GTCB – a change of direction

So, I arrived in Spain last Thursday after an early 0600 flight from Edinburgh to Alicante. Little did I know at that time that my race weekend coincided with the annual fancy dress festival weekend in Benidorm.

The flight was dominated by groups of half-cut, middle-aged men and women all of whom continued to drink to excess on the flight (thanks Ryanair!) whilst behaving like small children on their first trip to Disneyworld.

Thus, it was a joy to finally get off the plane and I then picked up my hire car and found my way to my accommodation in the village of Finestrat which is a few miles inland from Benidorm.

The following morning, I made my way down to the start/finish area which was also the race HQ. It took no time at all to register, pick up my race pack and take a short look about the place. Thereafter, it was time to pick up some food and supplies and retire to rest for the remainder of the day.

I tried to sleep for a couple of hours in the late afternoon but only managed about an hour or so. Better than nothing. So, I then killed time and slowly got my kit together, adding nutrition to my drop bag which was destined for the sole drop bag location at the Confrides aid station at 37 miles.

My nutrition plan for the race was to try and supplement gels and energy bars etc which I would carry with some more solid food at the aid stations. I would have a flask of Tailwind from the start and put two sachets in my drop bag for later in the race. However, I would later make the mistake of tapping into the supply of electrolyte drink at some of the earlier aid stations. More of that later.

Clothing was a bit of a tricky affair to plan. A waterproof jacket was mandatory but there was no forecasted rain, so I went with a very light 10K jacket to save weight. I figured it could double as a windproof if conditions turned out much colder than expected. Lower down, the temperature was comfortable enough at night for short sleeves but on the higher summits, forecasted strong wind would inevitably bring the temperature down into single figures. So, I went with a sleeveless compression top with a long-sleeved top over the top which I could remove later if it warmed up during daylight hours. In the end, that all turned out fine and I never needed to wear the jacket although it was cold on the few high and exposed summits.

Anyway, back to the race. I made my way down to the start area sometime after 2200. It was a busy place with runners and supporters gathering, all to the usual soundtrack of hysterically excited race commentators and pounding euro dance music. There was some random kit checking on the way into the start corral (always a good thing!) then it only remained for the presenters to try and whip the assembled masses into a pre-start frenzy. All very loud and colourful but not really my thing and I did feel strangely detached standing there waiting for the countdown. Perhaps not a good sign.

At 2300, we were off. Bearing in mind that the first 5KM is also a vertical KM, there were a lot of people running uphill from the very start. I tried not to follow suit and settled almost straight away into a speed march up the initial mile or so of tarmac roads out of the village. I would take the chance of getting stuck behind some slower movers once the steeper single-track started, rather than blow up my legs right at the start.

Eventually things settled and I started to slowly pass people who had slowed from running to a walk and after about a mile, we turned onto the rocky single-track that heralded the climb proper up Puig Campana. This obviously became a long queue of runners as passing was next to impossible, so I just settled in place until about halfway up when there was a growing gap between the pair in front of me and other runners ahead. I managed to get past and bridged the gap before the steepest part of the climb in the final mile to the top. The route (not really a path) climbs a very steep tree-lined gully up the centre of the mountain, and it is rocky and with a lot of loose scree. There was some scrambling and some stop/start queuing in a couple of places, and it seemed like an eternity to the top. The third mile took over 50 minutes to give you a better idea of the climb.

Finally, things started to level off and the path crosses the flatter summit to a high point then cuts back towards the back side of the mountain. The runners had now started to thin out and that allowed a bit more space to find my own rhythm. The path eventually plunged off the back side of Puig Campana and was a very technical, mildly dangerous downhill for about one mile. A little further on, we continued downhill through the trees to the first liquids-only aid station. I topped up my water and continued on without delay.

The next section comprised a brief uphill followed by a long downhill on very mixed and technical track, down through woodland to the next proper aid station at the Polop helipad (mile 7.5).

Here, I wolfed down some banana and a few savoury crackers and left fairly quickly.

The next section was a comparatively  level and runnable track for a couple of miles through forest. Then, we popped out of the trees and began what amounted to a long steady climb for a number of miles. This varied from gravel vehicle track to short sections of tarmac, on various uphill gradients. It was all walking but at a good pace and a loose group formed on this section which kept the pace going. About halfway up there was another liquid aid station and here I also topped up my Tailwind flask with some of the race-supplied energy/electrolyte drink. Although this was not my game plan and I was hesitant to do so, I was running dry.

The climb continued upward, passed the Font del Pi aid point at 17 miles. Finally, we topped out and began the long descent to the village of Benimantell down in the valley below. Again, this began on hard-packed vehicle track, eventually transitioning for the last couple of miles onto public, tarmac road. From the top, the group I had been pacing with started downhill at a much faster pace than I was comfortable with, so I held back at my own steady running pace, letting them press on ahead. Always important to run your own race and never get drawn into anyone else’s!

Finally, the miles of downhill ended and I ran though the empty streets of Benimantell to the aid station in the centre. This was mile 21 but it had taken many hours to get to this point so it felt like further.

However, my pacing had been good and I still felt strong. I took about ten minutes at this aid station, regrouping and trying to eat some solid food, without much success. I managed some more crackers and banana but couldn’t face any of the sandwiches or other savoury offerings.

My other disappointment at this point was my headtorch. I had started with a fully charged 1100 lumen Petzl Swift RL. I had a fully charged second battery and I also threw in a Petzl Bindi for emergencies. I fully expected to get through the first night on the first battery, saving the second for however many hours of darkness might be required later to finish the race. However, my headtorch ran out of juice around this point with a couple of hours of darkness left until dawn.

In fairness, much of the earlier route had been so technical that the full power setting was required to provide enough illumination for safety. That must have drained the battery very quickly. Nonetheless, I was still disappointed to get so little longevity. Anyway, I decided to use the Bindi for the last couple of hours to save the second Swift RL battery for later in the day, if required.

Leaving Benimantell there were a few miles of lower-level running, along olive terraces and alongside waterways. We would have passed the Guadalest reservoir but were blissfully unaware in the darkness, then the second major climb of the race commenced in earnest. This started up the very steep Barranc de les Coves which involved a little scrambling in places. This eventually opened up and levelled off a little as we reached higher ground. The path was easier but still very uneven and rocky so progress was still fairly slow and measured. As I turned west and continued upwards, the very first light of dawn revealed that we were in a long, uphill ravine with steep rocky slopes on either side.

This section seemed to go on ever with the horizon shifting continually from one false summit to the next. As dawn broke, it was great to finally see some of the landscape and it was fairly dramatic.

However, not all was well and I was starting to feel nauseous and my energy levels were dropping as the calorie deficit finally kicked in.

I think it was the unfamiliar energy drink that was turning my stomach and I only had myself to blame for giving in to drinking untested liquids during a race. I was however very conscious that I had virtually stopped consuming calories during this stretch. I just couldn’t stomach anything . As a consequence, I hit a low point when we finally reached the top of the ravine. As others pressed on to the ridge summit above, I stopped for about ten minutes, trying to settle my stomach with some water and a break. I even thought I might vomit and would probably have welcomed it, but I couldn’t.

I forced down some gel and set out on the final part of the main climb, up to the summit ridge of Mallada de Llop. It is a shame I felt so shit at this point as this was probably the best view of the route so far and it was great to be finally moving in broad daylight.

The next few miles took us along the Serrella ridge, an undulating and very rocky track that continued to test tiring legs, particularly on some of the very steep and loose descents. Twice my feet slid away from me, and I found myself sliding on my side over rough stones before bringing myself to a painful halt. That said, it isn’t really a proper ultra unless you have a bit of blood about you when it is all done.

The downside was that my pace had really slowed a lot and runners were passing me. That didn’t really bother me too much, but I was bothered by my continuing failure to get enough calories inside me. This really took its toll on one of the subsequent climbs where I had to stop on several occasions to regroup as I was just running out of gas.

A mile or so of very pleasant forest track eventually led to the liquid-only aid station at Recingle Alt (mile 30.5).

I took about ten minutes or so here, topping up fluids and forcing myself to consume some of my own calories. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have any!

Now, it is at this point that I must provide the first strong indication as to how this day ended. If this little aid point hadn’t been in the arse-end of nowhere, I believe I might have stopped there. However, I had made the decision to continue to Confrides which was the main mid-way aid station (actually more than half distance at 37 miles) and where food and our drop bags would be available.

I’ll describe the remainder then try and articulate my decision-making thereafter.

The seven miles or so to Confrides was very mixed but I actually moved pretty well over the entire section, with the exception of one section of very steep and technical downhill. I think lack of calories was blurring my vision and hampering my coordination and I really took this downhill very slowly to avoid catastrophe. The rest of the section was either runnable vehicle track or fairly level single-track which was also runnable. I ran a lot on this section and started to feel a little better overall.

After passing through the village of Abdet, there was a windy uphill section on mixed surface until finally hitting the Confrides aid station at mile 37.

During that seven-mile section, I had considered my options and general thoughts on life and the universe. I was confident that with an extended break at Confrides, some decent calories and a full supply refresh, I could reset and complete the final 25 miles or so to the finish. There was one significant climb left but I had already done about 4,200 metres of elevation which was the majority for the day.

All that said, I entered the aid station and immediately withdrew from the race.

Why is then the big question of course.

I had overcome injury and significant setbacks this year to be there and although I haven’t mentioned it until now, my knee was perfect throughout. I knew I could finish, so why stop?

It boiled down to one simple thing in the end. I had had enough and had no motivation to continue. I reflected and realised that I hadn’t really enjoyed any of it, even in the earlier more energetic moments, and I have always made clear that I do not suffer from a ‘must finish at all costs’ mentality. In summary, I had no desire to continue and I didn’t care about not finishing. I have not regretted the decision since.

The decision made, there was plenty of time to rest, eat and a very nice lady made me a fantastic cup of coffee! In the end, it took a couple of hours for myself and seven other DNFs to be transported back to Finestrat and my day was at an end.

So, setting aside the DNF for a minute, what did I think of the race?

It is very well established, and this shows in the level of organisation (also considering the number of race distances over the weekend). It is a very slow and challenging route, to be expected with nearly 6,000 meters of elevation over a 100K distance. Some of the downhill sections are very technical and could be disastrous without due care, especially if old and somewhat risk-averse like me! Had I concluded, I believe it would have been in around 21-22 hours, roughly mid-pack.

Personally I like night running, but I do also think it is a bit of a shame that I saw nothing meaningful of the first eight hours of the route. Some of the sections, particularly the ridge at Serrella, were quite dramatic but I couldn’t say the area in general is jaw-droppingly scenic. Just kind of dry, rocky, scrubby hills really.

It is now Tuesday and I am back in Dundee so plenty of time in the interim for further reflection and in fact, some decision-making.

Firstly, my knee is OK so it is onwards and upwards on that score. That is excellent.

However, the title of this report indicates a change of direction and if I am to draw positives from this experience then I must include these decisions amongst those positives.

When you reach halfway in a longer race and realise that you can’t identify enough motivation to complete it, there is a problem. After long and careful consideration, I have concluded that I have once again been focussing on things that are not right for me. I have realised that enjoyment and fulfilment are absolutely fundamental to my running and whilst I still retain a competitive mindset, it must be on terms that my mindset can accept.

That is not to say that I stop challenging myself but it must be on my own terms. I really don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks. Why should I? If I think that I am not going to enjoy something, or more importantly, have sufficient motivation to complete it, then I just shouldn’t do it. It is financially costly and fundamentally unfulfilling. I have been guilty of entering events because I have liked the idea of completing them. I know enough by now to know what I find enjoyable and rewarding so I just need to stop doing the wrong things.

I refer to the somewhat over-quoted definition of madness which is to continually do the same thing whilst expecting a different outcome. My mindset and psychology are not going to change, so my decisions must.

So, where does that leave me right now?

I have emailed to withdraw my entry for the Winter Downs 200 in three weeks. It was a difficult decision but although I am confident my body could complete it, I am equally confident that my mind would not permit it. I think I know that at any stage, I could simply lose interest.

I have also set in motion the process to sell my entry for the 2026 Race Across Scotland, already deferred from summer of 2025. The same rationale applies.

This is not a ‘toys out the pram’ scenario, nor is it a knee-jerk reaction in my view.

I will continue to enter events and races. I am going to focus on shorter distances of around 50-60K or less. I have enjoyed all of the stage races and multi-day events that I have participated in and will look to find other such opportunities going forward. I will very much continue to develop my own fastpacking and longer trail excursions, all of which are at the heart of what I love about running.

I think I will try and travel less beyond these fair shores unless I can identify compelling ideas to tempt me abroad. I am totally sick of airports, planes and everything that goes with all of that.

I intend to enjoy a winter of running on my own terms. I am entered for the Beyond The Ultimate Highland Ultra in April 2026. That is still very much within the scope of my revised thinking and that will be my focus for early 2026. Aside from that, it is a clean slate and that is actually quite a good place to be right now.