Ultra Chicken

Ultra chicken loves to run,
She runs around the world for fun.
Come scorching sunshine, rain or snow
It's Ultra Chicken; go, go, go!

Now here's a very silly thing,
This race is called the Piece of String.
You must run, and run, and then
Go out and run, and run again.

No one knows quite when to end,
S' enough to send you round the bend.
But focus, try, and persevere...
You'll likely fail - so try next year!

The mountain race UTMB
Is held each year in Chamonix.
In the mountains way up high,
It's clucking tough, and you might die.

Piece of String a Race Report 2014 - No strings on me!

I've got no strings

To hold me down

To make me fret, or make me frown

I had strings

But now I'm free

There are no strings on me

The Piece of String Fun Run is a singular race, with a simple premise - nobody knows how far it is until they finish (possibly including the organisers). It is, to assign the required superlative necessary for any ultra race, the Most Pointless Race in the World (TM). It began 2 years ago as the fevered dream of James Adams, with a little help from James Elson who is a little more au fait with the logistical management skills necessary to arrange such an event. Now in its third incarnation, it has become something of an institution (albeit a stupid one) in the UK race calendar.

Pretty much sums up this race.

The first year's race was a lot of fun, despite being in just about the worst conditions I have ever run in. 120 miles (and about 36 hours) later and I was one of only 2 finishers of the inaugural race. The second year's race was much nicer in terms of conditions, but the ante was raised with a trip to the other side of the country thrown in to keep people guessing about where and how far we would be running. An injury at about 120 miles meant I had to stop - as it turns out only 10 miles from the finish. But what would they throw at us this year?!

Two-Time Piece of String Finisher? I'm a Frayed Knot.

Blimey, what a day! Another year, another edition of the World's Most Pointless Race (TM) as 13 hardy souls (aka idiots) turned up on a Friday morning in Streatley to run the Piece of String Fun Run. Last year was the inaugural race and was brilliant despite a few teething problems (mostly due to the horrendous weather). But this year they were going all out!

After a brief race briefing ("please don't die") it was left to one of the runners to decide the fate of the group - an "honour" which I was bestowed with last year for paying my £1.47 donation to the RSPCA by internet transfer rather than by postal order (a far more embarrassing prospect, particularly when it costs £1.50 to get the order made up and you're holding up an entire room full of people waiting to cash in their giros). Ian Brazier was punished this year for forgetting to pay his entry fee, and picked one of the 5 pieces of string - which ended up being about 6 feet long. Did that mean anything?! Who the hell knew! But our fates had been sealed. With that, we were rather unceremoniously sent on our way out along the Thames Path, and were told that we would be intercepted somewhere along the way. And we were...

A bunch of stringers. Photo curtesy of Nici Griffin.

Halfway to a String Quartet

Well that came around fast! Tomorrow morning I embark once again to try and find the length of a Piece of String. The brain child of Messrs. Adams and Elson, the Piece of String Fun Run - The Most Pointless Race in the World (TM) - is an odd little race. There are 5 potential routes of differing length - anywhere from 1000 meters to 1000 miles. Nobody but the race organisers (and I guess some of the volunteers) know the exact route, and runners basically run until they either die, or are told they have finished.

The idea is to make it kind of a mind-fuck; if you don't know how far you've got to go, how do you pace it? How do you cope mentally when you can't say, "Only 50 miles left"? Depending on how you look at it, it may be the most fiendishly demonic race ever created (mwa ha ha etc), or the most pure form of racing imaginable.

Just run.

No pacing charts, no nutrition plans, no worrying about other competitors - just run.

Last year, I was one of only two people who successfully completed the inaugural event. The second person was Wouter Hamelinck, who I think everybody would agree was the winner - mainly due to his amazing navigational skills (mine; not so great!). Some people claimed it was clear proof of the benefit of ultra beards over ultra sideburns, but I will just point out that I believe our tally is currently 3-1 wins in my favour. Not that I'm counting of course...

Nobody is quite sure how far we ran last year. Not even the RDs. With heavy rain in the weeks preceding the event, the River Thames burst it's banks and much of the Thames Path became impassable. Well, if you're particularly precious about getting your feet wet. And knees. And thighs. And bollocks. It's health and safety gone mad I tell ya! But I was running for about 36 hours or so. Estimates of 120ish miles are probably not far off, although don't take into account all of the dicking about going the wrong way.

So having survived once, why in the name of Satan's gonads would I come back again?! Glutton for punishment?!

Honestly no. I thoroughly enjoyed the race last year. I have genuinely fond memories of the event, and I'm really looking forward to hopefully seeing some of the same trails again. It was just so simple. I stuck my headphones on, looked at the map, and was off. The psychology of it wasn't too bad because I was doing what I call "running stupid"; not thinking about goals, and not worrying about what was going on. Just enjoying a good audiobook (Game of Thrones) and seeing some new areas if the UK.

Okay, there were a couple of things that I didn't enjoy.

First of all I was absolutely shattered. I hadn't slept well the night before, and the race didn't start until midnight. I was knackered before we started. By the time I got towards my third sunrise in a row, I was a bit of a zombie. Luckily, a quick nap in a car on the middle of the Ridgeway at Paul Rowlinson and Luke Carmichael's checkpoint saw me to the end (which annoyingly was only about 10 miles later). This year though, the race starts at a nice leisurely 9:45am. With a baby that doesn't sleep and having not sleep more than a couple of hours at a time for the last 9 months, I plan on sleeping like a baby tonight!

Well, not my baby, but you get the idea.

The second thing that I didn't enjoy was the conditions. It rained a lot! I actually don't mind rain at all. Running in the rain is one of my favourite pastimes. What I don't love is when the mud is so thick and sloppy that you literally can't run. Trudging through the rain in November after 30 hours of running is far less fun than running through it at a snails pace, just getting colder and wetter. That was the closest I came to dropping last year, as my map had turned into papier mâché (I had one suggestion for James this year - buy a laminator!) and I couldn't move fast enough to get my core temperature up. But James gave me a good talking to and I stuck it out - and actually really enjoyed the next section.

This year, however, the weather appears to be far more conducive to running. I'm not sure what deal with the Devil James Elson has done to cause this new trend in perfect conditions at his races, but it should be a very different beast this year. Frankly I think this year's batch has it easy!

And then there's the distance. How far will it be? We won't know until later this weekend. I've either come woefully underprepared for a 300 miler, or this is going to be the most well-stocked 5K of my life! It may even be a completely different format to last year. I wouldn't be surprised to be bundled in the back of a van and driven out to the wilderness!

I'm just not thinking about it. I'm going to turn up, run and have fun. Of course this year hasn't been the best, training-wise, what with my gorgeous daughter being born, and various injuries along the way, so it will likely be a very different run to last year. So if you see me crying in a ditch somewhere in the Scottish Highlands, you have my permission to tell me "I told you so"!

So how long is a piece of string? I dunno - let's find out!

Does Green Eggs and Ham represent a suitable nutrition strategy?

So this year I decided to go two for two, and step up to the plate once more for another crack at the Piece of String Fun Run in November. Well, it was a lot of fun last year, so why the hell not. The 17 (un)lucky runners selected to run have just been announced, and I am in there. Huzzah! So here is a little poem that I wrote to describe this race. I think that perhaps I have been reading a little too much Dr. Seuss recently. Bloody kids! Anyway, enjoy!

I am Sam. 

Sam I am. 

I would like to run a race,

But I need to know what pace

To run it so I do not die

Or burn out early and start to cry. 

Piece of String Fun Run - November 2012

Piece of String

This weekend I took part in the inaugural Piece of String Fun Run (billed as the "world's most pointless race"), a novel idea for a race from the fevered mind of James Adams and co-organised by James Elson of Centurion Running to run in parallel with the Winter 100. The main concept for this race is that when it starts, none of the runners actually know how far they will be running. The race organisers devised 5 routes of different lengths, ranging anywhere from 100 meters to 1,000 miles, and one would be picked at the start of the race. 

To enter, runners were asked to send in photos of themselves looking as miserable as possible, and the organisers picked the 16 most horrific looking. Whilst I don't have any photos of me looking miserable (at least not running-related photos), I had recently performed a toe-nail-ectomy with a pair of pliers (as you do) and documented the process. If you particularly want to see it, just scroll right down to the bottom of the post - my feet have never been my sexiest feature! The starting list is an amazing "who's who" of ultra-endurance athletes, with world record holders, deca Ironman triathletes, cross channel swimmers (there and back again), and... me. James did say that there was one "sacrifical lamb" in the list - I suspect that I know who that was!

The race route was devised in such a way that we would be given a section to run, head off and run it, then either be given the next section or else be congratulated for finishing. The race itself is held in Streatley at the intersection of the Ridgeway and Thames Path National trails, with access to several other nearby trails including the Chiltern Valley Way. This gives plenty of scope for keeping these loops interesting and varied.

How long is a piece of string?

This time in 3 weeks I will have finished running the inaugural Piece of String Fun Run. Well, I hope so anyway. There is every possibility that I may still be going - who knows! For indeed, this is the concept of the run, and the reason for the otherwise confusing name; we don't know how far it is going to be! There will be multiple potential routes, ranging anywhere from 100 meters to 1000 miles (and beyond?!), one of which will be chosen on the day. We'll be given a section to run. We'll run. We'll return to the start. We'll be given the next section. We'll run. We'll return to the start. You get the picture. And we'll do this until the Race Director lays his hand on our shoulder and tells us "well done, you've finished". Or until we collapse in a heap and wait for the paramedics to rescue our battered corpses. Whichever occurs first I guess.

Well, that answers that question then. Sorted. From http://relationshipocd.wordpress.com/2012/09/11/tip-8-how-long-is-a-piece-of-string/

The concept was thought up by the fevered evil minds of James Adams and James Elson. On paper, it doesn't sound so tough. It's in Oxfordshire, so the terrain won't exactly be up to Hardrock standards. We know the start time (despite their best efforts to lose some of us through the use of the ambiguous term "midnight Friday"), so there won't be any of the anticipation waiting for the conch shell to blow at Berkley. But the question is; if we don't know where the end lies, how can we mentally prepare for what's to come? When you inevitably feel like crap at mile 80 in a 100 miler, the fact that you only have 20 miles to go is a great mental boost. So how do you pull yourself out of the funk when you could be running for another 200 miles for all you know? Pacing is right out of the window, so this may end up as the slowest 10k of all time. Or I may be sprinting a 300 miler. The point is, it's going to be a bit of a mindf*ck, and I guess I'm just going to have to see how I get on. My saving grace is that I figure that mind games don't work so well on idiots like me!

But this got me thinking: how far can a person actually run without stopping? By not stopping I mean running with no obvious rests like stopping to sleep, whilst toilet stops, walking breaks and aid station stops are all part of the game and are going to be difficult to avoid. Obviously it is not possible to run forever, but history has certainly shown that we humans can run a really, really long way. From persistence hunting (essentially chasing your prey all day until it can't run any further) of the !Xo San bushmen of the Kalahari desert in Southern Africa and the Tarahumara Indians of Mexico, through Pheidippides' running 150 miles from Athens to Sparta to request help against the attacking Persians, to Pam Reed running 300 miles with no sleep in under 80 hours (narrowly pipping Dean Karnazes to the 300 mile record), there are plenty of feats throughout the ages that make "only" running 26.2 miles look like a walk in the park (of course  I'm talking purely distance here - the marathon is a much faster event, but let's not get into that debate here).