164. Next Up - 300km Ultramarathon

In 1 week from now I will be running 300km over 6 days... 'How do you run 300km?'

Well, in my 50th year, and after 9 months of running training after 6 months on injury and rehab, this is the Mother of all Endurance Challenges that I can conceive I'm ever likely to take on... and I'm about to find out what it takes!

It's a challenge I had to defer from last year due to injury from completing 100k. And now I get to go 3x as far. Next week begins the culmination of the last few years of this journey, which I started out on 3 years ago when I started this blog. Back then I had no idea I'd ever be bold (or stupid) enough to give something this big a go. I couldn't even run 100 yards when I started this whole journey.

300k is simply an inconceivable distance to go on your feet in such a short time (just 6 days). And to do it in one of the most remote and unpredictable weather-laden locations in the British Isles, during stormy season, is hard to imagine. I literally have no idea what this is going to be like...

...Or do I? I've completed over 1000 miles of running this year alone, as well as tens of hours on the bike, and many many sessions of rehab/prehab for long term injuries. I can 'trust in the training' (a personal mantra that is helping me get through this).

My aerobic base is considerable now. I'm highly fat adapted and I'm leaner, fitter and stronger than I have been for many years. The hours, days, weeks, months (and now years) of: effort, development, testing, failing, learning have brought me here. The way I eat, the way I sleep, the way I breathe, has all changed radically. When I add it all together it has been a remarkable shift and quite hard to get my head around.

This post is, in part, to remind myself of all of what I've put in so far. The months of running and walking in pain, and constantly coming down stairs sideways (no joke, but this is at least for 5/7 days per week).

The Winter training out in the mud and the rain. The heatstroke and heat exhaustion in summer; the hill training; the tiredness; the winter 5am runs; the lonely 20k long runs. The failures; the blisters; the endless supply of KT tape to hold my ankle together... They all serve to remind me of the level of commitment I have given to this endeavour. I have prepared for this. It's easy to let the fear of the unknown overwhelm me. 'Have I done enough?' Is a frequent question. It's just so big. I can do little more, physically, than I already have in order to be ready for this. Especially in the time I had to do so from where I started out (if you can ever be really ready for something like this for the first time). And, while positive psychology is powerful, reality has to set in.

For all the chest-beating bravado you'll hear from motivational speakers, it's NEVER easy to simply visualise success and then expect it to manifest and drive us. That's just not enough.

Overcoming challenge is about consistent effort, work, commitment, learning, adapting and sacrifice...The stuff most books and podcasts don't tell you about, and what it really takes. It's never easy, and we all start from different starting points on our journeys through our own personal challenges and circumstances.

As far as starting points go, mine's a doozy. I had injuries to fix, fitness to build, strength to accumulate, weight to lose, lessons to learn, fears to overcome, a family to support, a business to deliver for, and so much more in my personal life to contend with. Yet here I am.

All the positive self talk in the world can only take you so far when odds are stacked against you. What gets you through all of that, to simply reach the starting line of venturing into the unknown, is accepting the discomfort necessary in order to evolve... then getting off your ass and doing what needs to be done. Even when it feels a bit shit. I've pictured completing this event ten different ways. From crossing the finish with a big grin and arms outstretched, striding gloriously in slow motion to applause and hugs (very f*cking unlikely, but is the stock banal advice from many an internet self-help guru)...

... to crawling across it on my hands and knees, bleeding from my feet, and sobbing into the mud (most likely, btw).

When you accept the worst case scenario, it empowers you and frees you from fearing it. You simply visualise how you will still keep going when the suffering sets in so you know what to do when the shit-fest strikes. The thing is, that when I think about this challenge (and as scary as it is), I can only see myself finishing. Yes it may not be fast, or pretty, but I have not once pictured myself quitting when it gets hard.

Now... circumstances are unpredictable, of course... and over such a distance, there is an endless list of things that can (and often do) go wrong (I've had a couple of Ultra DNFs to show this fact)... but, I genuinely believe I can complete this based on the things I can control, and with the Trail Gods smiling upon me. There's plenty that is out of my control (weather, serious injury, accidents, meteor impact), but I can't fear that or worry about it. It's out of my hands and I'll simply deal with it as best I can if/when/as it happens.

The reality is that, for quite some time now, I've been very stoic in my mindset for this challenge. I accept that this is going to be monstrous for me, and have visualised many problems that I can control should they unfold. The biggest thing is learning that I've accepted the pain that is inevitable.

Pain is something I'm familiar with since starting this journey. Pain running, pain standing, pain sleeping. I have experienced enough the last three years to accept it when it comes and still keep moving. I've researched endlessly and taken significant strides to help mitigate it; but, above all, I've accepted it.

Really though, It's not a challenge until it hurts. That's not macho bravado. It's just a fact. When it hurts it means you are on the edge of what your body is capable of. It is where you harden so that you can endure even more, and go even further. Resilience is built only when you are uncomfortable, and I have been uncomfortable for a very long time now. It is lonely, it is motivation sapping, but it is temporary and it is mine. It too shall pass... and when it does I will be stronger for it. I've worked so bloody hard that I know I am able to endure more.

Why?

So why am I doing this? There will be some people, who think they know me, who might assume this is one of those things where I'm doing it to 'prove' something to the world, or to gain attention / bragging rights, etc. If that was the case I'd be instagram'ing the shit out of it, getting this website optimised for views, twittering about the epic'ness of my efforts, etc.

No.

That has nothing to do with what's driving me to tackle this.

This is about my family. This about the charity. This about me learning what else is possible.

I've written this post largely as a reminder to me of all I have gone through on this journey so far.

It's easy to forget months and years of discomfort, only to just be at the start of something big. So much of this work is and will be unseen by most (a bit like this blog, LOL). There will be no crowd lined streets, just sheep and hairy cows happily grazing away.

There will be no squads of people handing out drinks and gels, just a van with my bag of stuff in it. There will be no friends or family to hug me at the finish line, just the other crazy few who are doing this challenge with me. Most of the people who know me have little idea what I'm really doing here, thinking it's just a long walk/run. And I'm very ok with that. But people who don't see the real reasons behind all this don't really factor in what I'm doing, as it's not about them. My family and close friends are what's most important to see me take on something like this. If anyone else who reads this gets a benefit from this blog, then that is a huge bonus, as there was no roadmap for people like me when I started on this. When my son and daughter get overwhelmed with their own challenges, what I am doing can serve to remind them that they are not alone in their struggles. I've chosen something VFH (very fucking hard) to show a step by step journey of how a normal person can go so much further than they first thought was possible, starting from a place where it seems genuinely farcical to even suggest doing something so difficult. I've chosen to show those who really know me and care about me, as well as any of you who might follow my story, that it's OK to hurt; and that there is a way through it if you trust in the process and commit to taking it step by step. That even when you think you are done, on your ass, and out, there is more fight left in you... because there is, and the only way you get to learn that is by going beyond where you see your current limits as being.

This is what it's all about. Will it inspire them? I can't say for sure. I hope, one day, it will. I wrote this blog to record for them what it's like to move forward when it's really difficult. I wrote it in the hope that at some point they can benefit in seeing there is a roadmap to progress. Even when the odds are stacked against them. ...And already I am seeing the signs that this could be the case.

My daughter, at just 15 years old!, completed an ultramarathon this year and I KNOW that would not have happened without seeing me taking on this journey and challenge, with everything it entails. That achievement was the hardest thing she's done in her young life and shown her so much more about what she can endure to push beyond her perceived limits.

My son (11), with self esteem through the floor, is now a committed club swimmer who trains 4 times a week and is waking up to more of what's possible in everything he is doing (and is now winning!). He is turning himself around and is growing in confidence gained from working hard. Accountable to himself for showing up, even when he doesn't fancy it. My wife, not wanting me to hog all the suffer-fest action, took on the hardest 35km trail challenge she could have picked over here, when she ran the toughest stretch of the Jurassic Coast with her friend, and now wants to do an ultramarathon next year. She is a machine, who is hard-wired for hard work but is also overcoming her own self-doubts by going further than she's ever been.

These are a few examples where this particular journey of mine may have had an influence on raising the bar and stretching the horizon of what's possible for those I love the most. That leaves me blessed, no matter where the end of this particular journey sees me. These are the stories I see that make this worthwhile. This is why I'm making a record of what I'm doing. To show those who care enough about me that they can reach for more than where they are today, and that it's ok for it to hurt along the way. All you need to do is 'show up' and do so daily.

I'm incredibly grateful and proud that they are pushing beyond their current comfort zones and setting new limits; and it is my greatest success of all to know I had a hand in showing them more of what's possible through doing this. What we do has knock on effects. I want mine to be positive for those around me, and it'd be nice to know they will always remember this part of me. The Charity is another key part of this. The more that what I do is seen, the more funds I can raise. My wife had cancer, my friend recently lost his wife to it, I have an old school friend battling it now, along with a family friend who's had it return after 5 years of being Cancer free. I've lost family through it, and I'm certain that anyone reading this will have been affected in some way. Support from our health service is dwindling, and rates of cancer are rising. It's just awful, but you can help make a difference. Please do click here (or the Cancer Research logo below) if you'd like to donate to Cancer Research UK in support of this charity and my efforts.

Final words (for now) Finish or not, my real success has already been achieved through this journey. I've fixed so many things from a point of significant decline and well past my prime. This, at a time of life when so much else can go wrong with physical and mental health and when life's real pressures of work, kids, parents, kids are coming at you non stop.

Through this story my mind, my health, and my body are better than they have been in a long time. I can feel the difference that my commitment to this process has had. It has impacted everything from work to my children, and that's because I choose 'hard' in a world that mostly chooses 'easy'. That's where the growth comes. I chose the Big Hairy Audacious Goal to test myself with, and have taken so many steps towards it. For this, I am more grateful than I can express. Is 300km in 6 days possible for me right now? Sure, if things go my way... though it's not what really matters. Not really. The success that matters most has already been accomplished, because success isn't in the destination, it's in the journey to getting there.

I'm already winning having turned so much of my life around. A luxury that sadly so many can't enjoy right now, and one that I do not take lightly, given how hard it has been to do.

All I'm faced with next is the question I'm about to answer...

'How does anyone run 300km?

The answer is pretty simple (but most certainly it is NOT easy)... 'By doing so one step at a time...'

I'm unlikely to post on the blog again now until after the challenge. My brain is unlikely to work very well, and my moods will swing wildly. I'm about to go into pack-attack-mode, as there is a huge amount of organising to do ahead of when I fly next week to Glasgow, and then make the road and ferry journey to Castlebay in the Outer Hebrides. Time to get focused and put my war face on.

...And it's time to get into the fight. See you on the other side...

Thanks for reading.

Appendix:

The Isles Ultra - The Outer Hebrides, Scotland - Some stats for you:

Approx 301km

6 days (60 hours on trail)

Elevation gain - 17,000 feet

Approx 1/2 million steps

Calories burned - approx 9000 per day (54,000 over the 6 days)

Avg daily temp - 10C

Weather - all of it... (i.e. wet, windy, sunny, cloudy)

Surface - Road, moorland, rock, sand, trail, woods

Day running distances (approx)

Day 1: 59km

Day 2: 58km

Day 3: 37km

Day 4: 49km

Day 5: 49km

Day 6: 47km

Travel from London to Glasgow / Glasgow to Tyndrum / Tyndrum to Oban / Ferry from Oban to Castlebay (then in reverse to get home)