Pre-Ultra thoughts

I’ve done the final runs of the training plan – it requires just 7km this week (or 107km if you include the ultra itself). The first 7km has gone OK – the remaining 100km is in the lap of the Gods.

I’ve (unwisely) been thinking about Saturday’s 100km. It’s rather daunting – not least because a young chap I know (a vastly superior runner – in the sense of ‘I am not fit to tie the laces to his trainers’) – took over 17 hours for one last month.

I hope you’ll forgive me if I get a bit technical here, but my experience tells me that a marathon is ‘a very long way’ to run. Similarly, last year I discovered that a 50km ultra marathon is ‘even further’. That means that Saturday’s 100km ultra is, officially, ‘twice as far as even further than a very long way’.

I hope that I haven’t lost anyone in the detail.

I’ve (sort of) done the training. I front-end loaded it because I was already running further than the plan required in the early weeks – but I’ve missed out on some of the more recent very long runs (yes, the really important bits of the training). That means that, although my mileage over the 20 weeks is above the plan, I’ve probably not done enough really long stuff.

Coupled with the recent major hiccup with ITB issues, that leaves me unsure of what to expect. I doubt that the training plan was written with old folks like me in mind – but I like to think that age is an advantage because of the added maturity it brings (what’s that I can hear – is it whistling in the dark?).

I fear that running on maturity might not be as useful as running on young legs, at the 75km point.

My wife is driving me the 40 miles to the start, before going to see Bananarama in concert in London. No, it’s not true that I’m only doing the ultra to avoid that concert but that is a side benefit, I’ll admit.

My friend and training companion (who would have been running with me, had it not been for a ligament problem in his ankle that’s only just improved) has (way beyond kindly) volunteered to be my support crew on the day. I feel bad that my start time of 8:10am means that my friend will be collecting me from the finish rather late … assuming I make it to the finish … and assuming I don’t take so long that collection turns out to be mid-morning on Sunday.

This doubt is rather familiar territory – I thought I probably was going to be able to do the Cinglés du Mont Ventoux back in 2015 but I was very worried about the everesting in 2017, the solo, unsupported, ride out to the alps in 2018 and the 50km ultra last year.

As it turned out, I completed those challenges, but those worries are going to turn out to be well founded at some point as I age and push myself physically. This could be the step (or several thousand steps) too far.

On Saturday, I suppose I’m going to find out if this challenge is the straw that breaks the camel’s back – is this the challenge that proves that determination and bloody-mindedness are not always enough?

Two apposite African wise words for this post:

• A feeble effort will not fulfill the self
• To try and to fail is not laziness