Reeling a bit from the OverRun night race and my fuelling nightmare, I felt like I really needed another long run to work on my calorie intake on the move, and to get some much needed confidence back before Berlin. The Transpennine Challenge looked perfect - 100km from Manchester to Sheffield, do-able in a day, no need to stay overnight before or after (so long as I beat 15hrs and made the last train), and not too tricky terrain-wise, so a quick recovery was on the cards if all went well.

My primary objective on the start line was to eat every half hour. I had a range of things with me, small flapjacks (three types), gummy Smurfs, and assorted chocolate bars, as well as the High-5 carb drink sachets I've been trying recently. I figured two flapjacks and 500ml of High-5 would give me around 400 calories an hour, more than managed in the whole of my last race, and was hopeful that would keep me going to the end if I could stick to it. I set off in a group of walkers at 0715 which was odd. The main event was for walkers, and only around 80 of the 407 doing the 100km challenge were running, so the first couple of hours were fun just bouncing past the walkers that had started earlier. The course markings were good, and although the route was mostly uphill to a high point at 48km before coming back down the other side of the Pennines, it wasn't too hard going. Eating was going well, and the aid stations were really well stocked so I scoffed down plenty of fruit to supplement my flapjack and Smurfs.

After a couple of biggish climbs around 48km the route started heading down again and I felt pretty good at that stage. I had a bit of a wobble around 54km, and from there to 60km felt like forever, not least because I missed a turning at Oxbury and ran a mile in the wrong direction. When I hadn't seen a sign for a while I checked the map and doubled back, finding the right path easily. No idea how I missed it, as it was clear as day second time around. Maybe a van passed just as I was going by and blocked my view, I don't know. I kept forcing down flapjack regularly, always feeling a little nauseous after, but only slightly and only for a bit, which was hugely preferable to my last time out. Then things got a bit messy. On one section of cycle path around 60km the markings disappeared again. I ran another mile, got the map out, doubled back, and met some guys coming the other way. We managed to work out the right way to go, then saw the cable ties left where someone had obviously ripped the signs down. Then things were ok for about 15km, until I hit a T-junction and again, no signs, just cable ties. This time it cost me about 20 mins, as some helfpul locals had not just ripped down a load of signs, they'd moved them into another field. After a bit of faffing about, checking the map with a couple of guys who'd caught me up, and a bit of trial and error running down the posible routes ahead of us, we finally found the right trail and carried on. I was feeling pretty good after that rest and pushed on ahead of the guys I'd been running with for a while, and all was going well until I ran out of signs again - this time I'd missed a left turn and gone on nearly 2 miles, uphill. I realised what I'd done, but unfortunately not where I was - after doubling back, finding the turn, and running a mile or so up the trail, I passed quite close to where I'd gotten to on the wrong path. If I'd been a bit more alert I could have just romped across the field and only added about a mile, instead of nearly 4. Then again, if I'd been more alert I wouldn't have missed the turn.

I was still feeling ok, and in moderately good spirits to that point, but when my Garmin hit 90km and I should have been looking at my last 10km, I hit a course marker telling me there was still 22km to go. I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. All of a sudden I was tired and hurting, and just wanted it to be over, and the rest of the race was just about putting one foot in front of the other. I was taking plenty of walking breaks at this point, but after a few seconds of walking my desire for it all to be over had me running (after a fashion) again. I'd stopped eating at this point - it was making me feel a bit rough, and it wasn't going to do me any good between then and the end anyway, and just pretty much trudged my way down into Sheffield and to the finish in the Don Valley Stadium. Inside the stadium at the end I met a guy Chris who I'd chatted with a bit along the way, and his wife Mel who was there to drive him home offered to give me a lift back to Manchester and save me from another three hours travelling back to pick up my car- I think I was happier then than I was when I crossed the line!

Although technically it was a "challenge" rather than a race, I was waiting anxiously for the results. Someone had said at the finish I was 9th across the line, but with the staggered start that didn't really mean anything. I know it was a training run, and I met my main objective of eating most of the way around, but I still wanted to do well. As it turned out, I was 11th overall out of 80-ish runners, and 9th male, with a time of 13hrs 7 mins. Not bad with an extra 12.6km run and quite a bit of navigational dithering.

The 12hr Ultra at Fen Drayton seemed a good opportunity to practice some night running, and see where I was fitness-wise coming into the last phase of training for Berlin in two months. On Saturday afternoon I drove the 3hrs down to Fen Drayton, with no real pre-race plan other than to start fully-fuelled up, take things really slow, and hope to reach 8am Sunday still moving and with something approaching 55-60 miles in the bag. At 8pm we were off, round a circular 2 and a bit mile loop that followed the shores of one of the lakes on the nature reserve. The first couple of hours were uneventful, chatted a bit with a few people, and worked on digesting the big dinner I'd had a couple of hours before the start. The route was basically a square, starting halfway down side 1 along a slightly muddy trail, then left onto side 2 which was normal woodland trail, left again onto side 3 which was the same, and then side 4 was hardpack/gravel alongside a guided busway, before turning left onto the first section of side 1, which was road. After the first couple of hours, things started to fall apart a bit. First, I rolled my ankle, not badly, but enough to cause some discomfort and affect my gait. No big deal in the short-term, but after another few hours I was in some major pain as my wonky ankle was pulling on my calf and knee. At midnight, after 4 hours running I caved and took some ibuprofen which helped quite a bit to start with. Then came an even bigger problem, I couldn't eat. Having never started a race at 8pm before I thought eating a lot before the race would be a great idea - I normally struggle having to start early and fuel up on the go. For the first couple of hours I wasn't hungry because I was full, but then somewhere around 1am after only a few gels, I started to feel really nauseous. This coincided with some building pain in the soles of my feet, which I fixed by swapping my Cascadia trail shoes for my Glyycerin roadies. The ankle was still bad, but nothing compared to the nausia, and I knew if I didn't eat anything I'd be off the course and sleeping in my car in no time. I tried a chocolate spread sandwich, which I immediately gagged on and threw up, and a little later some chocolate, flapjack and rice pudding - all at different times, but all with the same effect. I was on the edge of losing the plot at this stage, and at 2am, carrying on felt impossible. I managed to hold a few gels down over the next couple of hours, and fortunately was able to keep drinking water without barfing. In a strange way the leg pain was taking my mind off the nausea and vice-versa, so at least I had some variety in my misery. By 3am, my only goal was to keep shuffling along until sunrise - it promised to be spectacular over the lake (and it was), and that was all that kept me moving for the next hour or so. The distance updates I was getting each lap were pretty depressing, my pace was awful, even for me, and as I hit 44 miles with two hours to go I set off on what was to be my last lap. In the end I made 48.4 miles in 10.5 hours, which I guess is more than most people do on a Saturday night, but really disappointing in terms of training. The lack of fuel killed my pace, and I need to get that sorted asap - there's no way I could have carried on like that for another 14-16 hours which is what I'll have to do in Berlin. I'm also a bit worried about my ankle/leg. I'd been struggling with a tight hamstring in the week before, and had noticed I was rolling my left ankle a little on impact, and now I'm wondering if that might have been a factor in turning it. I've noticed I'm even turning/rolling it walking now, a day after the race. The plan from here is to work on my fuelling - making myself eat on every run, like I did before the SDW100 last year, and to yoga/sauna the hell out of my hamstring for a week or two and see if that helps the ankle.