Well, I’m chalking the inaugural SIRONA 100 up as a missed opportunity.
I was only ever giving this a single shot because of the logistics of the SIRONA 100 event. A 3-hour drive to the finish line and a 2.5-hour bus ride to the start. What did all this mean? Well, it meant that the prep usually done before these epic events was gonna undoubtedly go to shit. Which, as expected, it did.
The usual routine was gonna be out, no matter how hard you try, you cannot do what you expect to do while travelling. I had my usual breakfast, up until 10am on the Friday it was fine. But I usually have a snack at 11am, then dinner at 12:30pm, snack at 3pm then tea bout 5:30pm then fast until breakfast at 7am. I had the snacks but didn’t feel like eating them. I knew I should have, but sitting in a car bored to death doesn’t do much for the appetite. Then when your best laid plans go to shit because of traffic, you start stressing.
Made it to where the SIRONA 100 would finish in Cardigan, went out to get some dinner before the bus. This was again, a rush job. More concerningly, I eat the same stuff at the same times – I wouldn’t change anything the week before an ultra, let alone the day before. I certainly wouldn’t eat anything I didn’t prepare myself. So, eating out made me even more anxious.
Then onto the bus.
Could feel a stress / tension headache coming on already, coupled with the poor eating. Great. It’s OK though, I could sleep it off later, right?… Yeah… No.
Bus journey dragged. Tried to sleep off the headache. Didn’t work. Was hungry, but didn’t wanna eat. There was also the added difficulty of only taking stuff for the event – as the dropbag was full, and there were no practical options to leave anything anywhere. So everything required thought.
Got to the start line, dropped shit off and went to register. Stressed, tired, hungry, plus a headache – then went into the theatre basement where it was crowded and boiling. Urgh. Already couldn’t wait to get sorted and go to bed, but before that, had to go and get tea. Again eating something I wouldn’t normally eat prepared by someone else other than me. Filled with anxiety, I needed to eat, but I didn’t wanna eat. Still had to get back and re-sort bags into what I needed to take and what could be left in the dropbag. Plus the stuff I would need for breakfast… Which was also a problem…
There’s nowhere open at 5am to get a decent breakfast, so I only had day old unrefrigerated stuff to eat. Plus my usual shake – with warm milk. Eugh. It was tough getting that down but I knew I had to. It was hard to stomach, literally.
Anyway, had a shitty sleep, maybe about 4 or so hours. Great. That’s gonna help aint it.
With a crap breakfast and the first dropbag 27 miles away, I had loaded up on excess food and drinks (other than water to just try and make it through this first stretch). There was a checkpoint before at 16 miles, but with the intricacies of my keto lifestyle, options would undoubtedly be limited. Which they were. An awful long stretch to manage anything properly. I knew this wouldn’t be easy.
Running on fumes at the dropbag at checkpoint 2, again was over-hungry by this point, and the headache I had the day before was still there. I didn’t sleep it off, then the hunger and exertion just made it worse throughout the day. Everything that could go wrong, was. Apart from physically I was doing OK. I forced some food down out of necessity, but didn’t enjoy it. Something was definitely up on this event. I could feel it. Again loaded up with an excess of stuff, as the dropbag would then only be available at the sleep station at checkpoint 4 at mile 53.
Another checkpoint would be inbetween but again, I have to fend for myself due to limited options.
The spacings of the checkpoints seemed crazy as I expect a majority of the field staying overnight would not have had a decent breakfast either, unless it was just me? I dunno. If you read my SIRONA 100 route companion, you’ll detect that I lacked the enthusiasm or excitement for this one – as everything I expected to happen seemed to be panning out exactly as I hoped it wouldn’t. You need proper food on these. Nuts and bars just don’t cut it. I’d already fucked myself, I just didn’t realise it yet.
The positives were that we flew through day 1 of the SIRONA 100, arriving at the sleep station (halfway-ish point) at 10pm. It was a warm, sweaty day, so I wanted to clean up, get changed, eat and nap, ready to go again. My belly had gone from rumbling to just nothing. When I ate anything, I felt queezy. This wasn’t a nice feeling. I forced myself to eat my steak pie filling with cheese and a keto porridge. The consistencies of each did nothing for my belly, or my appetite. My other pre-prepared food had gotten warm and manky. I was trying not to say it, but I was not in a good place. Even sipping water made my belly go funny. Thought fuck it, sleep it off and go again.
Ate up 10 miles in the dark after a 1:30am start.
Got to checkpoint 5. No food I could have, no shops open. This shit was fucking spiralling. Had a nap as I was fucking cooked. Proper. Woke up absolutely hanging. Things were about go to complete shit next. Left the checkpoint and headed to a pebble beach. 2.5 miles of it. It was warming up and it took a lot of concentration to mind my footing. Head was already pounding through fatigue, lack of proper sleep and nutrition… then it happened.
About half a mile along the pebble beach, I slipped. It happened so quick.
Bent my foot when a rock moved, then I slipped and smashed the inside of my right foot onto the rock next to the one that moved, then slipped between the two. But as it happened so fast I was already pulling my leg out to keep the stride going, but it jammed. Fuck, that hurt. I took a minute and thought it’ll be alright in a bit. You always have a niggle here and there that works itself out. I already had a knee niggle I picked up on the PIGUM which reappeared on the EDDUM but wasn’t race ending. I thought yeah it’ll be OK, so I kept going.
It was always gonna sting until the impact dissipated, so I put up with it for a couple of miles. Didn’t seem to be going. I did not wanna take painkillers at mile 56 or whatever it was. They need to be saved for mile 90, when you’re deep in the pain cave! Descents hurt even more than ascents. Even the flats hurt. I now had something else to manage. So I took some painkillers, on a very empty stomach. Did hide the pain for a couple of miles so I picked up the pace. When they started to wear off, I could feel the pain again. It seemed to be worse, but I just thought everything’s gonna hurt from now on, it’s part of it. However, it just kept hurting – to the point where I wasn’t thinking about eating or drinking – just popping some more pills.
It was the beginning of the end of the SIRONA 100 for me – I just didn’t know it yet.
Made it to checkpoint 6. Had some microwaved bacon and melted cheese – a keto wet dream! Fortunately, as none of the shops or cafes were open til either midday or even Monday, given it was Sunday morning. I was gonna eat proper food ready to get the fucking thing done. But felt the bacon pick-me-up would do the job.
Set back off with the pain even fucking worse in my foot and the same fucking headache I had since Friday but much worse. It was a beautiful day. Blue sky, sun out, I think it was 26 degrees too. It was nice – but none of that meant shit at that point. All I could think about was getting to New Quay in 6 miles to fucking eat something. Popped a few more pills to get me there.
First place that appeared was a Costcutter. Bought a salad, some grapes and some flavoured water. Pretty limited with options in there to be honest. However, I fancied a salad, got a Caesar Salad, binned the croutons and tucked in. Belly was gurgling – but not in a satisfying way. The more I ate the more I needed to stop. Washed it down with some grapes. Bought a punnet to have a handful. Wasted most of the salad and the grapes. Was nice to see Craig there though the legend.
Back on the move again. Unable to resupply or eat properly, I knew this next stretch of the SIRONA 100 was gonna be even harder.
Now everytime I really needed a pick-me-up, like a sugar-free drink, Rach and her rolling checkpoint appeared right when I needed it. Rach, Carrie-Ann and third lady I forget your name (I’m so sorry) were saviours up to this point. However, the next time I would see them, in a beautiful spot by a beach, wouldn’t be as good as the previous encounters. I had a wobble along the coast path. You know like when you rub your eyes hard and there’s dots, well that was happening. They were just there. Last time I had those, it was from a concussion. But I hadn’t banged my head. So I rubbed them to make it go away then everything turned a shade of blue – hence the colour choices you’ll see in the pic later. It was weird. Then my eyes wobbled side to side really fast. I blinked forcefully and they stopped – but did it again. And again.
I took a minute, forced half a melted protein bar down me and a snack pack of peanuts. It was boiling hot and that combination was fucking rank.
I wasn’t in a good place right now. On the descent to this little beachy place – there was Rach and the gang. I already knew I couldn’t make the next 3 miles to the dropbag. My foot was in bits. I was tired, hungry, had a banging headache, felt sick as fuck and fuck knows how many Nurofen’s I’d had. Sorry Pararamedic Phil. I had six. It was six. Just six.
…I think!
I was fucked. That was me done. Too much had gone wrong and it would only get dangerously worse given the wobble I’d just had that freaked me the fuck out. Phil looked after me, as did Rach and Carrie Ann but I was broken. I called it at mile 83.
Fucking. Gutted.
Everytime I just swallowed, it was dry. It made me wretch. Like my belly was saying ‘no thanks, I’m good’ – when it obviously wasn’t. I drank the Coke Zeros Rach had for me, they just made me more thirsty, but kept drinking because it felt nice. It was nice to burp instead of spew. Felt good in a weird way. Like a release. of sorts. It was a weird, horrible feeling. I ate an apple because I needed a different texture of food in my mouth. Juicy crunchy, not warm and soggy or dry and crunchy. I had to put an act on but I wanted to curl up and die. I was in a horrible place – that I’ve never been in before so I had no idea how to manage it and I didn’t wanna ask for help. Just wanted to go home. But that in itself was miles and hours away yet. Nothing was making any of this any better.
I got taken to checkpoint 7.
Owain got me some more bacon and cheese expertly microwaved to perfection, thankyou mate. I ate, reluctantly – but forceably. Then I got a lift to the finish with him. Knew this would be hard seeing everyone finishing the SIRONA 100 when I’d failed… It was!
I can’t be assed writing any more about this. It’s taking me back to a place I don’t wanna go back to. But thanks to everyone who checked in. I did my best to be polite and smiley but I was dying inside. I got home. Slept most of Monday. Took Tuesday off and did something instead of moping about. Unfortunately for whoever is reading this, you’ve had to get all the way down here to see it, when you coulda just skipped all this wordy shit and listened to it – summarising this blog in less than two minutes. Ha! Sorry not sorry! Well, that’s a lie, I am sorry. But I wrote this and put it together as a tune. I needed something positive from all this. It’s not a medal or buckle, but at least it’s something.
Hope you like it.
Went down well on my Insta story. Unexpectedly well to be honest, I was pretty blown away with the response – thanks everyone! It’s here if you ever wanna listen again anyway. I put the lyrics underneath too. Obvs I did the artwork too in blue as everything went blue during a stretch as I mentioned. It’s called Screaming at the Sky – because that’s what I did when I fucked my foot.
Here’s the lyrics:
Worked all year for this one shot
Every step burned in like a thought
Heart was calm, legs were loud
I was flying and I felt proud
But then a rock had made me roll
Didn’t know it, but it took its toll
All the hours and through the night
Just to crumble in the morning light
It started with a stone
Not a warning, nothing shown
I was strong and moving forward, I was fine
But one step… One step re-wrote the line
Said I’d bounce back, held the line
But every step betrayed my mind
I made deals, I made some noise
But the trail had made its choice
I don’t want sympathy, just the moment back
Want the feeling at the finish – but beaten on the track
I was ready, I was there, but the ending slipped away
On a whisper, on a crack, and now that feeling is a world away
It ended with stone
Now it’s written in my bone
All the strength and all the drive
But it left me empty on the inside
I did everything right… But everything went… So wrong
Right now I think I’m done with ultrarunning. The SIRONA 100 took me to a place I don’t wanna go to ever again. So this is a bittersweet blog. Thanks to everyone that visited / read anything on here. Appreciate it x
