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Before
I even begin to write I suspect this is
going to be a long account of my experience. In keeping with my motto
for the
race - I started so I’ll Finish…,
writes Rob Carr
It
all began at 6am on a drizzly Saturday morning at Gas Street Basin in
Birmingham. Here I and another 90 or so ultrarunners (aka nutters) were
embarking
on the 2010 Grand Union Canal Race. I
was not entirely sure what lay in store for me. I knew I had to follow
the Grand Union Canal for 145
miles in the direction of London until I reached the finish line at
Little
Venice. I knew I
had to complete the
distance within 45 hours and that I could not stop for longer than 40
minutes
or I would be deemed to have retired. I had to run the first 70 miles
alone but
could be accompanied by one other runner at a time from that point. I
had a
support crew of friends that had offered to run with me. Simple then!
If only… Besides that I had never even been on a towpath before - let alone run on one. I’d never run more than 56 miles non-stop before. I was left with very limited time to prepare the logistics never mind the physical aspect. I’d also never run in the dark with a head torch before. I knew that many tougher people than me had tried and failed this challenge. I told a few friends and family and they all advised me not to do it and questioned my sanity for even considering it! The words mad and crazy were used a lot! So
weighing up all these factors and opinions and using my contrarian
approach to
sensible advice I decided to give it a go. After all I saw it as a good
opportunity
to raise some money for charity, through the St. James’s
Place Foundation. In
the weeks and days before the race I managed to put together a support
team of
friends and then as best as possible tried to plan my race strategy and
nutrition needs. On top of this I had to plan the logistics of getting
my
support crew and the food and equipment I needed to and from the
various
locations at the right times. Quite a job! 
On
the Friday morning before the race I got up early and prepared my food
and double
checked that I had packed everything. Everything was than labelled and
contained in a 62 litre plastic container. It was practically military
style
and I was well pleased with myself. 
I
then made my way up to Birmingham – another first time
experience! On
arrival I checked in to the hotel and went to the registration to
collect my
number etc. It was my first chance to meet some of the other
competitors. I’m
not sure what I expected but they all looked like such tough and battle
hardened runners – practically another breed! We were at a pub and I was
surprised to see that quite a lot of beer
was being drunk. I spoke to a few and was surprised to hear that
despite all
their experience none of them were confident of finishing. Several of
them had attempted
it in previous years – two had even reached the 100 mile mark
before retiring.
I really began to wonder what chance a scrawny, relatively
inexperienced runner
like me had! I was now starting to get quite nervous … By
the time I was finished it was 8pm so I headed back to my hotel.
Earlier on I
had seen a nice looking Italian Restaurant nearby. An ideal chance to
carbo
load! I
wasn’t disappointed either. The food was great. I had
minestrone soup for
starters and Penne Mari Mont for mains. Delicious and a good
combination of
carbs and protein. I even had two glasses of Merlot. I figured if you
can’t
beat them then join them! Besides I was feeling a bit hyper and needed
something to help get me to sleep... It
was so great I could have had the bottle but decided to be
responsible and headed back to my room. Once in bed
it
was always going to be tough to get to sleep but the noise generated in
the
Bull Ring area of Birmingham on a Friday night made this almost
impossible. It
was almost constant hooting, police sirens, screaming, shouting,
singing, you
name it! I tried
everything I could of including turning on the telly –
normally guaranteed to
send me off. Not even a rerun of 9 out of 10 cats did the trick! I even
tried
putting tissue papers in my ears. Still no luck! I think I
nodded
off for a bit at about midnight but was woken again at about 2am when
the night
clubs started spilling out again. The noise eventually ended at 3.36am
and was
replaced by silence. I got up at
4.45
to get ready and make my way to the start. I ended up running a bit
behind
schedule so decided to do some last minute adjustments etc during my 15
minute
walk to the start. This included scoffing half a malt loaf and a banana
for
breakfast, and pinning my number to my T-shirt. Due to my delay I just
missed
the start by a few minutes but could still see plenty of runners ahead
of me. So the race
was
on… I settled
into a
comfortable pace and soon caught up with the rest of the field. By the
time we
reached the first checkpoint at Catherine de Barnes Bridge at just over
10.7
miles I was well into the field. A few miles later I passed a group of
spectators huddled under a bridge. I couldn’t see any bridge
number so I asked
them if they knew where I was. The one chap replied in a foreign accent
“Solihull” I was just about to say could you be
more specific, when one of the
other chaps obviously seeing that I’d not got the answer I
wanted said, “you’re
third”. Still not the answer I wanted but I headed on. It was
not much further
along when someone else shouted that I was lying third in the race.
This came
as a surprise – I hadn’t taken the first lot
seriously. I was
now a bit concerned that I was going
out too fast but decided I wasn’t going to change my plans at
this stage. I
also knew that most of the participants were adopting a run walk
strategy
whereas I had decided to maintain a slow steady pace so it made sense
that I
would be outside of my ‘natural’ place in the race
early on. I met Ralph
(member of my support team) at Bridge 70, 14.5 miles into the race and
had a
bowl of cold oats porridge mixed with rice pudding. It sound s
disgusting but
was delicious, easy to digest and full of slow release carbs. I filled
up on
water and some snacks and headed off again. All was going according to
plan. I was still
in 3rd
place when we reached Shrewley Tunnel at 20.4 miles. This was the first
time we
left the towpath. As I entered the tunnel I was quite shocked by how
dark it
was. I couldn’t see the floor and was worried about what I
might stumble over.
In any event after a short while, thankfully a bit of light from the
end of the
tunnel shone on a set of stairs which led back to the outside. It was
at this
point that I made my first navigational error. I thought the canal was
on my
left (it had been before the tunnel) so I headed in that direction. I
was
halfway around a pea field when I realized I’d made a mistake
so I ran through
the field to a line of trees along an embankment. I figured I could
make my way
down the embankment and rejoin the towpath so I scrambled through low
lying branches
and stinging nettles to see the canal below me. Problem – the
towpath was on
the other side. So I retraced my steps and found that where
I’d turned left I
had been 20 metres away from the gate leading to the canal. I
wasn’t too phased
except that my legs were stinging and my shoes had got soaked in the
pea field.
A few runners had overtaken me and I was now lying fifth. It was still
raining
lightly. I got my ipod out and listened to some music. I felt pretty
relaxed.
Little did I know that in a short while things were going to go from
bad to
worse. I received a
call
from Ralph to tell me he had picked up a puncture after he left me at
the
previous meeting point. No problem he’d get it fixed and pick
me up further
down the route than previously planned. I had enough food and water so
wasn’t at
all concerned. By now the
rain
had started to get harder. I packed away my ipod but kept my mobile
handy. I
tried to call Ralph to see how he was getting on but the buttons on my
mobile
were not working. He tried calling me. I could see the calls waiting
but
couldn’t answer them. I couldn’t even switch it
off. It was completely
unresponsive. It must have got damaged in the rain. What I
didn’t
know at the time is he had changed the wheel and had made his way to a
planned
meeting point at Birdingbury Bridge (35.9mls) but must have just missed
me.
Because he couldn’t get in touch with me, he wasn’t
sure whether to wait or
move on. He eventually moved on but once again just narrowly missed me
at
another point further along the canal. We were in a rural setting so I
came
across few people. Eventually I met someone and managed to borrow a
mobile and
called him. I couldn’t get through - he obviously
didn’t have reception so I
left a message. “Ralph please meet me at Braunston (44.6
miles)” I carried on
through heavy rain (even a short hail storm). I was hungry and had run
out of
food and water, both of which I had been rationing. I was also freezing
cold
and was aware that my body was using up valuable energy trying to keep
me warm. When I
reached
Braunston there was no sign of Ralph but then I hadn’t been
very specific in my
request so figured I’d bump into him soon.
Braunston Tunnel is the second on the course and
involves a 1 ½ mile long
hard climb overland before rejoining the towpath. Once again without
the canal
to guide me I went wrong – only slightly and came running
down a path and low
and behold there it was in front of me – Ralph’s
car! No Ralph in sight though,
so I shouted for him and a few seconds later he appeared. What a
welcome sight! Thankfully
he had
received the message and now at 14h45, just over 5 hours since I had
last seen
him that we eventually met again. What a relief and a chance to fill my
stomach.
It was the first time I had sat down in nearly 9 hours. I changed my
shirt and
put on a waterproof top. I should have changed my shorts and socks
here. Actually
I’m not sure why I never changed socks – I had
loads of spare pairs. I can only
guess that I reckoned that they would get wet in few minutes anyway and
I
should wait until the rain stopped before changing them. As for my
shorts, I
only had one spare pair. This was probably my biggest mistake and error
of
judgement (amongst quite a few other close contenders). So after
eating,
drinking and stocking up on provisions I set – off again at
15h00. I also had a
spare mobile so now could be in touch with my support crew. I passed the
50
mile mark at almost spot on 16h00. So 10 hours for the first 50 miles. To be honest
my
recollection of the next section is a bit hazy but I know that Ralph
and I met
a few times. At his stage
I was
focused on reaching Navigation Bridge which at 70.5 miles marks the 19
hour
cut-off. I was comfortably within the time but was starting to fade. Quite a few
people overtook me on this section and it was nice to have a bit of
company for
a bit. One guy was struggling with his calves so I loaned him my
compression
socks. I’d planned to put them on in the evening but I
thought he needed them
more than I did. Eventually I
arrived at Navigation Bridge somewhere around 9pm. It was still light
and it
was great to arrive to a warm applause. Here I met
Sally
and Ian. They had warmed up my supper of corned beef, rice and baked
beans and
brought it wrapped in newspaper. It’s amazing how kind people
can be and I tell
you it was delicious – forget the restaurant meal the night
before – this was
heavenly! My first hot meal of the day! So with
night
time approaching I donned my head torch and put on a few more layers. I was still
feeling very upbeat. I realized I was a bit tired but then here I was
having
just run 70 miles. I
could also feel
blistering on the balls of both feet but decided to grit my teeth and
get on
with it. Another regrettable decision. Ian ran with
me
from this point and we were joined by another young chap also called
Ian (Ian
No.2). We pulled each other along. I was tiring and my blisters were
causing me
problems, but just having Ian’s assured and composed company
made the world of
difference. I must
say running (or
shuffling along) with a head torch was far easier and safer than I had
expected. We reached
Bridge
Number 99 near Water Eaton (84.5 miles) where we met Sally who had
driven ahead
of us. I stopped at
the checkpoint, sat
down and took off my shoes. I couldn’t believe the amount of
steam coming off
them. Also the stench was indescribable. My feet don’t
generally stink like
that. Anyway Ian
who is a paramedic had
a look at my blisters. He said they were not ideally situated to place
a plaster
but he’d try. So
on they went and also
a fresh pair of socks and back on with the shoes and off we headed
again, only
this time with Sally for company. Ian No.2 had decided to head off
without us while
I had my feet attended to. I finished a
sweet
cup of tea that had been made for me by one of the marshals, before
headed off
with Sally a few hours before sunlight. I was very tired by now and
starting to
struggle with chafing in my groin area. This was from my shorts having
got wet
and stuck to my legs and rubbing over a long period of time. It was so
bad that
the original pain from my blisters actually paled into insignificance.
I took a
look and was shocked to see the scale and damage that had been caused.
I knew I
was in big trouble! In fact from
this
point on everything was overshadowed by my groin problem. Sally got in
contact with Ian who met us along the route and used a pair of scissors
to cut
the lining out of my shorts. This helped but the damaged was already
done. I
was using up all the strength I could muster just to deal with the
pain. Somehow we
reached the Grand Union Arms, which is the 100 mile mark. I was all
over the
place by now, I was tired (sorry exhausted), I felt nauseous and still
had the
groin trouble. I had a few spells of lightheadedness. In fact if
hadn’t been
for Sally grabbing my arm and supporting me I’m sure I would
have fallen and
probably drowned in the canal on several, occasions. The 100 ml
mark is
where a number of runners retire. I didn’t want to be one of
them! As I got
there I
met a Danish chap who had overtaken me earlier. I asked how he was
getting on
and he told me had retired. There was bit of a language barrier but he
was
complaining about his arm. Maybe I misunderstood him but I thought to
myself “ Forget
your arm – it’s your legs you need and they look
alright!”. I also saw
Paul was
there and greeted him. He was scheduled to accompany me for the next
leg. I
hope he hadn’t wasted his time coming out only to see me
retire. 
Anyway given
my
condition I had already decided before we got there to take advantage
of my 40
minute rest entitlement and take a 20 minute nap and decide what to do
after
that.. I was
offered food,
water etc but I said all I wanted was to sleep. I asked one of the
marshals if I
could sleep in the tent. The time recorder wrote down my time. I knew I
would
be deemed retired if I didn’t get back out again in the 40
minutes. I couldn’t
bend my legs so needed to be helped to lie down. I asked my support
crew to
wake me up in 20 minutes and we could make a decision when I woke up,
but
looking at their faces I realized they thought my race was up. They were probably right
but I didn’t want
it to end this way so I just closed my eyes. I felt a blanket covering
me. It
was tempting but I resisted falling asleep. I could hear everything
around me
including the sizzling of some chaps breakfast of bacon, sausages,
black
pudding and more…I could also smell it! It was
totally blissful
but after about 15 minutes I grabbed the tent pole and pulled myself to
my feet
and announced my decision to carry on. I smothered
the
inside of my legs with petroleum jelly. I found out later this is not a
good
idea and that it would explain the resultant stinging (burning).
Apparently the
clue is in the petroleum! I’ll have to look into that! I took some
ibuprofen and off we set into the unknown. Paul and I run a lot
together so we
know each other pretty well. He just ran ahead and I did my best to
keep up.
Once the ibuprofen kicked in and I guess coupled with the rest I had
taken I
had second wind and Paul and I were pushing along at quite a steady
pace. We were met
by
Fraser at in Hemel Hempstead around the 110mile mark and he replaced
Paul as my
running partner for the long leg to Bridge number 184 (125 miles). 
We (actually
Paul
and Fraser) decided that I was allowed medicine every two hours. I
would
happily have scoffed a whole packet of 24 pills just for a few minutes
relief!!! We got
into a routine of popping
two ibuprofens, walk for 10 minutes until they took effect and then
plod on
again, then two hours repeat the same process just with paracetamol. I must say
the paracetamol
was not as effective as the ibuprofen which meant that the
‘ibuprofen’ stops
became my crutch but I had to wait 4 hours for those. We knew that I
couldn’t
do this forever and would reach a stage at which my daily allowance
would be
reached. The reality
was the
medicine was only masking the problem and in fact by allowing me to run
I was
causing further damage. By the time my last round of ibuprofen came
round it
was having no effect anyway. So back to
me and
Fraser. At this
stage the ibuprofen was
still working so we a put in some good stints of 4 miles per hour,
gradually
slowing to 3 miles per hour, then we would walk and try repeat the
cycle. It
got harder and harder. The miles just seemed endless by this point. We
actually
overtook quite a few other competitors. One guy said, “I
can’t believe you’re
still going. I saw you lying down at 100 miles and thought you were a
goner” We plodded
along
but my groin was getting worse and no over the counter medicine could
mask the
pain. Fraser kept me going by giving me regular feedback and
calculating the
rate I would need to achieve the 45 hour cut-off. For every
‘good’ mile we put
in it meant I was increasing my potential for slower miles toward the
end. Our
next big landmark was the checkpoint at Springwell Lock (120 miles).
Fraser
told me I had plenty of ‘time credit’ so I told him
that I needed to lay down
to find some strength. I saw a patch of grass and asked a lady standing
nearby
whether I could sleep there. She looked a bit shocked and said
“Right there on
the grass? I said “Yes” and lay down with a lot of
help from Fraser. I
asked Fraser to wake me in 10 minutes time
and crashed. I felt a blanket cover me (miraculously like the last
time) and
this time someone came and checked my pulse (definitely) and my
temperature (I
think). 10 minutes
later
we were off again, only a marathon to go!!!! Now I’ve run
countless marathons
(okay more than 30) but I don’t know how many I would have
finished if I
arrived at the Start line in my present condition. In fact
I’m pretty sure it
would be none. Fraser and I
continued another 6 miles or so together until we met Paul again at
Bridge 184
near Uxbridge Lock. We were now at mile 125 and
‘only’ 20 to go. Here we
fashioned
a kilt (skirt if you must) of sorts from a piece of material and some
string. You
see I had come up with this ‘great’ idea. Paul
didn’t think it would make any
difference to the chafing but in any event he scavenged the material
from a
boat owner. Paul was right - it made no difference to my chafing but at
least I
felt I had tried something. Paul and Fraser sat on the bench and ate
their
sandwiches but I was anxious to get on so headed off on my own. I must
have
looked a real sight running along the canal in broad daylight looking
like a deranged
transvestite with no dress sense. I wondered if Paul and Fraser were
just too
embarrassed to be seen with me. I was moving
forward
but in the only fashion possible which was to have my legs wide apart
and kind
of shuffle sideways on forwards (if that makes sense). The result was
slow
progress. I think a five year old could have walked faster than me.
Anyway Paul
who was to accompany me for the last 20 miles soon caught me up and off
we went
again. My next
landmark
was Hambourgh Tavern, at 133 miles it was the final checkpoint before
the
finish. We reached it and stopped for three minutes or so. One of the
marshals
approached us with a map detailing a quite complex detour through the
suburbs
of Southall. Now I don’t know much about Southall but even I
knew I didn’t want
to be man running through there with a dress so was glad that I had
decided to
put my shorts back on. Anyway back
to
the marshal and the map. He showed me the directions and I said
“Thanks” and
tried to take the sheet of paper from him. He said “Sorry you
can’t take it you
have to memorise it. It’s simple just left, right, right at
the convenience
store, right again at the cycle path, look out for the pub blah blah
blah) I
wasn’t taking anything in - my mind was like mush.
Fortunately Paul looked at
the map and felt he knew the way. Also Fraser had run ahead on his way
home and
checked it out and was able to relay this to Paul by mobile. It was also
at
this checkpoint that I was told not to apply petroleum jelly to sores.
Having
made optimal use of our time (i.e. rest and education at the same time)
we set
off again. Now the last
12
miles were the toughest thing I’ve ever had to endure in my
42 years. Every
step felt like my groin was being slashed with a knife. It is less than
a half
marathon to go – no problem - I tried to convince myself.
Previously I had been
concerned about the cut-off but now I was in a position where time
wasn’t a
problem as long as I kept moving. Ironically
with
time in hand it was not long into this section that for the first time
ever I
wondered if I would make it. I
was as
determined as ever to finish but I was just so tired and my mental
strength was
diminishing rapidly. I was struggling to see how I could endure another
4 to 5
hours of this. We were now
in
London and we had a magnificent view of Wembley Stadium all lit up
against the
night sky. At 138 miles
I
came the closest to giving up. I felt like I was not making enough
progress in
return for the pain! Each mile just carried on and on…I told
Paul how I felt
and he asked “What do you want me to do Rob, call a taxi or
do we go on?” I
don’t think I answered verbally. I think I just shuffled
on… By now I was
using breathing to control the pain. I never realize those Lamaze
classes would
be so useful so many years later. The last few
miles were much of the same, me shuffling along a bit, stopping,
shuffling
along , stopping, shuffling along…
progress was painfully slow. I tried to
pick
up the pace every now and then but it just intensified the pain in my
groin to
an unbearable level. It was frustrating because my legs could have done
it. We
eventually
reached the 144 mile mark – only 1 mile to go. It may sound
crazy but as we got
there I wasn’t confident of finishing anymore. It still meant
1000 or so steps! Anyway I
crossed
the Line in Little Venice at 00h46. I’d covered the 145 miles
in 42hrs46 min.
Once I stopped I could barely stand and was helped into a seat. Someone
covered
me in a blanket (third time that a blanket appeared out of nowhere!)
which I
pulled right over my head and sat there head in hands –
exhausted but at least
the constant pain was over! A few
minutes later
I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Race Director Dick Kearn, who
congratulated
me and hung a huge medal around my neck. He sat and chatted with me.
What a
nice chap! I thanked him and all his team for staging this wonderful
event. 
I’ve
run many
races but have yet to come across a more supportive, accomodating and
kind team
of marshals. It is them that make the event so special. I always knew
that as I
approached a checkpoint that I’d be clapped and cheered on
like a hero – no
that I felt like one but the respect felt good anyway! At about
01h00
Paul drove me home and I could barely keep my eyes. I nodded off a few
times.
By the time we arrived home my legs had stiffened up and my feet felt
like
they’d been hyperinflated and were bursting out of my shoes. I could hardly walk to the
door. When we got
in I
took my shoes off – as expected my feet were a mess. Paul said
his
goodbyes and left me with my wife Julie. I showed her my groin area and
she
promptly collapsed and was non responsive. I wasn’t sure
whether she’d just
fainted or if it was something worse so I raised her legs and had the
phone
ready to call 999 when she came to. Phew what a scare! She was okay. A bit later
we
went upstairs and I had a bath. I’ll spare you the details
about the extent of
my injuries except to say it weren’t a pretty sight! The
details are between me
my wife and my doctor. I do however have photos of my feet which my daughter took so I
could see what
they looked like. If you ever consider doing a challenge of this ilk
give me a
call I’ll send them to you so you know what to expect! So that is
the
end of my GUCR 2010 adventure. A long account but then it was a long
event
after all…
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