The Red Bull Steeplechase

I was flying, flat out down Win hill. My legs were burning, but it felt great, feet dancing over the rocks until my left foot caught the top of a boulder.  I tried to correct myself, but my momentum was rotating downwards, looking ahead all I could see was a bed of jagged rocks; this was going to hurt. I slid along the trail, my bottle splitting and peeling my left palm, my right hand side acting as a grating brake.  As I lay on my side the position put my entire body into a cramp and I wiggled around like an electrocuted fish, winded and struggling for breath. I shouted at the passing runners to leave me, I didn't think anything was broken, before regrouping for some time and hesitantly clambering to my feet.  My right forearm resembled Popeyes, a mesh of blood and grit, but my legs seemed ok.  I wiped the blood dripping from my left hand onto my face - might as well look proper bad ass. Only another two miles until the next cut off and another eight until the final one.  Bugger!

Some of the damage

Three weeks prior I'd won a place on the Red Bull steeplechase through runners world, a 21 mile race with 1400 metres of ascent.  The twist was that roughly every 5 miles they cut the back third of the field until only 30 runners remained. Having spent the summer pickling what remained of a runner post Sierra Leone, I suddenly had only three to get marathon fit. The next day, when in theory I should be beginning my taper, I headed to London's steepest hill, swains lane and attempted to run up and down it ten times.

Three weeks later I was travelling up to the peak district in a car with Jon 'best assault course racer in Britain' Albon, Ross 'GB duathlete' Macdonald and Rob 'best trail runner in Heathside' O'Grady. If fully fit I could just about match them once we got up to marathon distances, but today I had no chance, in fact of the 6 people I knew racing 5 of them were probably going to beat me; top 30 was going to be tough.

Start

We arrived in Glossop and it was a bit disconcerting how fit everyone looked. I'd opted for my running of the bulls outfit, as a homage to red bull, but was looking completely out of place and with the temperature picking up, it was definitely going to be too hot. 500 of us collected under the Red Bull banner and after a 100 meter sprint we turned straight up the steepest hill I've ever attempted to run up - 49% gradient. The route was single track and panic set in amongst the runners trying to get clear of the maul. People were scrambling through the bracken, elbows swung to make room, it was a full on mosh. The first hill only took 8 minutes, but by half way my calves were already burning, the steepness forcing me to climb on the tips of my toes, putting all of the force through my calves and using the bracken to keep my balance. By the top of the hill I was already way off the top 30 and my calves were shredded. Trying to get a rhythm was proving difficult, but as we reached the first peak, a solo trumpeter was playing the Rocky theme tune, amazing.

This doesn't do the first hill justice

Two miles in and we finally reached our first downhill, my time to shine. The hill was grassy and wet so I lent in and took off full pelt. To my surprise, I was overtaken by a nutter who was sprinting to build up enough speed to then slide down on his side. I considered copying his technique, but as much as I believe the adverts, I couldn't see Ariel getting the stains out of my white outfit and after three slides he'd changed tack, having grazed his entire left side. 800 feet of descent later, I'd overtaken 25 or so and mid way up the next peak we ran through our first counter - 59th. I maintained my position on the up, passed the table overflowing with Red Bull cans and then got stuck in a two mile single track route. I was trying to pass runners, but the ground was too technical; overtaking meant risking tripping, as you didn't have enough space to see the trail coming ahead, add to that a barb wire fence and I decided to just tuck in. There were streams, rocks and suddenly a huge candy floss ball, which turned out to be a rotting sheep clouded in mold.

An ascent, I'm in white

Another descent through the woods and past a beautiful reservoir and we entered the first cut off point, with another wealth of Red Bull and large group of supporters. My outfit was cheered, which gave me a boost, but for 8 miles in I was feeling pretty tired and knowing I would be well within the top 125 at the next cut off point, I started to focus on the 12 miles to pull myself up from 57th to 30th, seemed unlikely.

Monster 1000ft ascent in one

Our next stage featured 1000ft of ascent! Runners were slowing dramatically and rather than picking up the odd runner, I could start to see the groups of people ahead of me. As I was passing people, others were coming through, but by the top I'd improved to 50th and suddenly felt that 30th was more than achievable, I wasn't fit, but fairing better than most, but then came the crash.

My immediate thought was that I could do an Eric Liddel - despite the fall sprint on and win the whole thing, but a few more steps and even though my legs still seemed to work, it was apparent I wasn't the runner of five minutes before. With only 2 miles to the next check point, I ran on, hitting another steep ascent, where runners were cautiously stepping their way down. 'Straight back on the bike' I thought and steaming off again. I couldn't tell if their looks were saying to me 'fair play' or 'that's what got you injured in the first place.' The right hand side of my body was all slightly strained and letting my arm go limp seemed to help, another mile passed before a welcome face gave me some support, as Anthony, a fellow Heathsider sped past. He was sitting pretty in 23rd before taking a 2 mile detour and looked like a man on a mission to catch up immediately.

I reached the second cut off point in around 60th and decided a Red Bull was definitely needed, however a few more yards on, I stopped, looked back and thought about stopping. There was no way I was going to overtake 30 people in the next 6 miles and it was likely every hill I was going to have to be a walk. It seemed sensible, but then I thought about the ribbing I'd get in the car all the way back to London and realised I had to continue.

Amazing scenary

The atmosphere of the race suddenly changed. Surrounding runners knew we weren't going to make the cut, so we were all now just running to finish and our competitive edge drained away, each runner chatting with each other and encouraging anyone passing them. I was amazed how many ultra runners there were and that they were also struggling - they could do the miles, but the speed which we had covered the first 12 miles had ragged even their legs. We took in the breathtaking scenery, swapped war stories and slothed our way through the last six miles. With a mile left to go, I decided I had to finish with a flurry so, took off down the hill and gritted my teeth for running what felt like a decent pace, but was probably wasn't even 7 minute miling. I turned the corner to see the third cut off, thank God, I was destroyed. We were greated with hoodies, socks, and for some reason a teatowel (which I love) and of course plenty of Red Bull. We jumped on their buses and made our way back to the finish, where there was a free BBQ and bar. Jon had felt great at half way and incredibly streaked away to go from 8th to 2nd, resulting in a magnum of champagne he generously shared; my pain was quickly numbed.

Heathside Massive L-R Brian, Rob, Myself, Anthony

It was one hell or a race - well organised, with amazing scenery and ridiculously cheap for what you get, but wow is it brutal; four days on I still can't walk properly. If you want to get close to the feeling, ask your biggest friend to repeatedly beat your quads with a rusty crow bar, while someone grates your calves for three hours. I wasn't match fit going in, but realistically I'd need to be fully marathon fit for next year, to do it justice, as this is harder than a marathon. You can train on hills in preparation, but they're not going to be enough. I will be back next year, with my sights firmly on a top ten finish, I just need to get the keys to the Shard first, as it's the only thing within 200 miles of London high and steep enough to prepare me.

L-R me, Ross, Rob and Jon - final pint in London

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The Great British Beerathon - 5 miles, 4 pints, 4 bits of food - 1 almight hangover

Sweetheart's back fat ... possibly

The Great British Beerathon is a five mile slobstacle race, where runners run five-one mile laps, drinking a pint and eating some food at the end of each lap. 

Now in its fourth year, I've always hidden behind my organiser role to avoid having to take part, preferring to laugh at friends from the safety of the pub and hint that if I were to run I'd obviously blitz it. 

Having won two of the previous years Sweetheart insisted that I run this year, partly to shut me up, but probably more to do with his concern over what the calories would do to his back fat.

Fancy dress chosen, I was feeling pretty confident.  I'm not in the greatest shape, but I can drink like a champion (at least in my head) and six minute miling should be fine, even with a baby bump, giving me 90 seconds per transition. 

Event briefing

After an inspirational speech from Sweetheart, explaining that he'd laid on several specialist areas around the course should we feel ill, also known as walls, 120 of us lined up in full fancy dress.  The first mile was pretty quick, two people leading out the first lap in 5.20 or so, I came in 17 seconds behind, charged up the stairs, grabbed my Guinness and muffin and headed for the beer garden. The two ahead of me became one, we guzzled, then gasped and we were off again 1.06 transition, piece of cake ... literally. 

James West leads out the start

The second lap felt ok if a little slower (6.12).  The leader dressed as a Evel Knievel (Matt Wilto), took another fifteen seconds out of me and I began to notice I was being stalked by a monk (Andrew Fargus), I began to feel like Robert Langdon (but with the ability to solve simplistic puzzles on the first page). Back up the stairs for bitter and samosa.  The samosa was a decent size and piping hot, but we were making our way through it as the monk inhaled his and took off with the Evel.  25 seconds later and I followed.

Guinness and muffins

We were beginning to attract a bit of a crowd on the course.  The builders' laughs grew louder with each lap, there was a homeless man, asleep on a step motionless throughout (I hope he was asleep) and the tourists were sometimes already filming as we passed.  The roads had been closed for the London cycle the next day, but the tourists assumed we were the main event and were getting fully behind us.  To be fair the Evel was running quick enough to be a cyclist.

Jody

Third lap of 6.09 and we were back in for slobstacle three - lager and a Cornish pasty, I say Cornish, only because it was the size of Cornwall.  My chomps were merely flirting with it, but thankfully nearly everyone was struggling. My only solace was that a friend of mine Jody had the vegetarian pasty and it was bigger than his head (and this is man who needs custom made cycle helmets). He flashed me a look of 'this is all your fault you bastard', it hadn't been planned, but I wish it had.

Evel and the Monk

Another friend Chris strutted in with a half eaten pasty. He's not a bad runner, but definitely a better cyclist and seeing him so close behind me was surprising. Then it all made sense, not only was he an ironman with a hunger like no other, but boy does he have a mouth on him (in the best possible way.) Evel was in a world of pain, the monk going steady and Chris was devouring like a hungry hippo. Chris was out first, followed closely by the monk, I struggled and after 4.47 finally headed out for my fourth lap.

Chomper Chris

Devo in happier time

My belly was bubbling by now and starting to pick up a momentum of its own. I was still trying to keep the pace up, knowing that the next slobstacle was a smaller porkpie. If I could get in quick there was a chance I could neck the pint and be back up with the leaders. 6.11 for the fourth lap and then it hit me. The cider was sweet and sickly, the porkpie burningly hot, but thankfully not that large. 


The belly had been doing a pretty good job as a washing machine and felt like it was frothing up my neck. I couldn't even take the smallest bite of the pie without the feeling that it was all going to blow. A friend of mine Devo was sat in the corner still on his pasty. He would have been a favourite for the race, but he was coming back from injury and on Thursday night had taken on the Red Dog hot wing challenge. His stomach still hadn't recovered and having snuck into a corner for a bit of privacy, expelled its content right in front of the race photographer to the cheers of the crowd.  

The finish

I saw away the cider, but was still left with my entire pie, as Chris and then the monk strode away. Minutes later, stood in the corner, I was battling to swallow anything without having to fight to keep the food down, dry retching with each attempt. Knowing the race was lost, I forced the pie into my mouth and set off, mouth still full of pie, a woeful transition of 6.49.

I felt like I was moving ok for my final lap, waving at the builders and dodging the tourists. I looked like a pregnant samba dancer, waddling like a duck. As I rounded the final corner, I kicked in for a sprint finish only to hear the pounding of footsteps behind me - Evel was trying to take me on the line. Thankfully I still had a but left in the legs and ran into the cheering crowd with a time 45:09, six and a half minutes behind the winner Andrew Fargus, the monk,  in 38:42. 

Chris and I finished, with Andrew over-shoulder

I felt pretty rough, but a couple of decent burps and we were back on the sauce. The race had been a lot harder than I had expected. The booze and the running was fine, but the food just sat in your stomach and by the cornish pasty there were no gaps left to fill. Great pacing by the monk and much kudos to Rob Foster, the current world record holder who averaged 7:30 per mile with food and drink.

The rest of the runners slowly filtered in and we started the customary drinking circle to wrap off the event, dishing out drinks as punishment theroughout the race (of which there was plenty.)

Seaman, last seen stumbling towards a hairdressers

Special mention must go to Zacharay Davidson, winner of the best male fancy dress category, dressed as David Seaman. He won over the crowd's hearts and as a result ended up having to drink his body weight in beer and half again in gin. 

We'll be back next year and I'm planning on running again. Don't think I could get the record, but with a bit more chomping, will hopefully put up a fight until the last lap at least.

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UK Challenge - Stage 3 - Successful Formula

Stage 3 was a 3 hour mountain bike. Team of 4. The result = the team with the most points receive a 00:00 stage time, the team with the least points receive 3:00 hours, all the other teams were distributed between those two times using the formula:

or something like that. Crickey!

The scenario was forming a grand prix team and racing to win championship points. Each team needed to buy a driver, a car and then enter races - visiting the start and finish of each race. The better the driver and car, the higher your placing and more points received. If you entered a race that you didn't finish (by visiting the race points) you received a considerable penalty. Teams could upgrade their driver or car at any time throughout the 3 hours and there were investment points that could be visited to gain more cash to pay for the upgrade.  We were given our map in advance and there was a clear loop that could be used from the start to visit the best driver and best car checkpoints. We still didn't know the times of the races or their location and there were also quite a few single-track, one way routes to add to the confusion, so we couldn't determine how many races we should attempt in advance.  Unless the first race was extremely early and with a long gap before the second, it seemed to make sense to buy the best driver and car straight away to get the maximum points from each race.

Leo, Vanessa and Simon were joined by Dan Adams - our Senior Executive (which explains why I'm low on detail for the race, as I was busy drinking tea and chatting up the Sainsbury's girls.) Just before the start they announced an extra element to the scenario - all races had to registered in advance by foot and the number of entrants for each race was limited, so there was a dilemma of how long to plan for knowing that the better the planning the more likely the races would be full.

Sprint Start - I'm 2nd red from the left, 5 - Stuart is a 2.45 marathoner, 16 - Glen is UK standard steeple chase 

I ran for the envelope of race times in the mass start and within the first ten meters I decided that jogging was good - why pull a hamstring? to the disappointment of Dan, who had been regaled with tales of my London marathon sprint. Start times in hand the team ran towards the registration points, that had become a bun fight, with teams pushing and shoving to get their registrations in. Leo confessed to registering for the wrong race, then registering for four more, before thinking sod it and on the spur of the moment registering for a sixth.

The scrum to register for races

Off they raced, while I prepared myself a little corner of the van to nap in. Two and half hours later and Vicky and I were waiting nervously by the finish. Nearly all of the teams were in, but Accenture 4 were nowhere to be seen. We had no idea how many races they had gone for, but there were a lot of teams having disasters. The RAF team didn't make it to the start, their van's engine blowing on the drive to the race course, Perenco had only been able to register for two races, having a 45 minute break in between the two and Accenture 5 had not dibbed properly for their driver and started their first race without one. At 2.58 the team came running home - all looking knackered, but all grinning - six gone for, six achieved, some with only seconds to spare. We'd been lucky to go for the six correct races, but they'd then cycled like hell to complete them all.

Becky and Rod from Accenture 5

Syngenta were the only other team to have attempted six and only a puncture on the way in stopped them finishing in time, meaning that we'd won the stage and managed to take half an hour out of AWE's lead. We were now up to third, twenty minutes behind the leaders. Traditionally the Friday evening was a build stage, a bit of a lottery for us, but it was non-physical, so we drunk our For Goodness Shakes and headed back to the university, knowing that it was now game on!

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Position		Number	Time Taken	Bonus	Penalties	Stage Time
1	Accenture	4	2:58:31	3:00:00		0:00:00
2	Syngenta	13	3:01:12	2:57:01	-0:01:12	0:02:59
3	CGI	54	3:02:30	2:36:57	-0:02:30	0:23:03
4	AWE	1	2:55:42	2:30:15		0:29:45
5	AWE	3	2:44:48	2:22:49		0:37:11
5	GCHQ	7	2:56:46	2:22:49		0:37:11

New shoes - Kalenji Kiprun HM review

I've been sent a pair of trainers to try out and they're the best kind - they're free. They're called the Kalenji, not heard of them before, but they sound kind of Polish, so I was expecting them to be hard working, but for the male versions to be somewhat unattractive ... casual stereotypes over I was asked which pair I'd like - the 10k, half marathon or full marathon version.  The range is Kiprun and the concept is that each pair is designed to suite each distance - more support and cushioning the greater the distance.  Nice idea and certainly far easier to decide which shoe is right for your needs than having to decode the usual marketing language. Wanting the best of both roads I of course opted for the half marathon version and soon enough a lovely new pair were delivered:

I give you the Kalenji Kiprun MD

They looked pretty good and most importantly the lime green matched my Inov8 running bag - turn my swag on!

To help you understand my review it's worth stating that I am a neutral runner and a massive shoe whore. I was lucky enough to win 8 pairs of trainers during the Nike Grid and have managed to win or been given several other pairs of Adidas, Saucony, Brookes or Asics since, so haven't bought a pair of trainers in 4+ years. I therefore do not have one preferred trainer to compare against. I also seem to be blisters free, no matter the shoe, which allows me to whore my feet about so readily (like a gigolo immune to stds) or something like that.

I was heading to Portugal that weekend for a friend's wedding, so I put them in my hand luggage and psyched myself for some hardcore running. The wedding was intense - 30C heat, serving unlimited booze, pre-poured and lined-up into 15 or so different spirits - far too many to choose between, so I systematically worked my way down the line; the weekend run wasn't looking that realistic.

Sweetheart at the top of Estrada de Serra 

The morning after my friend Sweetheart was insisting that instead of running along the coast, finishing where our friends would be surfing, we should instead head for trails. Being too hungover to disagree we jumped in a cab and half an hour later, lost and fed up of driving round in circles looking for a dam, the taxi driver dropped us off in the middle of a national park. It was 38C, we were in the middle of nowhere and having been unable to navigate our taxi driver to anywhere of note, I had no idea how we were going to find a taxi to eventually take us home. Sweetheart started us running aimlessly until we saw some flour on the floor - he'd brought me to the Lisbon hash (I run with city hash in London). We still had no idea where the start was, so he thought it wise that we run up the hill until we find them. 4.5 miles later and 1000ft of ascent, there was still no sign of them. So we decided to take some action shots of the shoes.

Definitely going to be the next cover shot of Runners World

Happy that we'd not looked too pretentious to any hidden doggers (we saw no one the entire time we were here and believe me sweetheart went looking) we headed down the hill and put the trainers to the test.

We raced down, passing some walkers who turned out to be the Lisbon hash. There were 12 of them, they were lovely, but they were all walking due to the heat. 8 miles later having had to run every checkpoint and loop (they called them rambo trails) by myself, I was pretty broken and delighted to find a platter of crisps, nuts and drinks to welcome us back. They then handed out beers for people to down (in a ritual known as the circle, will have to explain in a later post) when I realised that they had been eyeing up my trainers. One of the rules of the hash is that you never wear new trainers - if you do, you have to drink a pint out of them. Aware that I was already in the middle of possible the worst debut review ever, to then end it with a beer covered trainer was nearing disrespectful. After some negotiation and explanation of the review they compromised, allowing me to drink out of a cup from the shoe.

Possible a half of Tanglefoot - get it!

Unbeknownst to Sweetheart (hash name) and myself it was gay pride in Lisbon that weekend. We then found out that having two males arrive, both fairly camp, called Sweetheart and Princess (my hash name) they had made one conclusion too many and we were the gossip of the hash. So not to disappoint, Sweetheart and I left arm in arm, catching a ride back with one of the local hashers.

I had found it hard going in the trainers, but in their defense they weren't designed to be warn in 38+C heat, running down steep descending trails as a first outing. All I conclude was that they weren't great trail shoes - worse reviewer ever. I also concluded that weekend that chocolate was not a great material to make a teapot out of and that razor wire isn't a great product to build seat belts from (that was awkward.)

Review part two

The following week I went for an interval session with heathside running club on the heathside extension

I was running on a mixture of road, woods and fields, with a few inclines, so it was a good mix of terrain to try out the shoes. There was plenty of cushioning and they felt comfortable, with a lot of space at the front for people prone to blisters on your toes. New trainers tend to feel very springy, but the Kirpun do not give a huge amount of bounce. I'm not sure whether they're intended for training for or racing a half marathon.

For me there is too much cushioning and not enough spring for me to consider racing in them. Even half marathons can be quite a quick pace and I've always opted for a lighter/faster shoe on race day than the Kiprun. I'm not sure I'd even wear them for a marathon for the same reason, so I'd be interested to find out how the Kiprun marathon trainer feels. I do often race in Adizero's though, one of the lightest shoes on the market, so maybe I'm just an extreme.

As a training shoe these would be very good for your longer runs with plenty of support to reduce the impact on your knees and lots of space at the front of the shoe to reduce the onset of blisters. The good thing about a training program is that the race is at the end, so if you're looking for a mid-range shoe to train and possibly race in, give these a go, you can always drop down to the 10k pair if you want to a faster shoe come race day.

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The UK challenge - Stage 2 - Minimal Intelligen5e

Stage 2 was a 2.5 hour fastest to finish run and kayak. Team of 4 - 2 runners, 2 kayaking. Result = time taken - bonus + penalties. The scenario was to capture spies by collecting their coordinates at 'Intelligence Points' (IP) - some on land, some on water, then decode their grid reference and running as a team to the Spy Point (SP) to take them down. Each team needed to capture at least two spies to avoid a penalty and there was an added complication of package drops. Teams could chose to pick up and drop off dossiers at several points in a specific order to gain bonuses, however start a dossier without completing it and all hell would break loose.

Thankfully I was tooled to the max with several AKs and a Magnum for some serious pistol whipping, but they proved too heavy and we decided to ditch them and use our stealth instead. Vanessa 'The Hot Ness Monster' Harding had spent the previous evening strategising and had selected several alternative routes that allowed us to pick up two spies and the two dossier bonuses, we didn't have a map yet, but we knew the points available, so we would need to quickly establish the distance per time bonus of each route, once we saw the map. We wouldn't know how much running a spy point entailed until we collected the coordinates, so there would an element of luck involved. Running again - kerpow, Ness and I would team up, with Leo and Vicky taking the main kayaking duties. We could change the sub-teams during the stage, as it was likely we would be weaker on the kayak and might need to share out the duties.

Becky Green from Accenture 5, red left at start

Simon sped off in the mass start and we immediately started hoisting the kayak into the water. All four had to kayak to the transition point before splitting and there were only two paddles, so I started off as the power, Leo the steering (some would say finesse), Ness calculating the best route on the map, while Vicky, our most experienced kayaker, saved herself for the epic effort to come. We got out clean and fast to try and avoid the demolition derby enfolding behind us and ten minutes later we were first into the transition, route set and feeling confident.

Accenture at the top of the picture leading out

We started off with the hardest spy worth the most points. We quickly sailed past our first IP point, noting down the coordinates 2nd - 19, a bit too quickly, a minute later remembering that we needed to both dib at the checkpoint. A quick backtrack and we were back on schedule (this was to remain our secret - no mistakes etc.). We passed Dame Kelly Holmes, looking strong and smiling, sadly her running partner was not, but that's hardly surprising - get yourself a bungee chord Kelly. The route was about 4.5 miles, but the navigation was easy, so we quickly finished our loop, noting down a couple of unmarked checkpoints - possible spy points, on the way. We were back ten minutes ahead of schedule, but with only half the coordinates there was nothing we could do, so we started planning. The kayaking was definitely the longer leg, but Leo and Vicky powered back, two minutes ahead of schedule. We calculated the SP - holy f to the moly,  the Spy Point was at least a 5k loop straight up the only hill on the course - far longer than we had expected; we needed to rethink our strategy. Vicky and I bungeed together, allowing Leo and Ness to bang heads; the kayaking was hard graft and going for even the third highest scoring spy would risk being late if the SP was a similar distance. The fourth highest would still allow us to get all of the dossier drop bonuses and could allow us time to go for a third spy if were ahead of time.

Dame Kelly landing

Ness and I set off again on a far shorter route. We were picking up one of the dossier packages, but we had to dib after twelve minutes, to give the kayakers time to make their package drop off first. We were there in 8 minutes, so we waited, then the fear crept in. What if Leo had taken longer? We were blitzing the run routes and didn't feel tired, so we decided to dib as late as possible and then sprint back to make up the time. We nectar gelled up, gave each other massages (might not be true) and 16 minutes in dibbed and dashed. We suspect Leo may have stopped to feed some passing ducks, as they didn't reach their checkpoint until 15 minutes - call us Uri Geller; our time delay had been vital. We regrouped, rebungeed and headed to our next SP. The map wasn't obvious, our coordinates were off and we only discovered afterwards that the scale of coordinates wasn't 1-10, but 1-6, so 41.3 was halfway across a square of the map and not a third. We couldn't find the spy, rechecked then ran to the only other place it could be - four minutes wasted, not a huge amount, but it was on me, aaaarrrrgggghhhhh.

The SP was close to the start of another Spy loop. It was a short one, so if we went flat out and got lucky on the next SP being close, the bonus time gained would be more than the time taken. We knew we were behind on the first stage, so we had to take some calculated risks to catch up.

Accenture

Leo and I bungeed up and went flat out back to the kayaks. We were paddling manically, but after 90 minutes of running, my legs were cramping, kneeling in the kayaks. After the first IP we realised it was taking too long, the risk hadn't been worth it, but by then we were committed. We skirted the second IP to try and read what it said - if the number was low, it meant that the SP was going to be a long way away and it made more sense to abandon the loop and head home. The IP was high, the SP was across the dam, it was far - over a k away, but not too far. We dibbed, ploughed back to the transition and as we neared started screaming to Ness and Vicky 'dam, run to the dam'. They eventually heard and started running. We beached, strewing paddles and life jackets everywhere and set off after them, knowing we were going to be late, so every minute taken counted double. Our legs weren't really working after the kayak and we were struggling to catch the girls. Vicky, expecting a bungee taxi ride, put her hand out for the karabiner, as I neared, I mustered "I've got to catch you first." We were going flat out and I was broken. We all dibbed and headed back, as I started to contemplate the kayak back, my lungs burning like as if in an 800 meter race. As we neared the kayaks I asked Ness how she felt about kayaking back, she realised it wasn't really a question though. We boarded and Ness powered away. Three minutes in, I felt fine again and I started to feel a bit guilty, as Ness was clearly tiring. I tried paddling with my hands, but Leo pointed out I was filling the boat with water rather than adding to the push, but she's not the hot ness monster for nothing and the monster took over, catching another team and bringing us back within ten minutes.

Team Holmes at the finish L-R Charlotte Hartley, Toby Garbett, Dame Kelly, Martyn Bernard

We were just under ten minutes late - a 19 minute penalty, the extra spy hadn't been worth it, as we would have saved time by coming in early. Still we'd made all of the dossier drops and captured two spies, not a bad hall. With penalties we ended up on a negative time of -0:20:15, third position for the stage, a good result given the amount of kayaking. We'd moved up into 5th, but were 42 minutes behind the new leaders - AWE. Next up was the cycling stage - traditionally a strength of AWE's and this year a bit of an unknown for us, we were going to have to take some risks or else AWE would be out of sight and that's exactly what we did.

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Position		Number	Time Taken	Bonus	Penalties	Stage Time
1	AWE	1	2:20:40	3:10:00		-0:49:20
2	Syngenta	13	2:27:36	3:10:00		-0:42:24
3	Accenture	4	2:39:55	3:20:00	0:19:50	-0:20:15
4	BRE	16	2:22:12	2:40:00		-0:17:48
5	AWE	3	2:16:22	2:30:00		-0:13:38
6	Accenture	5	2:07:19	2:20:00		-0:12:41