First week in India (no running)

So I’ve been in India a week now and it’s time to reflect. 

 Getting through immigration was a joke as the fingerprinting machines just weren’t working properly and I got off lightly with only about five failed attempts per hand.

I set out for the city quite soon. I was surprised how busy everywhere was at this time of night. The driver couldn’t find the hotel. He got me to find it online but that didn’t help, then he tried to phone them without success. He went and asked a group of rickshaw drivers for directions and eventually I spotted the sign across the road. The man on the front desk woke up with a jolt when I walked in. I was dead tired as it was 3am on my body clock, but he insisted I look at two rooms to choose between them (and of course the lift wasn’t working properly); neither were very nice. Later I noticed dead cockroaches on the floor, mothballs in the basin (this is an Indian custom), no toilet paper, and a view of a grimy wall.

In the morning I ordered breakfast at the hotel before remembering I had no Indian money. It didn’t seem to matter. Maybe it was included.

I walked around the dusty streets for a while checking out local restaurants for future reference. There were heaps. Then I went by taxi to the race expo which was an hour away. The driver told me there was a big marathon in Mumbai tomorrow but he didn’t understand when I said I was doing it, and nor did he understand I was going to the race expo as he was somehow reluctant to follow the street signs to the expo that I noticed when we got close.

I didn’t do much apart from eat and nap, and walk around those traffic filled dusty streets looking for a route to get to the race start. It was hot.

I reflected after arrival that India may have changed more than the West since I’d last been here in 1983. That was mainly because everyone is on their phones all the time. And there are lots of cars that aren’t relics of the sixties. It’s an illusion of Westernization. After week here I’m not so convinced that much has changed in a fundamental way. This morning at breakfast at my hotel in Bikaner the waiter asked how Australia was different and I was at a loss to explain, muttering about cleanliness and no cows on the streets, but looking out the window at the tumbledown or half-finished sandstone coloured houses and dry dusty streets I thought that it could really not be more different. 

One of my strongest memories of India is going to be from the Delhi subway station. The train was pulling into the station and I was waiting for the women’s compartment: it was the last one, and all the other compartments were filled with men in drab greys and browns, and then the women’s compartment came into sight and it was a riot of colour and loud noise. It spoke volumes about the colourfulness and liveliness of India.

Compared to my last visit things are still dirty, although less smelly. Hardly anyone smokes, which is a big and unexpected change. People drop their rubbish wherever they happen to be. There are piles of rubbish all along the streets and dogs or cows nibbling at whatever takes their fancy. The huge number of people on the streets is maybe disguised by the volume of traffic which takes precedence everywhere and is therefore more noticeable. 

Unlike before, I haven’t noticed people in rags just squatting in the gutter doing nothing (although there are plenty of folk doing nothing). People seem better dressed but almost no females are in Western clothes. I’m sure there are more cows in the streets than before; I just don’t remember there being quite so many. Touts seem to hassle less in that they don’t run down the street after me, but they still believe they have a right to talk to me and get an answer whenever they like. Everyone asks where I’m from and their knowledge of Australia is limited to cricketers. 

However it seems to me that fewer people can understand or speak English than previously; by no means are all signs in both English and Hindi and sometimes when I’ve asked for directions the person hasn’t understood. Nobody has tried to engage me in conversation in the language of Jeeves.

Jaisalmer is lovely but the ambience definitely suffers with the traffic; then again maybe I’m wrong: maybe the juxtapositioning of traffic and antiquity gives the place an Indian feel. When there’s no incessant hooting and you can walk in a relaxed way it will no longer be real. Apparently the town foundations can’t cope with the amount of water being used nowadays, but there’s no mention of the damage done by traffic. Motorised vehicles take priority everywhere. But the cows act blasé and in Bikaner the poor camels pulling big loads aren’t phased either.

The food has been really good and the restaurants, while basic, are not grotty. I don’t recall the sweet shops being so good or so plentiful. I have been short-changed twice after meals. They know the amounts of money are so small I would be embarrassed to check my change. 

Booking a train at the station has become easier. I haven’t seen any queues so far. There’s still a big form to fill in for a $4 train ticket. And, of course, finding the right reservation counter can be hard. But all in all it’s easier to book tickets in person than online since you don’t have to try the payment portal 20 times and don’t have the risk of getting your credit card cancelled!

Mumbai Marathon 21/01/2018

Advance notice: this story has a happy ending.

When I got up this morning, before 4.30am, I was not expecting to have a good day out on the roads of Mumbai, and I had not been looking forward to this marathon at all because of the heat and humidity. The expo had been, irritatingly, an hour's taxi ride away and in general I didn’t have good vibes about the race. All I had been able to find to buy for breakfast was a packet of biscuits so I ate a handful of these and had a big drink of water.

I left my hotel just before 5am and immediately saw lots of runners in the street, so I followed them towards the start, which was a good thing since they clearly knew a better way than the route I had practised yesterday. As I was crossing one road a female runner (Indian) beckoned to me to join her and we continued together to the start. I was pleased to see she was wearing shorts, like me, because I had worried about getting to and from the race so scantily dressed. The start area, a large oval, was rigidly controlled with security checks and designated starting chutes. With 50,000 participants over all races it was a big event.

I was in the first group of 'amateurs' so I left right on the gun at 5.40am. It was very dark but I don't think I missed much. After some city streets we turned onto a long straight road which I think was alongside the beach. As I had started so near the front I had to put up with a torrent of runners passing me. There were very few women and only a handful of non Indians. I was already uncomfortably warm.

I had so many little pains it wasn’t funny. And a big one - my left lower back was so tight I knew that any sudden movement would wrench it. My right glute was stiff and sore, my left foot was aching and my stomach didn’t feel right. And a blocked ear. I felt I was moving extremely slowly, which was borne out when the 4:45, 5:15 and then 5:30 pace groups passed me. I felt like I was trying to run through mud, it was such an effort to move forward.

It only got light after about 90 minutes, and by then we were running along the water and there was a slight breeze. The sun didn’t appear yet but it was humid. The air was misty, which might have been the pollution. I was drinking and drinking, and glad of the frequent aid stations. But there was only water. After a while some aid stations had orange juice in juice boxes with straws; it was a chore having to unwrap the straw, pierce the box and then suck hard. There was no food for a very long time, but at some places they had large bowls of salt which were popular. The half marathoners came by in the other direction.

There were several improvised stages with Indian traditional dance. The Indian Navy band was playing. Other runners were friendly, some saying hullo, and always apologising for bumping. I was amazed, I don’t know why, how the other runners looked just like runners at a marathon anywhere, apart from there being so few women, more runners in bare feet and fewer older runners. A lot of them wore club shirts but the vast majority wore the race shirt, which I also wore although it was a bit too tight. The runners were very enthusiastic about the many race photographers, going right up to them and raising their arms in celebration.

We turned onto a long bridge. I was trying to move a bit faster and to convince myself I didn’t feel as bad as I have felt on other bad running days; in the latter I was successful. 18 kilometres used to be a point at which I could tell if I was going to have a really bad day and at 18 kilometres today  I could still run ok. 

Then at 19 kilometres I went to the toilet, not in itself a great experience, but when I resumed running I just felt so much better. This was a turning point. I picked up the pace and felt very positive. I knew things would be ok after all. A marathon is always hard but I would make it.

Shortly before half way we turned towards Mumbai and came back into urban areas. The first elite men came by in a group followed by the elite women all running alone; they had started at 7.10am. The streets were quite lively with spectators and also people going about their daily lives. And a few mangy dogs. But no cows. We passed lots of shops, some parks and all sorts of buildings. Along much of the route there were groups of police standing guard. I think I enjoyed this bit the best because it was the most Indian part of the route: broken up footpath, tiny shops, dozing dogs, colour, dust, noise.

Masses of marathoners were walking by now, and I had the impression of passing groups of the people who had passed me earlier. Some food appeared at some of the aid stations, mandarins and bananas and biscuits. One time I took some mandarin segments and they were salty. I ate some tiny bananas. Towards the end there were locals handing out what was I’m guessing their own food and many of the aid stations had run out, especially the ones with Kit Kat fingers. So sad.

We came back along the beach we had passed in the dark - it was wide and sandy. I coaxed myself through the 30s, telling myself I could walk a bit each kilometre after 32, but then I got to 32 and made myself run to 33, the same at 33 I made myself run to 34 and so on. I never properly walked! But I was running very slowly. I was having funny sensations in my lower legs as if they might give way, then I had shooting pains in my right foot. My back had eased up. All in all I was pleased with myself. I was also pleased that the sun hadn’t really been an issue until very late on; it was possible to run in the shade most of the time and by the time I had to run in the full sun I was past caring.

The finish was right in front of the architectural extravaganza that is the main railway station, a Mumbai icon. I had made it in 5 hours 18 minutes. I don’t think that was too shabby considering my frame of mind when I went into this. The finish area was crazy busy and I sat on the dirt to recover. It was funny watching the officials trying to tell people where to go and seeing them being ignored. 

Eventually I summoned the strength for the walk back to my hotel. By now the traffic was up to full strength compared with 5am and it was hard work getting through it. I felt self conscious in my shorts and was keen to put on my jeans again. I had a nice chicken biryani for lunch with naan and watermelon juice and attempted a limited amount of sightseeing by walking to the Gateway of India monument and square, which was packed with families in their Sunday best. On the way there I finally saw an Indian cow, just ambling down the street during a break in the traffic.

The Hong Kong Trail

Now I’m spending 4 days in Hong Kong before continuing on to India, rather than just the quick overnight I originally planned, so I decided I should do something worthwhile. Like a long hike. There’s a 50 kilometre race here in a couple of weeks' time which I’m not doing (but at one point I did look into doing it) and it’s on an established trail, the Hong Kong Trail. The trail is in 8 sections and it seemed feasible to hike it over 3 days, using public transport to get to and from the section ends.

On Tuesday morning, January 16, I took the Star Ferry from Kowloon to Central and then a bus to the Peak, the start of the hike. The first bus didn’t leave Central until 10am so it was a late start, compounded by difficulty in finding where the trail began. I located it eventually and was surprised how busy it was. But only up to the first lookout - which was a great panorama of all of the central part of Hong Kong Island - and beyond there the crowds dwindled to almost nothing.

Fairly soon I worked out that the route instructions I’d found online were not very good, and also the route signage was poor. There were numbered route markers every 500 metres, but no directional markers at junctions. I had to ask people the way, and I was doing well, mostly. My worst mistake saw me arrive at the edge of a reservoir that wasn’t on the route, so I had to backtrack up a steep hill.

I was quite surprised how the route soon went into the forest and was relatively unspoilt and clean. There were birds scuffing around in the foliage. I had been expecting a semi urban walk. Much of the walking was on cement paths but there was also some rough stuff and steps. Gee, these people love steps! There were lots of little creeks to cross, mostly dry, with signs warning about flash floods and deep water (that seemed funny to me), but I did see a couple of waterfalls and some rock pools.

I was seeing about one person every half hour by now. Once I passed a guy sitting on a rock playing a video game. It was very peaceful. It was warm but not uncomfortable. There were sometimes vistas out of the forest looking over the island, either down to the water or over the surrounding hills. I didn’t seem to have come far from my starting point because the trail was very circuitous. There was a long stretch along an aqueduct, and then the last part of the day was in nice forest on a rocky dirt track.

At the end of the third section, 18 kilometres done, I had to walk to the nearest bus stop. The instructions on the hike website said to "walk down the road for 15 minutes" to reach the bus stop; the road was an extremely steep uphill! 

On Wednesday I came back to where I had left off on Tuesday. The road back to the trailhead was so steep it was hard to walk even downhill. The first section was again in the forest, passing more rock pools, and a mix of paved and dirt tracks. It was a lot warmer and I was glad I had brought twice as much water as the previous day. There were more people on the trail but it wasn’t exactly crowded.

Suddenly after 7 kilometres the trail deposited me in a residential area and I had no idea where to go. Luckily two English expats emerged from the forest behind me and knew the way. They were hoping to walk the whole trail in a day. We continued together for a while through the built up area and then they went off to try to buy water. I hadn’t seen a single shop on the route, which surprised me.

I continued uphill and went happily back into the forest. There followed a lot of climbing on hundreds of steps. The steps were big, uneven and hard to walk on. However the views from, firstly Jardines Lookout and then Mount Butler, were fabulous. You could see so much of the main island - mountains and tall apartment blocks in many directions, but mainly forested hills - and the outlying islands. It is amazing how little of the main island has been built on, presumably not for want of trying. It was difficult work walking up there under the hot sun, but rewarding. The descent was, by contrast, on tiny steps, 600 of them which went vertically downhill. Odd. I stopped for my lunch sandwich (tuna with mayonnaise from 7-11) on the way down.

My final section for the day was on a paved road, which led to a reservoir. It was a lovely shaded road with the trees forming a canopy right across the road. At the reservoir I got confused because of the lack of signs. I crossed the dam wall, then decided this was wrong and crossed back again, and continued along what I thought was the right road. However I wasn’t seeing any of the route markers. I was about to turn back when I saw a junction and an information board. I had gone the wrong way, but I was now back on course. I had mistaken the dam wall I crossed for another dam wall on my map. 

Just then my English friends popped up, and we did my final kilometre together. 15.5 kilometres for the day. A bus arrived just as I reached the bus stop, so I went by bus to a subway station and then took the train home.

So today I did the train and bus thing back to yesterday’s finishing point, but before boarding the bus I had breakfast of a set meal with porridge, toast, small sausage, hard boiled egg and coffee (all for about $5) at an extremely busy fast food place.

Today’s hike started with a slightly monotonous flat paved path alongside an aqueduct but soon opened out to give nice views over a long inlet. I could even hear waves sometimes, and there were lots of moored boats. Eventually I came very close to a small beach and I detoured off the route to have a look. There then followed a massive climb on comfortably spaced steps to a road crossing and the start of the hike's final section.

Suddenly there were lots of people about. More so even than at the Peak. This last section of the Hong Kong Trail incorporates the Dragon's Back, a stretch of trail which is famous for its views and has been called the best walk in Asia.

The trail continued to climb but was no longer paved and the steps were uneven, but the going was nothing like as hard as the trail notes implied. Yesterday’s climb to Mount Butler was much more strenuous. I got to the open views quickly, and they were certainly superb, with lookouts over the open sea and the rugged coastline. The views continued for a couple of kilometres as the trail was fully in the open for the first time in three days - this was the Dragon's Back section - as I walked over some peaks. Then there was a long gradual descent and I was back in the forest.

The last few kilometres were on a paved road and then I finished with an unpaved descent through the forest to Big Wave Beach. This was a lovely beach, a smallish cove with high rocky promontories on each side. There were a few surfers and sunbathers and, best of all, a beachside cafe where I could enjoy a mango flavoured Drumstick. 16 kilometres today to finish a great hike.

Central Park, New York, 10 km

This morning I went to do a 10 km in Central Park. It has always been a dream of mine to run in Central Park in the snow, and today was the day. The race could have gone a lot better but the scenery was a dream. It snowed all night a few nights ago and then it snowed for a long time yesterday so there was no shortage of snow, although I was glad it was not actually snowing this morning. It was cold enough, minus six when I left the hotel at 8am.

The start was 9.10am and I thought I knew where to go - well, Central Park around 102nd St. So I rock up to the start line for the other race being held, and starting at 9am, the 4 mile. It started just as I got there, so I chilled and hung out. But I wondered why there was nobody else waiting there for the 10 km race start; turns out the start was several hundred metres away. I jogged over there and I heard the starter yell Go! But I still had to run in the wrong direction to get to the start line (and to the back of the small pack of runners). 

So I started in dead last place. Things could only get better. Things did get better, until they got worse. I felt good running and quite strong, passing several people and not feeling any pain from last weekend. I could not believe that this time last week I had just started my hundred miler.

I wanted to take photos but it was hard to slow down, turn on my IPod camera, select the view and click without masses of runners going by, and the scene was never what I wanted to shoot once I was ready to shoot. I managed this:

and then resorted to carrying my IPod with the camera running. That was not a smart idea. Near the southern end of the park, when you get the iconic view of the Manhattan skyline, I tried to take a picture and the battery was dead. 

Almost simultaneously I pulled my right calf muscle. This was bad news; I was less than three miles in but there was no way I was going to stop, so of course it got real bad real quick. This was far worse than what I’d done in St Pete’s. The pain moved around but didn’t diminish. I’ve never DNF'd a run and I was not going to start now, so I ploughed on but a lot slower.

The miles seemed long but I told myself that today’s job was to finish the race, nothing more. Hopefully running rather than walking. The scenery, a thick layer of snow on everything, continued to be a pleasure, although I have to admit I was very focussed on ignoring the pain I was in. My tight glute wanted to be heard too, and I worried that I would be brought to a halt at any moment.

I suppose I was actually thankful there were no aid stations so I didn’t have to stop (and start up again, which would be the painful part).

I would have got round in an hour if I hadn’t missed the start, so that’s not too bad, considering. After the race I was truly limping. Time to go home and recover!

Daytona 100 Mile, Florida, 9 December 2017

I was so apprehensive about this race, my first hundred miler, because of the weather. I had drawn up a time plan which I thought amply allowed for the heat, but I still got a shock when I tried to run the first time in hot Florida, and then I strained my calf so I didn’t run again until the race. But then the weather forecast for the weekend came through and spoke of a huge cold front to blanket the east of the USA, timed for Saturday. I realised that with low temperatures and a tailwind this could be my best opportunity for completing this huge distance.

It was a point to point course from Jacksonville to Daytona Beach. On the Friday afternoon, the day before the race, I drove to the race finish area, parked and took the shuttle to the start, 100 miles north. It was 30 degrees when I got into the shuttle. It was uncomfortably warm. When we got out at Neptune Beach two hours later it was 9 degrees! It was uncomfortably cold. I was wearing just my race gear, shorts and short sleeved shirt, and carrying two drop bags for the race, and a disposable toothbrush for tonight and the morning, but luckily I had brought a sweatshirt with me in case of a cold morning start to the race. 

By the time we came out of the race briefing at 6pm there was a full thunderstorm happening, big flashes of lightening and heavy rain - and I had to walk almost a mile to my hotel. My luck was in because a guy who had been on the shuttle was staying at the same hotel so we shared an Uber. I went to Panera and bought a sandwich and soup (!) for dinner without getting drenched, and a bear claw for breakfast, hoping the hotel would have coffee.

In the morning, 5am, this same guy tried to order an Uber to get us to the race start, or even a cab, but there weren’t any. It was still raining. We stopped a guy in the hallway who was clearly going to the race start and asked if we could share his car; he didn’t speak much English but appeared to say yes so we followed him outside. He loaded up his bicycle and pedalled off. We found a lift in a car.

The early miles of the race, still in the dark, took us through Neptune Beach where nothing whatsoever was going on. It had just stopped raining and there were lots of big puddles. I could see runners far ahead dodging the puddles. I wore my sweatshirt and was glad of it.

After we left the town we settled into a long stretch along a highway, A1A. I was going to be spending the bulk of my day on this road, but this was not the nicest part of it. We were running on the shoulder of the road and passing through some very upscale communities, huge houses and intricately landscaped yards. And a bonus: this was about to become a day when I couldn’t stop needing to wee, and whenever a house was having some construction work done there would be a portaloo near the road which was unlocked and available for use by runners. 

We had to run a section along the beach. The sand was mostly not too soft so we could run but there was a problem with it being high tide. Much of the beach had been eroded by Cyclone Irma and at some points when a big wave broke there was nowhere for us to go. On a hot day it would have been a way to cool down to be immersed in water but the prospect was not enticing on this day when the temperature never rose above 12 degrees. So we had to detour up to the road a few times. Once this involved clambering up a dune. I was running with a German woman - initially I tried to speak some German but I was relieved when she started speaking English. It was nice to chat and I enjoyed the company right up to the 50 kilometre point in St Augustine.

Coming into St Augustine we crossed a massive bridge over the Intracoastal waterway. The Intracoastal is a huge feature in Florida, as spectacular as the beaches. Last time I came to St Augustine I just sat in a traffic jam right through the town and never got out of the car. I felt good here. My second 50 kilometres was my best stretch of the day, and this wasn’t what I had been expecting.

When I got to the next bridge back across the Intracoastal there was a surprise: it was a drawbridge and it was open. A group of runners were waiting for the road to return to a runnable position and I joined them, not minding a rest. There followed a long stretch through a suburban area of strip malls. Ever since the beach section I was playing cat and mouse with two women, constantly passing them and being passed. They went into a bar, presumably for the toilet rather than for beer. I was happy to notice a restroom at the back of a taco place and I ducked in. 

The sun came out for a while in the late afternoon. Its weak warmth was pleasant. Once I was back on the open road the weeing became more of a problem. There weren’t any public toilets. I went into the bushes once. I put my sweatshirt back on in the hope of making myself sweat out some of this surplus liquid. As I approached 50 miles I was again getting desperate. (This was a shame because the scenery had suddenly improved, with views of the waters and vegetated islands of the Intracoastal as the sun was going down.) Where there was roadside vegetation it was too dense to penetrate. I thought I spied a toilet in a roadside park but it turned out to be a large signboard. Then we crossed the Intracoastal on a long bridge so no privacy there. On the far side I was delighted to see a portaloo in a parking lot but when I got closer I could see the portaloo was surrounded by deep water and was barricaded off. Not far off I found a gas station and just brazenly walked in to use the facilities.

It seemed to take ages to get to the 52 mile aid station, but when I got there it marked a big improvement on the earlier aid stations, which had quite frankly been disappointing with just a few lollies, Oreos, scraps of peanut butter & jelly sandwiches. This one offered cooked-to-order grilled sandwiches, although I didn’t want to hang around while there was a remnant of daylight, and had  dips and chips. I took a big drink of Coke and had a large portion of espresso flavoured gel, and I felt amazing. I resolved to do the rest of the race on Coke. Most of the aid stations lacked cups so I drank the Coke from the bottle, hoping nobody was watching. When I contrasted how I had felt at the end of the 50 mile JFK with how I felt now - very comfortable - I was very satisfied. Truthfully I didn’t exactly want to run another 50 miles but I believed I could.

With darkness the temperature did not initially fall. We started on the Flagler to Marineland Trail which was a paved footpath alongside but separated from the road. It had palms and other vegetation on both sides and was nice running in the darkness. This was not a built up area and there was little traffic. I ran with a guy for a while but he was running a bit too fast for me. (Later on I passed him easily.) He was meeting up with his crew frequently and sitting down with them, an activity I would not contemplate. I took some early advice, "Beware the chair" very seriously. 

The vast majority of runners had crew, and I got plaudits for being alone (plus offers of help) but I liked it this way. The only issue I had was that the aid stations were geared up for people with their own crew. But I had a laugh when a the crew in one car asked me where the "rest station" was as they couldn’t see it; I thought of them as restaurants rather than places for resting!

I was taking many walking breaks, starting with running for 10 or 15 minutes and walking 200 or just 100 paces, but if I wasn’t ready to run at the end of my walk then I walked more. I thought it was better to take it easy now and feel strong later.

While I was running I was working on finding the best mental strategy. At times I would think: ok, just the McCall to go (at 60 miles) or: less than my biggest training day to go (at 70 miles), but I didn’t find this helpful, it was too far to contemplate comfortably. Nor did I feel good if I thought: two thirds done, or: just a fifth to go. It was better to break it into ten mile tranches and just focus on each one. It became a ten mile run, over and over. But I was pleased to have run my fastest 100 kilometres ever, at 13 1/2 hours.

After a while we were running alongside the ocean. I couldn’t see it but I could hear it. The sky was clear and full of stars. On the inland side we passed  what seemed like dozens of shack-like restaurants. Some had people in them but for a Saturday night they seemed too quiet. Maybe it was the cold weather. None of them had obvious toilets and I wasn’t game to go inside and ask. Eventually I went into a 7-11 and asked to use theirs, which was fine. But that was the last of such luxury. From then on I sought out the darkest gardens that had a bit of a bush close to the footpath that I could hide behind. 

At one point I was running with a woman whom I had been close to all day. We were comparing notes about the aid stations and she said "I’m sure I saw someone drinking out of a Coke bottle". I don’t think she meant me, but I 'fessed up anyway! At the 60 mile aid station I noticed they had a container of quesadillas so I took some, my favourite food. But they weren’t very nice, the cheese tasted artificial and was far too salty. At 70 miles I had a cup of noodles. But mostly I was drinking Coke, eating Oreos and PB&J's (where they were homemade). There were mini aid stations in between the main ones for runners like me who had no support crew, with just Coke and water and crisps. I sat down at the 70 mile aid station, the only one where I did this, and it was painful standing up.

For several hours I had been having feint but repetitive spasms in my left calf, not the one I strained in St Pete’s. They would come in bursts and then go, and I hoped for the best. My right glute was getting tighter.

It was getting colder and I was pleased to see my drop bag at the 82 mile aid station in Ormond Beach. I was wearing shorts with my cotton sweatshirt that I had carried since the morning. As I arrived I asked the volunteers if they thought I could use the toilet at the restaurant just there and they laughed, saying it had been closed for hours. I just had no idea of the time, and I think that’s a good way to be when doing this sort of race. I put on my tights which I had been carrying since my first drop bag at 60 miles, and my lightweight jacket, beanie and gloves. Once these things were on I felt good, but I had difficulty getting the clothes on because I was so stiff and my hands were cold.

This was a very built up area and when I left the aid station I had no confidence I was going the right way. The race was very short on signs, which did not usually matter. But suddenly in the middle of the night I felt very alone and uncertain. Remember the two women I had been playing cat and mouse with much earlier? One of the women had vanished but I was still running near the other one; I was just in front or just behind for hours and hours. A mile or so after I left this aid station, where she had been refuelling and chatting with her crew, I decided to stop and wait for her to be sure I was going the right way. I never saw her again. But another group of runners came by and assured me I was going the right way. 

It was quite amusing to see other runners with their pacers. There was plenty of walking, and when they ran the person who was in the race moved with a pained slow shuffle while the pacers looked as if they were dancing on air. I was walking more and more but when I ran I still felt strong, well, strong-ish. But I no doubt looked quite pathetic.

We ran through the endless town of Daytona Beach. It was mostly quiet as you'd expect long after midnight, but had pockets of activity. Thankfully there weren’t any drunks around and little traffic. I had been anxious beforehand about running through built up areas alone in the dark but I never felt uneasy. I got a slight surprise when a guy sitting on a bench suddenly spoke out of the darkness (not to me but to himself) but he actually apologised to me! Sometimes people would call out of passing cars, but it was always friendly encouragement. Someone sitting at a cafe called out to ask what we were doing, and when I told him he responded "Go, get 'em!" 

Without realising, I ran past the car park where I’d left my car, although I would have noticed the 7-11 I'd parked outside because I noticed every open business (for reasons I won’t repeat again).

The last main aid station was in the garage of the home of the race organiser's parents. They allowed me to use their toilet! It was such a lovely warm room. After this we were finally done with A1A. Five miles to go. Again I stopped and waited for other runners because I wasn’t sure I was going the right way. I lost some time here because no runners came. Finally a random jogger approached me and confirmed I was doing ok. I was surprised to see a jogger in the middle of the  night but it was closer to morning than I realised. 

I was in a residential area, then I ran past the Ponce Inlet lighthouse and reached the beach. The final two miles. As I ran onto the beach I felt tears welling up. I was going to finish this thing. The beach was wide and flat and easy running, but into a stiff headwind. A guy came up behind me and said he wanted to run behind me, for some reason I couldn’t understand. I didn’t care, I was running as fast as I could, and counting slowly in my head for distraction. I could see the finish line clock as soon as I turned onto the beach. Then I just had to run past five large apartment blocks and it would all be over.

And I was done. The race organiser was standing at the finish line and I don’t think he immediately realised I was in the race, he behaved as if he thought I was pacing that guy behind me. I quickly put him right about that! 

It was 24 hours and 42 minutes after I had left Neptune Beach. Night was ending and the beach was beginning to be suffused with a pale blue light. Suddenly I was amazingly tired. Someone gave me a lift to my car. I went into the 7-11 and bought a large coffee and donuts and changed some of my clothes. I took off my socks and was shocked to see my feet were chafed raw in several places, and covered with a red rash. I sat in my car to drink the coffee and then lay down on the back seat, where I dozed a little. Then I drove to my hotel and was very pleased that I was able to check in before 9am. I went straight to bed.

My initial reaction to the race is that 100 miles is just more of the same; it wasn’t a whole new animal after 100 kilometres. It was long, of course, but I was lucky not to go through extra low points due to the distance. My lowest point was approaching the 50 mile mark, but not from a tiredness point of view, more because the aid station seemed elusive. The frequent toilet stops were a huge nuisance to me, especially since I’ve run 50 miles before without using a toilet once!

St Petersburg, Florida

I tried my first run in Florida, here in St Pete's. I was very trepidacious because of the heat and sunshine but I knew I had to do it, so I planned a short 7 km route to the water and back. It was 8.45am when I started and warm and sunny. (I had had several awful experiences running in Florida, firstly at the Miami Marathon in 2012 and then in December 2014 when I (1) went out for a 4 km jog along the beach at Juno Beach and just could not move in the heat and humidity and (2) felt light headed and dizzy running in Key West.)

I headed down towards the town centre and then beyond to the waterfront. I already had shin splints. I hit the waterfront by a huge marina, but once I got past that there was a welcoming green park with a paved trail by the water, and lined by trees. What’s more, there were pelicans, ducks, ibis and herons in the water.

After a few minutes I felt a twinge in my right calf. Not good. It wasn’t a full on strain but it was sore so I stopped and massaged it a bit and then ran on, hoping I wasn’t doing damage. I still had the shin splints and my glutes were tight. I moved along slowly, enjoying the scenery.

On my way home, on a slightly different route, I succeeded, of course, in getting lost. I had been carrying a map in my hand but it had got soggy and completely disintegrated. Rather confusingly I passed a car park which said it was parking for my hotel, but I couldn’t see my hotel; I was quite certain I wasn’t standing outside it! Then I turned back and found where I should have gone, and found my actual hotel. I was completely saturated.

Arctic Frog 50 km, Illinois

Yesterday’s race, Arctic Frog 50 Km in Libertyville, Illinois, turned out to be more fun than I had been expecting. On the website and in various blogs it sounded a fairly boring set of out and backs in a fairly dreary area. I had chosen it because it was near Chicago where I intended to be around that time and there wasn’t anything that sounded better. As I drove to the race area the previous afternoon my lack of excitement was being proved justified: I drove through about the roughest neighbourhoods (still in Chicago) that I have ever driven through, on the worst maintained paved road I have ever driven on, and then once I got into the countryside it was uninspiringly flat and lacking in features. I stayed at a Motel 6 on the highway with just a couple of small malls nearby.

On race morning I drove into Independence Grove for the race start. (I was amazed at the volume of traffic on the road early on a Saturday morning.) It turned out to be a park of lakes and low hills. There was quite a crowd at the race, well over 100 in the 50 km plus some shorted distances.

The race route (25 km to be done twice) comprised a short run around the edge of a couple of lakes (lots of ducks and geese) then two out and backs from a well supplied aid station, then a continuation around the lakes with another out and back, and a mile to the finish on a ridge above  the lakes. It was well thought out because the out and backs never seemed tedious and they each featured different terrain.

It was warmer than the website had predicted back when I entered (they had said there was likely to be snow on the ground), and I decided to run in shorts for the first time on this trip, with a short sleeved shirt and my light jacket. I also wore beanie and gloves but I took them off soon.

The start by the lakes in the early morning misty light was nice and on a paved trail, and then we embarked on the first out and back which went into the woods and was on a dirt trail. We crossed a pretty creek and there were more little waterways among the trees. The trees were completely bare. The path was winding and flat and lots of bike riders were using it too.

I don’t know how far it was to the turnaround, but at that point I had been going for over 30 minutes so I decided on my first walking break. This race was intended to allow me a tryout of my strategy for next weekend's long effort, and I had decided to walk 200 paces every 3 miles. I learned a lesson at the JFK where I felt I got into trouble: if the race is flat I won’t do any walking unless I make a positive decision to do this, but I can’t possibly run the whole way without suffering and slowing in the later stages. I had hardly walked at all on the JFK until at least 35 miles, when I realised that my lack of walking was not a good idea and I had to make myself walk from time to time. I knew I could run 50 km since I can run a marathon, but I know I can’t run 100 miles. 

So I walked my 200 paces and a whole bunch of runners flooded past. I knew this didn’t matter, but that doesn’t mean I liked it.

At the 'hub' aid station we started on the second out and back. This was the longest one, taking us through farmland, crossing a couple of roads and undulating over several hills. You could see the trail snaking away far into the distance. It was a little windy here but nothing like what I’d had in Chicago and Minneapolis. Of course I made excuses not to take my walking breaks; I split them into 100 paces and then somehow stopped taking them. I just can’t do a race as a practice run!

Back after the hub aid station again we returned to the lakes, crossing the nice creek again, and then went into another patch of woods for a shorter out and back. The field had stretched out a lot by then. After this we headed for the start/finish area, and embarked on the second loop. I was still feeling pretty good and I discarded my jacket.

The second loop was more lonely as so many runners on the first loop were doing the 25 km distance. I focussed on trying to pass runners ahead of me and I was rewarded; at so many races  many mid-pack runners go out too fast. However I was amazed how my memory of the out and backs, done so recently, let me down. I was waiting for landmarks that seemed further than I remembered, especially on the longer out and back. I took one final walking break. I was very focussed on a runner ahead of me who I thought was probably in my age group, but I never managed to catch her.

It was great to reach the last out and back and then head for the finish. I did 5:30:33 which I am pleased with. It's an improvement on recent 50 km's I’ve done. There were pizza boxes lying around at the finish but the pizza was all gone. I got a bowl of chilli which was nice, but that too was running out, although half the 50 km field was still out there.

I went into the visitor centre and learnt about the history of the lakes: they were manmade on the site of a sand and gravel quarry as recently as 1997. So I felt vindicated in my assessment of the area before the race. But they had done a good job with creating an environment for runners and bikers.