An honest, slightly sarcastic survival guide for ordinary people doing extraordinary (and frankly ridiculous) things.
So you've entered an ultra.
Congratulations.
You've voluntarily signed up to run further than most people are prepared to drive for a decent Sunday lunch.
And now, somewhere between researching running shoes and wondering how many jelly babies one human can consume, you've had a thought.
What the hell have I done?
Welcome to ultrarunning. Where the distances are ridiculous, the snacks are excellent and your life choices are regularly called into question.
I've run 70 miles and 100 miles, and I can confirm that neither involved gracefully floating across the countryside looking like an inspirational running advert.
There were brilliant moments, spectacular views and a finish line I'll never forget.
There were also blisters, questionable decisions and a few occasions when I wondered whether I'd have been happier staying at home with a biscuit.
But would I do it again?
Absolutely. And I am!
Apparently I don't learn.
So, whether you've signed up for your first 50K, a 50-miler or something even more ridiculous, here's what I've learned about taking on an ultra.
First things first: you don't have to be an elite runner
This is probably the biggest thing I'd like to get across.
You don't have to be the fastest.
You don't need a six-minute mile pace.
You don't need a wall covered in race medals.
You don't even need to look particularly athletic.
You do, however, need to train, prepare and learn how to keep moving when things get difficult.
Ultrarunning isn't just about how fast you can run.
It's about managing your effort, eating when you don't fancy eating, drinking enough, dealing with tired legs, solving problems and carrying on when your brain starts suggesting that sitting down would be a much better idea.
And believe me, there will be plenty of sitting down suggestions.
One of the things I love about ultras is the variety of people who take part.
Different ages. Different backgrounds. Different abilities.
Some are incredibly fast.
Others are simply determined to reach the finish before the cut-off and are bloody awe inspiring when you hear their stories!
And both belong on that start line.
You don't have to look like an ultrarunner to become one.
You just have to be willing to do the work and give it a go.
The distance is going to mess with your head
When someone says:
"I'm running a marathon."
People generally understand.
26.2 miles.
Big challenge. Impressive.
When you say:
"I'm running 100 miles."
There is usually a pause.
Then:
"Why?" (always a why!)
And honestly?
Fair question.
Because when you think about running 50, 70 or 100 miles in one go, it can feel completely overwhelming.
The trick is not to think about the entire distance.
During my 100-miler, thinking about how far I still had to go wasn't particularly helpful (a real soul kicker).
Especially when I'd already been moving for hours and my watch was cheerfully reminding me that there were still enough miles left to constitute a perfectly respectable ultramarathon.
Thanks, Garmin.
Very encouraging.
Instead, I tried to focus on smaller targets.
Get to the next checkpoint.
Eat something.
Get to the next village.
Keep moving.
Check messages from family/friends.
Take a photo of a funny animal or great scenery.
Repeat.
Break the ridiculous thing into manageable ridiculous things.
You don't have to conquer the entire distance in your head before you've even started.
Just concentrate on the next bit.
And then the next.
Eventually, those little bits add up to something rather extraordinary.
You are going to learn a LOT about food
During normal life, you might politely decline a packet of crisps because you've already had lunch.
During an ultra, you may find yourself staring lovingly at a bag of ready salted crisps at mile 47 as though you've just discovered the meaning of life.
Food changes.
Your priorities change.
Things you wouldn't normally eat suddenly become absolutely magnificent.
Crisps.
Cake.
Jelly babies.
Flumps.
Sandwiches.
Cola.
Jaffa Cakes.
Whatever you've packed, practised with or can stomach at the checkpoints.
My personal favourites include Stroopwafels, Skittles and Scampi Fries.
Not exactly the sort of menu you'd find in a professional sports nutrition handbook, but they're foods I enjoy and can use as part of my fuelling.
And that's an important point.
You need a proper fuelling strategy, not just a carrier bag full of sweets and blind optimism.
Your body needs enough carbohydrate, fluid and sodium to support hours of exercise. Exactly how much depends on your effort, the conditions and what your stomach can tolerate.
Practise during training. Work out how much you need, how frequently to eat and drink, and which foods work for you.
Because discovering at mile 60 that your stomach has decided it no longer supports your lifestyle is not ideal.
And trust me, when you've been running for hours, that slightly squashed sandwich might genuinely be the greatest thing you've ever tasted.
Your feet will become a major topic of conversation
Nobody starts running thinking:
"I can't wait to spend several hours discussing blisters."
And yet, here we are.
Before ultrarunning, I barely gave my feet a second thought.
Now I could probably deliver a fairly comprehensive presentation on socks, toenails and the precise location of a suspicious rubbing sensation on my little toe.
And people would actually listen.
Because in the ultra world, discussing the state of your feet with complete strangers is apparently perfectly acceptable social behaviour.
Feet matter.
Shoes matter.
Socks matter.
Lubrication matters.
And discovering that your chosen socks create a blister the size of Yorkshire at mile 30 is something you'd ideally avoid altogether.
I've had my own battles with blisters on long runs, and there's nothing quite like knowing you've still got an enormous distance to cover while one particular toe is making its feelings known.
My advice? Sort your feet out before they become a problem.
Find shoes and socks that work for you.
Test them on long training runs.
Learn how to deal with hot spots.
Carry a small foot-care kit.
And if something starts rubbing, don't just ignore it and hope for the best.
Hope is lovely.
But it's not particularly effective blister prevention.
Ultrarunning has a funny way of making you become extremely interested in things you previously ignored.
Toenails.
Chafing.
Electrolytes.
Toilets.
Body Glide.
The precise location of the next aid station.
Welcome to the club.
Walking isn't failing
This is one of the biggest mindset shifts.
Walking during an ultra doesn't mean you've failed.
It means you're running an ultra.
There will be hills.
There will be tired legs.
There will be moments when running makes absolutely no sense.
And there will almost certainly be occasions when you look at a particularly unpleasant climb and think:
Absolutely not. We're walking this one.
Experienced ultrarunners walk.
They walk uphill.
They walk while eating.
They walk to manage their effort.
And sometimes they walk because running another step seems like an absolutely terrible idea.
The aim isn't to prove that you can run every single step.
The aim is to manage your energy and keep making progress towards the finish.
Sometimes that means running.
Sometimes it means power-hiking.
Sometimes it means eating a sandwich while walking.
Sometimes it means wondering why you've done this to yourself.
All of those things count.
One thing I'd recommend is practising walking during training.
It might sound ridiculous to train for running by walking, but being able to hike efficiently, especially uphill, can be incredibly useful. Practise this!
And remember, a steady runner/walker who keeps moving can often make better progress than someone who sets off like they're being chased by an angry farmer and completely blows up halfway through.
It's not about winning the first 10 miles. It's about giving yourself the best chance of finishing the whole thing.
You will have bad days (and some truly spectacular wobbles)
There will be training runs where you feel brilliant.
You'll finish thinking:
I AM AMAZING. I CAN ABSOLUTELY DO THIS.
You'll practically float through the front door. (metaphorically!)
You might even start researching another race. (because you’re unhinged)
Dangerous territory.
Then there will be days when your legs feel like concrete and 10 miles feels like an expedition to the North Pole.
You'll question your fitness.
Your training.
Your ability.
Possibly your entire existence.
But here's the thing.
One bad run doesn't mean you're not capable of running an ultra - it means you’re normal!
And one brilliant run doesn't mean you've got everything sorted either.
Training is about consistency, learning and gradually building your ability to cope with longer distances.
It's about finding out what works.
And occasionally discovering what absolutely does not work.
Preferably before race day.
The same applies during the event itself.
You can feel brilliant at mile 20 and dreadful at mile 35.
Then, after eating something, adjusting your layers or taking a short break, you might feel surprisingly human again.
Ultras can be a rollercoaster.
Not the fun kind with a gift shop at the end.
More the kind where you spend several hours wondering whether you should have read the safety instructions more carefully.
But don't assume every difficult patch means the whole race is going badly.
Sometimes you need food.
Sometimes you need to slow down.
Sometimes you need to stop and sort out a problem.
Sometimes you need a mental hug from a family member or friend or failing that a marvelous checkpoint marshal!
And sometimes you genuinely need to withdraw because of injury or illness. There's no medal worth risking your long-term health for.
Learning to recognise the difference is part of becoming a better ultrarunner.
You don't have to feel ready
This might be the most important bit.
You can be nervous.
You can be inexperienced.
You can be slow.
You can have doubts.
You can look at the distance and think:
There is absolutely no way I can do that.
And still have a go.
Obviously, there's a difference between being nervous and being completely unprepared.
You still need to put in the training, respect the distance, understand the course and cut-offs, and give yourself a realistic chance of finishing.
But you don't have to feel like some kind of running superhero before you're allowed to stand on that start line.
I certainly didn't feel completely confident before my 100-miler.
And even after completing it, I wouldn't pretend I've suddenly got all the answers.
Every race is different.
Every distance teaches you something new.
And there is always another challenge that looks slightly terrifying.
The thing I've learned is that confidence doesn't always arrive before you do something difficult.
Sometimes you do the difficult thing while you're still scared, and confidence arrives somewhere along the way.
Maybe at mile 15.
Maybe at mile 60.
Possibly after the third piece of cake.
Who knows?
But you might just surprise yourself.
So… what the hell have you done?
You've entered an ultra.
You've signed up for something difficult.
You've voluntarily agreed to spend a frankly unreasonable amount of time on your feet.
You've probably spent more money on running shoes, snacks and waterproof jackets than you'd care to admit.
And there's a reasonable chance that at some point you'll find yourself standing in a muddy field, in the dark, wondering why you didn't take up pottery.
But you've also given yourself an opportunity.
An opportunity to find out what you're capable of.
To explore places you might never otherwise see.
To meet people who are just as wonderfully ridiculous as you.
To discover that you can keep going when things get tough.
And to experience that feeling of crossing a finish line you once thought was completely beyond you.
That's the bit I love.
Not the medals.
Not the times.
Not the distances.
Well, perhaps the medals a little bit (I’m a medal addict tbh).
It's the realisation that you don't have to be extraordinary to do something extraordinary.
You can be an ordinary person.
With a job.
A family.
A busy life.
A fondness for biscuits.
And still decide to have a go at something that scares you.
You might finish.
You might not.
Things might go brilliantly.
Things might go completely pear shaped.
But if you prepare properly, respect the challenge and give it your best shot, you'll learn something about yourself along the way.
And that matters.
So train sensibly.
Eat the bloody food.
Look after your feet.
Don't obsess over your pace.
Don’t compare yourself to some banana chomping machine.
Walk when you need to.
Laugh when you can.
And when it gets really hard, remember why you wanted to try in the first place.
KEEP ON SMASHING IT. ❤️
Because you don't have to be extraordinary to do extraordinary things. You just have to be brave enough to have a go.
Grab the guide and let's get you smashing it. 🩷
[GET THE ULTRA GUIDE]
Have you signed up for your first ultra? Or are you still at the "absolutely no chance" stage? I'd love to hear what you're planning — or what's putting you off!