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“The main goal of training, of any training, is to keep you free of injury for as long as possible. Everything else a training provides is secondary”.

I first heard this from a great trail ultra runner, possibly the best Romanian one. You’ll see down the road of this article why these words are important. But lets’ start with the beginning.

Confusions, Confusions, Confusions

When I learned I’ll have to spend another week in London, with work, at the end of July, my first though was: “uh, oh, an what about my training?”. I’m currently preparing for a 48 hours race in September (my 2nd 48 hours race) and part of this preparation is night running. Or spending at least 3-4 nights back to back running. I really want to make the most of this 48 hours race, as the first one, which I ran last year, was a bit of a disaster.

So, I started to work out the schedules. If I get back from London on Saturday morning, that will leave me only Saturday to Sunday nigh for training, and, given the fact I’m flying and I’m after a week of work and travel, I might not be in the best condition. So the training itself might be useless. What if I find a race in London, a 12 hours race being the best? It will still count as training and I’ll be in a moderately better shape.

So, with 2-3 weeks before the trip I started my research. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any 12 hours race in London or around in that weekend, but, bear with me, but it was a 24 hours race within reasonable distance, in Leeds. Train to Leeds is between 2-3 hours, the race was in a park, with a relatively big lap (5km) but let’s say I could do with that. These 12-24 hours races are usually organized in a park, where you run in circles, doing laps between 1km and 1 mile. This makes refueling and logistics very easy to work out for runners, because you can stop every 7-8 minutes to solve whatever gear. or body problems you may have. A 5 km lap was a bit longer, which meant I had between 30 and 50 between every potential stop (based on the fact that a second refueling point was at half distance, or if there was only one refueling point). At these races, these stops are essential, because, as you advance in the race, all sort of problems appear and, if they aren’t tackled really fast, they can escalate to the point where you can’t solve them anymore and you may be forced out of the race.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Let’s recap: a race in Leeds, starting Saturday at noon and ending Sunday at noon, in a park. Sounds great. Let’s take it. So I booked my race, I also booked my flight form London to Bucharest at 9PM on Sunday, and a train back from Leeds to London at 2 PM. The plan was to finish the race at noon, pack my stuff in maximum 45 minutes, get to the train station in maximum 30 minutes, and still have a 45 minutes time window for any unexpected events.

Sounded like a good plan.

As the race was approaching, I started to read more and more, to familiarize myself with the race and to get up to date with any specific things that tI have to do for it. One thing that I really liked was that there was a camping area. That meant I didn’t need to book any accommodation for Leeds, I could just come there, install my tent and that was that.

And that was actually the moment when I had my first a-ha moment. The camping area looked really big. And then I looked closer and I realized the lap wasn’t 5km, but 5 miles. Which means 8km. Ouch. That’s a lot. That meant I can stop only every 50-60 minutes (probably more as the race was progressing, because I obviously slow down).

And then I asked myself: which kind of park is that big so it has a 8 km lap around it? Leeds looks like a relatively small town.

And then I had the second a-ha moment. The race was in a park, but it wasn’t a “Hyde Park” type of park, but more like a “Yellowstone Park” kind of park. It was a thing called Brahmam Park, which was, wait for it, at 30km away from London. If the size of the lap was relevant, but manageable, this was kind of a game changer. 30km is quite a distance. To add insult to injury, I slowly learned that access to that park was by bus, every hour, from Leeds, and if you wanted a taxi or an Uber, this was probably 10 times more expensive. And quite hard to find.

A remote park, with an old castle in it, hosting a 24 hours race. A cool idea, I admit it.

Only I was completely confused about it.

Logistics

Which takes me to the next level of this adventure: logistics, or how to get there, do the thing and get back from there on time.

So, Friday afternoon I took a Virgin train to Leeds and I though I’d figure out the whole bus as I go along, The plan was to be at the race headquarter around 7PM, so I’ll have time to put up my tent in the camping area and organize myself for tomorrow.

The train trip from London to Leeds was as boring as you’d expect, only I had power outlets near my seat, which gave a well deserved burst of energy (like, literally, electrical energy) to my devices; laptop, phone and external battery packs. Once I got in Leeds I found the main bus station in about 25 minutes and learned there is a bus going on to Bramham Park (or Whetherby) in 20 minutes. The bus came, I hoped in and 30 minutes later, I stepped down, in the middle of a nice forest.

• Are you sure this is Bramham Park? I asked the driver before stepping down.
• Absolutely, mate. Cheers.

So here I am, in the middle of nowhere, with a desert alley starting from one side of the road, and not a soul in sight. Silence. Deep silence. To be honest, that was a bit worrying. I took out my iPhone and fired up Google maps. Yes, I had like a 3G signal of some sorts. It took a few dozens of seconds until the map loaded, and, apparently, I was in the right place. The shape of the park was somehow resembling to what I remembered form the race site.

Ok, but where’s everybody?

I took the alley, which was going upwards and, after a short detour, a delightful sight suddenly emerged: a house. On front of the house, a gate. The gate seemed closed, but that was bit secondary at the moment. I still got the house.

I approached the place waiting to hear some more human made noises, but, adding a few more lines to my already off the charts anxiety levels, nothing was heard. Nothing. There was a huge yard just beyond the gate, but nobody seemed to be in that house.

After going back and forth for a few minutes, I spotted a small dialing pad on top of a pole (like the one you see in the movies at the entrance of big private properties). There was also a list of numbers, so I dialed the name for a gate which named sounded vaguely familiar from the race site: Terry Lug Farm. After two rings, a voice, a human voice, answered. I couldn’t understand a word. There were distortions, and, from wha tI could tell, the person also had a bit of an accent. Well, I just said that I want to go to the race, but the voice didn’t seem convinced and mumbled something about me and the organizers. I decided to be insistent and I repeated a few more times that I want to go that race and that I would highly appreciate any pointers about how to get into that bloody park. Eventually, the voice sighed and then nothing.

“Now I annoyed my only source of information”, I said to myself and decided to call all the numbers on the dial pad.

At that moment, a dog barking appeared from the house, followed by an old lady. She didn’t say a word, but she opened the gate. So, there was somebody in that house, after all. Strange.

• So, you know how to get there?
• Well, you have a long walk ahead of you mate, she said. Take it that way, and keep it straaaaaight ahead. Straaaaaigh ahead, she repeated, like prolonging those vowels could impact my overall understating abilities. Straaaaight ahead, she ended up, and then you’ll se the tents, on top of a hill.

Tents.That was the first word that sounded nice in a long time.

So, I thanked the lady and went on. Suddenly, I realized that I’m an amazing place and started to just enjoy the scenery.

To shorten up this bit, I arrived before 7PM, put up my tent and prepared anything.

The night was a bit cold, but nothing that I wouldn’t expect in that area. The camping was huge, there were around 400 runners, in total, and almost each of them was accompanied by friends or family, so there was quite a crowd, more than 1000 people. There was even a banner telling: “Brahman Endure 24 - The Glastonbury of Runners”. It certainly had a Woodstock-like feeling.

I’ll skip the rest of details, because this article has already more than 1,600 words, and if you’re still following, then you’ll probably want to hear what the helming happened with my race. And where on earth that introductory like about training will be explained.

The race started on time, at noon. Until noon, I just strolled around, prepared equipment and enjoyed the scenery.

So, the first 3 laps were relatively easy, although it was getting hot. The course was 95% trail and half of it was through open fields, half of it through majestic forests.

It really felt like I was running on some of these old aristocratic country domains, with all sorts of gazebos and other stone made constructions on it. I could easily imagine the owners horseback riding, followed by a suite of servants, or maybe even hunting. But no hunting was happening now, only a few hundreds sheep were silently watching us as we were running through their territory.

After the first 3 laps I changed my shirt (chaffing was becoming a problem) and kept going. Every lap I was stopping to adjust some stuff: taking my hydration belt, or my rain jacked, and stuff like that.I spent between 2 and 3 minutes at each stop. I think that only after the 4th or 5th lap I was finally adjusted to the course. That meant I was already 40km into the race.

It was getting cold and my soles were starting to talk to me. Every one in 3 raced (approximately) I get these nasty blisters on the upper part of my soles, just below the toes. I have yet to find a reason for that, but I suppose it’s a combination of weather (when it's hot, I get blisters easier), hydration, shoes (the more breathable the shoes are, the less likely for blisters to grow) and running shape (if I pound too much, then I get blisters). Anyway, it’s not like it’s 100% predictable: sometimes it just happens.

After the 7th lap (after km 56) it became obvious that I do have troubles. So I stoped once again at the tent, change my socks and took care of my soles (which were displaying clearly the beginning of the blisters) with some “magic” ointment. The 9th lap went relatively ok, but then the “magic” ointment kinda vanished (or was absorbed into the skin) so my soles were burning again at every step.

During the 10th lap a big part of my thoughts were about calculations: at what time do I have to finish the race in order to catch my 2PM train for Leeds? Probably the pain my soles was a big advisor, because, at the half of the lap I realized there’s no way to make it to the train if I finish the race. It was 45 minutes until I pack my stuff, 30 minutes until the park exist (the gate at the silent lady), probably 30 minutes waiting in the bus station (which I suddenly realized it can be much more, since it was Sunday, and there were fewer buses) and then another 15-20 minutes walking from the bus station to the rail station. Although I was in the race for almost 12 hours, my brain was still working, so I realized the total of all there operations will be 2 and a half hours, minimum.

So I decided to stop.

First of all, because this was just a training. I didn’t come to Bramham Endure 24 prepared for a 24 hours race. It would have been nice to finish it, if it weren’t for the blisters.

And second of all, because the main goal of the training is to keep you free of injuries for as long as possible (there you have it, the connection of the introductory quote, with the entire story). There was really no point to injure myself with just 3 months before the 48 hours in September. Even if it would have kept me away for only two weeks (although those blisters usually take more time to heal) that would have been 2 weeks less of training. That is relevant.

And third, because I had no intention to lose the train back to London. In other circumstances, without the pressure of coming back, this race would have been a blast. The scenery is breath taking, organization was top level and the atmosphere stunning. It was nice while it lasted, maybe I’ll get back sometimes, if the planets will align with a tighter orb, so to speak

So I went to my tent, changed clothes and slept until morning. I had a coffee, packed everything and did the same road I did yesterday, only in reverse this time, looking at some of the runners who were still on the course.

This time the lady was really absent, so I just jumped over the gate. The bus to Leeds came in a few minutes and there I am, in a coffee shop in Leeds, with still one and a half hour until my train comes, and with this article completed.

All in all, I finished with just 80km (10 laps) in 11 hours and 41 minutes. But uninjured.

Thank you all for all your encouraging messages.