This time last week I was making the final preparations for the Ring O Fire (RoF) ultramarathon. Deemed to be one of the toughest ultras in the UK, RoF is a 135 miles of coastal path, travelled over three days.

I underestimated how difficult it was going to be. Despite the challenge of the distance, I did not consider the cut offs particularly seriously, nor the terrain. Now I know!

It was tough! The toughest of the 30 odd ultras that I have done for upandrun. But now, that makes it one of the most satisfying to have completed. In the end 96 people started RoF and 53 finished.

There are several reasons why I was able to finish. I will come to that shortly.

For two years I ran monthly ultras for Understand Pain, and called it upandrun. The purpose was and continues to be raising awareness of the global problem of chronic pain that affects millions of people (and their loved ones) and costs billions. The aim is to erase suffering.

I maintain that this enormous social problem, for it is embedded in a society, is largely due to the misunderstanding of pain.

What is pain? Can you answer that question? You know it hurts and what it can feel like from a personal perspective, but what actually is pain? This is a question that scientists and philosophers have been trying to answer. Now we have some really good ideas.

Are we there yet with the understanding? Absolutely not. But our role is to keep the momentum going and build onwards.

What about now? We can offer help, guidance, support and encouragement to people suffering chronic pain in many ways. Many are simple and low tech, meaning they can be used by many to help many. Pain Coaching is my way of helping.

And we really can help and make a difference. But it starts with the person understanding their pain. This means taking the knowledge and skilfully passing it on in such a way that the person can make sense of their experiences and see a way forward.

Again, we can help them by sharing practical ways of living best lives, building health, and dealing with challenging moments. All of these are skills that can be learned and honed.

The two years of ultras took their toll. I was not well organised with training, made many mistakes and didn’t adequately recover. Add in a few trips and falls, and I found myself accumulating significant aches and pains. I needed a break and a training programme. I needed a coach.

So I let things settle down, taking it much easier. And being much easier on myself. The influences on running had been all about constant pushing and pushing. Then I was introduced to the idea of happy running via my now coach, Damian Hall.

The Happy Runner is the book by David and Megan Roche. The concept and approach resonated with me. I wanted to enjoy running again instead of it being a chore. Becoming a happy runner was one of the key ingredients for success at RoF.

Back to the reasons why I finished.

The two other main ingredients were my training programme and the people I ran with. There is also a dose of luck, which I believe we feed into with our own personal approach. So maybe it’s not luck after all, and certainly not pure luck.

I will not give you a detailed outline of my programme, designed by Damian. It was not stand alone from his encouragement either. Suffice to say, it was all about complete (and happy) preparation for the journey.

On completing RoF I sent Damo a message.

He replied, Impressed but not surprised. What a super encouraging response. And suggesting I make notes on how it went. Now that’s a great idea.

Because it’s all about learning. What did I learn? I’m sharing a few things here and maybe some more in weeks to come.

Now, the people. To me this is what really makes ultrarunning.

A few days before I did not know a single person. Now I have made connections that I hope will remain for life. Because of what we achieved together.

Togetherness and interbeing are insights I often work with people I see as a professional helper. Within these connections sit the richness of life. Sharing this experience makes it what it is; so special and so powerful.

For hours we trot along, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence. But together. You are backing someone and they you within just a few hours of meeting. And it is natural. This is what we are meant to do, not just in an ultramarathon, but in life.

The emotion on finishing was overwhelming. Because of the connections and the fact that we had done it together. I did not complete that course on my own. It was with superb people, four in particular: Helen, Lou, Hayley, John and Gavin.

And the support people and all the other runners. Everyone played their part in creating the conditions for what was to happen.

And what happened, it was the only thing that could have happened.

Are these experiences life changing? Absolutely. But only because of the people and togetherness.

RS

upandrun ~ encouraging you to be active in your own way, and supporting The Green Runners (make your pledge!) and Medical Aid for Palestinians (MAP) (see future posts for my work with MAP that is coming up soon).

** If you have enjoyed this and want to keep up to date with Understand Pain and upandrun, please do subscribe.

A trot around Anglesey for upandrun.

September 2-4.

135 miles, a lot of coast, a couple of hard floors and an adventure.

This is my yearly ultra, flying the flag for Understand Pain as ever.

But I also want to encourage others to be active and try things. Especially in nature, whilst looking after it.

To that end, I have joined The Green Runners: runners creating change.

Set up by ultrarunner Damian Hall & Dan Lawson from Rerun.

Here is what they say: “We are a community-based group of runners focused on helping make the world around us a better place. We are looking for Runners from around the world that want to make personal changes to help our planet. We have created some pillars/pledges to help you make the right choices that we all need to strive for if we are going to make a difference.”

Check them out and join up. Get a badge and sew it on your kit.

Here is my pledge.

And one of my badges.

Do you want to help upandrun?

You can by doing the following:

• Learn about pain by watching the videos and listening to the podcasts
• Grab my book when it comes out
• Share the messages that we put out
• Follow on Instagram and like the posts: upandrun1 for running stuff & paincoach for understanding pain stuff
• Point people in our direction

Back to the training for ROF, it’s going well.

A few more long runs and then tapering.

It’ll come around soon enough.

Thanks!

RS

I am in the final edits of the manuscript before it heads off to the editors.

The plan is for it to be published and available in early ’23.

What’s it about?

It is a practical guide to help you understand and overcome your pain, based on my work with the people I see.

It has been and is a tough assignment.

I am never entirely satisfied. New ideas are coming all the time.

I spend time each day thinking about what I do, how I do it and how we can make it better. This will always be the case. So, I will draw a line soon.

Then we can get it out into the world where I hope it will make a difference to many people’s lives.

This is also why I have been a bit quiet on the blogging front.

Bear with me.

RS

It’s been a while!

So I have had a little tidy up of the site.

To clarify the main purpose of UP.

To highlight upandrun, which is the way I raise awareness of the problem of pain.

It is also to encourage activity in nature.

The video page remains and I have added some podcasts and episodes.

As ever, we strive to help society understand and overcome pain.

A few more posts to follow with the latest news.

RS

The moment I realised my purpose was a WOW!

It took lots of thinking and talking to people. Years worth!

And experiences to reflect upon.

Then we need words to think it and share it.

You’ll know when it comes — it can be at anytime when you are doing the work.

It is like rocket fuel!

What do you love doing?

This is often at the heart of it.

Think about times you are in flow.

You are immersed in what you are doing without any sense of self.

You are performing, energised, playing to your strengths and time passes by without notice.

You see patterns and respond naturally without thought.

What is it that you love doing?

If you can, make your purpose what you do

Living your purpose each day brings great personal rewards and health.

Through your giving, sharing and compassion for others.

What you do helps to shape your purpose too — a circular causality.

Alan Wick, business coach, once said to me: sharpen your arrow.

I have been doing this for some years and it continues.

Make your message clear — to yourself and others.

What did I discover?

Through lots of talking to encouragers, especially Mike Pegg, reading, noting, and thinking, it came to me.

It is very straightforward. Simple language.

The words used often by Mike that have rubbed off.

I feel at my best when pursuing this purpose.

I love helping people shape positive futures.

In particular, people who have been suffering persistent pain.

I was encouraged and guided to find my purpose. Now I love to help other people find theirs.

That’s it.

I am here to help.

RS

Who would have thought that I would bump into an old friend on the edge of town? As I approached a T-junction on the path, three cyclists appeared from the right.

Richmond, the front rider called out.

It was Gideon, who I had not seen for years. We caught up, exchanged some jokes and stories. It was a real booster.

I expected the day to go well.

From the other end my support Peck was on his bike, peddling from Cocking.

I think the terrain was a bit tougher than he expected. I imagined him gritting his teeth, pumping his long legs and listening to Test Match Special.

We met at Alan’s Coffee van.

Alan makes real coffee from the back of his transit. He also sells snacks not dissimilar from those you’d find at a ultra aid station. Turns out that Alan is an ultrarunner.

Then we found out that his name was Andrew.

Refreshed, I trotted off down the hill towards Cocking. Peck headed off towards Winchester. His plan was to cycle to the city, then turn around and head back to the van: our first rendezvous.

It was warm but I was sipping away at my water and Precision Hydration drink. I think perhaps this is where things may have been going awry. The sips may not have been enough.

My legs were feeling great inasmuch as I was not feeling them. The struggle of May seemed a million miles away. This was so very different. The pleasure of running returned.

Then…

I can’t remember the exact moment when things started to change. There was a shift of state.

Not feeling good is part of the journey. It is expected. You deal with it in different ways — I have a toolbox of strategies. Usually it is pain.

This time is wasn’t pain. It was waves of nausea. I had not had that before during a run.

One of my first actions when feeling bad is to have a nibble. It often works. Eating a morsel of food creates a different sensory experience: getting something out of a pouch, followed by the flavour and the texture are all useful.

Something changed for the better but I did notice a lack of saliva. I continued to sip. I continued to nibble. I continued to trot along. The trotting felt good.

The ease of running was gradually being replaced with increasing nausea. It was not going away. The water was fine, but the hydration drink I had to force down. The van seemed miles away, although on the map it was only a couple. Time and distance are easily distorted, so it is best to try and move your thoughts away.

I remember reaching the van with such relief. Still my legs felt fine, but I was rough. Flu-like tiredness, persisting nausea and just blaaagh. I decided to take a good break, take on some water, salt tablets and try some food.

The salt tablets may have helped. The water was going down but threatening to come back up.

I’ll have a nap, I thought. After all, I had been running since 9:15am and now it was early evening.

I dozed for fifteen minutes and woke urgently, thinking that I needed food. Let’s try some pasta – I’d made pesto pasta. It was like trying to eat small plastic toys. Chew, chew, chew, gulping swallow. Nausea.

I know that horrible feelings and perceptions come and go – nothing is permanent. So I decided to get going, believing that I would feel better soon.

I set off into the evening. The sun was just peeping over the hills, dyeing the sky with reds, pinks and oranges. Bumbling up the track, I checked in the with kids.

19k to Amberley. That’s fine I thought. A few hours.

This was the toughest part of the day. It was dark. I had a circle of light ahead via the head torch — just running and thinking. I knew it was part of the deal. This is one of the reasons for ultra running and one of the major obstacles to deal with.

It was becoming a real battle. The stream of thoughts occasionally interrupted by shadows, dark shapes, stars and occasional shuffles in the hedgerow. But the predominant feeling was nausea. There was an occasional stumble.

I continued to sip, just. I tried to nibble. But I could feel my energy dropping off with each step.

A text came through from Peck with an image of a camp set up at the rear of his van at Amberley station. He told me that the kettle was set up. Rooibos tea kept appearing in my mind – that’s what I wanted. It soon became an obsessional thought.

The relief on seeing the van was enormous. In my own thinking, that was it. I had no energy to carry on. Peck had other ideas.

Two cups of Rooibos later and I was feeling better. Still no food though. Peck offered me various things that were easy to get down, but my body was having none of it. Kendall mint cake could just about sit in my mouth and dissolve.

Following some banal chatting and memory sifting, there was a brief negotiation. I agreed that taking on the next stage was possible – a short 10k to Washington. By the way, my legs still felt really good at this point.

Off I went, back onto the Way.

I had already noted that the Ultra Challenge was going the other way. The luminous green markers hanging on fences and trees gave it away, together with the blackness punctuated by bobbing headtorches.

There is something warming about exchanging encouragement in the dark as I passed the walkers (the runners had long since gone by). A few thought I was going the wrong way.

The first few kilometres felt good. My energy was lifted. I was running up a hill without much effort. Soon enough this dropped off. The struggle resumed. I managed the occasional wine gum, but nothing else. Even water repulsed.

The route was familiar. I have run this part of the SDW many times, so the mist made no difference. Yet I was moving slowly. Very slowly. I am not sure how long it took to cover that 10k, but it felt like hours.

I arrived at the van parked near the church in Washington at about 230am. I knew at that stage it was the end of the day.

RS

Next up: dealing with the disappointment of a DNF and learnings