Grand Union Canal Race: Along The Canal From London To Birmingham
05/25/2024 – 145 miles (235 km) along the canals between London and Birmingham – I have this event planned during the Covid era, but it got cancelled. The dark ages are over and this year I am ready. True to my punk approach to preparation, I simply save the route on my watch and, with the idea that it will be an easy gravel track, I set off for London.
Since England is just around the corner and I plan to do this event in ultra-economical mode, I board a plane to London the day before the race starts. I arrive at the airport at noon and, as is my good habit, after checking in I have a beer in the airport lounge and catch up on my missed breakfast. Since it is uncertain what the food and drink will be like today, I stuff myself to the hilt. I fall asleep for a while on the plane and am woken up by a relatively hard landing. During the hour-long train journey from the airport to central London, I admire the buildings along the track that seem to have fallen out of sight of those in Harry Potter. I grope my way through the London station – my brain is not working and I don’t know which gate to use to get off the platform. I also spend some time looking for the subway platform and I feel like Fantozzi. The subway itself makes me smile a little; I’ve never seen such narrow and small cars in my life. After getting off at my destination station, I discover that my internet and therefore my maps are not working, so I look around helplessly to see where I should go to the hotel. After restarting my phone, the data is working and after 400 meters I fit into a small, pleasant room. It’s almost six and I still have to get to the pre-race session, which ends at seven. So I don’t hesitate and set off for a kilometer-long walk, which partly leads through a not very pleasant neighborhood – I try not to think about the fact that I’ll be here around five in the morning.
GUCR is, according to the organizers, a small punk event. No tents, big refreshment stations, etc. And indeed, I arrive at the canal, where two tables are set up; there are only a few people there. I meet Petr Válek; we exchange a few sentences. I register, pick up my starting numbers, buy a key to the toilets (which are supposed to be along the route around the canal – so that I don’t end up using it at all, because I didn’t discover any such facilities) and I leave, because I don’t even have my things ready yet and I plan to go, as usual, for one (or two) pre-start beers. My suitcase serves as a drop bag – although it is a punk event, the drop bag is transported between the refreshment stations, so it is available at every station. And since my small suitcase is actually my only luggage, I have everything I need available at all times (i.e. at the stations). The bad thing is that I have to be at the start at 5:30 in the morning, so getting up at 4:30, which seems like a real hassle considering my different daily rhythm from the past (where there are times when I used to get up at 4:15 every day), seems like a real hassle.
On the way, I check my phone and choose a typical British pub. I order a beer and fish and chips – I just sit at the table like an idiot for about 10 minutes before I find out that you have to order and pay at the bar and then they bring it to the table. The beer is drinkable and the food pleasantly surprises me – the size is more than enough and it’s good – so much so that I have a second beer and the only thing that deters me from another is that it’s almost nine o’clock and it’s really time to prepare my race gear.
For the race, I choose the Cadence 10l backpack from Kilpi. The size is just right. Since I think it will be an easy cross-country, I don’t have trail shoes and instead I’ll run in my road Saucony. Light shorts with mesh underneath (and I’m running without underwear), Kilpi Netty on the top (so compress my belly not to look like Homer) and a bright orange Ultrabalaton T-shirt on top. I have a light Kilpi Tirano jacket ready for the cold and I’m adding all the usual bits and bobs. After all, this isn’t a wilderness, so it won’t be about survival.
Around 10:30 I finally lie down and, as usual, I can’t get sleep soon. So I stare at my phone and when I’m finally tired, I fall asleep.
And as always, my alarm clock wakes me up from the absolute blackness – I’ve slept so deeply that for a few moments I don’t know where I am. It’s 4:30. As part of my already established pre-start routine, I rush to the bathroom, but it doesn’t look like anything is going to happen there. I sit down, but eventually give up and swallow two Imodiums instead. That (if no catastrophe occurs) is enough for me to have peace from natural human needs for the entire race. I don’t have breakfast bought, as usual. I take a shower, a luxury I won’t enjoy for the next two days, apply vaseline where it belongs, and slowly start to get dressed. I close the room door at 5:15.
I walk through the morning outskirts; there is no one in the places that are uncomfortable for me, and I arrive at the start. It is already quite crowded. I drop off my suitcase and try to hide somewhere to the side so that I don’t have to deal with anyone. As you know, I am not a fan of pre-start talking. The forecast is quite satisfactory, although some precipitation is reported for the evening, night and the next day. It is approaching six o’clock, the start time, and I am starting to get nervous. I want to pee, but there is nowhere, so I save it for the time right after the start; because of the canal there will definitely be plenty of suitable places.
The countdown is coming. We are starting off. Given my current form (or lack thereof), I have planned an initial pace of 6:30, with the proviso that I will not let myself go crazy into a sprint. The start around the channel is narrow, concrete, a fence on the left, water on the right. I spend a few kilometers looking for a suitable bush, but in the end I just stand up to the fence. It is under a cloud; I take off my Tirano and enjoy the awakening London. I keep up the pace and look for the first checkpoint to eat and drink something. I didn’t take anything with me. It comes at the 19th kilometer. I refuse the offered suitcase (aka dropbag), take my food, put water in a bottle and continue on. It is still a hard surface, which of course suits me.
From around the 25th the terrain changes to what we would call an unpaved surface, light pebbles. I am already running outside the built-up area. It is incredible that on both banks of the canal there are more or less continuous rows of parked boats. I only expected it in the centre. It is interesting to observe the boats and the people on them. I am not sure if they are also interested in runners.
I’m still in a relatively good mood; it’s warmer than I would like, but it’s going well. In 4:20 I’m at the second checkpoint at kilometer 41. The next one is in 35 km, so this time I sit down, have a sandwich, drink some sweet liquid from local sources and rummage through my trunk. The route leads steadily around the canal; one can’t be surprised that it’s a “canal race”. The terrain is still the same, flat (as is the entire race, with a few exceptions). I’m not surprised by the fatigue that’s setting in, both physical (it’s really hot) and mental (it’s terribly dull; the first excitement about the canal and the boats has already passed). I’m at the checkpoint at kilometer 72 in 8:10.
Towards the end of this section I am already starting to switch to autopilot and even refreshments don’t really wake me up. The fact that I’m not going through an easy period is also evidenced by the 6:43 average pace in the previous section. There are still about 160 km to go and I try to think positively. After a few kilometers in Watford, there are a number of pubs around the canal, where there are lots of people sitting outside. I resist for a while, but when I see that one of them has Budvar on tap, I stop, go inside for a cold one, take off my backpack and sit down. Of course I am not the first runner that people have seen here; in fact they have probably seen quite a few of them, because I am relatively far back. I meet the gaze of the staff at the table about 10 meters away from me – we laugh at each other; I exchange something to the effect that beer is the best racing drink, and the response is a raised thumb. I pack up, run on, but my enthusiasm does not last very long. I am very thirsty, so after 5 kilometers I stop and another and a few more after that. When I see another pub, I think that I have had enough, even though the appetite would be…
At checkpoint 4 at kilometer 96, it’s after 11:15. Now I’m starting to feel the kilometers in my legs. I’m doing well eating and drinking, but my mood is somehow dropping. I tell myself that at the next checkpoint, which comes in 24 kilometers, I’ll do a bigger self-service. I’ll eat and drink properly, take a nap, which should be a good basis for the remaining 115 kilometers. I’m still running for the first few kilometers after leaving checkpoint 4, but nausea creeps in, my legs get stiff and I slow down. The fast walk turns into a slow one; I try to arouse some pleasant thoughts in my head, but all I manage to do is conjure up an image of a shower and a bed. That’s dangerous. At kilometer 120, I reach the refreshment station in bad condition. I throw away my backpack, don’t even have any food or drink, put on a blanket, take off my shoes and put on a twenty. The backpack will serve as a good pillow. I wake up after about half an hour, feeling like a jackass. I’m hungry and eat a sandwich and some fruit despite feeling the risk of throwing it all away. The prospects of finishing, let alone a good time, are somewhat uncertain. However, unlike Ultrabalaton, where I have my son available to pick me up when I would DNF, this is not an option here, so I put on my shoes, take out my headlamp and leave in the evening to continue on. I try to run, but it’s not possible. So I send my ambitions to hell and accept that I will probably walk most of the rest of the route. And to make matters worse, the terrain changes from a pleasant cross-country to a canal path (I’m already in such a rural area that there are no boats parked here). A heavy rain has fallen, muddying the path and turning pedaling into a mud bath. The path leads a few decimeters from the water, slopes towards it and I have great difficulty avoiding an unwanted dip on my road shoes, which now feels like I’m on skates. I manage to do it a few times at the last minute. Moreover, I go through “bushes” – grass, nettles, other vegetation. It’s simply what you want in an exhausted state. I curse loudly, partly at myself (because of the shoes) and partly at the circumstances. At about the 130th km, a small relief comes when the canal goes through a tunnel and I climb onto the road, which I enjoy for a few kilometers, even though it’s uphill. I go through the roundabout in the town, down the field and between the houses I return to the canal.
I pass the refreshment point at the 150th km under the bridge, where I (and the staff) am mercifully hidden from the rain, very quickly. I haven’t had anything in my stomach for hours – I try fruit jelly. And it’s great! I like it a lot, so I immediately add another. And another piece to my backpack. There is a colleague sitting here under the emergency foil, who either overdid his pace or feels even worse than me. I don’t need anything from my luggage. I’ve been on the road for 21 hours, but it seems much longer.
The next checkpoint in 27 km suggests that I will have to walk to it for about 6 hours. Unfortunately, it’s not for running. At least the rain stops during the night, although it has no effect on the mountains of mud. And since it’s night, a beer break is out of the question. In fact, I don’t even know if I would feel like it. The journey to the next checkpoint takes me 30 minutes longer than I thought. After almost 31 hours, I’m at the 190th km. A small reward for the distance I’ve covered so far is the impressive system of locks, Hatton Locks, where the checkpoint is also located.
I chat with people at the checkpoint, put my headlamp in my suitcase, but I prefer to leave it in my backpack, because it is still supposed to rain. I have a half marathon to the penultimate checkpoint ahead of me. I don’t stress anymore; I know that I will reach the finish line. As if by magic, my strength comes, and I am now chasing four or five runners with whom I am running together for some time. It is great to be able to run again. The euphoria lasts for about 10 kilometers and then I obediently return to walking. I reach the penultimate refreshment point at the 215th kilometer after 34 hours. Here I no longer have my luggage. I see black clouds, so I hide from the coming rain. It is indeed coming, but since the shelter has no side walls, it is blowing here and there is no point in staying. In a while I am soaked through and through.
I am just passing the last checkpoint; the last 17 kilometers await me. One of my rivals catches up to me – he gets annoyed at me for creeping around, and he runs, so I bite him and hold on. We gradually start talking and we enjoy the last part together. We reach the edge of Birmingham; the canal winds its way straight into the city centre. The finish line is a bit difficult to find; the GPS doesn’t agree, but after 37 and a half hours I reach the finish line in joint 15th place.
There’s only a tent at the finish line, no shower or anything else. I get my medal and try to get some dirt off me – I’ve got a four-star hotel booked right next to the finish line and I don’t dare go in the hotel in this stinking and muddy state. I take a shower and go straight to bed, because there’s no time to go out for a meal; it’s around nine in the evening.
Final word: I’m quite on the fence. I’m satisfied that I manage to finish and it’s not another DNF. I’m dissatisfied that I only manage to run a little over a hundred. But maybe that’s in line with this year’s form and I’ve also completed two challenging races in the previous weeks, which certainly have an impact. Now I’m looking forward to another event, Kungsleden 2024 with Zdeněk.
Many thanks to everyone who followed me as a dot on the map and supported me in every possible way. You pushed me to the finish line.
