Hajar 100 Race Report

My blog has been rather dormant for a number of months now, with no posts since last year. Work, lack of motivation, laziness… the list of excuses goes on. However, like any sleeping volcano, there is always the possibility of life and I thought that my adventure a few weekends ago would be the perfect opportunity for it to cough some ash and smoke into the recent clear air. I apologise in advance to those with respiratory problems.

(Disclaimer: the photos taken en route over the first 50km are not mine - I didn't take any during the race. These photos belong to an athlete called Peter Stueck, who competed in the 50km race. Don't try and squint to see if I am actually in the photos, as I am not. I just put them in to illustrate the course on the day.)

Six a.m.

Feeling nervous, sometime between 2.30
and 4 am, before the start of the race!

The sun had yet to show its face so the 100 or so runners around me also had their head torches on. We were about an hour's drive from Ras Al Khaimah, one of the Arab Emirates, and the surprisingly (worryingly) lofty peaks of the Hajar Mountains darkened the skyline in front of us. The atmosphere was one of nervous excitement, as the countdown from 10 to the start of what was going to turn into a much longer day than anticipated. 

CP1 – 2 (17km)

Janas Mountain

This was the first real climb of the day – a 10km laboriously hot and hard slog up a winding and, at times, extremely steep path. Any thoughts of a quick finish (if that is possible when running 100km) were quickly dispelled, as the climb rapidly turned into a calf-burning slow hike. It was getting steep. I was, at this point, climbing with 2 of the women competitors: last year's female winner, Clare, and Rosemary, who would turn out to be this year's female winner – as it happens this was to be one of her preparation races for the Marathon Des Sable in April (one of the benefits of such a long slow climb is that you get to talk a bit more than normal road racing). After 20 minutes  Rosemary and I had left Clare behind, however, there was still a long way to go on this first climb and we were still hiking – there was no way to run these ascents, and with well over 80km to go, it would not have been a good idea anyway. By the time we reached the next check-point at the top of the mountain we had been climbing for over an hour and a half. The views were breathtaking, despite the cost in energy in getting to them.

It was at this point that I had been left trailing in Rosemary's wake, as she skipped down a very steep and precarious loose scree section, which then flattened out onto some rather narrow rocky paths as we made our way along the ridge at the top of the mountain. It was also at this point in the race that I should have been taking more notice of what I was running over. After tripping on a stone and landing flat on my front, I was lucky to escape with little more than 2 grazed and bleeding knees. This could have been the end of my race! Check point 2 was definitely a welcome sight; however 17 km in over 2 hours was slow going, and a sign of how this day was going to pan out.

The early part of the first climb - unfortunately we had to get right to the top! (Photo: Peter Stueck)

Looking back down from part way up the first climb. (Photo: Peter Stueck)

Keep going! (Photo: Peter Stueck)

Spectacular views to be had near the top. (Photo: Peter Stueck)

Views like this made it feel high. (Photo: Peter Stueck)

Spot the runners... (Photo: Peter Stueck)

 CP2 – 3 (32km)

On reaching CP2, I went through the very important ritual of filling bottles (adding my own sugar-electrolyte powder – which was still palatable at this stage) and water bladder, munching on a few pieces of banana, and generally taking advantage of the support provided by the volunteers. Then it was on to continue the relentless forward progress. What goes up, must inevitable come down. Having finally reached the top of the Janas Mountain, we then had a long descent to make to CP3. This may sound as if should have been a relief; however, anyone who has run long distances steeply downhill will know how punishing this is on the quads.  We were on a very rough gravelly road now and were following kilometer after kilometer of agonizing switchbacks. All I could think about was how sore my quads were going to be later in the race! I had told myself that I would keep to a conservative pace during these downhills and I thought I was keeping to this; however, on passing Rosemary and then another 2 runners, I was beginning to think I was overcooking it a little. I was also beginning to worry about blisters now. Due to the steepness of the road it was taking a toll on the ends of my little toes. It was nothing too bad as yet, but something to monitor, as there was still a long way to go. The final few kms of this section bottomed out as we ran between mountains, and it was a relief to get onto some flat – for a short section anyway.

CP 3 – 4 (42km ish)

The Jabal Yibir

We had been warned to make sure we took on board a lot of fluids at CP3 – and to ensure all our bottles and bladders were full. We had been warned during the race briefing that the following climb to CP4, up the Jabal Yibir, was going to be 'very long, steep, difficult and hot'. This would turn out to be a perfect description of the climb ahead. It started immediately upon leaving the shelter of the checkpoint. I settled into a steady rhythm and soon caught and passed a number of competitors who had passed by me while I was in the checkpoint refueling. I had intentionally adopted the strategy of taking my time at each checkpoint. My number 1 priority for today was just to finish this race, so I was going to be careful to ensure fluids were maintained and nutrition was consistent. Up to this point hydration was going well. I was peeing regularly and it was a good volume and colour.

I could probably write a whole report on this climb alone. It was steep (at times so steep we were forced to climb on all fours), it seemed to go on forever, as we inched agonisingly closer and closer to what we thought was the top, and it was getting hotter. The sun was beating down on us in all its glory now. I was acutely aware how long this had been taking and how much I was beginning to sweat much more – it was now running down my arms and legs. Worryingly, I had stopped peeing by this time, despite trying to constantly hydrate.

Again, the views from the top of the 'first' peak of this climb were stunning. There wasn't much time to stand around and enjoy them as I had to keep moving forward. I could see a runner ahead so decided to try and make some ground on him. Underfoot was tricky and technical, so I was careful. I did not want a repeat of the fall before CP2. The 'path' descended sharply for a time, and it was as slow going down this as it was going up. Suddenly I found myself in what can only be described as a boulder strewn valley between peaks. This turned out to be a really frustrating and slow part of the course. There was no air, it was more climbing (with hands and legs) than running (in fact I didn’t manage to run any of it), and it took a long time.

Steep, difficult and hot. (Photo: Peter Stueck)

Possibly the most frustrating part of the whole race. This boulder run felt like it would never end. (Photo: Peter Stueck)

More technical paths to traverse near the top of the second climb. (Photo: Peter Stueck)

CP 4 – 5 (52km)

I finally topped the climb, making checkpoint 4, which was just over the marathon mark, at around 6 and a half hours. It had taken me 3 hours to make the climb. Rosemary and another male English runner, Chris, also came into the checkpoint behind me. It was a huge relief to get this monster of a climb behind us; however the next section was going to prove to be just as hard: 10km of steep winding tarmac downhill.

If the descent after the first climb was hard, this was far, far worse. From the top I could see the road wind its crazy way down to the plain a long way below, like a giant grey ribbon had been dropped on the side of the mountain from space. I was forced to walk in sections as my quads would scream at me on every step. Despite trying to be careful on the first big descent, I had obviously overcooked it. Rosemary and Chris started to loose me again. Rather than kill myself to keep up I decided to take my time and limp down this tarmac roller coaster in my own time. 

Photo shamelessly pilfered from google images! This was one of the crazy hairpins on the murderous descent into CP5. 

CP 5 – 6 (62km)

I made it into checkpoint 5, the halfway point, in a time of over 7 and half hours. Considering I had recently run the same distance in a trail race in Qatar in 3 hours 33, this time certainly paints a good picture of the challenging nature of the first 50km of this race.  It was a great feeling just to get this first half of the race done. So far I had been completely focused on making this checkpoint within the cut-off time of 12 hours (which I had no problem doing in the end). It was a real buzz to hear the cow bells and cheers welcoming me into the temporary relief of this checkpoint. My drop bag was here, so it would also be a chance to re-tape my toes and feet; sort out any blisters; get some more food and water in me and prepare myself to hang on for the second 50km.

I have to say the volunteers on all the checkpoints were great. Races like these would not happen without such people, and they are the unsung heroes of these events. The volunteers on checkpoint 5 were no exception. They were full of encouragement, really friendly and extremely helpful. I think they might even have re-taped my toes if I had let them!

After a probably over long stay of at least 15 minutes (Rosemary, Chris and another British athlete, Lee, had long gone ahead of me), I was ready to face the next part of the challenge. I was trying not to think of the distance I still had to cover, but was at least partly reassured by the fact that I should run a negative split.

This section was flat, but was through the Wadi, and was hot and dry. Dehydration was going to be a definite problem over the next half of the race. I did make good time here, overtaking Chris (who was struggling a bit by now), Rosemary and also Lee (who as it turns out had taken a wrong turning, as I only realised I had overtaken him at the finish as he came in after me!) I settled into what appeared to be an efficient strategy of 15 minutes running and 5 minutes walking. 

Flat but hot, and I was getting dehydrated now.

CP 6 – 7 (77km)

Checkpoint 6 came at about 39 miles (apologies for the mix of kms and miles, but the race was measured in kms and my GPS watch is set to miles) and just over 9 hours - only another 24 miles or so to go. Almost done…

This was the first point I was able to send a message to Caz, as phone signal had been poor so far.  As I left the checkpoint, Rosemary and Chris were just reaching it. This would be the last time I saw any other runners until the finish line, and would be the start of what would turn out to be the loneliest and mentally hardest part of the race.

This was a difficult section. We left the trail for at least half this section, running on the side of a road, and it was practically all up-hill. Although nothing in comparison to the steep climbs of the mountains in the first half of the race, it was enough to keep me praying that the next sweeping bend in the road would signal the end of this damn never-ending bloody hill! It finally did end, after what seemed like some slow-going kilometers. I have to say, it was getting hard now. At no point did I think that I wouldn’t finish, but I did not want to be out on the course into the night, so it was important I kept a reasonable pace up. This was becoming much more difficult. I was feeling dehydrated, tired and nauseated by now. It was also hot. We were running through areas with very little air movement and there were no other competitors to talk to. It was also during this stage that my new GPS watch (Suunto Gambit 3) decided to quit on me. I had not changed the GPS update setting to give me a longer battery life, so I only got 10 hours of data. This was really frustrating at the time as I had no idea how far I had to run between checkpoints now.

CP 7 – 8 (91km)

It was a relief to get into CP 7 at 77km. I was beginning to feel really thirsty at the time and it was good to talk to the volunteers on the station. Despite feeling pretty queasy still, I was able to force down some pieces of bananas and drank a good amount of Aqualyte, which being cold, tasted like nectar! I also ensured that I filled everything possible to carry more of the stuff, as the next and final checkpoint before the finish was not until 91km. What was a complete surprise was that I was currently in 5^th place overall. This had improved from 15^th way back at CP 3. Having not seen a soul since leaving CP 6, I had no idea about other competitors. My mind had been completely focused on just getting round.

This was a funny stage of the race. Although it was completely flat, it was hard. My strategy of 15/5 minutes running/walking had gone out the window. I was hiking a lot more now, as the legs were thrashed. I know that I was over 80km through the race, so the finish was in sight (metaphorically speaking of course), but it still felt like a long way to go. Now, it was just going to have to be a case of head down and get through this.

CP 8 – finish (100km)

Rounding a corner, the welcome flags of checkpoint 8 were fluttering in the evening breeze. The sun was starting to dip in the sky now, so the temperature had dropped. I had been running the last few kilometers without any fluids, so another fresh dose of chilled Aqualyte was certainly going to go down very nicely. Again, the volunteers on the checkpoint were very friendly and encouraging. I was now up to 4^th overall, so obviously someone had dropped over the last stage. Where he had gone is another question – hopefully he had phoned for a pick-up.

The final stage began with about a 2km stretch along a road and then turned off onto more trail. By the time I had got to the trail, I was forced to don the head torch once again. It was going to be a finish in the dark. Up to now we had been following pink spray-painted dots, which the organisers had painstakingly marked the entire length of the course. Now it was dark, I was looking for reflective silver strips. These had been put with each pink dot from the 50km mark onwards. Thankfully, I was only in need of them for the last 7 or 8km.

This last stage was certainly not going to be an easy finish. It was still flat, but underfoot was very technical, and in the dark, I was either walking or running very slowly. I even tripped over some barbed wire at one point. Luckily, I escaped with nothing more than a scratched shin. In the dark, it did feel that the finishing line would never come.

Needed a sit down after all that.

Rounding a last corner, the flags and tent of the finish line were ablaze with floodlights. The run down the finishing shoot was a weird mixture of feelings: elation, exhaustion, pain, relief. It was fantastic to see Caz and the girls – I was not even sure that they were going to be able to get to the finish from the hotel (their journey in the taxi is a blog entry itself). Emotional as ever, Evie started to cry, which in my exhausted state was lucky not to set me off as well. What did feel good was getting that medal put round my neck.

My final finish time for the 100km was 13 hours, 15 minutes and 18 seconds (4th place overall). I had run a negative split, but this was hardly surprising, considering the nature of the first 50km. The winner had been 1 hour 45 quicker than me. He had run an amazing race, especially the first half, which he ran 2 hours quicker than me! Rosemary, the ladies winner, came in 40 minutes after me. I have to say, this was an amazing run, especially when you consider she lives in London – no mountains and a lot colder!

As a race to do, if you like a challenge, this is certainly one I can recommend. It has everything: long, hard and frustrating climbs; horrible and technical downhills; hot and lonely flats; a real variety of running surfaces and, above all, excellent organisation. I am definitely thinking of doing this again next year, although I need to try and figure out how I can simulate the mountains in training. Although Qatar has plenty of heat to run and train in, it certainly does not have the vertical ascent I need to prepare me for a race like this. 

 

Evie getting emotional.

I need some sleep...