Please click here for more details of the evening and to purchase your movie ticket ($10, goes to North Shore Rescue) as seating is limited.
Click here to see the trailer of JB Benna's fab movie.
July 31, 2012
North Shore Athletics Evening Tuesday August 7th
Please click here for more details of the evening and to purchase your movie ticket ($10, goes to North Shore Rescue) as seating is limited.
Click here to see the trailer of JB Benna's fab movie.
July 29, 2012
You know you are an ultra runner when.... White River 50 miler race report
This weekend I had the absolute pleasure of running White River 50 miler near Crystal Mountain, Washington. What a fantastic event that I can only recommend you go run yourself; beautiful trails, stellar views, well marked course, fab race organizers, friendly vollies, great post race eats, lots of give aways, cool camping ... the list goes on. I had 7h40 to consider the question: you know you are an ultra runner when...
- You sign up for a 50 miler 3 weeks before because you have nothing else in the diary that weekend, so why not? Might as well really, it'd be silly not to...
- You consider that this 50 miler will be good training for another 50 miler 2 weeks later which will be good training for a 100km race 3 weeks after that...
- You elect to camp the night before the race cause heck - it's 100 metres from the race start line so that will mean a sleep in and you won't have to get up til 5.30am - blissful lazy days!
- You figure this is only a 50 miler so hey - take it easy on Thursday (1hr run, 1hr yoga), don't run Friday, race Saturday - perfect taper plan.
- You now consider 6min per km a pretty good race pace. 3m45 per km downhill seems downright speedy.
- Lunch consists of gels, shot bloks and chips, all washed down with some thirst-quenching coke.
- At 42km into the 80km race you begin to feel better, like you've finally warmed up and stretched out the legs a little.
- At 70km into the race you begin to wonder whether 50 miles really is spot on 80km, maybe it's less, maybe it's more, oh well - what's a few kms here or there?
- It seems well worth running for 6+ hours just to get a good panoramic mountain view. I mean you could drive up the mountain to get the same view, but who would want to do that?
- Your idea of a perfect Saturday afternoon is hanging out in a forest parking lot, unshowered, in race gear, chatting to new and old friends, eating any food you can find and then popping into the river with new friends for a refreshing ice bath.
- You don't run Sunday and instead go for coffee, go for lunch, hang out with friends, and spend the whole day wondering if this is what 'normal' people do every Sunday.
- You sign up for a 50 miler 3 weeks before because you have nothing else in the diary that weekend, so why not? Might as well really, it'd be silly not to...
- You consider that this 50 miler will be good training for another 50 miler 2 weeks later which will be good training for a 100km race 3 weeks after that...
- You elect to camp the night before the race cause heck - it's 100 metres from the race start line so that will mean a sleep in and you won't have to get up til 5.30am - blissful lazy days!
- You figure this is only a 50 miler so hey - take it easy on Thursday (1hr run, 1hr yoga), don't run Friday, race Saturday - perfect taper plan.
- You now consider 6min per km a pretty good race pace. 3m45 per km downhill seems downright speedy.
- Lunch consists of gels, shot bloks and chips, all washed down with some thirst-quenching coke.
- At 42km into the 80km race you begin to feel better, like you've finally warmed up and stretched out the legs a little.
- At 70km into the race you begin to wonder whether 50 miles really is spot on 80km, maybe it's less, maybe it's more, oh well - what's a few kms here or there?
- It seems well worth running for 6+ hours just to get a good panoramic mountain view. I mean you could drive up the mountain to get the same view, but who would want to do that?
- Your idea of a perfect Saturday afternoon is hanging out in a forest parking lot, unshowered, in race gear, chatting to new and old friends, eating any food you can find and then popping into the river with new friends for a refreshing ice bath.
- You don't run Sunday and instead go for coffee, go for lunch, hang out with friends, and spend the whole day wondering if this is what 'normal' people do every Sunday.
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| A pretty special number - previously worn by Anton Krupicka and Uli Steidl |
June 28, 2012
The Big Dance
Last Saturday I ran 100.2 miles from Squaw Valley to Auburn, California. It would be fair to say that it was a reasonably successful outing. A few pics below and many thanks to Bryon and the team www.irunfar.com not only for their awesome race day updates on twitter but also for posting my race report. Check it out by clicking here.
And as I have such great crew they also write reports too which is fun to hear their side of the story.
Click here for Kristin's write up
And here for Ryne's
And as I have such great crew they also write reports too which is fun to hear their side of the story.
Click here for Kristin's write up
And here for Ryne's
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| With RD Greg Soderlund. I think we were both a little surprised by the number on the clock. Credit - Glenn Tachiyama |
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| Rucky Chucky at km125 with Ryne giving me a bath. Credit - Glenn Tachiyama |
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| Hiking those hills with Bryon of iRunFar & future RD Craig Thornley taking pics of my not so good side :) |
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| There's nothing like rain whipping at your face, Rory Bosio cracking jokes and a hike up Emigrant Pass to wake you up at 5am. Credit - Bob/ Drymax Socks |
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| Looking like a granny at the finish line (4 days later I still have swollen granny feet). Credit - Ken/ Running Stupid |
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| Reasonable track form after a 100 mile warm up. Credit - Bob/ Drymax Socks |
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| Up and out of the canyons. Credit - Brett Rivers |
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| Green Gate with Ryne - 128km down, 32 to go. Credit - Alva Woolf |
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| With my magically marvellous crew. Credit - that Salomon dude, Phil Villeneuve |
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| Quite literally stealing gloves off the hands of my crew at Robinson Flat. Credit - Craig Thornley |
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| Coincidence on which flags are closest to the clock? Credit - John Mackey Photography |
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| Pack off for a weigh in at Foresthill with Kristin. |
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| With my idol Meghan Arbogast! Fair to say she is a few years older than me and not much slower. F10 Meghan - congrats, you're downright awesome! |
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| Mikey P the Powerhouse, Shoe Wearin' Rune and KOP. |
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| Team Ellie - you guys are the best. Thank you thank you thank you. |
June 18, 2012
To be Chicked
'To be Chicked'. Like the phrase? Hate the phrase? Heck, there's always a good discussion on the finer points of ultra running such as this going on over at www.irunfar.com. Check out and chuckle at the discussion on chicking by clicking here.
Happy trails to you all - men and women alike :)
Chuckanut chicks cruising on the Interurban, March 2011. Photo: Glenn Tachiyama
June 5, 2012
Comrades Video Clip
A short video from Sunday's Comrades. Please note; (1) Sports bras are very handy for storing gels and cliff shot blocks. (2) I am a trail runner - I was not walking that hill, I was power walking (there is a distinct difference but I don't think road runners appreciate any sort of walking!). (3) I am a Scot living in Canada, I need to start using spray tan ;)
Race report is posted below....
Happy trails & tarmac,
Ellie
June 4, 2012
Intensity
I've run tough races. I've given it all I've had. I've vomited. I've bawled. But I've never run with such intensity. Until yesterday. Comrades Marathon. The Ultimate Human Race. 89kms from Pietermaritzburg to Durban. 100% proudly South African.
2012 was a downhill run, approximately 2, 000m of tarmac pounding down to the Indian ocean of coastal Durban. But don't let the net downhill profile map fool you. Yesterday I climbed about 1, 400m too - most of that in the first half. It's quad frying, it's calf cramping, and then it's seeing what you have left for the final 20km or so which go down, down, down... til you beg for an uphill only to regret it as soon as you are crawling up in the heat of the day off a highway exit ramp, with crowds cheering you not to slow, not to walk, not to give up.
But this was not the intensity. The intensity was giving it all I had to race the most competitive race I've ever run. To take the lead in the women's race with about 46km to go. To then hear the heavy and determined breathing of Elena Nurgalieva (Russia) on my shoulder at about 44km to go. A previous 6 time winner, I knew she had course knowledge far in excess in my own, she had the talent and she was not going to give up without a fight. This was not a surprise to me, but the fact that I was the one in this battle with her in someway was. The Nedbank crew shouted at me to watch out that I didn't pound down Botha's hill too hard, to save something of my already tired quads for the later downhills. But I knew that if I let Elena go I might never catch her again. So I took a risk, a calculated risk, and for the next 20km we ran neck and neck. Mostly I was marginally in front, but we would knock elbows, we caught each others feet on occasion, there was hardly a metre between us. The race was on and I knew it was not so much about the physical but more about the mental focus to push, push, push and just focus like never before.
Elena was faster on the all too frequent short uphills but I maintained my ground and tried to run relaxed on the flats and the downs. There were cheers for both of us, and whether the crowds shouted 'Elena' or 'Eleanor' I was never quite sure, but I just hoped the cheers were for me and I would smile or grimace at the supporters that lined the sides of the route - any cheers or encouragement could only help to pull me along in this battle to Durban. But about 25km or so to go Elena cracked me. She inched ahead. My quads were smashed, my ITs tight and painful, my calves were crampy and I began to pop more salt tablets and grab sachets of liquid from the stations - energy drink to give me an ounce more zip than I had, water to douse me as the heat was building (in more way than one). I no longer cared what I looked like on national South African tv, with a motorbike camera following our each and every move, I pulled gels out of my sports bra, I power hiked the hills. This wasn't about looks, this was about fighting til the end. The tv commentator later told me he thought I was dead when he saw me start to walk up Cowie's Hill. But if one thing kept me going it was pride. I had led at the half way mark of Comrades and there was no way, absolutely no way in the world, that I was going to finish any further back than 2nd. I wasn't going to look stupid and so with stubborn determination I hiked the hills like a trail runner to save my quads for the flats and downs. The crowds began to shout my splits back of Elena, I was gaining ground on her again. I was passing men, and doing everything I could to pass them as we had been warned to not run with men for fear we would get disqualified if they were seen to be pacing us. I would see Nedbank male runners (my South African running club), I'd use them as targets to catch, say a brief hello as I then focused on trying to spot the timing clock car just ahead of Elena - that was my goal, that was my target, that was what I needed to catch before we got the the cricket stadium in downtown Durban. I didn't dare let up, apart from the glimmer of hope that I still might, just might, be able to win, I also refused to get caught. I had no idea how far back 3rd place was but as I feared I was slowing I was concerned that I might get caught by the talented field of ladies behind me.
5km to go and I finally knew I could make it. 20mins, maybe less, and this pain, this agony, this intensity would be over. 4km to go yet 3km to go seemed a million miles away. 2km to go and I was on the flat roads of central Durban, the crowds cheering behind the barriers lining both sides of the street. I was likely still hitting about 4mins per km but each second seemed to take an age to pass and the markers seemed to be further and further and further apart. But soon, the final km, the twisty turns into the cricket pavilion. I was handed a rose as I entered (as all in the top 10 are), I tried to hold it high, I didn't have the energy in my arm to do so. It dropped to my side and the stem bent in half, it looked battered and bruised, just like I was. Round three sides of the stadium, my eyes desperately searching for the bright yellow finish banner. And then it was there. I was there. I was done. It was over. The intensity could stop.
And the celebrations and the recovery could begin....
Thank you South Africa. Thank you Comrades. Thank you Nedbank. Your hospitality and spirit made this a race to remember. I've never been happier to be 'first loser' ;)
(photos to follow, I'm writing this in J'burg airport with some great South African music playing!)
2012 was a downhill run, approximately 2, 000m of tarmac pounding down to the Indian ocean of coastal Durban. But don't let the net downhill profile map fool you. Yesterday I climbed about 1, 400m too - most of that in the first half. It's quad frying, it's calf cramping, and then it's seeing what you have left for the final 20km or so which go down, down, down... til you beg for an uphill only to regret it as soon as you are crawling up in the heat of the day off a highway exit ramp, with crowds cheering you not to slow, not to walk, not to give up.
But this was not the intensity. The intensity was giving it all I had to race the most competitive race I've ever run. To take the lead in the women's race with about 46km to go. To then hear the heavy and determined breathing of Elena Nurgalieva (Russia) on my shoulder at about 44km to go. A previous 6 time winner, I knew she had course knowledge far in excess in my own, she had the talent and she was not going to give up without a fight. This was not a surprise to me, but the fact that I was the one in this battle with her in someway was. The Nedbank crew shouted at me to watch out that I didn't pound down Botha's hill too hard, to save something of my already tired quads for the later downhills. But I knew that if I let Elena go I might never catch her again. So I took a risk, a calculated risk, and for the next 20km we ran neck and neck. Mostly I was marginally in front, but we would knock elbows, we caught each others feet on occasion, there was hardly a metre between us. The race was on and I knew it was not so much about the physical but more about the mental focus to push, push, push and just focus like never before.
Elena was faster on the all too frequent short uphills but I maintained my ground and tried to run relaxed on the flats and the downs. There were cheers for both of us, and whether the crowds shouted 'Elena' or 'Eleanor' I was never quite sure, but I just hoped the cheers were for me and I would smile or grimace at the supporters that lined the sides of the route - any cheers or encouragement could only help to pull me along in this battle to Durban. But about 25km or so to go Elena cracked me. She inched ahead. My quads were smashed, my ITs tight and painful, my calves were crampy and I began to pop more salt tablets and grab sachets of liquid from the stations - energy drink to give me an ounce more zip than I had, water to douse me as the heat was building (in more way than one). I no longer cared what I looked like on national South African tv, with a motorbike camera following our each and every move, I pulled gels out of my sports bra, I power hiked the hills. This wasn't about looks, this was about fighting til the end. The tv commentator later told me he thought I was dead when he saw me start to walk up Cowie's Hill. But if one thing kept me going it was pride. I had led at the half way mark of Comrades and there was no way, absolutely no way in the world, that I was going to finish any further back than 2nd. I wasn't going to look stupid and so with stubborn determination I hiked the hills like a trail runner to save my quads for the flats and downs. The crowds began to shout my splits back of Elena, I was gaining ground on her again. I was passing men, and doing everything I could to pass them as we had been warned to not run with men for fear we would get disqualified if they were seen to be pacing us. I would see Nedbank male runners (my South African running club), I'd use them as targets to catch, say a brief hello as I then focused on trying to spot the timing clock car just ahead of Elena - that was my goal, that was my target, that was what I needed to catch before we got the the cricket stadium in downtown Durban. I didn't dare let up, apart from the glimmer of hope that I still might, just might, be able to win, I also refused to get caught. I had no idea how far back 3rd place was but as I feared I was slowing I was concerned that I might get caught by the talented field of ladies behind me.
5km to go and I finally knew I could make it. 20mins, maybe less, and this pain, this agony, this intensity would be over. 4km to go yet 3km to go seemed a million miles away. 2km to go and I was on the flat roads of central Durban, the crowds cheering behind the barriers lining both sides of the street. I was likely still hitting about 4mins per km but each second seemed to take an age to pass and the markers seemed to be further and further and further apart. But soon, the final km, the twisty turns into the cricket pavilion. I was handed a rose as I entered (as all in the top 10 are), I tried to hold it high, I didn't have the energy in my arm to do so. It dropped to my side and the stem bent in half, it looked battered and bruised, just like I was. Round three sides of the stadium, my eyes desperately searching for the bright yellow finish banner. And then it was there. I was there. I was done. It was over. The intensity could stop.
And the celebrations and the recovery could begin....
Thank you South Africa. Thank you Comrades. Thank you Nedbank. Your hospitality and spirit made this a race to remember. I've never been happier to be 'first loser' ;)
(photos to follow, I'm writing this in J'burg airport with some great South African music playing!)
May 7, 2012
A Picture Paints One Thousand Words
Yesterday I raced the BMO Vancouver marathon. Ok, so I'm an ultra runner who mostly runs on trails but I do love to road run too and it was simply too much to resist to not run Vancouver having moved back here just 8 days ago. What better way to celebrate moving back and catch up with a tonne of friends? Possibly not the best move to throw in, yet another, mini taper when I really need to be getting long trail runs in in prep for Western States 100 miler in just 7 weeks time. But on the other hand, sometimes forcing myself to take a few days off by way of a taper is not such a bad thing after all, and a hard 42.2km effort is at least some sort of training, even if not Western States specific.
I could write a long race report but to be honest I spend all day in front of a PC for work, so here's a Cole's note version typed on a beautifully sunny Vancouver evening before I head off to a hot yoga class (good Western heat acclimatization and my only hope of being able to some day touch my toes). If you don't have either the tim for the inclination to read this, then skip to the two photos at the bottom because as the saying goes, a picture paints one thousand words.
- The new point to point route is scenically stunning, but despite being net downhill it has some good little uphills too. It also had about 400m too much in distance, but lets forgive this otherwise excellently revamped course for a few minor errors. Overall, I highly recommend this as a great destination marathon.
- Lots of fun running through the various neighbourhoods, each with memories of run groups I've run with over the years. UBC & Kits for Forerunners, Burrard Bridge for PRR, and the Stanley Park seawall for Vancouver Falcons.
- Great company in the initial 1/2 or so with Jordan Back (congrats on your PB), Barry Young, Mikey P and Stan Yang.
- Rolling hills for much of the first 25km or so meant it was hard to gauge even km splits. Maybe this was a good thing, I just ran more on feel and thus maybe ran faster than I would have dared if it was a pancake flat course and I'd stuck to preplanned km splits.
- I had no expectation to win and was surprised even when I first heard I was in 3rd place, having expected to be in about 5th. When a spectator called out I was in 2nd I corrected them and said I was in 3rd, but they were right as 2nd place female had dropped out. I still didn't expect to win as thought 1st place would be miles ahead (until I saw her at about 12km to go and my friend Katherine Moore shouted at me to go catch her, thanks for the encouragement Kat!) This was an awesome way to run - no pressure, no expectations, until 12km to go when I hauled as hard as I could.
- It took me until about 7km to go to take the lead. I would try pass into 1st place but Mary (Akor) would take the inside bend tight forcing me out to run wide and lose distance. She would also surge so much I knew I couldn't keep up at that surging pace. But I heard her breathing much harder than me and at 7km to go and on about the 10th surge I cracked it and passed her. I made a decisive split to try grow a lead, I knew my ultra legs would not be up for a sprint on the final stretch so I needed to make a move and make a gap now. I felt pretty gutsy going past Mary who is an Olympic Trials qualifier with a PB around 2:37, but I kept my cool and was thinking elite strategy I've listened to on Marathon Talk podcast (thanks for the tips Martin & Tom!)
- Once in the lead I just wanted to get to my PRR buddies who were manning a water station at Lumberman's Arch. It was a mini goal before the finish line and I needed some cheering as much as some gatorade (thanks guys). It was counting each and every km marker at this point.
- On going under the narrow arch at the lighthouse on the seawall I had to overtake the lead motorbike, it was backed up with male racers in front and I didn't dare lose pace for a second in case Mary was still right behind me. Soon after the one bad natured Vancouverite I saw all day blocked the way of the lead motorbike causing it to swerve and causing the volunteer cyclist to go down. Big thank you to that vollie cyclist and I feel terrible that some angry pedestrian made you fall when you were giving up your day to help Vancouver put on an awesome event.
- For the final 12km or so I only looked at my pace on my garmin about once. Sometimes it's not about your time but more about your position and once I knew it was possible I could win this race, I so wanted to. I thought that it'd be a pretty cool homecoming....and it was.
- Thank you so much to all the great volunteers who gave up their weekend to make this event happen - 15, 000 runners can be pretty demanding! Big thanks also to Lynn Kanuka (Elite coordinator) and Jordan Myers (RD) for all your hard work into making BMO Vancouver such a great event. But biggest thank you of all to all my friends - so great to see you all again.
Satisfaction in a surprise win that means a lot to me
Only once I was over the line did I look at my garmin. I was pretty happy with the number I saw. 2:42:15. PB by 49secs
Photos: The Province (Vancouver)
Now back to ultras (I promise!)
Ellie
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