Ultrachat

Ultrachat Die Beschreibung von Ultra Chat

Chat UltraChat. Servidor Independiente de IRC Servidor: byeivor.se Admin: ZeroX NickolaS RusselCanul byeivor.se Os últimos chíos de Ultra-Chat (@ultrachat). byeivor.se | Das ultimative Erlebnis! But in Ultra Chat an app lock is inbuild, In other chatting apps if you open your registered phone no. account in other android device there is no notification in. UltraChat Messenger: byeivor.se: Apps für Android. Neu im ultrachat Chat? Am besten direkt kostenlos anmelden und mitchatten! Im ultrachat Chat warten spannende Gespräche mit interessanten Menschen auf.

Ultrachat

Minecraft Server Bewertung mit ultrachat Plugin. Chat UltraChat. Servidor Independiente de IRC Servidor: byeivor.se Admin: ZeroX NickolaS RusselCanul byeivor.se Os últimos chíos de Ultra-Chat (@ultrachat). byeivor.se | Das ultimative Erlebnis!

Ultrachat Die Beschreibung von UltraChat

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Ultrachat Alles begann mit einem Design-Briefing.

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Publication date Topics Conference Proceedings. Ultrachat is a module that allows heavily customized chat offerings for a TBBS system.

The session is a relatively short reading of the features of UltraChat by Hartman, followed by many questions from the audience; an excellent demonstration of the kinds of technical questions BBS Sysops cared about for their multi-line systems.

Related Music Beta question-dark Versions - Different performances of the song by the same artist Compilations - Other albums which feature this performance of the song Covers - Performances of a song with the same name by different artists.

Michael Chowning, O. Type sound. There are no reviews yet. Be the first one to write a review. However, I finished lap 7 with about 90 minutes remaining — I felt the need to go and do the big loop one final time — despite having already said most of my thanks to amazing volunteers.

It very much felt like the only sensible thing to do… well maybe not sensible but I was doing it anyway. So steeled for one final battle I headed out and this time with nobody but myself and the clock to run against I found my second wind and started running up inclines, more fool me of course but I was making a much better fist of lap 8 than I had on a couple of the others.

I danced and twirled my way around the course — daring the mud to take me — daring it to cast me groundwards bit it never did. In truth, despite the conditions I remained sure footed throughout but never more so than now.

As I crossed the tarmac in the distance I could see my daughter waving feverishly toward me, and I to her. I picked up my feet and my pace to continue the illusion that her dad is the worlds greatest runner and as she called out I lifted her high into my arms in a display of muscular movement I did not consider possible.

I stopped for a few moments to talk to her but time was pressing and I wanted to make sure this lap counted and so I waved goodbye to my family, thanking the lovely marshal at the turning point and then I headed for home.

Route What do you want from your route? A route that will be predictable or one that surprises you? The Falkirk 8 Hour Ultra has something for everyone to love and something to loathe.

The route was incredibly well marked and heavily marshalled but not in an intrusive way, you just felt secure in the knowledge that the race really did have your back.

My hope is that the route recovers quickly from so many runners racing around it so the event is welcomed back next year — this is a great place and a great place to have a route of this nature on.

Scotland needs ultra marathons during the winter to support runners like myself and Falkirk will benefit from the goodwill of runners and a deepening reputation as a place where great events can be held let us not mention Epic from the week before!

Even the organisation of the short loop, the updates for race timings seemed to be so effortless, it was a joy to behold — you, as the runner could simply get on with the business of dying out on the insanely fun course!

Of course we all know that only a lot of hard work makes something like this look effortless, so my huge congratulations. As a solo runner I was also mightily impressed about the way the big registration tent was cleared down and our bags were elevated off the ground to ensure that we had very easy access to our kit and I found myself very happily dipping in their briefly each lap and then coming back out onto the course to be welcomed by the race supporters — it was really nice.

Compare this with say the Epic Falkirk race at Callendar Park a few days earlier and you can immediately see the difference. The route was fun, the time and dedication of the people who put this together was clearly evident.

The excellent thought that went into the items in the goody bag was really appreciated and then the bespoke medal — what a corker.

I was particularly fortunate, I got to have cuddles with just about everyone, the lovely ladies who were at the bottom of the hill and gave me both cuddles and the odd kick up the arse.

The cowbell ladies who must have had ringing ears by the end of the day and the poor young lady who lost her leopard skin print gloves — amazing.

The dancing ladies, the downhill turning point marshals, the chaps as we ran back into the park — all of them had a cheery smile no matter how many times I told terrible jokes.

The guys on the tarmac — couple of lovely beards there one ginger and one badger , these guys I looked forward to seeing each lap and got lots of big hugs from them.

There is something wonderful about drawing big chaps into a cuddle with a fool like me — plus it gives you a lift and hopefully it reminds them just how much they are appreciated.

And then the couple of guys at the run back to the checkpoint, one to advise us to get closer to the water as the ground grew ever more treacherous and one to bang his piece of metal with a drum stick — I may on lap 7 have suggested that I knew were he could put that drumstick… you can guess the rest.

Brilliant, just brilliant. Awards Lovely hoody, lovely buff, Tunnocks teacake and an awesome bespoke medal. Do I need to say anymore?

Conclusion This looped race jumps to the top of the list of my favourite looped races and just a favourite race in general — toppling the Brutal Enduro for loops and I am sure my enthusiasm for this race will live long.

As for me, well I had a lot of fun but my hips will pay the price for that fun — they started to feel pretty crappy at about the 25km mark, this though is a significant improvement on the 5 miles they managed at Tyndrum I can now go to the F50K with a bit more confidence just need to learn to navigate.

Ultimately what can I say other than this was stunning and I hope to see you all next year for a few extra laps. After four months of near inactivity the Tyndrum 24 a looped foot race near the West Highland Way had to be looked at with a bit of common sense.

A mid winter looped race in Scotland is always going to be a challenge — weather likely to be unpredictable, underfoot conditions likely to be grim and the cold… the cold.

However, I approached this in a practical kind of way and packed up every bit of kit I could and worked out how I could stop semi regularly and rest so as to not push myself too far and risk injury and avoid failing to turn up at my next event.

I drove the back roads through Duone and Callendar up to Tyndrum and enjoyed the snow dusted hills and the dawn rising around me. I find driving through new parts of Scotland and the many little towns one of the delights of being here.

I pulled up to the Green Welly about 8. I disappeared off for a few minutes to have my pre-race poo and when I came back the window of the car next to me opened and the gentleman in the seat said hello.

Now as regular readers will know I am not a very sociable chap — except in a race scenario and so David and I chewed the fat for a while, especially over our mutual appreciation of the Skye Trail Ultra.

As the clock moved on I suggested we head down to registration — which gave me the opportunity to meet up with the wonderful Linlithgow Runner, Brian.

David and I rocked up the The Way Outside site and headed into registration after a bit of a bimble around the drop bag site and a watch of the other runners milling around as they waited for the start.

The site seemed well set up and there was space for runners, volunteers and supporters to move around without pissing each other off — a good move from the race organisers.

Anyway, ID check was done, number was handed over, car details handed over to ensure any problems could be mentioned to us during the race and then we were sent outside to grab the lap dibber.

All very easy, all really well drilled. We did brief introductions and then headed down to the Real Food Cafe for a cup of tea and a chat in nice warm surrounds.

Still saved me thinking about the terrible running I was about to do. Post tea Brian headed off to get ready and David and I drifted off to the car park for a final change of kit.

However, I managed to fill my time with a few photos and exchanges of strange tales with some of the other runners.

Looking round the checkpoint you could see a broad assortment of runners, mountain goats, road runners, first timers, old timers and misfits I was in the misfit camp — it was a real mix that had been attracted and in my experience that makes a for a good time.

After a short briefing from Stacey Holloway, the Race Director, we were off and rather annoyingly I found myself near the front and so immediately set about rectifying this and slowed my pace dramatically.

We ambled down the course jumping across the pools of water that had settled and a couple of short water jumps that were included as part of the entry before coming to the main river crossing.

Given the heavy rain recently this could have been treacherous but actually it was fine and there were multiple good crossing points.

The hill brought many of the runners to a plod, myself included and this was a good chance to chat to people and wave on the speedgoats who would be crossing the hundred mile mark.

Benign undulation and a long relatively dull stretch of path was what awaited the runners — this would be the part that divided opinion either as a rest from elevation or a chore between the interesting bits.

I battered down the mine road towards the well used, given how many runners I saw going in and out of it mid point toilet stop and then clambered up towards the final section of the route beyond the highly amusing medics who were preparing the fire and clearly a BBQ!

Then it was a relatively single track path back towards the checkpoint which was rocky, undulating, challenging and yet very enjoyable.

The short bursts upwards and the fast bursts downwards made for a bit of movement in the legs — something that felt very necessary after the grind of the mine road.

I rolled into the checkpoint feeling reasonable but not without concern — fitness was obviously a concern but that was feeling steady — the problem was that my groin was feeling like shit.

I started on my second lap with a light burning that was going through the same highs and lows as the route but lap 2 was finished within a reasonable time and I was still moving.

However, the pain was now fully formed and sending shooting signals down my leg and up into my back. I started to think about my options, one lap for a medal — well that was done but mentally that would be bad — I had originally aimed for 50 miles but that was rapidly being repurposed to a 30 mile run.

In my head that was still going to be a failure but a chat with the GingaNinja reminded me that having not run for months those 30 miles would represent a reasonable return.

By lap 4 those 30 miles looked so far from achievable — I was in a really poor way, this felt like a DNF in the making and not reaching the minimum ultra distance was going to be a DNF to me.

It seemed to me though that on each lap I was going to meet someone that would help me reach the minimum distance.

There was a Jennifer, John, Karen, the wonderful long distance walker Paul and many more. I heard amazing stories from the young, the old, the speedy and the slow and each one felt like stardust that kept me going just a little bit longer.

Laps 5 and 6 were well into the darkness and there was the greatest joy as I was able to sample the night sky of Tyndrum and the beautiful twinkling of all the stars in the sky watching over us.

I stood at the bottom of the main climb, alone with my headtorch off wishing that I had a decent camera with me to capture this moment — I did something similar on the single track back up towards the start need the little mini loch and felt both the joy and appreciation of freedom I enjoy to be ale to be out here.

However, as I swtiched my light on during those last few hundred metres of lap 6 I knew that a decision had to be made. I felt sad, I felt drained but this was the only decision that could be made if I wanted to build on what had been done at the Tyndrum I had very much wanted to continue as the night time running was going to be spectacular and weather conditions were such that the route was going to be good overnight but my injury woes were getting worse and I knew that at some point I would need to drive home — injured.

Organisation The organisation was faultless, yes there were challenges — the on route toilet became unusable for a number 2 apparently and there was the occasional headless chicken moment as someone was running round looking to fix a problem but everything was handled well.

Tyndrum 24 should go from strength to strength and I expect it to be well supported in the coming years. Communication Regular communication across email and social media channels was excellent, I felt it was very important that the organisers did not rely on social media as a number of races now do.

In the run up there was quite a lot of information being put out — I would expect that in year two this will be streamlined as the issues that cropped up such as transfers after the deadline will be ironed out.

Great job on the communications and marketing. There was clearly a good deal of organisation that went into the event, there was lots of support such as a toilet on the route, ample quality parking, a good spacious checkpoint base, accurate lap timings, what felt like a load of volunteers, kit purchase options, headtorch loans, etc.

There were upcycled race t-shirts and wooden medals which were a nice touch too. The guys on the course — especially those by the little bridge must have been freezing but always had a cheery smile, the medics were unapologetically hilarious and annoyingly inspiring with their nice warm fire going and the lady in the big wooly hat — she was so brilliant — mostly just telling me to get a move on.

Ultimately it was a great team that came together to give the runners the support they needed. Thankfully the Tyndrum 24 compares very favourably — it felt very modern and forward thinking, it was incredibly runner friendly and supportive and it felt like an event that was put on for runners by runners.

Sometimes looped events can feel like an attempt to get your number of completed marathons up not that there is anything wrong with that but this felt like a genuinely challenging event in its own right and you needed to prepare for it whereas sometimes lap races can feel like a turn up and give it a crack — I felt with T24 you had to want to do T24 not just another looped event..

In another year when I was a little fitter I would feel very confident of running 75 miles or more because I wanted to and I could train for that.

As looped events go this was one of the more fun ones and sits up there alongside the Ranscombe and Brutal loops as a favourite.

Medal The medal design was very nice, and as readers will know I do love a medal, my only concern is that the thickness of the wood suggests that this might not survive much of a bash.

When I compare this to say the thickness of the wood of either Ben Vorlich or the Nocturnal I feel both of these will be a little more hardy.

Eco No plastic cups? Issues around sustainability in running is likely to become a bigger and bigger selling point as the years go on and it is good to see a race taking a lead on issues like this.

Conclusion I suppose the conclusions come down to whether I would run the event again and the answer is a well considered yes.

Tyndrum 24 is a strange beast of an event given the location and time of year but it is a much needed addition to the UK ultra running calendar as winter running events in January, especially in Scotland, are nowhere to be found.

There is a reason though why this is so and that reason is that Scotland can have hideous weather in January and the possibility of cancellation presumably remains high.

These things are something you will have to factor into your calculations when you consider entering — this year the event was fortunate to have the best possible conditions — but next year and the year after may not be so lucky.

How would you feel running in the driving rain up and down hill in the dark for at least 16 hours? Or ploughing though the snow for the same amount of time wearing every last inch of clothing you could manage just to get to 30, 40 or 50 miles?

Perhaps the more important question for you is, should you enter? I feel the answer to that is easy — of course you should. This was a really lovely event with a wild mix of runners from all walks of life and the fact that the organisation was top class only adds to the conclusion that this is a top quality event.

I also feel it is worth noting that the race directorship team is new to this and should be given a huge amount of praise for the amount of work they poured into this — it looked like a labour of love and that hard work paid off with a smooth and delightful event.

I made the right decision to pull out. The potential to cause further long term damage was real but I know how to solve it — I need to weigh 15kg less, I need to eat less rubbish and I need to get back out there probably tomorrow, even if it is only for a slow couple of kilometres, probably involving the hill outside my house.

Now normally I fill my blog with tales of injury woe and there was some of that but this year was more complicated. The move to Scotland continued and although the whole family was now safely north of the English border we needed to find a house to buy and this proved more challenging than we had initially hoped and I had perhaps naively assumed that I could continue with my rather torturous race schedule during this hectic time.

I felt every last inch of the race in my legs and the cramp that nearly killed me at mile 9 was horrendous. This should have been a warning to me but my general excitement about being in Scotland amongst all of these nice new races meant I went a bit mad.

The same day as Andy poked fun at my fatness I found myself in the misery of the 9hrs of heavy rain and an unpleasant fall on Conic Hill at The Highland Fling.

I withdrew from the race about mile 35 — a little over a half marathon from the finish — I was distraught. The injury from the fall was relatively easy to recover from but the mental side of it was difficult to get over, even though I was just about ready for it I pulled out of the Balfron 10km and pulled out of the Ultra Trail Scotland for the second time.

However, rather than rest properly I decided that once the house move had concluded and my body had recovered a bit I gave it some welly and started training again, returning to ultrarunning with the relatively simple but challenging Ben Vorlich Ultra.

I found Ben Vorlich tough as my fitness was still somewhat lacking but there was an overwhelming sense of joy that accompanied it and I started to feel like I could make some progress ater successfully completing the race and so immediately went home and entered the Thieves Road which runs across the Pentlands near Edinburgh.

Sadly on race morning I awoke with a terrible case of the Gary Gritters and this kyboshed my attendance — sensible as I spent most of the day on the toilet and given the temperatures recorded I would not have finished anyway.

Still I had the Ambleside 60 upcoming in early September and so I retained my focus and actually I managed to continue training once the illness had passed and although the Ambleside 60 was even tougher than Ben Vorlich I managed to get over the line.

I was finally feeling something of a bounce and with an effective if unconventional training regime running up and down the West Lothian Bings and hiking in the Ochils.

I was beginning to feel ready but once again I was about to get a kick in the guts and one that would end my year. I felt at that moment the least like an ultrarunner that I have ever felt, I felt like a failure and that the runner who had earned nearly medals, 50 of them in ultramarathon distances was coming to the end of his running career.

I went home that day and ate Dominos pizza and probably quite a lot of sweet things, I felt rubbish, I was rubbish and from here the dark gloom that came over me felt very tangible.

Every race from here to the end of the year was thrown into jeopardy by this running breakdown. Race after race started to be cancelled as I realised that I was never going to make the start line, never mind the finish.

There was a need for a physical break after all our efforts over the last year and work was being brutal in the run up to a significant project launch so maybe this stoppage was something that was needed.

However, running has always been my release and is inextricably linked to both my mental and physical wellbeing — so was there going to be a price to pay?

Something I should have given more consideration as I sit here writing this in January. Racing had now dropped down my priority list, something that had not happened in all the years since I began ultrarunning in A nasty illness in November also came at the wrong time and when I had been considering getting back out there in order to race The Goat and meet up with outstanding ultra runner Ryan Flowers.

However, I was sidelined for the best part of a month in the run up to The Goat and had no choice but to withdraw in the days leading up to the event.

And even as I added cream to another coffee and opened another packet of biscuits I still was struggling and it was only when I realised that my new found laziness was affecting things like my breathing that I decided it was time to pull on the running shoes and get back out there.

I was planning on adding in a few shorter distance races on the in between weeks too — so ASK and I are off to Edinburgh to run the Winter Family Run 1mile.

However, I have long associated the medals with me being in a good place, even if the state of me as I first clutch a medal is pretty ruined!

Let me assure you it has not been easy to bother with another return. There has been lots of elevation added across these short distance and as a family we are resuming hill walking at the weekends and enjoying the great Scottish outdoors that we moved up here for regardless of what the weather looks like.

It is slow going, very slow and I am both the fattest and unhealthiest I have been in years and I am not finding it fun but I am doing it.

The spiral that I seem locked into perhaps require some form of significant event to kickstart me into action — something akin to a heart attack or a diagnosis of Type 2 diabetes.

When I see social media material about Transformation Thursdays or Reframed Fridays or whatever these stupid names are I can see that there was a significant issue going on and that the person has done something about it — usually gotten fitter, cleaner, lighter, healthier.

That is a difficult set of mental blocks to overcome and even as I write this I am struggling with it. In fairness she is not the glutton I can be and has a very healthy enjoyment of positive food choices — seeing things such as chocolate as a treat rather than seeing them as I do, as a food group that requires 5 a day.

With control, will come the respect that my body deserves after serving faithfully for the last 42 years and in that respect I will create the kind of person I want my family to see.

Being around other runners does provide a greater sense of purpose and direction, especially to me, and although it is not something I have ever done I feel it will create a support network I can both draw from and feed into.

My experiences with Parkrun, The London Social Runners and The Linlithgow Running Buddies all had lots of highs but ultimately none were quite the right fit for my running needs although I retain huge respect for them all and I feel the right running club would help keep me on the straight and narrow.

Sadly one thing that I did try to help inspire me was Strava. Therefore I have probably given up on Strava, though never say never and if you find my activities making their way onto your app screen — do think kindly of the fat bloke running around Falkirk.

I really want the T24 to help me rebuild the confidence I am going to need to complete events such as the Loch Ness and the Ultra Scotland As I write I find it amusing that this may sound like I consider to be an unhealthy nightmare and a waste of time but the truth is far more complicated than that — was actually a really very positive year filled with much joy and fun times.

As a family we have developed new facets — especially with ASK starting school and the move to Scotland has proved to be the kind of success I had hoped for — but there is room for improvement.

New friendships to replace those we left behind will be important as we go forward and we must be keen to make the required amount of time in our daily routine to ensure we are getting the most out of this wonderful opportunity.

I feel its an unconventional race list, there are no marathons, no big city events, no events that most runners will have heard of, it is a list of grim sounding races filled with elevation or shitty weather or shitty course conditions.

It is a race list from someone that wants to get back to running, get back to racing and get back his self respect.

It is a very personal, individual experience and one that draws on my failings as a person, my own arrogance and my own falibility but now added to this is a sense of my own mortality.

I very much plan on building on the positive things that did take place in and try and reintegrate the things that worked well from my life before I arrived in Scotland.

I am responsible for the mess I have gotten mysef into and by opening myself up to the scrutiny of my peers I hope to encourage myself to be the best version of me.

I mean I knew things were not going well before the race started and my guts were doing cartwheels. Thankfully negative things were somewhat put to the back of my mind by meeting the truly awesome and inspiring Fiona see enclosed picture but this was temporary relief and when I lined up at the start I was genuinely worried.

The race was quick to accelerate uphill and I found myself pushing as hard as I could up the first climb to the summit of Dumyat.

I was fortunate to be on a route that I knew quite well and the views were truly spectacular. Having been here several times before I was expecting this to be an easy ascent and a relatively easy descent.

However, when I reached the top I discovered that the descent was going to be far from easy and several slips and bumps as I went downwards would prove to be my undoing.

I made it down to the bottom I tried to have something to eat — one of those baby fruit pouches that are pretty easy on the stomach — however, this was were I discovered that my participation in the Ochil Ultra was going to be short-lived, I started puking my guts up.

Everything that I had laid on my stomach to try and stop race nausea came up and it was pretty vile. I crawled away in dismay and started to run again as best I could but on tarmac I could now feel the pain of my back and groin that had taken a pounding coming off that first climb.

How sad that a race I had been so been looking forward to had come to a conclusion so quickly — but what now? Do I stop at the first checkpoint or do I get as far as possible and hope that everything eased off and I could make it to the last 15 miles or so and push through.

Knowing that much tougher races are to come later in the year I felt that I had no choice but to try and push through and see how far I could get.

I pulled into checkpoint one and ate and drank as much as I could stomach, I also opened up the Active Root to see if there was anything it could do to help me ease my stomach issues.

What a great volunteer and he was more than willing to check half a bottle of water over my head! It was a steep climb up from here and I made slow progress upwards where a volunteer was looking out for us — I stopped briefly to chat and then pushed onwards.

I looked back at the Ochils and saw a new side to the hills that were one of the great draws that brought me to Scotland.

I felt truly grateful to be where I was but I was very much wishing that I did not feel like I did but with gritted teeth I continued through this beautiful and isolated landscape.

I came down off the hill to a fisheries on the Glen Devon Estate that I recognised and when briefly I had phone signal I called the GingaNinja and asked her to come and rescue me from checkpoint two — I would be finishing there.

The call though was cut short — not by a lack of signal but by having to get across the fast moving stream of water — something that was rather tricky give the state I was in.

I reached the path and saw the arrow pointing upwards to yet more climbing and here I found myself with tears in my eyes. My groin and my back were burning, I had managed to puke for a third and final time and my mental strength had simply evaporated into the ether.

I did consider the option of simply walking down to the Glen Sherup car park but knew that there was no phone signal there and felt that the second checkpoint must be nearby.

I mean how much elevation could there really be here? The answer to that was revealed as I entered a darkened forest section and noted that the climb looked steep and impossible.

However, much as before I simply gritted my teeth and forced my way through the increasingly shitty conditions underfoot.

In the distance I could see signs of habitation and assumed that the checkpoint was there and so I gingerly made my way down to the bottom to the welcome of the volunteers and the GingaNinja but all I could say was that those cheers and congratulations were unnecessary — I had failed, totally and utterly and was very sad about that.

Perhaps the most annoying thing was that I. The guys at Wee Run Events were tremendous and offered anything I needed and I would like to very much thank them from that.

I will still reach ultra number 52 just not at the Ochil Ultra and will, I am determined, not be the washout that has been. Failing to finish, refusing to continue, timed out, did not finish.

I could blame my work stress levels, the sickness on the day or the injuries but ultimately I should only blame myself for my failures — and I do.

Even as I got wetter and wetter, as moisture took hold of me I knew that I was in the right hands. Inspite of the blue hue, the touch was warm and it felt so fresh, as fresh as when the world was new!

The boxer I struggled to run in as I found that the leg would bunch up a little and become less comfy but the brief was perfect for running in.

The issue was always long distance support and I found the brief benefitted from being helped by lightweight leggings such as my beloved Raidlight seamless shorts.

This was generally fine but I found it meant three layers to go racing in and during warm days this was less than ideal. What I needed was to find a way of having the length of the Raidlight shorts with the undeniable comfort of Runderwear pants!

I found myself soon ordering at an excellent discount the pack of three blue long boxer. Slipping into a pair I stretched and twisted my body to test the fabric for comfort and movement and followed this by jumping into my shorts and going running.

Traditionally the groinal region simply hangs around while I go running but today the groinal region dipped into a little slumber as it was gently caressed around my thundering legs.

I found the level of comfort offered by the Runderwear to be as good if not superior to that of my Raidlight seamless shorts and you hardly noticed that you were wearing them.

Words like soft, supple, invisible and gentle can all be easily applied to a pair of Runderwear long boxers because they understand that a sensitive person like myself requires the maximum protection and comfort around the nutsack.

Many clothing items claim to wick sweat away but so far in my running these pants have claimed victory every time — no more sweaty bum crack for UltraBoy, nope my crack is as sweet as a drinking coffee through a Spira chocolate bar.

This is what the Runderwear say about their own product, might be useful in deciding if these might help you;. Ultimate Comfort created using an incredibly soft fabric, which is label-free to prevent irritation, rubbing and chafing mile-after-mile.

Ergonomically designed to move with your body for ultimate comfort. Seamless Design degree seamless design resulting in no side seams for ultimate comfort and chafe-free running.

Flatlock fine-stitching means that edges are flat, eliminating irritation and rubbing. Moisture-Wicking Fabric the technical fabric is lightweight and label-free and designed to effectively wick sweat away from your skin, eliminating any irritation and ensuring you keep dry and can run chafe-free.

Breathable uses high performance moisture-wicking fabric with mesh panels containing micro perforations to increase breathability and sweat removal from your skin, ensuring your core temperature is optimised.

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In times of turmoil we seek summits and points of vantage to gain clarity of vision. When I was younger I would go to the Lake District to climb a hill and breathe clean air and give myself greater clarity.

The race was being organised in conjunction between the long established The Climbers Shop find out more here in Ambleside and charity The Brathay Trust find out more here — both well respected pillars of the community.

The problem comes is that when deciding to do this I had conflated the shortness of the distance and relatively low ascent numbers to think this was going to be easy.

How wrong can you be? What happened next was that race was reorganised for two weeks later, my illness got worse and on race day I spent about 8hrs on the porcelain throne.

This time it was me cancelling the race and so I rolled up to the Ambleside 60 with very little training but a lot of chocolate eating done.

Registration was both quick and easy and the lovely organisers were on hand to answer all of my ridiculous questions. I was also mightily impressed that race sponsor Rab I assume threw in a warm beanie which is likely to make its race debut later in the year.

However, we soon parted and I found myself at a loose end but with lots of wonderful outdoor stores strewn across the town — I decide me to make hay while the sun shone.

Lunch was a delicious spicy chicken baguette with a slab of honeycomb cake and this was followed by short trips to Kendal and Keswick to make the most of my stay.

I had the luxury of having a six berth dorm room all to myself at the waterside YHA in Ambleside and I went to bed early to try and get as rested as possible.

Kit was prepared, breakfast readied and I knew where I was going in the morning. With water bottles now filled I headed to the start in Rothay Park and silently soaked up the friendly, banter atmosphere.

I wandered around a little bit before setting amongst the throng of ultra runners all keen for the start. We were all instructed to dib our chips at the start which had been attached to us at registration.

I found these mildly intrusive as they never felt very comfortable around the wrist and I fretted about them working loose and ending up in a puddle of mud somewhere on a hill.

That said the system was simple enough to use and the setup both at the start and at checkpoints was well thought out. With an 8am start looming we were all corralled into the starting area and after a short briefing and some words of encouragement the ish runners burst forward and out of Rothay Park and into the wilderness.

From the near outset there was trail and nature surrounding the runners. As we wound our way through the first few kilometres it was clear that this was going to be s tougher day than I had originally imagined and as I looked down at my faithful Suunto I could see the elevation metres quickly stacking up.

I made sure I was taking on board regular fluids and even a little food from early in proceedings as this would ensure I could still take on everything late in the event.

I ran the first 15km pretty consistently and covered around metres of climb — despite the recent rains the ground was in good condition and the route was runnable.

The views were delightful and this was very much The Lake District of my youth — some places dragged up long forgotten memories and it was a very pleasant experience.

It was here that I met Deborah — about 2. We chatted for a while, as we bounded forward and this was such a pleasant experience that I barely noticed the run into the checkpoint.

Checkpoint one was brilliant with the marshalling team all dressed as chefs with big chef hats, the team were incredibly well drilled — timer, water, food, out, out, out!

I was very impressed with the team and the organisation of the event on the whole, if I were to take a guess this was not their first rodeo.

The quality of the food on offer was brilliant and as I left the checkpoint I felt buoyed by the energy the team have thrust upon me.

In the distance I could see Deborah disappearing and continued my journey alone. The second section was going to be tougher with the first metres climbed this meant that there was still around metres to climb and around a marathon to do it in.

I knew that the first significant climb was soon to be upon us and in the distance twinkling like little neon and Lycra clad stars were a succession of slow moving runners as the route moved up a gear in toughness.

It was now that the route threw challenge after challenge at us, the trail had moved from being mostly runnable to being filled with big lumpy rocks, it was wet underfoot and it changed from soaking to dry making your shoe choice irrelevant in the face of the varying conditions.

I threw open my poles for the first time and began the slow journey upwards, happy in the knowledge that I had built up a reserve of time in the early stages of the race.

However, as I looked ever upwards it was with a deep sense of foreboding — this was the first and easiest ascent and it was far from easy.

I decided that given I still had some strength in my legs I would do the climb in bursts and so would have a short stop and then powered up the next couple of hundred metres, stop and repeat.

This technique helps me with the fatigue my legs get from the constant ball achingly monotonous striding of hiking up the hills something I knew I would be forced into later in the day.

My lack of training in the last month and the over eating was also playing a significant part now in my performance — runners were passing me as I struggled with the up hills and the beating my feet were now taking.

However, I knew that on the downhill as long as the path was relatively runnable I would be able to make up some ground.

Where some runners are guarded about running downhill too quickly for fear of a fall I am usually pretty surefooted and confident in my own ability.

Therefore once the peak was reached I felt that I had little choice but to open up the taps a bit and go for it. My descent was as quick as my ascent was slow and I found myself able to catch some of the runners that had managed to overtake me and I felt with nearly 1, metres of ascent done and about 20km in distance done I was feeling confident and then the ridiculous kicked in — I slipped.

Bang down — on my back, on my arse, on all my weakest points. The two young runners ahead of me turned and shouted to find out if I was okay and I waved them on but I was far from alright.

My back, which is troubling at the best of times, had shooting pain running through it and I had cut my hand open in several places and was bleeding.

I picked my muddy form off the floor and cursed my own stupidity — I ran down to the little stream and put my buff in the water and wrapped it around my hand attempting to soak up the blood.

I had been very lucky, within a few minutes the bleeding had stopped and I managed to clean up the various gashes that now covered my left hand — the realisation was dawning upon me that this route was going to give me a good kicking before it was finished.

I pushed onwards through the next few kilometres, slowing a little to account for the worsening running conditions, the rocky terrain became incredibly hard going and in my opinion it felt more like fell running than it did ultra trail running but it all added to the complexity of the challenge of finishing.

I finally reached the halfway point and was greeted by the most welcoming committee of marshals, supporters and runners.

I drank as much tea as I could handle, grabbed a bit of soft chewy cake, filled my water bottles and then followed the other runners out of the checkpoint.

From CP2 we were presented with a climb up Stake Pass, a beautiful climb and no mistake but a technical, rocky ascent that required maximum concentration all the way and its windy nature meant that you felt progress was even slower than it actually was.

I used my brutish bursts of power to push myself up the pass and once more in the distance before and ahead of me I could see the swathes of runners slowly climbing to the summit.

I kept telling myself that this is something I enjoy when moments of doubt would creep into my thinking but the reality was that my feet were burning from the damage that rocks underfoot where doing.

My feet are brittle at the best of times but the damp conditions coupled with the rocks were crippling me, the only plus I could find was that my Lone Peaks combined with Injinji liner and Drymax socks and my beloved Dirty Girls Gaiters were working overtime in protecting me from the worst of the route.

I thought nothing more of it really but like the cut of his pace and thought if I could keep up with him I might well be alright — but he, like many before, was soon gone.

I retreated the comfort of the nearest rock I could find and grabbed some food from my race vest and looked longingly into the middle distance as dark and detrimental thoughts crept across my furrowed brow.

However, the sight of runners closing in on me made me get off my backside and hurl myself up the hill and eventually I made it to the summit.

I could see some of the runners who had made it past me and so I picked Keith as my target — if I could catch him before the arrival of the next checkpoint I would continue.

The route off the pass was as unrunnable as the route up with rocks jutting up from every angle and care required about just where the hell you were putting your feet.

With all due care I made it to the bottom and leapt through the thick nasty smelling mud and crossing streams with all haste attempting to keep my feet as dry as possible.

Keith was a bit of a running veteran and with 20 more years on the clock the than me he had well earned the right to legend status. He strode purposefully through the route, questioning the runability of some of the course but all the time remaining strong in his continuous push forward — I like Keith very much and over the next few miles we got to chatting and getting to know one another a little.

But as is the rule in ultra marathons you run your own race and he reminded me of this several times as he suggested I not wait for him or that he would be waiting long for me.

However, we were both moving at about the same speed ad so it turned out neither of us could shake the other one. The road to CP3 was hard and long, we had come off the hill and now it was just finding the checkpoint, hoping that we would make the cut-off and then pushing through as fast as we could up the biggest ascent on the course — Lining Crag.

While we both looked and probably felt a bit shitty we both also seemed to gain a newfound mental strength from each other — I certainly did from him and when I started to leave CP3 Keith joined me for some further adventuring.

Sadly my second wind was very short lived and as I began the ascent I felt every bone in my body scream for mercy, even with the first few hundred metres being relatively gentle this was a climb of false summits and false hope.

One of the great things about Keith was his wide and varied local knowledge, this meant that he was able to be accurate in his assessment of our situation, so when we approached the scramble up to the crag I knew that this was not the summit and that there were further smaller climbs to come.

We knew that the final checkpoint was at about 53km in and so it was with a little dismay that the ascent to the top of the crag had pushed us forward a mere 2km of the 12km we needed to run.

Running remained hard going over the rocky paths and went as fast and securely as we could but both Keith and I were losing our footing at regular intervals and many of the runners had soggy bottoms but perhaps none got the soggy bottom in the way I did.

While crossing a boggy path I lost my footing and into the mid thigh depth mud my leg went, the trouble was that my other leg followed me in and as I fell in my whole body lurched backward in some attempt to create the muddy equivalent of a snow fairy.

Keith turned to face me, barely disguising his amusement at the predicament that I found myself in. I managed to stand in the mud and could feel the vacuum attempting to suck my shoes in but I carefully extracted one leg and then the other with no significant loss.

I was caked in mud from head to toe but I had clearly picked the right kit for the event and my wonderful new Runderwear long boxer shorts and Raidlight Freetrail shorts soon dried off and despite being in 3 foot of wet, shitty mud my feet remained warm and toasty.

After picking myself up we headed along the remainder of the route down to Grasmere with little further incident, but we were aware that the final climb and descent had taken much, much longer than anticipated and I was keen to finish as I still had hours in the car driving back to Scotland.

I noticed that both Keith and I were rather quiet as we landed in Grasmere, tiredness was clearly playing a part but seeing the race organisers at the final checkpoint gave us a bit of a life and knowing that we were less than 10km from the finish was the mental nourishment we needed.

Gill had been at the registration and she clearly remembered my idiotic face from the previous day and the warmth with which I was greeted felt genuine and heartfelt and for that I was very grateful.

They tried to stuff our faces with all manner of food and drink but we were so close to the finish that I actually wanted just my water filled and then off and the guys obliged.

Keith and I were very keen to see off the race before the dark became impenetrable and with all the speed we could muster we set out from Grasmere.

Meeting Keith made the experience of the Ambleside 60 much more pleasant than it looked like it might have been given the struggles I know he played a huge part in me finishing on Sunday.

In the dim distance I could make out the large finish line inflatable and in front of it were two dibbing points so that we could get a final time.

It took me an age to get my bloody dibber in but once I did we were ushered into a tent and given medals, beer and times.

From the park, participants will make their way up and over Loughrigg towards Skelwith Bridge, Tarn Hows and from there onwards towards Coniston.

Continuing onward, the route makes its way to Little Langdale and after a short but punchy climb reaches Blea Tarn. Runners then make their way up Stake Pass and then follow the Langstrath Beck before climbing back up Lining Crag, the biggest climb on the course.

Runners descend into Grasmere and slowly wind their way back toward Ambleside.. I mentioned earlier that this felt more like an ultra distance fell race than a trail race.

Although the path was defined it was, in parts, brutal — despite the shortness of the distance this was a route that really threw everything at you and there was a procession of the walking wounded on the course as the Ambleside 60 took no prisoners.

This is not a route for the inexperienced and had the weather conditions been worse then this would really have given the competitors a challenge that even more might not have finished.

The climbs were tough, the variety was welcome and the route marking was exceptional — just a few less rocky roads would have made this a more complete running experience.

The highlight of the route for me was the second climb up Stake Pass, which as well as being as tough old boots, had the wonderful sound of gushing water on both sides of the pass, it had majesty all around it and there was a eeriness about it as you could see nothing of modern life as far as the eye could see — wonderful.

The route marking for the most part was fantastic, the little map we received at the start was perfect as a guide and the pre and post race information was concise and informative.

A huge thank you should go to all the organisers and especially the marshalling and medical staff who offered friendly faces all over the day.

Races like this do not happen without the support of lots of people behind the scenes — and it was clear that the work they had put in here had really paid off.

Kit I go mountain running most weekends and I go hill running after work and I know what kit I need to carry with me, I know how to be safe in the mountains and in adverse weather conditions and to that end I felt that the mandatory kit list was a little over complicated.

I understand completely that safety comes first and that not all runners are experienced in the hills but there does need to be a balance. I did note that a number of the runners had very small amounts of kit with them and you had to wonder how where they fitting all the mandatory kit into such a small space?

Given my back issues carrying all the required kit was always going to be one of the main challenges I faced during the Ambleside 60 and I have a preference to carry specific things that help my individual race needs.

The medal was nice and understated, which seemed very much in keeping with the whole ethos of the event and I appreciated that.

I wore my medal proudly all the way home to Scotland and as I crawled up the stairs to my bedroom upon returning home I made sure that it took its rightful place with its brother and sister medals at the top of the stairs.

The little goodies, the excellent event staff, the support both before and after, the photography and the challenge of the event itself mean that you have to say you really did get bang for your buck.

Special Mentions I owe this finish to Keith — I would not have made it without you. Thank you. However, if nothing changed, if the race came back next year in exactly the same format would I run it again?

Check out the race details here. However, it is a lot compared to how much I have been doing in the last 3 years. As regular readers will know I moved to Scotland last year and now, being safely ensconsed in my new home, I have the time to dedicate to running.

The first was I put my massive over-eating under control. The second thing was, despite my reservations, I signed up to Strava.

I did a couple of other key things too though, the third thing was I wanted to explore my surroundings and so invested in a few maps and ensured that I sought new and interesting places to run — this was in combination with a subscription to the OS Maps app highly recommended for easy browsing maps.

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Now normally I fill my blog with tales of injury woe and there was some of that but this year was more complicated. The move to Scotland continued and although the whole family was now safely north of the English border we needed to find a house to buy and this proved more challenging than we had initially hoped and I had perhaps naively assumed that I could continue with my rather torturous race schedule during this hectic time.

I felt every last inch of the race in my legs and the cramp that nearly killed me at mile 9 was horrendous.

This should have been a warning to me but my general excitement about being in Scotland amongst all of these nice new races meant I went a bit mad.

The same day as Andy poked fun at my fatness I found myself in the misery of the 9hrs of heavy rain and an unpleasant fall on Conic Hill at The Highland Fling.

I withdrew from the race about mile 35 — a little over a half marathon from the finish — I was distraught. The injury from the fall was relatively easy to recover from but the mental side of it was difficult to get over, even though I was just about ready for it I pulled out of the Balfron 10km and pulled out of the Ultra Trail Scotland for the second time.

However, rather than rest properly I decided that once the house move had concluded and my body had recovered a bit I gave it some welly and started training again, returning to ultrarunning with the relatively simple but challenging Ben Vorlich Ultra.

I found Ben Vorlich tough as my fitness was still somewhat lacking but there was an overwhelming sense of joy that accompanied it and I started to feel like I could make some progress ater successfully completing the race and so immediately went home and entered the Thieves Road which runs across the Pentlands near Edinburgh.

Sadly on race morning I awoke with a terrible case of the Gary Gritters and this kyboshed my attendance — sensible as I spent most of the day on the toilet and given the temperatures recorded I would not have finished anyway.

Still I had the Ambleside 60 upcoming in early September and so I retained my focus and actually I managed to continue training once the illness had passed and although the Ambleside 60 was even tougher than Ben Vorlich I managed to get over the line.

I was finally feeling something of a bounce and with an effective if unconventional training regime running up and down the West Lothian Bings and hiking in the Ochils.

I was beginning to feel ready but once again I was about to get a kick in the guts and one that would end my year. I felt at that moment the least like an ultrarunner that I have ever felt, I felt like a failure and that the runner who had earned nearly medals, 50 of them in ultramarathon distances was coming to the end of his running career.

I went home that day and ate Dominos pizza and probably quite a lot of sweet things, I felt rubbish, I was rubbish and from here the dark gloom that came over me felt very tangible.

Every race from here to the end of the year was thrown into jeopardy by this running breakdown. Race after race started to be cancelled as I realised that I was never going to make the start line, never mind the finish.

There was a need for a physical break after all our efforts over the last year and work was being brutal in the run up to a significant project launch so maybe this stoppage was something that was needed.

However, running has always been my release and is inextricably linked to both my mental and physical wellbeing — so was there going to be a price to pay?

Something I should have given more consideration as I sit here writing this in January. Racing had now dropped down my priority list, something that had not happened in all the years since I began ultrarunning in A nasty illness in November also came at the wrong time and when I had been considering getting back out there in order to race The Goat and meet up with outstanding ultra runner Ryan Flowers.

However, I was sidelined for the best part of a month in the run up to The Goat and had no choice but to withdraw in the days leading up to the event.

And even as I added cream to another coffee and opened another packet of biscuits I still was struggling and it was only when I realised that my new found laziness was affecting things like my breathing that I decided it was time to pull on the running shoes and get back out there.

I was planning on adding in a few shorter distance races on the in between weeks too — so ASK and I are off to Edinburgh to run the Winter Family Run 1mile.

However, I have long associated the medals with me being in a good place, even if the state of me as I first clutch a medal is pretty ruined!

Let me assure you it has not been easy to bother with another return. There has been lots of elevation added across these short distance and as a family we are resuming hill walking at the weekends and enjoying the great Scottish outdoors that we moved up here for regardless of what the weather looks like.

It is slow going, very slow and I am both the fattest and unhealthiest I have been in years and I am not finding it fun but I am doing it.

The spiral that I seem locked into perhaps require some form of significant event to kickstart me into action — something akin to a heart attack or a diagnosis of Type 2 diabetes.

When I see social media material about Transformation Thursdays or Reframed Fridays or whatever these stupid names are I can see that there was a significant issue going on and that the person has done something about it — usually gotten fitter, cleaner, lighter, healthier.

That is a difficult set of mental blocks to overcome and even as I write this I am struggling with it. In fairness she is not the glutton I can be and has a very healthy enjoyment of positive food choices — seeing things such as chocolate as a treat rather than seeing them as I do, as a food group that requires 5 a day.

With control, will come the respect that my body deserves after serving faithfully for the last 42 years and in that respect I will create the kind of person I want my family to see.

Being around other runners does provide a greater sense of purpose and direction, especially to me, and although it is not something I have ever done I feel it will create a support network I can both draw from and feed into.

My experiences with Parkrun, The London Social Runners and The Linlithgow Running Buddies all had lots of highs but ultimately none were quite the right fit for my running needs although I retain huge respect for them all and I feel the right running club would help keep me on the straight and narrow.

Sadly one thing that I did try to help inspire me was Strava. Therefore I have probably given up on Strava, though never say never and if you find my activities making their way onto your app screen — do think kindly of the fat bloke running around Falkirk.

I really want the T24 to help me rebuild the confidence I am going to need to complete events such as the Loch Ness and the Ultra Scotland As I write I find it amusing that this may sound like I consider to be an unhealthy nightmare and a waste of time but the truth is far more complicated than that — was actually a really very positive year filled with much joy and fun times.

As a family we have developed new facets — especially with ASK starting school and the move to Scotland has proved to be the kind of success I had hoped for — but there is room for improvement.

New friendships to replace those we left behind will be important as we go forward and we must be keen to make the required amount of time in our daily routine to ensure we are getting the most out of this wonderful opportunity.

I feel its an unconventional race list, there are no marathons, no big city events, no events that most runners will have heard of, it is a list of grim sounding races filled with elevation or shitty weather or shitty course conditions.

It is a race list from someone that wants to get back to running, get back to racing and get back his self respect. It is a very personal, individual experience and one that draws on my failings as a person, my own arrogance and my own falibility but now added to this is a sense of my own mortality.

I very much plan on building on the positive things that did take place in and try and reintegrate the things that worked well from my life before I arrived in Scotland.

I am responsible for the mess I have gotten mysef into and by opening myself up to the scrutiny of my peers I hope to encourage myself to be the best version of me.

I mean I knew things were not going well before the race started and my guts were doing cartwheels. Thankfully negative things were somewhat put to the back of my mind by meeting the truly awesome and inspiring Fiona see enclosed picture but this was temporary relief and when I lined up at the start I was genuinely worried.

The race was quick to accelerate uphill and I found myself pushing as hard as I could up the first climb to the summit of Dumyat.

I was fortunate to be on a route that I knew quite well and the views were truly spectacular. Having been here several times before I was expecting this to be an easy ascent and a relatively easy descent.

However, when I reached the top I discovered that the descent was going to be far from easy and several slips and bumps as I went downwards would prove to be my undoing.

I made it down to the bottom I tried to have something to eat — one of those baby fruit pouches that are pretty easy on the stomach — however, this was were I discovered that my participation in the Ochil Ultra was going to be short-lived, I started puking my guts up.

Everything that I had laid on my stomach to try and stop race nausea came up and it was pretty vile. I crawled away in dismay and started to run again as best I could but on tarmac I could now feel the pain of my back and groin that had taken a pounding coming off that first climb.

How sad that a race I had been so been looking forward to had come to a conclusion so quickly — but what now? Do I stop at the first checkpoint or do I get as far as possible and hope that everything eased off and I could make it to the last 15 miles or so and push through.

Knowing that much tougher races are to come later in the year I felt that I had no choice but to try and push through and see how far I could get.

I pulled into checkpoint one and ate and drank as much as I could stomach, I also opened up the Active Root to see if there was anything it could do to help me ease my stomach issues.

What a great volunteer and he was more than willing to check half a bottle of water over my head! It was a steep climb up from here and I made slow progress upwards where a volunteer was looking out for us — I stopped briefly to chat and then pushed onwards.

I looked back at the Ochils and saw a new side to the hills that were one of the great draws that brought me to Scotland.

I felt truly grateful to be where I was but I was very much wishing that I did not feel like I did but with gritted teeth I continued through this beautiful and isolated landscape.

I came down off the hill to a fisheries on the Glen Devon Estate that I recognised and when briefly I had phone signal I called the GingaNinja and asked her to come and rescue me from checkpoint two — I would be finishing there.

The call though was cut short — not by a lack of signal but by having to get across the fast moving stream of water — something that was rather tricky give the state I was in.

I reached the path and saw the arrow pointing upwards to yet more climbing and here I found myself with tears in my eyes.

My groin and my back were burning, I had managed to puke for a third and final time and my mental strength had simply evaporated into the ether.

I did consider the option of simply walking down to the Glen Sherup car park but knew that there was no phone signal there and felt that the second checkpoint must be nearby.

I mean how much elevation could there really be here? The answer to that was revealed as I entered a darkened forest section and noted that the climb looked steep and impossible.

However, much as before I simply gritted my teeth and forced my way through the increasingly shitty conditions underfoot. In the distance I could see signs of habitation and assumed that the checkpoint was there and so I gingerly made my way down to the bottom to the welcome of the volunteers and the GingaNinja but all I could say was that those cheers and congratulations were unnecessary — I had failed, totally and utterly and was very sad about that.

Perhaps the most annoying thing was that I. The guys at Wee Run Events were tremendous and offered anything I needed and I would like to very much thank them from that.

I will still reach ultra number 52 just not at the Ochil Ultra and will, I am determined, not be the washout that has been. Failing to finish, refusing to continue, timed out, did not finish.

I could blame my work stress levels, the sickness on the day or the injuries but ultimately I should only blame myself for my failures — and I do.

Even as I got wetter and wetter, as moisture took hold of me I knew that I was in the right hands. Inspite of the blue hue, the touch was warm and it felt so fresh, as fresh as when the world was new!

The boxer I struggled to run in as I found that the leg would bunch up a little and become less comfy but the brief was perfect for running in.

The issue was always long distance support and I found the brief benefitted from being helped by lightweight leggings such as my beloved Raidlight seamless shorts.

This was generally fine but I found it meant three layers to go racing in and during warm days this was less than ideal. What I needed was to find a way of having the length of the Raidlight shorts with the undeniable comfort of Runderwear pants!

I found myself soon ordering at an excellent discount the pack of three blue long boxer. Slipping into a pair I stretched and twisted my body to test the fabric for comfort and movement and followed this by jumping into my shorts and going running.

Traditionally the groinal region simply hangs around while I go running but today the groinal region dipped into a little slumber as it was gently caressed around my thundering legs.

I found the level of comfort offered by the Runderwear to be as good if not superior to that of my Raidlight seamless shorts and you hardly noticed that you were wearing them.

Words like soft, supple, invisible and gentle can all be easily applied to a pair of Runderwear long boxers because they understand that a sensitive person like myself requires the maximum protection and comfort around the nutsack.

Many clothing items claim to wick sweat away but so far in my running these pants have claimed victory every time — no more sweaty bum crack for UltraBoy, nope my crack is as sweet as a drinking coffee through a Spira chocolate bar.

This is what the Runderwear say about their own product, might be useful in deciding if these might help you;.

Ultimate Comfort created using an incredibly soft fabric, which is label-free to prevent irritation, rubbing and chafing mile-after-mile. Ergonomically designed to move with your body for ultimate comfort.

Seamless Design degree seamless design resulting in no side seams for ultimate comfort and chafe-free running. Flatlock fine-stitching means that edges are flat, eliminating irritation and rubbing.

Moisture-Wicking Fabric the technical fabric is lightweight and label-free and designed to effectively wick sweat away from your skin, eliminating any irritation and ensuring you keep dry and can run chafe-free.

Breathable uses high performance moisture-wicking fabric with mesh panels containing micro perforations to increase breathability and sweat removal from your skin, ensuring your core temperature is optimised.

Lightweight Durability lightweight technical fabric which is highly-durable, washes-well and dries quickly. For me there is a tremendous joy in a company being really, really good at what it does.

Something nice and lightweight without compression but simply and nicely fitted. Check out Runderwear here and see if your testicles can be as happy as mine are.

In times of turmoil we seek summits and points of vantage to gain clarity of vision. When I was younger I would go to the Lake District to climb a hill and breathe clean air and give myself greater clarity.

The race was being organised in conjunction between the long established The Climbers Shop find out more here in Ambleside and charity The Brathay Trust find out more here — both well respected pillars of the community.

The problem comes is that when deciding to do this I had conflated the shortness of the distance and relatively low ascent numbers to think this was going to be easy.

How wrong can you be? What happened next was that race was reorganised for two weeks later, my illness got worse and on race day I spent about 8hrs on the porcelain throne.

This time it was me cancelling the race and so I rolled up to the Ambleside 60 with very little training but a lot of chocolate eating done.

Registration was both quick and easy and the lovely organisers were on hand to answer all of my ridiculous questions. I was also mightily impressed that race sponsor Rab I assume threw in a warm beanie which is likely to make its race debut later in the year.

However, we soon parted and I found myself at a loose end but with lots of wonderful outdoor stores strewn across the town — I decide me to make hay while the sun shone.

Lunch was a delicious spicy chicken baguette with a slab of honeycomb cake and this was followed by short trips to Kendal and Keswick to make the most of my stay.

I had the luxury of having a six berth dorm room all to myself at the waterside YHA in Ambleside and I went to bed early to try and get as rested as possible.

Kit was prepared, breakfast readied and I knew where I was going in the morning. With water bottles now filled I headed to the start in Rothay Park and silently soaked up the friendly, banter atmosphere.

I wandered around a little bit before setting amongst the throng of ultra runners all keen for the start. We were all instructed to dib our chips at the start which had been attached to us at registration.

I found these mildly intrusive as they never felt very comfortable around the wrist and I fretted about them working loose and ending up in a puddle of mud somewhere on a hill.

That said the system was simple enough to use and the setup both at the start and at checkpoints was well thought out.

With an 8am start looming we were all corralled into the starting area and after a short briefing and some words of encouragement the ish runners burst forward and out of Rothay Park and into the wilderness.

From the near outset there was trail and nature surrounding the runners. As we wound our way through the first few kilometres it was clear that this was going to be s tougher day than I had originally imagined and as I looked down at my faithful Suunto I could see the elevation metres quickly stacking up.

I made sure I was taking on board regular fluids and even a little food from early in proceedings as this would ensure I could still take on everything late in the event.

I ran the first 15km pretty consistently and covered around metres of climb — despite the recent rains the ground was in good condition and the route was runnable.

The views were delightful and this was very much The Lake District of my youth — some places dragged up long forgotten memories and it was a very pleasant experience.

It was here that I met Deborah — about 2. We chatted for a while, as we bounded forward and this was such a pleasant experience that I barely noticed the run into the checkpoint.

Checkpoint one was brilliant with the marshalling team all dressed as chefs with big chef hats, the team were incredibly well drilled — timer, water, food, out, out, out!

I was very impressed with the team and the organisation of the event on the whole, if I were to take a guess this was not their first rodeo. The quality of the food on offer was brilliant and as I left the checkpoint I felt buoyed by the energy the team have thrust upon me.

In the distance I could see Deborah disappearing and continued my journey alone. The second section was going to be tougher with the first metres climbed this meant that there was still around metres to climb and around a marathon to do it in.

I knew that the first significant climb was soon to be upon us and in the distance twinkling like little neon and Lycra clad stars were a succession of slow moving runners as the route moved up a gear in toughness.

It was now that the route threw challenge after challenge at us, the trail had moved from being mostly runnable to being filled with big lumpy rocks, it was wet underfoot and it changed from soaking to dry making your shoe choice irrelevant in the face of the varying conditions.

I threw open my poles for the first time and began the slow journey upwards, happy in the knowledge that I had built up a reserve of time in the early stages of the race.

However, as I looked ever upwards it was with a deep sense of foreboding — this was the first and easiest ascent and it was far from easy.

I decided that given I still had some strength in my legs I would do the climb in bursts and so would have a short stop and then powered up the next couple of hundred metres, stop and repeat.

This technique helps me with the fatigue my legs get from the constant ball achingly monotonous striding of hiking up the hills something I knew I would be forced into later in the day.

My lack of training in the last month and the over eating was also playing a significant part now in my performance — runners were passing me as I struggled with the up hills and the beating my feet were now taking.

However, I knew that on the downhill as long as the path was relatively runnable I would be able to make up some ground. Where some runners are guarded about running downhill too quickly for fear of a fall I am usually pretty surefooted and confident in my own ability.

Therefore once the peak was reached I felt that I had little choice but to open up the taps a bit and go for it.

My descent was as quick as my ascent was slow and I found myself able to catch some of the runners that had managed to overtake me and I felt with nearly 1, metres of ascent done and about 20km in distance done I was feeling confident and then the ridiculous kicked in — I slipped.

Bang down — on my back, on my arse, on all my weakest points. The two young runners ahead of me turned and shouted to find out if I was okay and I waved them on but I was far from alright.

My back, which is troubling at the best of times, had shooting pain running through it and I had cut my hand open in several places and was bleeding.

I picked my muddy form off the floor and cursed my own stupidity — I ran down to the little stream and put my buff in the water and wrapped it around my hand attempting to soak up the blood.

I had been very lucky, within a few minutes the bleeding had stopped and I managed to clean up the various gashes that now covered my left hand — the realisation was dawning upon me that this route was going to give me a good kicking before it was finished.

I pushed onwards through the next few kilometres, slowing a little to account for the worsening running conditions, the rocky terrain became incredibly hard going and in my opinion it felt more like fell running than it did ultra trail running but it all added to the complexity of the challenge of finishing.

I finally reached the halfway point and was greeted by the most welcoming committee of marshals, supporters and runners.

I drank as much tea as I could handle, grabbed a bit of soft chewy cake, filled my water bottles and then followed the other runners out of the checkpoint.

From CP2 we were presented with a climb up Stake Pass, a beautiful climb and no mistake but a technical, rocky ascent that required maximum concentration all the way and its windy nature meant that you felt progress was even slower than it actually was.

I used my brutish bursts of power to push myself up the pass and once more in the distance before and ahead of me I could see the swathes of runners slowly climbing to the summit.

I kept telling myself that this is something I enjoy when moments of doubt would creep into my thinking but the reality was that my feet were burning from the damage that rocks underfoot where doing.

My feet are brittle at the best of times but the damp conditions coupled with the rocks were crippling me, the only plus I could find was that my Lone Peaks combined with Injinji liner and Drymax socks and my beloved Dirty Girls Gaiters were working overtime in protecting me from the worst of the route.

I thought nothing more of it really but like the cut of his pace and thought if I could keep up with him I might well be alright — but he, like many before, was soon gone.

I retreated the comfort of the nearest rock I could find and grabbed some food from my race vest and looked longingly into the middle distance as dark and detrimental thoughts crept across my furrowed brow.

However, the sight of runners closing in on me made me get off my backside and hurl myself up the hill and eventually I made it to the summit.

I could see some of the runners who had made it past me and so I picked Keith as my target — if I could catch him before the arrival of the next checkpoint I would continue.

The route off the pass was as unrunnable as the route up with rocks jutting up from every angle and care required about just where the hell you were putting your feet.

With all due care I made it to the bottom and leapt through the thick nasty smelling mud and crossing streams with all haste attempting to keep my feet as dry as possible.

Keith was a bit of a running veteran and with 20 more years on the clock the than me he had well earned the right to legend status.

He strode purposefully through the route, questioning the runability of some of the course but all the time remaining strong in his continuous push forward — I like Keith very much and over the next few miles we got to chatting and getting to know one another a little.

But as is the rule in ultra marathons you run your own race and he reminded me of this several times as he suggested I not wait for him or that he would be waiting long for me.

However, we were both moving at about the same speed ad so it turned out neither of us could shake the other one. The road to CP3 was hard and long, we had come off the hill and now it was just finding the checkpoint, hoping that we would make the cut-off and then pushing through as fast as we could up the biggest ascent on the course — Lining Crag.

While we both looked and probably felt a bit shitty we both also seemed to gain a newfound mental strength from each other — I certainly did from him and when I started to leave CP3 Keith joined me for some further adventuring.

Sadly my second wind was very short lived and as I began the ascent I felt every bone in my body scream for mercy, even with the first few hundred metres being relatively gentle this was a climb of false summits and false hope.

One of the great things about Keith was his wide and varied local knowledge, this meant that he was able to be accurate in his assessment of our situation, so when we approached the scramble up to the crag I knew that this was not the summit and that there were further smaller climbs to come.

We knew that the final checkpoint was at about 53km in and so it was with a little dismay that the ascent to the top of the crag had pushed us forward a mere 2km of the 12km we needed to run.

Running remained hard going over the rocky paths and went as fast and securely as we could but both Keith and I were losing our footing at regular intervals and many of the runners had soggy bottoms but perhaps none got the soggy bottom in the way I did.

While crossing a boggy path I lost my footing and into the mid thigh depth mud my leg went, the trouble was that my other leg followed me in and as I fell in my whole body lurched backward in some attempt to create the muddy equivalent of a snow fairy.

Keith turned to face me, barely disguising his amusement at the predicament that I found myself in. I managed to stand in the mud and could feel the vacuum attempting to suck my shoes in but I carefully extracted one leg and then the other with no significant loss.

I was caked in mud from head to toe but I had clearly picked the right kit for the event and my wonderful new Runderwear long boxer shorts and Raidlight Freetrail shorts soon dried off and despite being in 3 foot of wet, shitty mud my feet remained warm and toasty.

After picking myself up we headed along the remainder of the route down to Grasmere with little further incident, but we were aware that the final climb and descent had taken much, much longer than anticipated and I was keen to finish as I still had hours in the car driving back to Scotland.

I noticed that both Keith and I were rather quiet as we landed in Grasmere, tiredness was clearly playing a part but seeing the race organisers at the final checkpoint gave us a bit of a life and knowing that we were less than 10km from the finish was the mental nourishment we needed.

Gill had been at the registration and she clearly remembered my idiotic face from the previous day and the warmth with which I was greeted felt genuine and heartfelt and for that I was very grateful.

They tried to stuff our faces with all manner of food and drink but we were so close to the finish that I actually wanted just my water filled and then off and the guys obliged.

Keith and I were very keen to see off the race before the dark became impenetrable and with all the speed we could muster we set out from Grasmere.

Meeting Keith made the experience of the Ambleside 60 much more pleasant than it looked like it might have been given the struggles I know he played a huge part in me finishing on Sunday.

In the dim distance I could make out the large finish line inflatable and in front of it were two dibbing points so that we could get a final time.

It took me an age to get my bloody dibber in but once I did we were ushered into a tent and given medals, beer and times. From the park, participants will make their way up and over Loughrigg towards Skelwith Bridge, Tarn Hows and from there onwards towards Coniston.

Continuing onward, the route makes its way to Little Langdale and after a short but punchy climb reaches Blea Tarn. Runners then make their way up Stake Pass and then follow the Langstrath Beck before climbing back up Lining Crag, the biggest climb on the course.

Runners descend into Grasmere and slowly wind their way back toward Ambleside.. I mentioned earlier that this felt more like an ultra distance fell race than a trail race.

Although the path was defined it was, in parts, brutal — despite the shortness of the distance this was a route that really threw everything at you and there was a procession of the walking wounded on the course as the Ambleside 60 took no prisoners.

This is not a route for the inexperienced and had the weather conditions been worse then this would really have given the competitors a challenge that even more might not have finished.

The climbs were tough, the variety was welcome and the route marking was exceptional — just a few less rocky roads would have made this a more complete running experience.

The highlight of the route for me was the second climb up Stake Pass, which as well as being as tough old boots, had the wonderful sound of gushing water on both sides of the pass, it had majesty all around it and there was a eeriness about it as you could see nothing of modern life as far as the eye could see — wonderful.

The route marking for the most part was fantastic, the little map we received at the start was perfect as a guide and the pre and post race information was concise and informative.

A huge thank you should go to all the organisers and especially the marshalling and medical staff who offered friendly faces all over the day.

Races like this do not happen without the support of lots of people behind the scenes — and it was clear that the work they had put in here had really paid off.

Kit I go mountain running most weekends and I go hill running after work and I know what kit I need to carry with me, I know how to be safe in the mountains and in adverse weather conditions and to that end I felt that the mandatory kit list was a little over complicated.

I understand completely that safety comes first and that not all runners are experienced in the hills but there does need to be a balance.

I did note that a number of the runners had very small amounts of kit with them and you had to wonder how where they fitting all the mandatory kit into such a small space?

Given my back issues carrying all the required kit was always going to be one of the main challenges I faced during the Ambleside 60 and I have a preference to carry specific things that help my individual race needs.

The medal was nice and understated, which seemed very much in keeping with the whole ethos of the event and I appreciated that.

I wore my medal proudly all the way home to Scotland and as I crawled up the stairs to my bedroom upon returning home I made sure that it took its rightful place with its brother and sister medals at the top of the stairs.

The little goodies, the excellent event staff, the support both before and after, the photography and the challenge of the event itself mean that you have to say you really did get bang for your buck.

Special Mentions I owe this finish to Keith — I would not have made it without you. Thank you. However, if nothing changed, if the race came back next year in exactly the same format would I run it again?

Check out the race details here. However, it is a lot compared to how much I have been doing in the last 3 years. As regular readers will know I moved to Scotland last year and now, being safely ensconsed in my new home, I have the time to dedicate to running.

The first was I put my massive over-eating under control. Well, 1 week after my return I had a date to meet Matt my brother for a trail run at one of our favorite spots.

I was nervous, given my running was nearly non-existent for the past 5 months. The run started off manageable. We continue to run, holding a casual conversation.

Then came the 1. Matt all of a sudden took off. My lungs and legs immediately felt the absence of ANY elevation and as we neared the top, I was doing everything I could to not walk.

Bill was behind me, and I told him to go ahead. Not after what he just did on Everest. Unfortunately, he said he was fine and stayed behind me.

So I pushed. I wanted to walk. But I kept going. Because Bill was behind me and he just did freaking Everest!!!

The 3 of us, all hurting from injuries, took off. I want to say we probably averaged a 7 minute mile to the finish.

Where the hell did that come from? Not one word was spoken in those last 4 miles, but no words were needed. That run was a turning point for me.

My soul had reawakened and I was ready to start training again. Should I do the 50K or 50 Mile? I was back!!! Back home and back with people who make me better!

I am also doing some road runs, biking, swimming and strength. My heart is happy with such a great group of people to train with and I feel so lucky!

I attended this event in for the first time and it was such a powerful experience for me. Years passed and although I continued each year to spectate and be incredibly inspired, I never took the plunge.

Sometimes the timing just has to be right. I felt drunk with happiness and inspiration watching our MFers finish, but still went home that Monday with no real thought of signing up.

Then the texts starting pouring in. Many asking if I was going to sign up, and a couple from 2 bad ass chicks one a close High School friend saying they had signed up!!

With the thought of moving back to Florida in October looming, I suddenly realized that this may be the year.

I reached out to 4 men that I admire deeply. Each one of them gave me their own bit of advice. Then something clicked.

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