2023 is likely to be my last year of ultra running (although Catie does not believe this) and I wanted to finish with some of the most demanding and iconic events. The event I had wanted to do was the fearsome Madeira Island Ultra Trail but it was over-subscribed so I opted for the relatively “easy” Cami di Cavalls. The race basically involves running around Menorca, a distance of 185 km (115 miles) and is relatively flat with a mere 3,500 of vertical gain.
For something of this magnitude, I am normally extremely well prepared but for various reasons, mainly involving injuries and colds, but primarily through a lack of desire, I came into this event woefully under prepared. I had done very little running over the winter and my longest run was 20 km.
My form was also impacted by spending 9 nights in a tent in Svalbard just prior to the event. I had hardly slept during the trip and on arriving home I had less than 24 hours before rising at 4:00am to travel to Menorca. Pulling a pulk for 10 days is not the ideal taper for a large event (note this was not planned – a last minute change of plans resulted in the trips being back-to-back). I had debated whether to simply abandon such was my level of ambivalence but as Catie was away, I had nothing better to do and it was all paid for and organised, I took the flight.
On the start line I expected to DNF (did not finish), the only question was when as I largely saw the event as a training exercise. Normally the idea of DNFing is terrifying to me, but as I have largely achieved my ultra running goals, I do not feel I have anything to prove. I thought it would be interesting psychologically to race when I was not heavily invested in the outcome, when the intrinsic desire and motivation was missing. I also thought it would be interesting to see how I coped with 185 km without any real training as I knew this would essentially make it a mind game.
The race started and the terrain is relatively flat and easy although very stony and rocky. I had forgotten that my vari-focal contact lenses tend to cause me to trip a lot (I don’t know why) and I was constantly stumbling and inevitably I took a fall and bruised the palm of my hand quite badly. The constant tripping was really annoying and I spent most of the time seeking to justify to myself when would be acceptable to pull out. The kilometres passed by very, very slowly and I was torturing myself about the decision to pull out.
My issue was that I lacked any intrinsic motivation for this event, I really did not care whether I finished or not. I had to play games in my head to keep me from pulling out too early. The most effective was my “abandoning rule” which said that I could not abandon at an aid station and that I could only make the decision to abandon after 1km into the next stage. This meant that if I decided to abandon, I would have to walk back to the previous aid station in order to formally retire. The potential embarrassment of walking back against the flow of runners was a sufficient motivation to keep me in the race.
Then something strange happened. At the aid station at km 53 I saw a female runner having her photo taken, pointing proudly on the course map at how far she had come in the race so far. This triggered a whole series of extrinsic sources of motivation. I always teach Amelie and Tristan to “never give up” and I try to set a good example. I also thought about the strava segment and how cool that would be and I liked the idea of “bragging” about having run around Menorca after just coming off Svalbard on no training and no sleep. Suddenly I was motivated to complete the race which shows that ego and extrinsic motivation can be powerful motivational tools sometimes. After this point I only thought about pulling out again at 2:30am when the human body is at its lowest ebb. I had already promised myself that I would make no decisions between 1am and 4am because the mind cannot be relied upon in the early hours of the morning.
Unfortunately, by km 53 I had effectively “used up” what fitness I had in my legs and so I had to accept that I would essentially be walking the remaining 132 km. This meant it was going to be a very long race, in fact I was out for 38 hours and 42 minutes. I learnt that I really need to work on my walking, I am a relatively slow walker. Later in the year I will be competing in the Tor de Geants which is 330km and 35,000 m of vertical and I do not expect to run at all – a good performance will depend on the ability to walk fast. For reference the wining time on TdG yielded an average speed of 3.75 km/hr (2.3 mph).
Walking was not physically taxing, this was not a physical sufferfest, but maintaining mental focus was the challenge. The impact of Svalbard meant that I started sleep deprived and things only got worse. I could not stay focused and I suffered from a profound mental fatigue which I have never experience before. At one point I think I might actually have fallen asleep whilst walking. To overcome this, I developed a few “mantras” which I would repeat when my mind drifted – “move forward with purpose” seemed to work well.
For the first time I even started to hallucinate – I kept seeing doves and other nesting bids on the ground but as I approached, they would turn away from me and become stones. I also saw a tortoise (yet another stone) and at one point I was convinced there was a snowman, although it could also have been Mr. Blobby, it’s hard to tell.
I also finally had to resort to coke (as in cola) and filled both water bottles for the final three stages. Coke is incredible, the moment you drink some, almost immediately there is increased mental sharpness and a boost to energy but the effect is fleeting and 5 to 10 minutes later you crash down the other side. Once you start on coke you just have to keep it coming, I was sipping coke every 15 minutes. This is why Amelie and Tristan are not allowed coke!
From km 53 to within 12 km of the finish, time began to fly past. The kilometres passed quickly despite my slow pace and suddenly there was only the last stage and 12 km to go. Now everything changed again – I just wanted it to be over and the finish line seemed to take forever to arrive although it eventually did. I had some leeway with the cut-off (1hr 18 minutes) but it was close and I finished 108 out of 117 finishers although its worth noting that 202 started the race and 85 people or 42% abandoned.
I am glad I did not abandon; I learnt a lot about what motivates me and I am committed to working on my power walking for the TdG. I am also impressed that my 53 year old body is capable of achieving something of this magnitude with no training and no sleep. I choose not to dwell on the fact that the winner of the race completed the course in 19 hours and is only two years younger than me!
Expeditions 