Mountains of fun - my (100% unofficial) Kyrgyzstan race report

I am fresh off the event, resting my swollen feet with an additional 9 hour layover in Istanbul airport, which has earned me a free kids meal in Burger King (thanks Pegasus airlines) and time to burn so it’s the perfect opportunity to reflect on what has been a truly unique and special experience.

Now before I get into my race report, I want to call out the elephant in the room. This blog is inappropriately long but for that, I will not apologise. I usually write this blog for myself and for my kids when they grow up with no expectation of anyone giving it a moments glance but on this particular occasion, it’s for the lovely bunch of people I met in Kyrgyzstan and I want to show my gratitude in a very small way by putting pen to paper and attempting to capture the essence of what, for me, and - without hyperbole.- was a once in a lifetime experience that was made by the people around me.

This blog is about them; they made the race experience, with the camaraderie, resilience and adventurous spirit of each and every runner, medic and support crew capturing my imagination and being my focus for this write-up.

So I will indulge without hesitation. And besides, Pegasus airlines have given me a rather large time window so I might as well fill it.

Firstly, Kyrgyzstan is utterly beautiful; untouched, majestic, rugged and diverse, it has it all with glaciers, snow capped mountain peaks, sapphire lakes, dense forests, wild horses, waterfalls and rivers: this place is any nature lovers dream and I lapped it up. If you have the chance to go, do not hesitate. It will capture your imagination and your heart.

BUT, it’s also unforgiving and it’s a brutal environment with ridiculous inclines, viscous weather conditions and the most annoyingly, un-runnable terrain you will ever find with pot holes (randomly, mainly gopher dens) rocks, moguls and divots that are seemingly designed to frustrate and crush your spirits with a constant need to focus on your next step and very real risk of a twisted ankle or heavy fall at any given moment.

Day 0: Pre-race nerves

We started the day with a 3 hour journey from base at Karakul in an ex-army truck with the road conditions becoming progressively more treacherous, downgrading from roads to mountain tracks with several broken bridges to navigate.

I sat next to a lovely and enthusiastic lad called Henk who had recently placed 4th in the Ice Ultra; he looked like a strong athlete and, in his twenties, clearly youthful energy on his side. I lapped up his excitement for the race and he was clearly buzzing to be a part of the ride. I also noted Henk’s “preparation” for the race; from London - not known for its hills or high altitude - he had trained at the heady heights of Richmond park, skipped the acclimatisation trek, and had opted for a few iron tablets to compensate, which, I won’t lie, felt a little optimistic to me so being the smug, smart-ass I am, I gave him some unsolicited and unprompted advice to take the first couple of days slow and ease into the race. Of course, he entirely ignored my words with a sprint start the following day but I am pleased to say he completed the race despite many challenges along the way with injuries and adaptation to the mountains, showing grit and maturity that I could only dream of at that age. Good job Henk.

I am not normally a nervous traveller but will admit that I was relieved to get out of the truck in one piece, with river crossings over bridges seemingly made out of plywood making my stomach lurch as I gripped my seat in anticipation for our impending doom. However, in me writing this, you will have correctly summised that we survived and, with a quick cultural pitstop to see traditional Kyrgyzstan horse riding, eagle husbandry (if that’s a thing) and archery skills (all a highlight), we came to a final stop.

We arrived at camp, seemingly the most beautiful camping site on the planet under a leafy alpine canopy, alongside a river with a majestic mountain backdrop; Little did I know that every campsite would get progressively more beautiful along the journey.

I went to get a water refill and met a Kyrgyz support crew member called Talan. “You will win” he says.

“You look strong.”

I laughed and explained my relative fitness levels in comparison to the field with a rundown of the competition with the likes of Jon, Kristina and Karl and Michael vying for the podium spots and that I am the guy who forgets essential footwear, not wins races!

A few hours later after dinner and Dalip - a true gentleman with a kind soul who had previously summitted Everest - said to me, “Ben, you will finish and you will come sixth”.

Still pretty optimistic but we are getting closer!

I said to Dalip in return that I had no doubt he would finish with his experience. With a twinkle in his eye he said “oh I know”.

We spent the evening prepping for the 7.30am race start. The mood was high in camp with a lovely bunch of people now bonded from our time together on our pre-acclimatisation trek with a collective excitement for the challenge ahead. Months of anticipation and preparation were almost up. My training was pretty poor with nowhere near enough running miles in the bag but, ever the optimist, I was looking forward to giving this a good crack and immersing myself in the wilderness of the mountains.

Stage 1: Danger poos and racey runners

After what has felt like a lifetime of waiting and contemplating how this might go down, we were on our way and at quite a pace!

It was a short first stage at 32km’s to ease in and I was rinsed for pace slipping behind the front pack in moments and within minutes they were out of sight, not to be seen again by me until the following morning; a consistent theme in my running “career” so no biggie.

Meanwhile, I had significantly over-hydrated for fear and fainting or wilting in the sun (still to reveal itself and totally unnecessary) so I stopped for a comfort break and contemplated my lack of fitness and awe of the competition.

Right back on track. Let’s smash this.

10 minutes later I needed another comfort break -  this time a number 2 so my slender lead over the mid-pack is gone and I am left in the woods with nothing but silence and my own thoughts for company.

An hour later and I had taken a total of 4 toilet breaks with a minor case of the infamous “Kyrgyz belly” and I had almost finished all of my coveted loo roll for the entire race.

Well, this is going to be fun.

This race culminated in what was considered by our race director Kris, “a little hill”, which was essentially a grassy cliff and involved me taking approximately 27 rest breaks. I also took the opportunity to get off course for my first of my many, many navigation errors and enjoyed the message on my event gps tracker text saying “Ben, you seem to have gone off course. We would advice you heading south, instead of north”. The politeness of the message struck me as very British and made me chuckle to myself.

At this stage it had clocked 37 degrees Celsius; not only were we battling the altitude and the mountain climbs, we were doing it in desert-like conditions in sweltering heat. Great.

Turns out, it was the hottest day on record in this part of Kyrgyzstan - lucky us!

After an underwhelming but not unsuccessful first day - I survived after all - I stumbled into camp, feeling a little battered by the sun and the competition. I scraped in at 7th spot, which gave me a little optimism with the awareness that this is very much a marathon (or 5) and not a sprint.

Shortly after me, Henk and Sherief arrived as well as Keri, all with solid times so I knew I was going to be in for a tough week.

We spent the night, and indeed our sole night not camping, in a Yurt, which was bloody lovely and a welcome change; a roof over our heads and a warm bed made for a proper nights sleep and recovery.

I shared my yurt with three runners; Sherief from Egypt - another Everest summiteer who had spent the last 48 hours being complimented on the size of his legs (think Jonah Lomu) and a couple of buddies who had joined the trip together from the uk; Steve, “Marshy” and Russel, “Rusty”. Both in their early 50’s, I instantly bonded with this pair - they were in this for the camaraderie and I absolutely loved their positive energy.

Rusty had completed 5 of the 6 BTU events with the goal of ticking them all off the list. I am pleased to confirm that he did just that and it genuinely couldn’t happen to a more lovely human. Rusty is a guy that epitomises the art of the learned optimism and I have no doubt that it’s for this reason he has completed every extreme challenge he has undertaken; thriving in the Peruvian Jungle, taming the heat of the Namibian desert, surviving the cold of the arctic, avoiding being eaten by the local wildlife in Kenya and hopping his way through the Scottish highlands.

Marshy had had a tough day on the course so we tried to lighten the mood and I joked with Rusty that the real race in Kyrgyzstan was the battle for 6th spot, with Rusty beating me to that coveted place by a good 25 minutes that day. Marshy decided it was finally time to see what was in his backpack, a full 8 hours after starting the event.

Side note for the uninitiated to self-supported, multi-day ultra-marathons: you have to carry all of your gear for the week, including all of your food, clothing, a sleeping bag and essential medical items, which, quite frankly, is a pain in the ass as it weighs a ton, you can’t run properly and your back and shoulders are aching within a few hours and for the remainder of the week. Lots of seasoned runners keenly weigh their equipment, eyeing up product descriptions for the lightest kit and doing ridiculous things like halving the size of their tooth brushes. Full packs usually range from 6 to 10kg’s without water refills and good pack admin can be a game changer, particularly when you have too much weight or the wrong gear for the task.

In our yurt, things were different.

Marshy started opening random pockets and, brilliantly, in his tardis of a backpack, he proceeded to pile multiple bags of food with an emphasise on homemade bags of nuts and sweets. I counted at least 8 in total and all told it looked like Marshy could survive off his supplies through Winter.

Sherief followed suit and, in arguably my favourite moment of the trip, he fished out an item that my sides hurt with laughter. As a mandatory item, we were required to bring a camping trowel. Poor old Sherieff clearly got the wrong end of the stick on this one; he assumed we were digging large holes for survival whereas this was, in actual fact, a poop-scoop. Good to keep the place clean and tidy and us runners like to keep nature as we found it.

On request I showed Sherief my little compact camping trowel, which weighed no more than 150 grams and he revealed what looked like a large shovel they must have weighed a few kilos! Bless his heart.

As for my pack; the weight was fine but I had the usual last minute scramble, having to beg borrow and steal with generous runners taking pity on me - thanks to Rusty, Gareth, Tim, Jacqui, Kristina, Mitch and Zoe for coming to my aid for various missing items. Sometimes I wonder how I have survived this long in life.

Stage 2: Tim’s got talent and Marshy’s-gone-mellow

Another short stage but the weather had eased and it was a pleasant day on the trails.

Sadly, Marshy had decided to retire from the race; a decision I respected hugely - he simply wasn’t enjoying the challenge. He wanted to spend more time enjoying the majesty of the mountains and the company of like-minded people so he offered to support the BTU crew for the rest of the event, which was admirable.

At the front things were hotting up. Jon and Michael had already surged into an insurmountable lead, which was compounded by Kristina and Karl having gut issues, which led to slow progress for them on this day. I say slow - they both finished in the top 6 but results are relative and they were vying for podium places.

The highlight of the day was dark-horse-Tim, who finished in third that day despite his tender age of 28 and the single multi-stage ultra under his belt.

On the flip side and to add to my ever-growing list of mistakes, in my infinite wisdom I decided to bring a summer sleeping bag - super compact and lightweight of course - and no sleeping mat, which was just perfect considering the Baltic conditions we were getting at night. To make matters worse, Seemingly, the Kyrgyz’s haven’t yet worked out how put up a tent properly, so not only was I battling the cold at night but I was also attempting to sleep on rocks and pot holes; the only reassuring part was that Jon was equally as cold, shivering his way to victory - finally signs he is human.

Stage 3: the Tian Shan apocalypse

This was without a doubt the most eventful day of the race and we were in for an absolute treat - covering one of the most popular climbs in the Tian Shan mountains, we were going to do a three day hike, add a half marathon and fit it all into one day. Oh and the weather forecast was storms, which unfortunately was entirely accurate.

I won’t give the individual tales of that day justice but it’s fair to say that it was an eventful day for every runner. The “marked course” with striking red flags had been ravaged by herders, animals and kids (brilliantly, Rusty caught one child trying to cram one of our flags up a donkey’s bum) and the weather was ferocious with sheeting rain and hail storms so we were more or less left to our own devices.

The conditions were extreme and the mountain was a mud bath.

Poor Jacqui had problems downloading the GPX route and had no chance of navigating without a route so her day was done, which she took with good grace but it must have been a difficult pill to swallow and almost entirely out of her hands.

Rusty hid in a hostel with some hikers and Olivia, part of our Irish contingent and proud runner of over 60 marathons to date, managed to walk in circles for a few hours, which must have been soul destroying, however it did make for the wildest looking GPX route I have seen with more loops than a backyard ultra.

Gareth, part of the 7 marathons in 7 continents finishers group, probably had the most interesting afternoon, managed to ascent the wrong mountain with 4 hours of extra climbing under his belt. Just when things were starting to go his way, he lost his footing and slid a good thirty feet through mud and rocks, which ended his event with some nasty, deep cuts from the fall. Brilliantly, he was taken in by a local family who put him on a horse back to safety.

All in all, it was complete and utter chaos. Just what we signed up for.

Personally, I managed to miss the most obvious river crossing of the entire event - a boat apparently, which I will never get to see - with no flags to be found and my navigation skills being next to zero, I found myself hopelessly lost on several occasions with the most entertaining being a treacherous high ridge a good 100 yards above the marked course, which involved bush whacking to eventually free myself from the wilderness.

I finally made it to camp, bedraggled and weary with more than a hint of grumpiness, moaning about getting lost multiple times, almost drowning and being rained and hailed on by the unrelenting weather.

Karl and Kristina were immediately there to help, offering to take my pack and get me a drink despite having had a tough day on the trails themselves. Small acts of kindness that go a long way.

Stage 4: a depleted pack and a depleted Ben

We woke in the knowledge that 5 runners - Zoë, Olivia, Jacqui and Gareth all couldn’t make the start and were now preparing for their way back to base at Karakul.

It was also confirmed that morning that Simon had to bow out due to injury with a knee issue; it hadn’t eased overnight and he wasn’t in a fit state to carry on.

We were gutted to be losing them and there was a sense of unfairness that no one had “failed” due to a lack of fitness or I’ll-preparedness and it was with sadness that we left them that morning.

I started the day well, keeping pace with Tim, Kristina and Karl - Kristina’s luck had gone from bad to worse; whilst recovering from her stomach bug, she had now picked up an eye infection and was sporting a rather fetching eye patch, which unfortunately resulted in limited depth perception on a technical course.

But despite the challenges, she got stronger as the day went on and after a few hours struggling to match their stride, I lost the pack and was out on my tod. From here, things went very downhill and I managed to get lost no less than twice, following the river for a good 500 yards downstream in the wrong direction and managing to climb into the wrong pass.

Due to my, frankly, terrible sense of direction, I was in a funk all day, questioning my decision-making for signing up to such a ridiculously hard and seemingly never-ending event that was successfully crushing my spirits. I slogged it out and, despite my watch saying I had 5km’s to go, I saw the camp at the top of a ridge and was delighted to see that the end was in sight. Half an hour later and I was home free - just the river to cross and I would be warm and dry; my feet had dried out nicely with a little afternoon sun and once again I was in good spirits.

Wait a second - how do I cross this damn river? It dawns on me that Kris, our race director, had given a very clear message that morning and confirmed we need to go around the river and over a bridge to cross the finish line. Ok, no big deal so I begin to loop back around and immediately plunge into an ankle deep bog. No more dry feet then and the sun is setting so looks like that won’t be changing any time soon. A full half an hour later moving directly in the opposite direction of the finish line and I find that bloody bridge, knowing that I need to go back on myself to end this miserable day.

So, finally, over 2 hours after seeing camp I am home and “dry” with wet feet and a dark mood. Kris gives me a wry smile when I give him some course feedback and intimates that I am not the only runner to get the hump at our little merry-go-round finish.

Lots of runners were in late that night looking sullen and everyone had the early start and final, long stage the following morning on their minds.

Stage 5: An ode to Mitch and all for the love of running

The final morning and very little sleep again for me with the cold and one more push with a 5.30M start. This was the big daddy with a 55km distance and a mammoth 2,550 metres of climbing.

I woke without too much confidence and pegged this as a grind of a 15 hour day. Unfortunately, Jose from Portugal wasn’t passed fit to race after his exploits over the week so the field narrowed a little further.

The course started with a brutal 800 metre climb at 50% vert, which took almost everything out of my legs over a 2 hour climb.

Next up, virtually unrunnable terrain down the sheer mountain side with laser focus trying not to fall headfirst down into a death roll, avoiding potholes and rocky outcrops and next, a scramble over boulders. At this point, my feet were in tatters from all of the river crossings and bogland and with just shy of 50km’s to go I took in the views and slowed my pace; I ambled along, taking photos and videos trying to get a sense of contentment, constantly reminding myself that I wouldn’t be in this beautiful country for much longer.

After 4 and a half days of solitude by myself in the mountains I was feeling a little like Tom Hanks in Castaway with my “Wilson” being any cow within talking distance. We had some good chats and they were good listeners.

The hours ticked by with some flatter terrain and, at this point, I had just had a big lift, popping my first paracetamol of the race for pain relief and listening to my first music of the race.

I then got to a check point and was told confidently by Sam, one of our lovely and sociable medics, that I could take any route up the next mountain pass with a point and a smile. With that, after a short break and a snack, I ran jovially off with “running on empty” by Jackson Browne playing through my headphones - straight into a stinking, knee-deep bog that Sam had neglected to mention with us helpful instructions.

So with wet legs and squelchy feet, sand flies biting at my ankles, I was on my way for another 700 metre climb over the next mountain pass. Half way up, I spotted Rusty in the distance beneath me - clearly hot on my heels and vying for the only prize that matters… sixth place!

With that, I got a scoot on and pushed up the mountain with impetus to the top of the pass.

Then the trails opened up with a slow descent into the valley and I had moment of clarity - this is an absolute privilege that most people will never get to experience. I smiled and opened my stride with a full 10km’s of the most perfect trail running through alpine forests following the river all the way down the mountain. This was genuinely the run of my life and I enjoyed every minute with a beautiful reminder of why I am in this sport - freedom, nature, movement, exploring. Just glorious.

I got to the final checkpoint absolutely buzzing and our medics confirmed that I had 13km’s to go. They also told me that Tim - that’s right, Tim’s got talent - was no more than 15 minutes ahead so I surged on with ambitions of catching the spritely whipper snapper.

5km’s out from the finish with speedy Tim clearly out of sight, despite my best efforts and a final 700 metres of climbing at what is surely an impossible gradient.

Tired limbs, aching back and an angry stomach but the finish is in sight. Behind me, angry thunder and dark clouds - a storm is coming in and runners behind me are in for a Kyrgyzstan weather treat; if I am not fast, I will be part of the fun so I push hard to get to the top. A full hour later I reach the top of the mountain pass and it’s all down hill from here - just a few kilometres downhill and it’s a wrap. I see the camp in the distance and a surge of adrenaline hits me so I pick up my stride and jog it in.

500 yards to go and I hear whistles and cheers from camp at the finish line. My slow jog quickens a little and the emotions begin to swell. Wait a second, I might actually do this. No, I will do this! 100 yards and there is a cacophony of noise from the crew and I am beaming ear to ear; pure relief and joy that it’s over and the job is done. I think of my kids and my family and the emotions are overwhelming and I finally cross the line with the perfect finish - all of the crew have lined up, flip- flops out for my very own guard of honour. Barefoot Ben has finished and I am greeted by warm hearted hugs and generous comments, accompanied by a cold bottle of coke and warm meal.

Incredibly, every runner that had dropped out of the race over the last few days bar Mitch, in hospital for a scan on his ankle, including Marshy, Olivia, Zoë, Simon, Gareth, Jacqui and Jose, were all there, leaving the comfort of their hotel rooms to wait all day in a wet campsite in the middle of nowhere to welcome each and every one of us in to finish. Absolute class and what lovely people - This is what the running community is all about and we were all stoked that they had made the effort to be there.

The crew confirmed one piece of sad news. Mitch, a Canadian who had adopted a Gandalf-style stick for company all week had unfortunately had to retire from the race. On our acclimatisation trek, he took a fall and sprained his ankle - it was literally twice the size it should be with purple bruising I hate to admit that I gave him very little chance of making it through the week but he soldiered on and got stronger with each day; total respect for his tolerance for pain and his sheer bloody mindedness to tackle the mountains with virtually one leg. But alas, his luck ran out on the final stage and he turned the same ankle early in the race with no chance of completing the course. Gutted for him with the prize of completing being so close but I can confirm that he got VIP treatment on the way home with his very own wheelchair at Bishkek airport, which I witnessed him racing up and down with glee with time to spare before his flight.

Over the course of the next ten hours, we welcomed our fellow runners in; 13 in total finished out of a group of 21 that started, which was a fantastic collective achievement. And what was most incredible of all was that despite the tiredness, we all stayed up to greet every runner with a warm hug and a huge round of applause.

The likes of Jon and Michael at the front were a class act and made every finisher know that they had achieved something special. These guys got on like a house on fire all week and we all enjoyed their temporary running marriage. I still haven’t quite worked out who is husband and who is wife but whatever the case, it worked like a dream.

In most races, you won’t see the front pack - they get in early, get good recovery and focus on results but this bunch were immersed in the group, leading by example, cheering in every runner and showing a generosity of spirit and outstanding values of inclusion and kindness that any top athlete or successful person could learn from. Not a hint of ego and a lovely example of the spirit of the ultra community.

This culminated in a special moment and at around 1am, following a full 20 hours in the mountains, battling the dark and storms, our final runners on the course, Keri, Dalip and Carlos, chaperoned by a plucky and generous medic, James, pushed on to the finish. Legends all of them and hats off to them for such steely determination and perseverance.

Oh and who won the race? Well Jon, obviously, with Michael closely behind, Kristina and Karl sharing joint third with Kristina winning fastest female athlete and indeed the only female finisher across the line. Tim with his immense potential slotted into fifth spot.

In case you are wondering, I finished in sixth behind the speedy ones; Not bad for an average runner who struggles to remember to bring appropriate footwear!

Call him “mystic-Dalip” if you will for his pre-race premonition.

However, I will say this. For me, the race came second and first was sharing a truly unique and life changing experience. I met some exceptional people from all walks of life and am proud to have been part of the journey.

Post-race: long goodbye’s and perspective

And with that, it was all over. From pure pain and endless days to nothing in a heartbeat. Immediately, relief turned to joy and joy turned to yearning. Yearning for more. For god’s sake, I am going to do another one arent I??

The following evening, after a rest and journey back to Karakul, we had our medal ceremony celebrating everyone’s achievements. It’s not not my place to say in this blog but that night, devastating personal news for a couple of our runners was felt by all; handled with dignity and courage, my thoughts immediately went to family and the important things in life.

One last night together in Bishkek sharing stories and enjoying the precious last moments together as a group. And so it was with long goodbyes, hugs and last words we separated to our respective journeys back home.

For the single person that has read my blogs before (thanks mum) I am absolutely repeating myself but I do not apologise for the broken record because this is the most important lesson I have learned in life - we are here once and once only so go out there and do all the things you can, while you can. Life is finite and the only day that matters is today.

So my goal is simple: be present, be grateful and take it all in, saying yes to every opportunity that comes my way. Family, friends, shared experiences and human connection are the most valuable things in my life and none of the rest matters; here’s to life and the beautiful journey of living, learning and exploring.

Footnote:

To anyone at BTU, the medics and, of course, my fellow runners. You are all an inspiration to me with your stories, generosity, resilience and kindness. I take immense pride in sharing the journey with you and this experience will forever be in my heart. Yours, barefoot Ben A.K.A Jesus.

Special mentions for our runners:

Brian - he had to drop out of the race before the event due to a severe digestive infection with an early flight home following several hospital visits and a course of antibiotics. His humility, grace and dignity in bowing out and wishing us luck before the race was absolute class. He also happens to be the loveliest bloke and despite our very brief interactions, I hope we stay in touch

Dalip - Sometimes it’s the diligent ones in life, quietly going about their business that are the ones to watch and this is Dalip through and through; a man of substance, inner confidence and resolve that is hard earned from overcoming challenges and life experience.

Tim - I met Tim en-route from the airport and we instantly clicked; Mild-mannered, intelligent, humble, and extremely talented. We were tent buddies, hotel roomies and it was gratifying to see him doing so well, mixing it up with the pro’s

Simon - the glue of the group, a quick witted Irishman who made everyone laugh on numerous occasions, always keeping morale up and giving us all a boost when it was needed

Rusty- Not only is he a beacon of positivity, he is a proud family man, a true gentlemen, a kind hearted soul; the life and soul of any group with the natural ability to make you feel at ease and the confidence to be yourself. What an inspiration and a role model for his daughter.

Olivia - lovely, funny Olivia! Possibly the only runner with less navigational sense than me and, brilliantly Olivia’s Irish accent is impervious to any Kyrgz’s ears, which means I make a natural translator - Irish to English :)

Marshy - of a similar mould to Rusty; light-hearted, generous, genuine and down to earth. He loves being around like minded people and his positive energy and natural charm rightly made him a popular figure in the group.

Jacqui and Zoe - firm friends and two sensible heads, these two runners had to retire from the race on day 3 due to navigation issues and the severe weather conditions, however with all of the challenges thrown at them, they both showed such grace, kindness and generosity of spirit that created a very special environment of support and camaraderie

Gareth -  he has, simultaneously, the most harrowing and entertaining exit from any ultra I have known but most importantly, despite his huge success in life through his business, a generous and down to earth guy who knows the value of shared experiences and adventure. He’s raised significant amounts of money for charity and speaks passionately about helping those in need. As an aside, Gareth lent me a spare pair of toe-socks for me to try and now I am hooked. They ended the race with a strong, unique new odour, caked in mud and cow dung - strangely, Gareth declined me on my offer of returning his goods

Keri - a great story with a background in competitive motorbike racing, he’s gone from falling out of shape to a competitive ultra runner in a few short years, which I love and his even temperament and generosity made him a popular member of the group. With some luck, I hope to see you in the jungle Keri!

Karl - somehow impeccably presented throughout the event despite the chaos of a multi-stage ultra, an impressive athlete and all-round gentleman; Karl’s not only a doctor serving his community but he’s done a huge amount for Gibraltar and philanthropic efforts. Another well deserved podium place here and surely more to follow in the future with the 2024 jungle ultra in your sights to compete the race series

Kristina - huge congratulations on finishing as fastest female and joint third spot, completing the global race series and for all of your podium places. Most importantly, I admire your strength and resilience and ability to keep on going, whatever it takes

Jon - congrats on yet another win. More pertinently, thanks for your generosity of time, advice and guidance. You are a formidable runner and a proper athlete but I am on to you - you are a big softie really.

Michael - what a gent. The kindest, most gentle man with not only great talent but family values, the best sense of humour and a list for life that is infectious. Would love to be fit enough to run with you one day but something tells me that’s a pipe dream!