Dave Smith update from his 80 mile race

Recently FC United Co-owner Dave Smith ran the Hardwolds 80 – an 80 mile race that follows the Wolds Way from Hessle to Filey – to raise money for Fund the Foundations and completed the race in a time of 17:24:03. A really quite stupendous effort and he has already raised over £1300 for our club. Dave has put together a few words on his experience of the race which make for great reading:

The week leading up to the race hadn’t been ideal, I’d picked up a cold and it was also my Dad’s funeral. I felt the pressure of the fundraising and everybody knowing about my run. Usually no one knows until after the race, I didn’t want to let people down. I had a call with my coach, went through my race plan and was feeling a lot more chilled. I had prepared and trained for months for this and nothing was going to stop it.

Before I knew it Friday night was here, my kit was all prepared and laid out and my alarm was set for 3:45am.

After what seemed like 10 minutes sleep my alarm was ringing and I was up and dressed, had my porridge, grabbed my kit and I was off to the race start. My cold was still lingering but I felt ok and pushed it to the back of my mind. My plan was simple: start near the front, set off comfortably and concentrate on the basics. Nutrition, fluid and pace. The weather was cold about -2c but fine, little wind, ideal conditions. Most people were in tights, I opted for shorts.

We got the 2 minute call and I lined up, 3,2,1 and we were away. I quickly settled into my own pace and had got away from the mass group. First couple miles ticked by and my pace was bang on and I was feeling good. I settled with a couple of other runners and we chatted and the miles ticked by. The food and fuel were going down fine and I was feeling good. I would consume a 30g every 15 mins along with 500ml of fluid an hour. Somehow I missed the first checkpoint and ran past it. I had to choose either to run back or push on - I pushed on. By about 23 miles I started to feel a bit rough, chest was burning and I was coughing. I carried on for a couple more miles to no improvement. At this point I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, 65 miles to go and feeling like this was not a good sign.

I had a word with myself and pushed on to the next checkpoint. I arrived with my bottles drained, quickly refilled and took on some extra fluid as I was feeling a little dehydrated. I was by myself now, doubts were creeping in. My feed alarm went off and I took a gel and assessed the situation. I was eating, drinking and moving well. Nothing hurt and other than feeling crap I was sound. I went through a little ritual I do when hurting and vowed to forget about it and get things done. 

The miles rolled by and before I knew it I was at the checkpoint at 44 miles. 2 Jaffa Cakes and some water, bobbed my head torch on and I was off into the sunset. I was over halfway and feeling great, even the long climb out of the valley couldn’t dampen my spirit.

I was still running on my own and had not seen another runner for about 30 miles, however I could see a glimmer of a headtorch about half a mile away. I put a bit of effort in and eventually caught him up. I chatted with him for a bit, he was tired and struggling. I wished him good luck and pushed on. I made a little navigation error in some woods and he overtook me. I soon caught up and we ran together for a few miles. 

After about 60 miles I was still feeling good but the tiredness was kicking in and my left calve was starting to hurt. Not injured it was just tired and cramping, I’d now gone further than I’d ever gone, it was to be expected. I got to the next major checkpoint at 67 miles, restocked my gels from my drop bag and refilled my bottles. This was the last major checkpoint it was indoors and warm, I needed to get out! I was offered hot food and took 2 slices of pizza and headed out the door. I couldn’t afford to hang around wasting time, plus I could gain a couple of places while they ate. 

It was then a long muddy climb for about a mile, I ate my pizza and called Emma. It was a welcome relief. She told me about all the messages I’d received and asked how I was feeling. I was tired but ok. Will you do it she replied. I said: “1 of 2 things will happen, I’ll either die or I’ll finish.” I finished the call and pushed on up the hill. I was tired, really tired but happy. I hit the next checkpoint grabbed a handful of nuts. It was 9miles to the finish. I caught up with another runner and we chewed the fat and moaned for couple miles. We leap frogged each other all the way to 78 miles where I took another wrong turn and wasted a couple minutes before I realised. 

The tiredness really hit me at this point and I was feeling really shit and cold. My hands were frozen and I just couldn’t warm them up. After what seemed like an eternity I hit Filey and the seafront. It was just a simple matter of running to Filey Brigg and back about 1.5 miles dead easy right? I picked up the pace and was greeted by a load of noisy people shouting and waving like crazy. I could make out Emma but who were the other lunatics? It was our friends and fellow FC fans Chris and Sam who had travelled over especially to see me. It was ace to see them and it gave me a real boost. Seeing my family and friends was just the best. Quick hug and few high fives and I was off again. 

However the worst was to come the route detoured straight up and it was all steps. I made it up and down but halfway up the next, I had to stop, I felt so sick I literally couldn’t move. I sat down and took a breather, a runner coming other way asked if I was ok? “I will be in a minute” I replied. After 30 seconds I forced myself up and carried on. I reached the turnaround point and picked up the pace knowing it was all downhill now. 

I just had one little hill and then the home straight. I could see my kids and I picked up the pace and crossed the finish line. Apparently my first words were “what was the FC score?”

I was presented with my medal and a load of cheers from everyone and honestly I was elated. It had been a tough day but it had been fun and I’d enjoyed every minute of it. Overall things had gone well and I was proud of my performance and thanks to everyone that had donated we had raised a few quid to reduce our debt. 

Within 5 minutes I crashed, and felt so tired and exhausted I could barely function. Couple glasses of Coke and a toastie and I was revived and could string a sentence together. 

Recovery is going well, I took a week off and resumed light training on the bike this week. The next race is already booked although it’s a little shorter. I don’t feel like I’ve hit my limit yet, so expect something bigger and more brutal next year!

If you haven’t already donated to the fundraiser and would like to, there are still a few days left. Click here.