Post Ultra Recovery Plan or Ministry Of Silly Walks??

The Hardmoors 55 took place last Saturday (March 2025), it's been a long time coming and I finally took the plunge, I was in it. I can see why it's such an iconic and popular local event. It has everything except 'The Beast From The East', or at least it did on Saturday. Good elevation, fun climbs and descents, some great runnable parts, mud, tarmac and gravel. Rain, sunshine, wind but alas no snow.

The day after the event was something of a reminder of how it feels when the race is done. The second stage of pain kicks in and so begins the 'Ministry Of Silly Walks' phase.

I've been writing up until this point about the training and how to go about it. But how I felt on Sunday prompted me to put fingers to keyboard again and write about how to approach the recovery of such an event. Particularly important if you're about to take on your first very long running event or you did the HM55 too. I decided against a blow by blow account of the 55 as I'm pretty sure there are plenty on social media to choose from. If you want to read all about it then the choices are vast no doubt.

Instead I took the opportunity to put together a simple guide to recovery, paying homage to the Monty Python crew seeing as though the silly walks reference was particularly relevant to myself and many others I'm sure.

Post-Ultra Recovery Plan

A very serious medical document. Not at all written by lunatics.

WEEK 0: Ministry of Silly Legs

(Race Day to 72 Hours Post-Race)

Mission: Survive. Re-hydrate. Try not to look like you’ve soiled yourself every time you go downstairs.

Hydration: Replace lost fluids! But don’t overdo it. We’re re-hydrating, not re-enacting the Great Flood.
Food: Now is not the time for kale and quinoa. Think “Feast at Camelot” but with less song and more protein.
Sleep: Sleep like a medieval peasant after a plague. 9–10 hours? Yes. Naps? Double yes. Nap on the floor like a knight with a cramp.
Movement: Gentle walking. If you’re doing a full John Cleese silly walk down the street, congratulations—you’re healing.
No Running: Even if a French castle guard insults your mother, you’re not allowed to chase him.

Two knights in armor, one on the ground, in a forest. Smoke rises in the background. Text reads, "It's just a flesh wound..."

WEEK 1: "It's Just a Flesh Wound" Week

Mission: Convince yourself and others that you're fine, while secretly walking like a baby giraffe.

Active Recovery: Light walking, cycling, swimming. Basically, anything that won’t cause you to yell “NI!” at your own hamstrings.
Mobility & Stretching: You’re not trying to become a yogi—just limber enough to pick up a sock without screaming.
Nutrition: Eat the rainbow. Not literally—we’re not mad—but aim for variety. Turmeric, berries, greens, maybe the occasional cake (for stamina).
Massage/Therapist: Book one. Hope they don’t laugh when you flinch as they touch your calves.
Mental State: May include existential dread, random euphoria, and sudden interest in cheese. All perfectly normal.

WEEK 2: Rebuilding Camelot (it is, after all, a silly place)

Mission: Reintroduce movement without descending into chaos and/or hamstring detonation.

Short Easy Runs (maybe): Only if you can walk without groaning like a dungeon prisoner.
Cross-Training: Gentle hikes, spins, or interpretive dance if you're feeling spicy.
Strength Training: Light and functional. No bro-rep max-outs. Just pick things up and put them down like a responsible adult.
Check for lingering issues: If your achilles is still angrier than a confused shrubbery enthusiast, deal with it before returning to glory.

Warrior with antlered helmet in a forest with text overlay "YOU MUST RETURN WITH A SHRUBBERY," conveying a whimsical mood, dim lighting.

WEEK 3+: The Quest Continues

Mission: Return to training, but don’t pull a Lancelot and charge full-speed into a wedding.

Build back into structure with a focus on feel, not ego. You’re rebuilding your base, not storming a castle.
Reflect on your ultra: What went well? What didn’t? What was the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?
Plan your next goal, but don’t rush. Rest is part of the journey. Or as the monks say: Domine. Domine. Jog on.

RED FLAGS (DO PANIC)

If you notice:

Persistent soreness or pain
Crushing fatigue that even a cheese wheel can’t cure
Mood swings that would scare a Black Knight
Zero motivation (even to lace up)

You might be under-recovered, overcooked, or just in need of a good fart joke and a few more naps. Take it seriously. And remember: you can’t train if you’re a burnt-out husk in a chainmail vest.

Run Long, Run Strong, Run Better

John Withinshaw Running Coach

JDW Fitness