days.

The fastest this has ever been done before has been 12 days. Impossible? He’ll prove not.

Who is this guy? Kilian’s a Spanish ski mountaineer, an ultra-distance trail runner (no, dah..), a mountain biker and duathlete. He’s a three-time champion of the Skyrunner World Series (2007-09) and twice winner of the Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc (2008/09).

And he’s just 23 years old.

So if you’re not already following Kilian on his quest across the Pyrenees, best you hop on quick to http://kilianjornet.blogspot.com/2009/04/kilians-quest.html before he beats you to it. He'll be finishing on June 6th.

Trans-Alps: 99 days and counting

2010-05-28T08:22:00.001+01:00

Today is the start of my 99-day countdown to the biggest challenge I’ve ever taken on. From Sept 4 – 11 I’ll be competing in the Trans-Alpine Run, a 296km 8-day stage race through the German, Austrian and Italian Alps.

The race will be extreme – not so much because of the terrain it’ll cover, the altitude it’ll be run at, or the 18 000m in altitude I’ll have to haul myself up over the duration of the race, but because of its toughest test: my partner in this two-person team event will be world champ ultra-distance trail running champion Ryan Sandes.

They call him the Sandman, for his astonishing ability to run at speed through extreme desert conditions. But he’s also sloshed his way at high pace for 7 days through the Amazon Jungle and won. And I’ve seen him run up a rocky path that’s barely visible and make it look easy. Forget Sandman – this man’s a Speed Machine!

For eight days I’ll be chasing a time machine up alpine mountains, over glaciers and snow-covered shale slides, across rock faces and down valleys, competing against 62 other mixed teams in the hope of a podium finish. We’ll be running at an average altitude of 2 600m, which will be tough for us both as we live at sea level. The scenery will be incredible... although I doubt I’ll get to see much of that!

Ryan and l will be competing as Team Salomon / Velocity Sports Lab, named after our two amazing sponsors without whom we’d still only be dreaming of doing the race. This is an opportunity few people come by, and it’ll be a tremendous experience.

So I’m in boot camp for the next three months. And if I have any hope of keeping up with the Speed Machine, best I sign off right now and get running up mountains!

Check out the race info by clicking on Trans-Alpine Run 2010 flyer

Happy weekend running!

Tribute to Tenzing

2010-05-26T15:48:00.001+01:00

Meet my informal running partner, Tenzing.

And yes, he takes after his sherpa namesake – not that he carries anything, of course, but he hungers for heights. When I got him as a six-week pup in 2004, I promised him a lifetime of adventure, and he snatched up the offer as he would a juicy chunk of biltong.
He’s the most enthusiastic running partner imaginable, game for a trot any time of day or night, and even more so if there’re puddles on the route. He’s a sharp little guy – not only is he able to distinguish between normal clothes and running kit, but road running shoes and trail shoes. Give him the option, and he’ll head for the mountains faster than even I can turn from tar.
Those of you who’ve not formally met him might be wondering what type of dog my Tenzing is. Well, that’s a tricky one... Officially, he’s a purebred Staffie. But someone forgot to tell him that, and he focused all his growth on length rather than breadth. The result was a rather unique blend of Staffie Wannabe with a-bit-of-beagle and a-dash-of-something-else.
Who cares – he’s my purebred Happy Dog, and he's the best running partner on four legs!

Catch Ryan Sandes on Carte Blanche this Sunday

2010-05-21T10:27:00.003+01:00

Ever dreamed of being able to catch speedster Ryan Sandes, South Africa's very own world champ ultra-distance off-road endurance runner? Now's your chance - and from the comfort of your couch! Tune in to Carte Blanche on Sunday night - Ryan will be speaking about his last two wins, the Jungle Marathon and the Atacama Crossing, and his next challenge in the 4Deserts Series, Antarctica.

Running the World - east to west, north to south

2010-05-13T09:56:00.004+01:00

Published in Runner's World, May issue

On March 15th I had the privilege of running 58km with a Nutter. And a world famous Nutter, to boot.

Definition of a Nutter: Someone who is completely and utterly beyond any chance of return to normality, and who is this way voluntarily. The achievement of Nutter status is the ultimate quest, the Holy Grail, for an ultra-distance runner – after all, who wants normality anyway?

The honourable Nutter was none other than Danish ultra-marathon legend Jesper Olsen, who that day was completing the African leg of his challenge to run around the world – not for the first but the second time. (Let’s face it, once you’ve been the first person to run 26 000km across the world east to west, isn’t it the obvious challenge to run another 46 000km, conquering it north to south?)

Jesper’s incredible achievement will be the world’s longest fully GPS-documented run by a long shot (he already holds the record from his World Run I, 2004 - 2005). On top of that, when we reached the Cape of Good Hope that day, Jesper became the first person to run from the northernmost point of Europe to the southwest tip of Africa, and the first to run the length of the African continent.

World Run II began on 1 July 2008 in Nordkapp, Norway, 500km within the Arctic Circle. In 20 months Jesper ran through Norway, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Mozambique, Swaziland and South Africa, reaching his halfway mark of 21 450km at the Cape of Good Hope.

He has crossed tundra and deserts, passed through cities and rural villages, run on highways and jungle paths, and slogged through extreme temperatures from -10˚C to 55˚C. And so far he’s gone through 28 pairs of running shoes.

Every step of the way has been covered live via the cellphone GPS Jesper carries, and thousands of people around the globe have watched his progress via his regular uploads of photos, video clips and daily blogs on his website.

Now halfway on his journey, Jesper has returned to Denmark for a few months to recharge his batteries and undergo a thorough health check before tackling the remaining 21 000km, which will take him from the southernmost tip of Chile, through Argentina, Paraguay, Brazil, Venezuela, Cuba, Mexico, USA, to the northernmost tip of Canada.

Running at a steady 5:30 - 6min/km pace, Jesper covers between 32 and 50km a day, depending on climatic and road conditions. So far, rest days have been rare – usually about once a month and even then, only due to unforeseen circumstances: like in March 2009 during riots in Khartoum, Sudan, or on the day before his final leg in Africa, because he’d have been mown down en route to Cape Point by 25 000 cyclists riding the Argus Cycle Tour!

Apart from the first 9 000km of World Run II, which girlfriend Australian fellow ultra-marathoner Sarah Barnett ran with him, Jesper has tackled much of the feat by running alone. A support vehicle – either driven by volunteer helpers along the way or, in more remote areas like the Sudan, by a paid driver – provides him with snacks and drinks every 5km. Alternatively, Jesper pushes a robust baby stroller carrying his provisions, which when fully laden weighs a hefty 40kg. As Jesper says, it’s great on the downhills but murder on the ups!

Depending where he finds himself at the end of each day, Jesper either sleeps in his small lightweight tent on the roadside or, if he’s lucky, in the home of a friendly local family. (South African running clubs did us proud – Jesper told me our country has the most hospitable, enthusiastic runners in the world, and every night he was hosted in a runner’s home or B&B, enjoyed a hot meal and a comfortable sleep!)

What motivates someone to push himself so incredibly hard? For Jesper there are several drivers: besides the competitive urge to be the first to achieve a seemingly impossible goal, there’s the fascination for experiencing different cultures and seeing how other people live – not through the eyes of a tourist, interestingly, but as a person on foot, passing through villages, living simply and interacting directly with the local, “real” people in each country.

With a political science background, Jesper is constantly aware of what he refers to as the “top down” approach, and how it influences our attitudes and expectations of a country. He says that in reality, this theoretical view is completely out of touch.

In his blog he writes: “As a world runner you see the world from the bottom up – the true perspective of everyday life as the people experience it. I’ve learned that my heroes are not the politicians or media celebrities, but the everyday people I see and meet across the world.”

Planning a feat of this magnitude took two full years of focused logistical and mental preparation. Starting with an idea of how to tackle the route, Jesper researched the political, climatic and topographic conditions of every country. He also analysed previous attempts at world runs, and why they failed.

As for the physical preparation needed, Jesper has more than 23 years of competitive running in his legs. Jesper’s running pedigree is amongst the finest: he ran his first marathon aged 15, and has a marathon PB of a tidy 2:27.

After some years of elite marathon racing, he moved onto the 24-hour track race, before finding his favourite: the 6-day track race. He has run, and won, three 6-day races, including the George Archer 6-day race in Johannesburg in 2008. His 6-day track PB was in France: 780km.

“Only years of running can prepare the body for a feat like a world run, pounding day after day, month after month, constantly for more than two years. But it’s not only about physical fitness, it’s about one’s mental approach too. Contrary to what people think, you have to be good at not pushing your body to the limit. It’s about listening to your body and respecting the signals it gives back,” says Jesper.

Jesper obviously gets it right: in more than 47 000km of almost daily running, Jesper has not had a single running-related injury.

Ironically, the only injury he has suffered has been to his right arm. As a result of complications after tripping on volcanic rocks in northern Kenya and cutting open his elbow, Jesper has endured three bouts of septicaemia and blood poisoning. He even underwent emergency surgery to his arm in Dar es Salaam, after a passing expedition doctor warned that he was likely to lose his arm to gangrene if not operated on urgently.

Other health hindrances along the journey have been malaria and dysentery.

“I had dysentery every couple of weeks through East Africa. I’d get fever and throw up a lot, but after two or three days I was always fine. I didn’t let it stop me running each day – I just made sure I drank more fluids.”

Simplicity is key for Jesper. He does not rely on sports gels, fancy supplements or smart gadgets to help him run the world. Instead he snacks constantly – health food’s out, junk food’s in: Snickers Bars, M&M’s, pizza and choccie biscuits are amongst his favourites, washed down by a wide assortment of fizzy drinks.

I asked Jesper the inevitable question: what’s next after he’s run the world twice over? Ah, he chuckled, there’s always something bigger to achieve next!
I wonder. Maybe a third time... diagonally?

ROUTE FOR WORLD RUN II
Norway, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria, Jordan, Egypt, Sudan, Ethiopia, Kenya, Tanzania, Mozambique, Swaziland and South Africa (halfway), followed by Chile, Argentina, Paraguay, Brazil, Venezuela, Cuba, Mexico, USA and Canada.

MAIN SPONSORS FOR WORLD RUN II
• International shoe manufacturer ECCO (main financial sponsor)
• Mobile technology company LifePilot (covers all his GPS and cellular communications)
• Themcom (handle the live updates for the website www.worldrun.org)
• ABC Kids (provide the stroller)
• Oase Outdoors (provided tent)

African not-so Xtreme

2010-05-09T16:19:00.003+01:00

It’s taken a lot of convincing on the part of Trail&Techno James, architect of GoTrail., to get me blogging. I’ve resisted for ages – after all, who ever reads these things, I asked him, who has time to read someone’s waffles about their day, their traffic moans, who they think will win the soccer, and so on. But James can nag well. And here I am, writing my first blog. A scary thought, at first, but then, by my own protestations, no one reads these things anyway so I shouldn’t worry.

In my blog I won’t be whingeing about traffic, politics, economics or how sweet little Johnny’s first day at nursery school was. I’m here to talk about trail running – my thoughts, muses, and really anything about everything to do with trail running. Like so many of us, trail running is my passion – I love it, I want to run trails forever. Right, enough rambling, I promised not to waffle. That’s the only rule.

I’ve just come back from competing in AfricanX, the three-day trail run set in the mountains around Kleinmond. Today should be Day 3 of the race. Today was the day that my partner, Tatum Prins, and I had planned to put the finishing touches to our strategy and win the Open Ladies category. But alas, Day 3 didn’t happen. Instead the weather gods moved in and took charge. In the early hours of this morning, a predicted storm lashed the Western Cape and convinced the race organisers that, for safety’s sake, the race should be called off. At 6am everyone was up and getting ready, pulling on their warmest technical gear and preparing for what we trail runners do, when the SMS came through: the final day was cancelled, the race was over, and prizegiving will take place in CT in two weeks time. It must have been a difficult call for the organisers to make. After all, they’d put so much time and effort into the planning and execution of the race, they had doubled last year’s field, and all had gone well so far. And then this, something quite out of their control. They’d made the call, the race was off. But nature plays nasty tricks: within the hour, the rain softened, the wind eased off and the sky cleared to overcast. The race, which at been due to start at 8am, could’ve actually gone ahead as planned.

There’re many disappointed trail runners in the Western Cape today. So many have unfinished business with the race. Some were contending for top spots in the categories, and needed today to pull out all the stops and clinch their positions. Many were excited to be completing their first stage race. Others had demons lurking from last year’s race that they needed to conquer. Many had been holding back, waiting to give the final day horns. For all of us, whether relieved or restless, there is disappointment – we didn’t finish our race... our African not-so “Xtreme”.

I suppose I have to say it: isn’t running in all conditions exactly what trail running is about? Battling the elements is a large part of our sport, and hey, if we’re not tough enough to handle rain and wind, we shouldn’t be calling ourselves trail runners.

And so the event is over, but the race is unfinished. Tatum & I feel we won our category without crossing the finish line. We can't help but wonder if we'd still have won if we'd run today's leg, or might we have been pipped at the post by yesterday’s chasers? I guess that's something we’ll never know.

Ryan & Cas had just 60 secs to make up to put them just ahead of their rivals, which would've placed them 2nd overall. Again, unfinished business.

All those runners with demons from last year's race will have to keep them in check for another 12 months. And let’s hope that in 2011 we can come back and all achieve our goals, come rain, sleet or snow.

That’s me for now. Happy trailing!