Grand Union Canal Race (uphill version) – Running 145 miles along a canal

Are you running for charity? For the woman on the boat this was probably the only logical explanation as to why 99 runners, me amongst them, chose to run along a canal from London all the way to Birmingham on a warm, sunny Saturday in May. Why would anyone attempt to run continuously for 145 miles, if not for a greater good?

No. I’m not running for charity. I’m running for me. To see if I can. I ran my first marathon to see if I could. I ran my first ultra marathon to see if I could. My first 100k, 100 miles, 24 hour race? Ditto. And so I found myself taking on the 145 mile long Grand Union Canal Race, to see if I could.

Perhaps it would be more correct to say ‘if I still could’? Though 145 miles would, if I was successfull, be the longest distance I had ever run, I had been near that distance in several of my 24h races, with 221 km as my best result. I had also experience of being on my feet for up to and beyond 30 hours in some of my previous races. However, during a 24h race in 2021 my motivation just vanished at the 100 mile mark, and I have struggled with my motivation for both training and racing ever since. Various health issues in 2022, such as stress due to a toxic work environment, low iron levels, vitamin D deficiency, and covid,  probably contributed, as running went from being easy, and therefore enjoyable, to feeling really hard, and therefore boring. At the end of last year I  wondered whether I should give up ultrarunning altogether, or find a new, big challenge that would hopefully rekindle my passion for the sport. I chose the latter, thinking that at the very least taking on the GUCR would scare me into putting some effort into my training during winter and spring.

At the start in Little Venice I felt underprepared, undertrained, and still undermotivated. The suffering I expected came unexpectedly early, when I immediatly became desperate for a wee. There had been toilets at the start, but the women’s facilities was closed, and the men’s were literally too shitty for anything that required sitting down. The first 10 miles were therefore spent dodging cyclists on the tow path and scouting for suitable foliage. When I popped back out of the bushes I bumped into Chelle, almost literally. She is probably one of the friendliest, smiliest runners I’ve ever met! We bonded instantly over moaning about how much easier men have it when it comes to mid race weeing. The next few miles felt like they went really fast, as we chatted about running, work, families.

In fact, it turned out we were speeding up whilst chatting. I had made two scenarios/pace plans for the race. One involved starting out too fast, becoming depleted and overheating, followed by nausea, vomiting, slowing down, hating running, and running on empty to the finish- my usual MO. The other was starting slower than usual, being able to maintain that pace for longer, and maybe have enough energy at the end for a strong finish and somewhat happy thoughts. I was now way ahead even of the train cash scenario. When I tried slowing down it felt unnatural, and something started clicking at the back of my knee, so I decided to just carry on until I met my support for the first time, and use this little break to reset.

I had chosen to run in the supported runner category. It made it easier to get a place in the race, but meant that I had to organise my own support from start to finish. I could get drinks at the official check points, but not take food or have any drop bags. Richard Stillion met me at the start and crewed during the day – so he got the happy(ish) Mari. Rafal Tkazyk would crew me during night and to finish – and so would likely get a much grumpier runner. Having been my pacer at the NDW100 in 2018, aka The Great Vomit Fest, he should know what to expect.

Richard and I first met up at Tesco Yiewsley after approximately 16 miles. It was Richard’s first time crewing me, but you wouldn’t know it. It went like clockwork – after just a couple of minutes I was on my way again, running as slowly as I could without it feeling strange.

The surface underfoot facilitated the slowing down. The tow path became more varied, switching between gravel, asphalt and dirt, but was still quite level and wide. Around mile 20, just a few miles before meeting Richard for the second time, I took a tumble, as I took my eyes off the ground to drink. After checking that there were no cuts under the dirt, reapplying sunscreen, and drinking some smoothie I was on my way again. Note to self: in future, remember to take off sunglasses before applying sunscreen to face.

The miles continued to pass quickly. I had been running alone since my first crew stop, and I enjoyed it. It was just me, the canal, and the green surroundings. Of course, there were also lots of boats on the canal, and a surprising amount of cats as well as people living onboard them.

The navigation was easier than feared, most of the time it was very obvious when to cross from one side to the other, as the tow path would suddenly come to an end, and reappear on the other side. However, after one such crossing my watch suddenly told me I was off track. My mistake had been to assume that where the canal divided I was to follow the widest, nicest looking tow path. Now I learnt that the correct path was sometimes the narrowest and most overgrown. Another runner, Miki, caught up with me. She said something like «we’re not at Bridge 163 yet, that’s where we’re supposed to cross». She had memorised all the bridges where we crossed the canal!

That was why I had felt underprepared at the start. No matter how many hours I had spent looking  at maps, making lists, checking which side of the canal our meeting places were at, calculating and recalculating distances and ETAs, it just wouldn’t stick. My brain had felt like a sieve, the information passed straight through. I even had to ask Richard and Rafal how far it was to the next meeting point every time I saw them. I was so glad I had found a gpx file with the route.

When Richard announced that it was our final meetup, and that from now Rafal was taking over crewing duties, I felt surprise – had it really been 55 miles already? I tried to give him a hug, but I don’t think Richard is a big fan of those.

My first meet up with Rafal, at 69 miles, didn’t go quite as smoothly as those with Richard. I was probably not in the best mood when I turned up, as I had just fallen for the third time. Luckily, I had not sustained any injuries, not even a bloodied knee, but I was now wondering if I would continue to fall every 20 miles.

Anyway, when I met Rafal he made me walk up some steps, down a steep bank and into a parking lot. I thought it maybe was a diversion from the canal that had escaped my notice, but no, we were going to Rafal’s car for food and drink. I had suggested hot food and drink at this point, but instead I  had a banana and more pudding, washed down with big gulps of smoothie. Moments later I threw it all back up again, probably giving Rafal flashbacks to the NDW 2018. I was not, and had not been feeling unwell prior to this incident, so we agreed I had probably eaten too quickly. I had some more to eat, or rather a little less, and then climbed back up the bank and down the steps to the canal. Thankfully, it seemed like our assessment of why I threw up was correct, I didn’t feel unwell and kept the food down when I resumed running again. My nutrition strategy had been to eat more or less every 40 min, and I tried to be even more strict about this now, and added some ginger fudge to ward off nausea.

Not many miles after meeting Rafal I arrived at CP5 (74 miles). I had run straight past all but one of the previous check points, but this did not seem to be an option here as three volunteers hoarded me into a village hall. This was the only CP that was indoors, and therefore the only one with a toilet. Since some chafing issues had started to develop I was happy to avail myself of it, and thus not have to apply lubricant to my nether regions in the middle of the tow path. According to the maps we got from the organisers there are some public toilets along the canal, and I had paid for a key that would give me access to both these and water taps, but they must require local knowledge to find, because I did not see a single one.

At around 80 miles the canal pass through a tunnel, and so we had to leave the canal and follow a road until the canal reemerged on the other side of the hill. We had been informed of a road closure here, but assured that it would only affect crew cars as there was an opening in the barriers which runners could pass through. It turned out said opening was a small gap between the barrier and the ground, and you could either lie down on the ground and wriggle through or try to climb the 6 ft fence. A couple of walkers adviced me to go for the former option, based on their studies of some runners ahead of me. Oh well, it broke the monotony of running along a flat (ish) canal.

Since I always go on about getting to see sunsets and sunrises during ultra races I thought I had better take a picture as the sun was going down over the canal.

At check point 6 I sat down for the first time. At close to 100 miles I thought I deserved it. Rafal was meeting me here, and I finally had some noodles, which I think had been reheated at least twice at that point. After a discussion about whether I needed more clothes (I insisted I didn’t even though I was shivering with cold) I was on my way again.

…and then just out of sight of the check point I had to stop and throw up in a hedge. At the CP a volunteer had asked what had been the weirdest thing to happen along the canal so far. I couldn’t think of anything weird, but now I had a slightly odd experience. I thought I heard breathing on the other side of the hedge, and it turned out I was right, a man was standing there having a smoke. I felt I had to apologise for throwing up in his hedge, and explained that I had just run close to 100 miles. The man calmly exhaled some smoke, and then told me I needed more electrolytes. Yeah, yeah, yeah – as if Rafal wasn’t nagging me enough about eletrolytes already.

When leaving the check point I was actually first female and number 4 overall, having moved steadily up the field throughout the day. Just before CP6 I had overtaken Kelsey, who had been in the lead the whole day. However, it didn’t last long. As I stopped to double check the route on the map Kelsey and her buddy runner overtook me again, and cleared up my confusion about where I was. My watch said I was at 100ish miles, which would have meant a 100 mile split of around 18h 10 min, but it was actually closer to 95.

For most of the day I had actively avoided running with others, sometimes deliberately slowing down if overtaken or about to overtake, but now it seemed like a good idea with some company. It turned out that I knew Kelsey’s buddy runner, and we reminisced about a 24h race where I had provided some drama by collapsing on the track. We were running along a cycling path, as the canal passed through another tunnel, when Kelsey and buddy suddenly dived through a hedge and disappeared. I wasn’t sure if they were going the right way, so I stopped tocheck the map. My watch said I was going the right way, but then the line showing where I was and where I should be started to diverge. I tried to find the trail Kelsey had spotted, but became unsure about where I had come from. I wasn’t really lost, just confused and scared of being lost. After a lot of faffing I finally found the correct trail just 50m further up the road, but I had lost a lot of time standing still and staring at my watch.

Running was now difficult because I was so cold and stiff, so I had to powerwalk for a while to loosen up. I messaged Rafal to organise an earlier meetup to get more clothes, but he messaged back that there wasn’t time. A little later he messaged again asking where I was, so he was obviously waiting at the scheduled meeting point, and I was obviously way behind schedule. At that point I was trying to run along a canal, but I was starting to wonder if it was the correct canal, as the path was now barely visible and right on the canal edge, very overgrown with stinging nettles, giant hogweed and trees and bushes. There was nothing grand about it, and after putting my foot in the canal when the tow path simply crumbled away I found it safest to walk. Had I fallen in it would have been game over.

Hearing Rafal shout hallo to me was a huge relief – I was following the right canal. And, finally, I had access to my clothes. I sat in Rafal’s car to warm up and eat, then put on more or less all my extra clothes. Back down by the canal I bumped into Chelle and Sam, and we proceeded to fight through the canalside jungle together. Like me, Sam and Chelle found it safest to walk. When the tow path widened again and the overgrowth receeded, Sam switched to running and disappeared ahead. I always find it hard to switch back to running after walking, but I finally managed to do so.

Night gave way to day again, mist hanging over the canal and surrounding fields, and I could remove my headtorch and some of my layers. In the beginning of the race it felt as if the miles passed very quickly, now it was the opposite. This was probably partly because my watch was overestimating the distance, so I frequently rejoiced as the remaining mileage seemed to shrink significantly, only to realise that there was a long way to go yet. Now in the latter stages of the race it also became clear why London-Birmingham is called the uphill version, as several series of locks meant that there were also lots of little hills to tire out already tired legs, and break whatever rhythm I had managed to achieve.

Whenever I met Rafal I would usually also see Kelsey’s crew (and they would offer me mango or other treats as they were packing up), or Rafal would inform me that she was only a few minutes ahead, and if I sped up I could catch her. My response would be that I did not care, the only thing that mattered was to get to the finish. It was so nice to take part in a race where placements and podiums didn’t matter, people didn’t expect me to win, it was all about personal achievement and getting to the finish line. Then we would argue about electrolytes; Rafal was pro, I was con. (I carried S caps and had taken them in the beginning, but stopped when they started triggering the gag reflex as I tried to swallow them.)

Actually, the ‘all that mattered was to get to the finish’ bit was a little lie. Yes, finishing was the main objective, but I was hoping to finish in sub 30 hours, ideally around 28 hours. Which was almost the same as saying I wanted to win. The thought of being out for more than 30 hours felt souldestroying, but at around 120 miles that started to seem very likely, as I slowed down more and more. I couldn’t really figure out why, as there wasn’t any major issues. The nausea I had experienced at CP6 had passed after a few miles (and some gels), I hadn’t had any further episodes of vomiting, I had surprisingly few aches and pains, in fact no more than I usually have during a run commute to work… I just didn’t want to run, but the same time I wanted to get to the finish as quickly as possible. My conclusion was that since around 100 miles I had been eating less frequently, thus central fatigue was setting in, and the solution was sugar. I found a bag of sweets in my vest and started eating.

When I met Rafal for the last time at the last CP my mood had started to lift. I ate the foods Rafal gave me, and then we had a discussion about whether sub 30 was still achiveable. I was pessimistic, as by then I had been out for 27,5 hours, and I thought the remaining distance was 13,5 miles. Being informed that it was in fact 10,9 miles my mood lifted, and as I departed I told Rafal that I would see him in 2,5 hours. He sternly answered ‘no, 2 hours 45 minutes’.

I started walking, but then told myself that that was no good if I was to achieve my goal, so I decided to run 1 km, then walk a minute, run 1km and so on. Running felt surprisingly good, so I ended up running 5 km before I had a 2 min walking break, during which I crammed my mouth full of jelly sweets. I did another 5k run, 2 min walk/sweet break. Then a 3k run, during which I passed Sam for the last time (we had leapfrogged each other several times during the night and morning). I got my phone out to tell Rafal that I was crushing it. I ran another 2k or so. I was now in Birmingham, old empty factories gave way to university buildings as I was approaching the inner city. The canal twisted and turned, and the tow path was now paved with old bricks, some of them jutting out at an angle threatening to trip up tired runners. Low bridges and ramps contributed to the feeling that I was running an obstacle course. People saw my bib and cheered me on, some giving me instructions on where to run. Finally I was at something that had to be the Gas Street Basin, but where was the finish? I stopped to check with a couple of people that I was in the right place, terrified of making a navigation error so near the end. A couple of lads told me it was straight ahead, my watch said 90m to the finish. I started a sprint, nearly trampling some tourists under the Black Sabbath Bridge, and then as I jumped over the finish line I nearly took out Keith Godden, canalrunning God, too. I made it in 29h 23 min: 2nd female, 4th overall.

After receiving a giant, heavy finisher medal I sat for a few minutes, cheering Sam as he arrived about 10 min after me. Normally after finishing a huge challenge like this you immediately swear that you will never, ever do it again. That was not what I felt after the GUCR, I reflected that the experience had been much more positive than expected. Of the 29 and a bit hours I had spent along the canal, about 90 % had been a good. The hours on end of physical pain and negative thoughts which I had expected had not become a reality, and when a down period had come I had managed to turn it around again. I don’t think I have felt as good, or had such a strong finish since the Thames Path in 2017.

Top 10 – 5 males and 5 females!

Rafal’s final job of the day was to escort me to my hotel. I had tried to find one near the finish, and it turned out I had found the nearest one. Check in time was 3pm, it was now just before noon. Often hotels will let you check in early if any rooms are ready, that was not the case here. Therefore I ended up shotting espressos for three hours in the hotel bar, dirty, probably quite smelly, and still covered with bits of foliage from the overgrown section during the night. That was when I came to really appreciate the help my sister has given me during previous races, such as travelling ahead and checking in at the hotel at the finish, so that whenever I arrived a warm shower and soft bed would wait for me.

I had considered booking a room for disabled persons, with an extra high toilet seat, rails in the shower etc, as I assumed my body would be quite broken after running 145 miles. That turned out not to be necessary, as, apart from some dizziness that went away with a nap, I felt just normal tiredness and stiffness, the same as after a heavy training week. I didn’t even have any blisters on my feet! In fact, I considered going for a run just three days after, but ended up waiting five days. (Which was probably a good decision as I did experience some pelvic pain during that run.)

The GUCR seemed to eventually have the effect on my motivation that I had been hoping for. A couple of weeks after a post popped up on SoMe about the UK Ultras 100 mile Grand slam, which made me feel very excited. Then I thought that maybe I should do the Canal Slam instead? The canal races are nice and flat… Then my sister announced that she is ready to start running ultras again, and suggested we run the long time bucket listed Classic Quarter next year, and now I have too many races and challenges I want to do! Then again, I don’t have to do them all in one year…