Light My Fire. Or How to Choose Your Next Ultra (Without Losing Your Mind)
“You know that it would be untrue
You know that I would be a liar
If I was to say to you
Girl, we couldn't go much higher”
If Jim Morrison were an ultrarunner, perhaps he’d have said “Girl, we couldn’t go much farther.”
In ultrarunning there seems to be a prevailing culture of ‘farther is better’ but that’s just not true. Every ultra is unique, with its own joys and challenges.
Choosing your next ultra is rarely a tidy, sensible process. Most runners begin with what they think they should pick - something reasonable, something appropriate, something that fits neatly into their year.
But that’s not how these decisions are really made. These decisions start with a feeling you probably weren’t expecting – a spark.
“Come On, Baby, Light My Fire”
Let’s start with that spark, shall we?
My spark was Tor des Géants. A 200-miler with 24,000 metres of vert. That’s what I chose as my first attempt at anything of that scale. Much to Sally’s disgust.
I could have picked something flat. I could have picked any one of the shorter Tor races. I could have made a very sensible decision. But none of those races moved me.
Tor des Géants did. It made no practical sense, but it wouldn’t leave me alone.
* As an aside, if you want to know how it turned out, you can read about it here >
And that’s how it is for most runners. The race you keep checking on the Tube, the one whose route video you’ve watched too many times, the one you pretend you’re “just researching”…
That’s your spark. If you have three tabs open with different races, that’s fine, you’ll narrow them down later, but they need to be races that actually pull you in.
If you feel a bit silly admitting what you actually want, that’s normal. Most good ultra goals feel slightly unreasonable and/or scary at first.
Ignore that feeling, and you risk training for something that never really mattered to you in the first place. Before you factor in terrain or distance or logistics, acknowledge the race that’s calling you. ‘Cause it matters.
A simple first step: write down the one to three races you keep coming back to. Even if they feel ridiculous. Commit that these are the only ones you’re allowed to consider for the rest of this exercise.
“The Time to Hesitate is Through”
Now it’s time to bring in some truth!
Once the spark is there, the next step isn’t to extinguish it. It’s to make sure you can fan the flame. This requires honesty about your actual life, not the ideal version of it.
The question to ask yourself is simple:
“If life goes as it normally does, work, commuting, school runs, dark evenings, tax year end, exams, stress etc, can I train well enough to give myself a real shot?”
Not, “could I finish it if everything fell perfectly into place?”
It has to be, “could I train for this in the middle of my actual life?”
As I sit here typing, staring down the barrel of Christmas, coaching demands and peak Spine training, I’ll confess to being afraid. Very afraid.
Big goals do that. They sit right on the line between excitement and panic.
Honesty matters, though. A race that asks more of your life than you can currently give will slowly chip away at the joy (“and [y]our love become a funeral pyre”); a race that stretches you but still fits your world drives you on.
* As another aside, you can read my take on how joy drives everything here >
Two questions help here:
Across the heaviest eight to ten weeks of training, how many hours per week can you realistically give, and what will have to give way eg: social life, other hobbies, extra work?
Are you genuinely okay with that for a block?
If the ‘maths’ doesn’t work, the problem isn’t your ambition; it’s the mismatch between this specific race and this particular season of your life.
* Aside #3, my thoughts on what it takes to train for an ultra >
“No Time to Wallow in the Mire”
Time to choose with honesty and self-awareness….
This is where distances, terrain, timing and logistics come in, but they make far more sense once desire and reality have already had their conversation.
Distance
For many London runners, a flat 50k ultra is a brilliant first step: manageable training, very doable midweek sessions and enough of a stretch to feel exciting. Honestly, it’s a souped-up marathon block.
Fifty miles is more demanding, involving longer days out and possibly some night running. A 100k requires longer runs, back-to-backs and more headspace, which not everyone has in every time of life.
100 miles plus and multi-day races? Well, they become a life event – achievable, yes, but with a training load that influences everything else around it and a recovery period where you may not be at your sharpest at work or at home (even if you can walk, which isn’t a given).
Generally, the longer the distance and greater the vert, the more the race rewards strength and resilience. And despite what social media says, longer isn't inherently “better”.
The right distance is the one that fits both your life, your running and your appetite right now.
As a rough guide:
If your life can handle one long run and one medium-long run most weeks, 50k to 50 miles is realistic.
If you can reliably stack back-to-backs, night runs and longer weekends, then 100k and beyond is genuinely on the table.
Terrain
Terrain is one of the most underestimated factors for London runners. A flat 50 miles on canal path is essentially a long, steady day. Conversely, 50 miles in Snowdonia is an expedition.
I love hills, and I’m willing and able to travel for them, but training for 2,000m of continuous ascent is quite a challenge in Richmond.
While you don’t need mountains in your backyard to train for them, you do need access to something - a treadmill, a stair machine or the willingness to travel, and you need to enjoy the process.
If your ‘spark’ race is hilly but your life is flat, you can still make it work through hill repeats, treadmill incline work, stair sessions and targeted strength training.
As a broad guide, if your target race has 2,000–3,000 metres or more of climb, you’ll need to plan to accumulate at least that much every couple of weeks in peak training, through some combination of hills, treadmill and stairs.
* Aside #4 where you can read my blog on how to incorporate mountain training in London >
And while I have you, here’s #5 on why strength training matters >
Timing
Timing affects your training mood and momentum more than people realise.
Training for a summer race means lighter evenings, more predictable weather and generally kinder moods. Training for a winter ultra means months of cold, dark head-torch runs and an appreciation of Type II fun that isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
Ask yourself:
If you’re aiming for a summer goal, can you handle long hot days, holidays and possibly disrupted routines?
If you’re drawn to a winter goal, are you genuinely willing to commit to months of wet kit, darkness and the mental load that comes with training through the darkest part of the year?
Your answer shouldn't be heroic; it needs to be honest.
Cut-Offs & Logistics
Cut-offs shape the entire feel of your day. A generous cut-off gives you freedom; a tight cut-off can turn the event into a time trial whether you want it to or not.
Rather than comparing cut-offs to your parkrun or road half-marathon PB, compare the required pace to your comfortable long-run pace on similar terrain; this tells you whether the cut-off will be a gentle nudge or a constant presence in your mind.
If you live in London, most ultras aren’t local. Travel will add early starts, cost, accommodation, fatigue and a layer of logistics that should never be underestimated.
None of this should put you off, but build it into your decision so the trip feels like part of the adventure, not an extra stress test on top of an already demanding event.
Speaking of stress, my Tor featured a cancelled flight and an apartment that didn’t exist - however much Opodo claimed it did.
Navigation & Marking
Navigation is often the hidden make-or-break factor for London-based runners. Some ultras are fully marked, others are partly marked, and some (often the most exciting ones) are entirely self-navigating.
If you spend most of your training on familiar loops in Richmond Park or along the Thames Path, the jump to navigating alone in the dark, in poor weather, with tired legs can be significant.
Navigation affects your confidence, how mentally taxing race day feels, what kit you need to carry, how much you enjoy the experience and your risk of going off-course at 3 a.m.
There is no right answer here. A fully marked race might let you sink into the running, while a self-nav race might feel like the adventure you’re craving.
If that excites you, first start building the skill now: follow a GPX route on unfamiliar trails in daylight, then gradually add darkness and weather so it becomes familiar rather than frightening.
Aid Stations, Support & Race Culture
Finally, consider the feel of the race. Some ultras are busy, social and buzzing with atmosphere; others are quiet, remote and introspective.
Some offer aid stations with warm food, music and volunteers who practically lift your spirits for you, while others give you a quiet tent, a cup of water and maybe, a nod.
Crewing is another element worth considering, especially for longer or more remote races.
Some events allow crew support at multiple points, which can provide a huge psychological lift and practical help with nutrition, kit changes and troubleshooting. Others are strictly no-crew, meaning you’re fully reliant on aid stations and what you can carry.
If you’re someone who draws energy from familiar faces or benefits from a bit of external organisation when tired, a crew-friendly race can make the whole experience feel more supported.
* For more on what good crewing looks like, and how it can change your day, have a read of this >
Race culture will also affect your entire experience.
A first ultra with big community support can feel joyful and energising, while a remote mountain race with long gaps between aid stops might be deeply meaningful (or deeply miserable).
It really depends on the kind of experience you want. Do you want a “Light My Fire” or “The End” type race that everyone knows, or do you want something lesser known but no less good, say a “Soul Kitchen”?
To get a sense of race culture, look at photos, read race reports and notice whether people talk about crowds and energy or silence and solitude.
If you want to explore options, you can use a directory like the one GBR Ultrarunner has helpfully created @ www.gbultrarunner.co.uk/ultra-marathons and/or browse some of the races the Unbounders have competed in @ www.rununbound.com/ultra-trail-races
“Come On, Baby, Light My Fire”
Coming full circle: just pick the race you want
Jim sounds pretty selfish during “Light My Fire.” His complete focus is on his fire, not some else’s, or the fire his bandmates told him he wanted.
And that’s the whole point.
Don’t pick the race you think you should want, the one that sounds impressive or the one everyone else seems to be doing.
Choose the race that moves you, the one you can train for and the one that fits your life well enough that training feels like something you’re pulled towards, rather than pushed into.
To make it concrete:
Choose the race that scares and excites you in equal measure (“try now, we can only lose”),
Check its demands against the realities of your life over the next six to nine months and, if it still passes, commit.
When spark, truth and practicality line up, that’s where dreams are made! And the Doors of Perception open (if you’re curious as to where the Doors got their name).
Choose the race that lights your fire. The rest is training.
And, if you’re wondering what race Jim would have chosen, I reckon it would almost certainly have been something enormous and chaotic, probably Cocodona 250.
Whether he’d have trained for it, well that’s another matter.