Ultra_Tales_Issue_13

EVENT REPORTROSELAND AUGUST TRAIL - THE PLAGUEenough by the time I reached the Nare hotel I wason my own again. My torch flickered. Fortunatelypurple and blue hues began to break the easternskyline. My headlamp had lasted the night. Just! Asthe eyes tried to adjust to a wider field of vision inthe strengthening light strange figures emergedfrom the undergrowth. Several sticks were mistakenfor snakes while ferns took on the eerie illusion ofpixies! The hallucinations had started.So being greeted by Batman, Robin and WonderWoman was a welcome joy as they dished out adelectable banquet at the Portscatho checkpoint. Iwas ravenous and hankering after more comfortfood. A cup of vegetable soup and white bap hit thespot so well I had seconds, and then a slice of pizza.Cups of coke were dancing in front of me craving tobe picked. I resisted. As I struggled to refit myTrailRoc inners Batman hinted that I should be onmy way. That question of position reared it’s uglyhead again. As I headed out Doug was just arriving.No sign of Lloyd and I later learned that he haddropped with a recurring injury.The next eight miles were out and back to StAnthony’s head over meadows and gentle rollingcoast path. A fast section with several teasingheadlands and eye catching views of untouchedhidden Cornish coves accentuated by the goldenhues of a glorious morning. As I passed TowanBeach the lead runners came into view on thereturn leg. What a surprise to see it was two ladies,Sarah Morwood and Charlie Ramsey. The entire fieldhad been chicked twice over! I stood aside andapplauded them through. Fatigue weighed heavyon my legs and walking the short ascent toKilligerren Head the first male came past. It wasreigning champ, Rich Keefe. He looked strong andgave me encouragement to keep on running. So Itried to get back into a rhythm. Soon enough RobHicks came bounding by looking as strong as hehad when he had overtaken me at Portloe duringthe night. He was making some serious headway onthe leaders.I arrived at St Anthony’s Head in 6 hours 23 minuteswell ahead of projections. Race organiser, Ferg, wasthere with Izzy topping up the water of one otherrunner, Ben Stone. I couldn’t resist regaling themwith my Portholland tumble to which Fergresponded, “Congratulations! You are the firstperson to have fallen off there.” Bonus! No need fora refill, so I said thanks and was straight out of thecheckpoint ahead of Ben. The maths was simple. Iappeared to be in 5th place. (I later discovered thiswas thanks to one of the race favourites, RobertMann, retiring at the half way point)Elevated by delusions of a top 10 finish I feltrevitalised and fuelled with quasi-energy sped offthrough the bracken and back out onto the coastpath. Alas, the bubble soon burst as I caught myfirst glimpse of a dark headland far away on thehorizon. Nare Head looked distant andunattainable. I just couldn’t comprehend running toit, let alone the additional 22 miles that followed. AsI contemplated a plan, Ben overtook me, shortlyfollowed by Doug. "The first of many", I mutteredslumping into the first of several lows that wouldengulf me through the day. The TrailRoc inners werea mess again riding well up my ankles. I rippedthem out in frustration and threw them in my pack.My feet were not happy and sand from PendowerBeach that sat under the inners now rubbedbetween my toes. I promised the feet a fresh pair ofsocks at Portscatho. So a game plan began to takeshape. Get off this headland as quick as the legswould allow, then refuel and freshen up at thecheckpoint. Work on the next part of the plan inclean socks at least.It was thanks to the other fifty or so Plague victims Ipassed on this first section of the return leg that Imade good time as we exchanged encouragement.Couldn't be seen to be walking at the top end ofthe field. Although I did trek over Porthmellin Headas I scoffed into my marmite sandwich. Fellow Trurorunner, Dave Cudby, was looking strong thirtyminutes or so behind me. We had chatted over a hottea ahead of the start as he shared his thinking ongoing easy on the downhills to conserve the quadmuscles. I hoped my excessive hill training wouldserve me well and see my quads through. Downhillspeed was my strength and the only way I made uptime.My physio, Paul Coker, was quick to acknowledgemy position in the field as we crossed paths. Hat tipto Paul, as his skills got me to the start line of manyraces this year and it was great to see him burying89 ULTRA TALES | OCTOBER 2014Sponsored by thehttp://