1,254 mile mountain-marathon: Lands End -John O’Groats by Kevin Carr
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On the 12th of July I completed the Lands End-John O’Groats fell/trail run I’d been planning for sometime. (I posted here back in April/May – and received some great advice concernng route choice etc). As the support crew dropped out at late notice I had to run the challenge Mountain-Marathon style.
I should have written this report much earlier but since the run I’ve found it diffcult to motivate myself to even get out of bed somedays – never mind much else, I suppose fatigue comes into it – but I didn’t really feel tired, just plain depressed; perhaps result of an endorphin crash? Anyway I’m starting to feel more like myself again now and have finally got round to writing about the run- the last stage anyway, which I hope explains my delay in posting.
The week following the run I kept waking in cold sweats several times a night, sometimes accompanied with tears, in a confused state with one thought going round my head “I can’t do more, it’s not possible” – somehow I kept thinking that; I hadn’t quite finished and had more to do – or I kept returning to the last week in Scotland.
After that week my sleep became more normal, but I realised I felt really uncomfortable talking about the run, I actively tried to not think about it as it made me feel sick and nervous and scared – it might sound melodramatic but through a mixture of poor choices (made when tired) and over-enthusiastically estimating my abilities I found myself ill equipped to handle the task before me, I dramatically and unnecessarily magnified the levels of stress (emotional and mental and physical) that I had to face, to the extent that the experience was traumatic.
The body perceives little difference between the source of stress, i was already pushing my body close to it’s limits through physical and mental stress, adding emotional stress could and should have been avoided with better planning, however it wasn’t.
The state of over-training/under-performance syndrome and clinical depression share nearly identical signs and symptoms, leading some experts to claim the two are one and the same, essentially a fatigue of the entire organism – a burnt out central-nervous-system, not a localised muscular fatigue, it can take weeks-months even years to overcome; I’ve learnt to read my body quite well and know I am now starting to recover from the ordeal. (external signs such as writing this, and joining a gym to cross-train, regaining fitness are obvious indicators of a better state of mind also).
The first 5 weeks of the run went fine 1000.5 miles – a handful of blisters, very manageable levels of fatigue. The last 8 days was very different, 254 miles over much tougher terrain (wild fell/mountainous terrain). The extra miles per day over tougher terrain was a much tougher effort physically and the mental effort in controlling motivation was greater but this was part of the foreseen challenge, I was looking forward to it and had prepared for it.
The big mistake was food. the run had always been planned as a supported effort – a motorhome following me, a warm bed each night, company and dry clothes etc would all have been nice, but most importantly was being able to control what and when I ate – having meals carefully planned and packed in the van. without the support crew I had to eat what I could find as and when I came across outlets, in England this was manageable but hardly ideal – not many health-food shops along the Pennine way selling protein shakes, electrolytes and healthy oat bars; my diet consisted of chocolate, cola and crisps – with salt sachets taken for electrolytes – it got the job done.
in Scotland, north of Fort William things went very bad. I ran out of cash in Fort William and was severely limited to how much food I could purchase, still I wasn’t going to give up; I calculated a minimal calorie intake I thought I could run on (this called for me to lose almost a lb a day in stored fat, but I knew although uncomfortable it was possible – In training I fast twice a week for upto 24hrs before running 20+mile runs to teach my body to run on fat first and treat sugar as a added bonus if present).
I did the calculations fine, but in the shop (prob’ due to fatigue) I incorrectly divided the weekly amount of calories and bought 1000cals less per day than I needed. I didn’t realise this until 2 days of running/eating later when the rations seemed to be shrinking quite fast. I emptied my sack and counted the calorie of all the food – I had enough for 1,200 cals a day if I could maintain a strong pace. I was using over 7000 a day – this would mean losing over 1.5lbs a day for 5-7 days, a state possible to push through if hiking but very tough if running(walking in a well trained athlete can be done on fuelled from fat stores, so long as the fat is there to burn, running even in highly trained athletes requires some sugar – this would have to be found by destroying body muscle, in this state the brain becomes foggy – it’s preferred fuel of glucose being absent) , I began to worry, to be more efficient I had to slow the pace.
North Scotland called for many river crossings, most of which are impossible if the rivers are in-spate. Early on the fourth day of that week I was half way up a climb to a shoulder I had to pass when I heard lightning, then again – it was getting closer. I should have dropped not to safety, but with the lightning came heavy rain I had to cross a large river on the other side of the pass, If I dropped and waited for the storm to pass the river would be in spate – which might mean camping and waiting for the water to drop or a 15mile tarmac detour to a road bridge and back – both options were impossible on with the food restrictions I had, I had to cross the river that day (there was two more mountains and one other sizeable river to cross that day) I pushed on and up, trying to silence the voice in my head calling me stupid and reckless – climbing in a storm. The rain lasted all day, I didn’t stop to change into waterproofs, keeping a fast pace to generate body heat, after
crossing the river, the next pass was littered with burns that had swelled to the size of fast streams/small rivers, it was a pathless pass and the going was slow; it was too late when I realised I’d not changed into waterproofs in-time. I was cold to the extent of shivering (yes in July) as I ran, I changed layers but for the rest of the day I was physically and mentally slower than normal – having let myself become dangerously wet and cold in windy conditions. My pace was well behind schedule, the ground being more difficult to cover when so wet underfoot; and my shivering cold body reusing to generate the effort I was asking of it. I realised I had to pick up the effort and pushed harder, this just led to repeatedly tripping over obstacles and falling over- landing on boggy marshy land and feeling like I was getting wetter/colder (not possible when wet to the skin and cold to the bone but it definitely felt that way). after one fall I shot up and carried on running ( a force of
habit from fell running, a sprained ankle usually only stiffens if allowed to stiffen, if you can keep running although extremely painful for a minute or two it remains agile and useable). But everything was dizzy, I don’t recall what hit where, I know I was winded from my back slamming on the ground, perhaps my head had whipped back and received a sizeable blow also – I felt panicked and dizzy and scared, I had ran over 1000 miles and fell just twice, this was my 4/5th fall of the day it was disconcerting, which accounts for feeling scared (I was lucky not to have fell on a rocky section) but the dizziness could only be explained by a blow to the head, I hoped it wouldn’t get worse.
It wasn’t all bad – at this point I was running through a Glen surrounded by Munroe’s – the most remote and stunning location I have ever ran in – and I wasn’t just running here – I had ran here! All the way from the tip of the country, I knew I was doing great.
After a few more miles of running, the dizziness still very much hampering my progress, I realised I had to stop being foolish and persisting in a dangerous state, running in over rocky tracks and boggy moorland in a remote area un-supported is dangerous enough, running over the rocks in the rain when dizzy is plain stupid no matter how much stopping might feel like ‘giving up’ I had to call the plug on that days effort at just under a marathon distance had been covered (I needed to cover 40miles).
The unplanned stop meant taking an evening’s meal from the rations, and an unplanned breakfast – I recalculated my rations, My stomach was aching I had food in-front of me and couldn’t touch it.
The next day I woke feeling surprisingly well (the night spent in a Bothy instead of the foil survival blanket I bivi’d in must have helped). I began running, always keeping the food rations and corresponding my pace to this the pace was slow-to slow. On the rations I had to slow the pace to be able to run and not walk, but slowing the pace, meant adding extra days – where again the food would run out there was no way around it, tried as I might to recalculate the problem, it simply wasn’t possible to run.
I kept running along, tears began and kept on streaming down my face, not tears of self pitty but almost of shock and disbelief – I’d trained and planned my life around this event for months (on top of years of running training to be able to even consider a challenge of this scale) and I was only 150 miles from completing my dream. I was about to be forced to stop not because I was injured or ran out of steam, I knew I could finish the run I was so close I could almost taste it but something so stupid as poor arithmetic when tired had made me bring too little food.
I could feasibly walk/crawl to the finish without food – i.e. complete the goal of reaching John O’Groats but that would be a very sad way to end a ‘run’ I had to find a way to run – I needed more fuel.
I knew there was a hotel in around 20 miles, I had to make a tough decision; I had to put the attainment of my goal/dream in someone else’s hands, I had to give up trying to do something impossible by myself and ask for help. After resuming eating as and when my appetite demanded, instead of rationing the fuel I began to run much stronger, still I felt sick.
The whole outcome of months of my life came down to the decision of the owner/manager of a Hotel who I’d never met before, I looked and smelt much worse than any tramp (this Hotel caters for Salmon fisher men- very wealthy posh clientele) just the sight of me in their establishment could have put their backs up.
Fear and confidence come in many different flavours, I had the confidence to stand at one end of the country and begin running with the firm belief I could reach the other end, I overcame my fear of having less than perfect navigation skills to run through the mountains of Scotland yet, walking into a building looking a stranger in the eye and asking for their help was a much scarier prospect – not just because if they said no it meant the end of my challenge, but I lacked the confidence to face rejection/ask for help anyway.
It is incredibly humbling to have to explain you cannot afford to eat, and to place the success of your dream in the hands of a stranger.
I entered the hotel, and explained what i was doing and then “I’m 130miles from completing the first ever LEJOG off-road run, I know I can complete the run but I have very little food and even less cash, without your help I cannot make it”
luckily once realising the run was for a good cause they obliged, and sent me away with a pack so full of food it was too heavy to run with; for a couple of hours i had to walk and eat to lighten the load before a shuffle-jog could be maintained, after more copious eating I had a bag light enough and legs refuelled to a level I could begin running again.
I don’t really think I have the writing skills to convey just how stressful the 20mile run towards that hotel was, and the act of asking for help. I was either running to a heart warming refuel/pitstop or the end of my challenge – I had no way of knowing until I arrived and asked.
Even after this help a couple days later food was again low, 93miles from the finish I had to make one big push – foregoing sleep as much as possible to finish the run before the food finished (there was no more hotels left to pass – the next available food was the finish).
I began running at 7am – finished at 5pm the following day, 93 miles in 34 hours, the single most traumatic day of the event, the final 20 miles having to be on tarmac – my hips and knees screamed in agony (the shock of the shoes being useless after 700+miles of running) i was essentially running barefoot on the road with a heavy 9+kg backpack in the rain, it rained all day. I hadn’t the energy to run fast enough to generate warmth from body-heat, the waterproof I had had started the run one of the best pieces of kit you could buy, after hundreds of miles of abrasion from the rucksack shoulder and chest straps it did next to nothing to repel rain, i only wore it as it provided some warming, much in the way a wetsuit works by trapping water between my skin and the outer layer I hoped that water would be warmed by body-heat, and take heat away from me slower than fresh rainwater on the skin – it probably worked to some extent, but I was cold all day. The pounding on asphalt sending
shockwaves through cold tendons was agonising.
This time it was tears of pain that streamed down my face- at least the rain was so heavy i didn’t have to worry about being embarrassed, a grown man crying in public by passing motorists, it was impossible to notice the tears in the rain.
There was the physical pain and exhaustion, there was again fear though, the previous night around 11pm running over the boggy plateau near knockfin heights (stupidly taking what I thought would be a quick bearing across the plateau I spent hours running around bogs in the twilight – it never really gets dark that far north that time of year), I noticed the sky flash – but there was no rumble or clap, how can you have lightning without noise – it doesn’t happen, again it flashed I looked all around, everything looked still, no sign of lightning no noise then it went again. this time I saw more clearly what had happened, the sky hadn’t flashed brighter, my vision was flashing on and off, making the sky appear like it was flashing on. I didn’t know what would cause your vision to flash on and off, I remember reading karnazes having vision problems in his first 100mile run, although he never mentions what may have caused the problem, i hoped it wasn’t serious, just an electrolyte or
sugar imbalance that could be fixed later; still whatever was causing the problem I sure as hell didn’t know how to treat it, and couldn’t get help where I was, it was caused by my running but stopping in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t help the condition. If I stared intently at the ground just a few metres in-front of me then I could remember the next few foot strikes of terrain i had to negotiate as and when the fake-lightning flashed this went on for about half an hour and then went I felt fine, I’d been popping caffeine and paracetamol tablets that day; had i overdossed? I didn’t think so I counted my empty packets to check it seemed fine (still I’d had trouble counting my calories when stood still in a shop after a couple of coffees and a big lunch in Fort William – cold and tired running with blinking vision in the middle of nowhere, it was quite likely I could have been wrong again) eventually I found a track I would have met much earlier if I’d followed Thurso river
rather than trying to take a direct route across the moor, running along I felt calmer the running was much easier, the track reflecting the moonlight and making running much easier, it was cold but after a while I felt a thick layer of sweat around my mouth and neck which puzzled me, why was I sweating at this effort at this temperature and why localised sweat – if anything I’d expect sweat on my brow not my chin; I wiped the sweat away with the back of my hand and was pretty worried when I realised it was sticky, looking at my hand it was caked in blood – I’d been bleeding from my nose for some time, I was worried, strange as it seems not for my health but at the thought of not completing my goal – I was so single-mindedly focused the challenge seemed more important than myself. Again I had to calm myself- going into shock is dangerous and useless, wastes energy, weakening you very fast. I talked myself down, walked for a while pinching my nose and tilting my head to force a clot.
what would cause my vision to fail and then my nose to bleed, i was sure I hadn’t overdosed – I checked again, I didn’t even have enough drugs to have overdosed. Whatever had caused the problem I didn’t know how to treat it, and I doubt it would get better just by lying down and waiting for help – I walked for a while and lucked out big time by finding an unlocked summer house next to the track which was on a private estate, the estate owners had been kind enough to let hikers/fishermen etc to make use of their building – it was not a Bothy but I decided to rest until the bleeding stopped.
Some 13 hours later I was running along, every now and then I was scared that perhaps I’d damaged something internally – although apart from the actual symptoms of vision and bleeding problems I felt fine (as good as you can feel after 1000miles of running) my main worry was that it would come back, maybe worse – perhaps I would black out, the vision switching off and not switching back on, or the bleeding would become persistent, I had to push the thoughts to the back of my mind. It took every trick I had up my sleeve to ignore both physical and mental pain at the same time, eventually I began realising I kept slowing to a walk and then halting – my legs just wouldn’t listen to me anymore. I refused to walk for any length of time this was a run, I’d prefer to stop wait until I could summon enough drive to push my legs on and run until they refused to be tricked and stopped again, this went on for the 11 out of the last 13miles.
The last two miles I ran in with a real rage, I was hungry to finish the challenge – to silence the voice that kept telling me it was ok to stop and walk or just stop full stop.
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