From Low to High, from Sea to Sky

A baptism of fire, that’s how I would describe my first Ultra. An Ultra Marathon is anything longer than 42.2km. The Cyprus Trailrunner’s Sea to Sky Ultra, at just 54km, could be considered a baby in the Ultra running world. A few things make this Ultra more extreme than its mere distance. The first is the 2800m of ascent you cover, meaning some harsh elevation profiles. The second is the technical parts of the trail, often small and narrow, sometimes scrambling, loose and rocky, and of course plenty of thorny bushes (it’s Cyprus after all). The third is the altitude, the high point of the race climbing to just short of 2000m.

The idea to run this Ultra was born in November 2021. Fairly new to Cyprus at that time I had entered the shorter 25km version and absolutely loved it. The November weather was cold, wet and there was even some snow. This is also the first time I ran with local running-club member Lee, who I quickly realised shared my love of all thing’s mountains.

Truthfully though, even before this race I realised I was unwell and maybe had been for a while. Less than two weeks later I was diagnosed with a hiatal hernia and told that prolonged reflux had burned and damaged my oesophagus. After six weeks of resting, lying on the sofa and generally wallowing, I realised I needed to find a way out of my misery. During this time the medication I needed was starting to help but it would take many more months for my oesophagus to fully heal.

Fast forward to September 2022 and it felt like a miracle to even be standing on the start line of the 54km. When you dare to dream and put a plan in place nothing can be certain, but we should always follow those big dreams. Gradually over the previous 8 months I had built my endurance up. To say that journey was a rollercoaster would be a huge understatement. The reflux over long distances caused me rib pain, so I added core strength work to my weekly training. I had to experiment with so many different fuel options to find something that would stay in my stomach and not give me reflux. I had to change my electrolyte to something more reflux friendly. All these items I would have to carry on race day rather than tucking into the aid station grub. People often say they wish they had my fitness. I can’t even begin to put into words just how much work, how much trial and error and pure stubbornness has gone into getting me to this place. Many, many times I have cried out in frustration that my body was letting me down and wondered if it was time to give up on the Ultra running dream.

That was never something that mountain loving Lee was going to allow me to do though. He knew, as did I deep down, that with persistence and determination the dream was there for the taking. Believing in your strength is half the battle, ultra-running is a mental game. He has seen my struggles, heard my many cries of frustration, pushed me on through difficult training races where everything went wrong. It’s fair to say he has been instrumental in my success. Rather ironically perhaps, on the day of Sea to Sky, for the first time I saw him in a bad place. Dehydration snuck up on him and tried to knock him down. Thanks to lots of dedicated training we spotted the problem and tried to stamp it out immediately. However, dehydration coupled with an incredibly hot day can make it difficult, if not impossible, to shake off. At the halfway checkpoint we had a long rest and did everything in our power to get him back on track. I also double checked I knew the procedure to call the organisers if things deteriorated, above all we needed to stay safe. In the harsh heat of the day, I watched as he entered his cave of pain, as I had experienced many times before, and he stayed there for the rest of the day.

As it turned out we needed those emergency numbers. Around the 37km mark we came across a woman vomiting on the path. I have no medical training, but I know vomiting in the intense heat meant severe dehydration.  Lee, being a former paramedic, snapped into work mode taking her pulse, checking her pupils, and assessing the situation. It was bad, she was delirious and although we tried to get some sugar and fluid into her, everything was coming straight back up. Lee later explained that her body was starting to shut down and had basically decided digestion was a non-essential function. She needed a drip, she needed to be in hospital. It wasn’t easy for the paramedics to find us or get to us. The ambulance couldn’t drive on the forest track, so a forestry commission vehicle had to be called in. It managed to drive the paramedics to the trail head, and they eventually managed to hike in up the single-track path, all of which took some time.

Once she was safely in the hands of the ambulance crew, heading to the hospital, I swallowed down the emotions of seeing someone in such distress and we turned around to continue our race. During the final few kilometres, the last bit of daylight had gone from the sky, Lee was still deep in his pain and could do nothing more than put one foot in front of the other. Route finding and not tripping over stones became so much harder without a head torch, but we did eventually stumble over that finish line.   

A while later as we sat drinking tea and coffee in the hotel, coming round from the day’s exertions, the woman we had helped sat down next to us and offered to buy us a beer. Whilst we had trudged on through our final 17km she had been to hospital for the care she needed. She was like a different person, and we were pleased to see her recovered.

Someone asked me the next day why on earth we do that to ourselves. Of course, no one enjoys seeing a fellow runner in distress. When you are pushing the body to it’s limits, especially in extreme weather, things can and do go wrong. The adventure, the pain, the mental endurance, the journey. You don’t know what will be round the next corner, but you do know you will find parts of yourself you didn’t know existed in those painful and challenging moments. The elation you will feel if you do succeed in unlike any other, and the journey along the way will never be forgotten.

Dare to Dream. Dare to Try.