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Manx Mountain Marathon (MMM) 2007

I had previously ran the MMM in 2005 and 2006.  2005 was my first ever fell race and under the guidance of Ken Watterson and Allan Thomson of Manx Fell Runners did an early start and ran 6 hours 56 minutes.  In 2006 I started with the “real runners” and did a slightly disappointing 7 hours 4 minutes.  So for 2007, I undertook 6 months of training in the “fell country” of Wiltshire, determined to improve on my time.  Using my guide time of 2006 I thought an improvement of 31 minutes was possible, giving a ideal time of 6 hours 34 minutes  - so that was the target and I put together a detailed  race plan.

Arrived at the start in Ramsey Square in plenty of time for the 0915 start.  As usual everyone looked like real fell runners, even Tom my whippet looked overweight in comparison!  Not much time to worry though because with little ceremony we are off.

We go along the promenade towards the derelict pier, with the 1800 feet of North Barrule looming ahead of us.  I have to remind myself there is a long way to go (31 miles and about 8,500 feet of climb), so no rush.  Up through the suburban streets to quickly emerge at the Hairpin to be shown across the TT course by the marshals.  On through Elfin Glen and to my surprise my part of the field all decide to walk the first bit of steep section.  I am half tempted to keep running, but sense prevails and I join the walking parade.  We are soon back running and I try my best to relax.  The ground is very dry underfoot, perhaps the whole route will be like this?

We quickly emerge back on to the TT course and are marshalled across, I nearly castrate my self on the barbed wire fence and think what a great excuse for a DNF!  Up and across rough grassland towards a ruined barn, for some reason all energy has drained from my legs and I almost fall back to a walk.  Everyone else seems to in the same mode so I don’t panic.  We start to snake up the fell side following sheep tracks, which are almost dry (usually a boggy quagmire).   I am then overtaken by Allan Thomson of Manx Fell runners,  - I thought he was going for a sub-6 hour run, perhaps a sensible slow start? (He actually did an excellent  5 hours 50 minutes).  I sneak a look back and am pleased to see plenty of runners behind me  (last year there was only 3 and one of those was using a pair of those ramblers walking sticks!).  Then its head down and try to walk as fast as I can trying to ignore the 1000 feet or so of North Barrule ahead of me.  I notice the leader way ahead still appearing to be running – amazing.

The climb seems to go on forever, don’t look back and no hesitation.  Eventually I hear a runner in front shout out in apparent surprise “we are here” and I wonder if he wanted the climb to carry on for ever.  Fumble to dib my dibber and notice that I am 3 minutes up on last year, which I celebrate with my first drink.  Then we are off along the exhilarating ridge run towards Clagh Ouyr.  For the first time I notice the glorious weather, not a cloud in the sky, and the even more glorious views towards Snaefell and beyond.

Soon we are on the boardwalk at the base of the climb to Clagh Ouyr.  Leap off the boardwalk and then my pre-race plan calls for running the climb to the top, but everyone is walking, so I fall in step. Again at the checkpoint for Clagh Ouyr I appear to be several minutes up and I am feeling good.  Exit the summit cairn and throw myself down towards the TT course.  Get slightly depressed as I lose about 300 yards on the runners in front and wonder how do they run so fast downhill.

Across the TT course one more time on to the climb of Snaefell.  Again ignore my pre-race plan and walk the whole climb.  At the summit amaze myself as I find the westerly descent path first time and fly down to the Bungalow.

Take on drinks from my wife Marilyn, my support team.  Across the Tholt-y-Will road, and climb the fence avoiding the barbed wire courtesy of two beer crates. Now westward along the undulating moorland parallel to the TT course.  Very dry this year and we only have to run past two dead sheep.  Out and across the Brandywell road taking another swig of drink from my reliable backup.  For the first time stick to my pre-race plan and run almost all the way to the top of Beinn-Y-Phott, overtaking 3 runners on the way.  Run quickly down to the col and over the dry stone wall and run most of the way to the summit of Carraghan, with a couple more scalps on the way.  At the summit, do a sharp right turn and remember the plan is to fly down the steep, tussock strewn fellside like a mountain goat.  I try hard, but get overtaken by two runners on the way to the bridge  - how do they do it?  Another fence to climb and this time get foot entangled in top wire (mental note to bring wire cutters next year).  On to the bridge which appears even more dilapidated than last year.

Up the short steep climb to the gate and on to the flat with the knowledge that Injebreck and refreshments are just around the corner. 

Everyone appears laid back and unconcerned at the checkpoint, I in turn try my best to look relaxed and refreshed.  Down to the river, which although much lower than I remember still requires taking your life in your hands to cross.

A steady march up the steep plantation wall follows, with the heat now beginning to build up.  I tell myself this is the last climb before the race really starts, so I take it easy all the way to the summit of Colden, feeling guilty about not following my race plan which called for running some of the section.

I dib my dibber at the summit of Colden and check my bearings, I notice 4 runners going off far too much to the east.  Do I follow them or stick to my guns? Should I whistle them back, but what if I am wrong?  I strike out in my direction and the others soon change their bearings to mine  - I wonder what will they will think if I have got it wrong?  Didn’t worry for long as I soon see the tell tale swathes of mown heather in the distance, we are on the right bearing.  I then slowly catch the  runner in front who appears to wearing tennis shorts and a Fred Perry type T-shirt – no hi-tech gear for him.  I wonder if he is from the earlier starters, but I cannot shake him off.  

According to my pre-race plan the warm up is over and “the race now begins” I remind myself of this “fact” and knuckle down to run the delightful ridge all the way to Greeba.  The views are stunning and the gradients are kind and I soon have Slieau Ruy behind me.  I look to cut the corner to Greeba and am expertly lead out by a Manx fell runner who takes me through the shortest heather in the IOM.  I dib at Greeba and begin the dreaded descent, which requires following a flagged route.

First it is a pathless morass of waist high heather with hidden boulders and leg breaking hollows (I decide whoever set the flags must be a sadist).  Just when the heather starts to fade, in comes the gorse, again at waist height.  At this point the guy in tennis attire flies past me and wishes me well.  The Manx fell runner then pulls up with either cramp or a strain, but he waves me on.  Tennis man must have leather legs, the way he is brushing the gorse aside.  The last of the gorse and we meet a wall, which last year meant climbing the loose dry stones and then belly dancing under ferocious barbed wire.  This year sadistic flagman must have had a change of heart because a pair of aluminium step ladders have been placed at the crossing.

Then it’s a very fast descent across bone dry, rock hard fields towards the checkpoint at Greeba farm.   At this point I am trying to relax, save my legs and ignore the heat, it’s a long way to go and I cannot help noticing the forested “wall” of Sileau Whallian ahead.  I am awakened from my fears by a runner from Clayton Le Moors who goes flying past me as though as I was standing still.  I wonder if I am slowing or just that I cannot run down hill sections.

The refreshments at Greeba farm are more than welcome and I am expertly marshalled across the road by the police, I tell myself nearly halfway and a flat section to come.  Just before the old railway the runner from Clayton Le Moors starts to walk and I start to wonder if I also will feel the strain soon.  Along the railway I slowly catch “tennis man” and then pass him before the old station at St John’s.  I also manage to overall two race walkers going nearly as fast as I am running, I hope they go slower on the hills.  As I approach St John’s I think about what supplies I need from my back-up.  I decide all I need is a quick swig of cordial and no more, which is a good thing because I notice my wife sitting in the car reading a book as I run past.   I wonder if this is because I am so far ahead of schedule or that the book was very interesting.   I run the road section to the entrance of the forestry and begin the ever steepening slog through the forest.  Early in the climb I overtake a very weary looking runner who asks if it is about 10 miles to go.  A quick thought tells me it is more like 16 miles, but he looks so tired I tell him it’s about 12 and the worst is over.

 The climb through the forest goes on forever and just gets steeper and steeper.  I bag one more runner halfway up and finally emerge onto the fellside.  Race plan calls to run to the summit, so I get the legs going and run most of the way.

At the summit of Sileau Whallian I pause to glance ahead to South Barulle shimmering in the heat haze, the last big climb I lie to myself.  Two more runners taken on the descent.

The track to Garey Gate has been surfaced with crushed stone in part and is much easier than I remember.  At the checkpoint a lady holds a clipboard and what looks like a petition in front of me.  I am just about to say I don’t have a pen when I realise she is just stopping me running past the dibber.

Off down the steep road descent and nearly get mown down by two scrambling bikes and the biggest 4X4 on the island.  Run the climb up to the old mine and this time meet my wife, not reading her book.  Take on drinks and an energy bar and start the ascent of South Barrule.

Pre-race plan say this should be run which will take 10-12 minutes off my time.  Unfortunately pre-race notes did not take account of tired legs and the ever increasing heat.  I start to walk as fast as I can, but after about a third of the climb feel so guilty that I break in to a slow jog.  I carry on as long as I can but fall back into a quick walk, noticing the Manx Fell runner I over took near Garey Gate is closing in on me.  Back to running and I look at my watch – spend 5 minutes trying to work out how I am doing against my PB.  Brain not working very well as my first calculation tells me I am on for a sub-6 hour run, which I know is wrong.  I finally decide I am doing well and am on for at least a sub-7 hour.

Finally I make the summit of South Barrule and chase a fellow runner down the rocky path.  My legs are tired and I am nervous of tripping so I concentrate on lifting my feet on every step.  This has no effect, as next minute I clip a stone and almost dive head first into the path.  Getting angry with myself I try to relax and hang on to the runner in front.  I then notice we have missed the diversion off the path onto the flagged section  - was there an exit flag?  For some reason this amuses me as I can imagine the marshals shouting at us to get back on the course.  We regain the course and hopefully please the marshals and then break out onto the road.

A quick swig and out across towards Cronk Ny Arrey Laa.  Pre-race notes call for running the whole section to the road.  However, the path is narrow, stony and climbs a lot in the last ½ mile.  I run the majority, but begin to get disheartened as I start to walk the last section to the gate.  I force myself to start thinking of the finish and what my time may be.  I remember that from the Sloc to the finish should take about 50 minutes, but how long to the Sloc?   I slowly work it out that I could be on for something like a 6 hour 30 min run and a massive PB.  I hit the road and am determined to have a go.

I run to the gate at the start of the climb and get a drink from my wife and a strict instruction to run all the way to the finish.  I manage to run to the summit, remembering that the checkpoint is between the trig point and the cairn.  Just before I start down the descent I notice a runner heading off towards the cliffs,  I whistle him over and get a wave of thanks.  I wonder, was he lost or was he looking for the easy way out?

Down the rough descent, again concentrating on not tripping, but nearly falling at least twice.  The Sloc finally comes into view and the final drink and words of encouragement from my wife.  A quick wave to the whippet in the car and I am off, hugely encouraged by the fact I have 50 minutes to go for a record breaking  run of about 6.5 hours.

The next section is tough, although in reality just a very gentle climb which seems to go on forever.  I tell myself 6 months of training will be wasted if you don’t keep going, you cannot stop and walk now.  Finally I get to the top of the climb and start the descent, praying for the flag showing the route off to the right.  Finally the flag comes and a short boggy section before the murderously steep descent to Fleshwick begins.  My toes hurt, my knees hurt and I dare not look up to see the final climb out of Fleshwick Bay.  A lady runner in front, advertising Ramsey Bakery, lets me pass on the narrow path, so I have to speed up  - will I have any toe-nails or knee caps left.

Finally the descent is over and on to the road, I cannot run the steepest part of the road section and when it flattens out I try to run again but a searing pain runs up my left leg.  I continue to walk and worry whether I will be able to run to the finish after the last climb.  My worries about the run-in soon disappear as I begin the climb.  The path seems steeper than ever and the sun is beating down on the back of my neck.  All I can do is plod slowly up not daring to stop, look back or even think of anything except the next step.  I eventually get to the top of the first pitch, I should run to the second section of the climb but hesitate and hold back, but then go for it and my leg holds up.  I finally slog up to the 4X4 at the top, dib the dibber along with some other runners.  They ask each other are we going to run to the finish or walk it? Easy decision for me I am on for PB and nothing is going to stop me now.  Along the rocky fire desolated cliff top, will it ever grow back after the fire?  Avoid the rockiest sections, overtake a couple of runners and out on the grass.  For the first time I can see the top of Bradda tower, the gateway to the finish  - all I need to do is run it in.  Suddenly realise I have wandered slightly off course, should be further over to the right.  Never mind it’s just a short climb to the tower and then a downhill run in.  At the base of the climb to the tower I stand on a piece of sharp rock, which feels like it has penetrated my fell shoe, the pain is intense.  It is not going to stop me though and I dib the Tower checkpoint and scamper through the gorse and the rocky path, thinking don’t fall or break anything now.

Out on to the grass path and away we go, it is going to be a PB and close to 6 hours 30 mins  a dream time. I focus on the back of a runner in front and slowly haul him in.  Just before the exit onto the road I overtake him and get a word of encouragement.  Out on to the pavement one last scalp and one last small climb to go, I know I can do it, just need to hold it together, dig in and look for the hole in the wall.  There it is down the steps onto the grass,  it is only 100 yards to go, hear my wife shout go on, and nearly get savaged  by the mad whippet, tempted to grab his lead and run in with him, but think I might get disqualified.   Try to look composed and fresh as I cross the line, mange to remember to dib my dibber and then wonder what the official is doing asking for my wrist and brandishing a pair of scissors - only retrieving the bracelet holding the dibber.

So that was it, 6 months of training, planning and pain.  What did I get  - well how about a PB of 24 minutes and 44 seconds for starters, also sore knees, sore toes, sore thighs a time of 6 hours 31 minutes and 25 seconds and 50^th out of 113 finishers.

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Last modified: 02-Jul-2008 16:30