Written by Mark Cooper - https://runwithmark.wordpress.com

The Devil o Highlands Footrace is a 42 mile Ultramarathon that takes place on the northern part of the West Highland Way from Tyndrum to Fort William. It is scenic and has over 7,000ft of ascent.

This was the first time I’ve ever run this part of the West Highland Way, the furthest north I had been on the route was to Tyndrum whilst running the Highland Fling. I have to be honest and say that when I left Edinburgh on Friday to head to Fort William I was feeling a little apprehensive about the race.

I felt that my preparations for this event had gone well, I had taken part in the Edinburgh Marathon in May and also completed a new event called Run100 an event that saw a small group of runners run from Inverness to the Skye Bridge. The terrain on Run100 was similar to the Devil O Highlands and I find that repeatedly running on tired legs is always good preparation for an ultra. I followed up Run100 by completing two long runs in the Pentland Hills following the Pentland Skyline route which over the course of 16 miles has over 6,000ft of ascent.

After checking into our hotel we headed out for dinner and then to bed for an early night, the bus that had been organised to take runners to the start line was due to leave at 4am so I didn’t want to risk missing it.

We arrived at Tyndrum and the Green Welly was already alive with excitement and the familiar buzz of runners just keen to get started. This is the part I dislike the most, waiting to start the race.

The Start

As soon as the race began I felt a sense of relief and normally I wouldn’t listen to any music whilst running but for an unknown reason I decided that today I would listen to my music for the duration of the run.

The first 6 miles were very runable, pleasant underfoot and the majority of this was flat. The first 6 miles to Bridge of Orchy would take just 51 minutes, I arrived at the 6 mile checkpoint feeling great and excited for the rest of the course.

I made it to Glencoe (mile 18) and I was feeling very hot, I had started with my OMM jacket on but after less than a mile I had to remove it, my top was drenched partly because of sweat but also because the Scottish weather was very damp and the air was wet with mist. I was delighted to see some familiar faces at the Glencoe checkpoint, Debbie Consani, Paul Giblin and Sharon Law. It was brilliant having some of the countries top ultra runners looking after us and their checkpoint was like a well oiled machine. Debbie stuffed by pack with my drop bag items and handed me a can of coke and simply said ‘you look like you need a can of coke’ (thanks Debbie!) I asked Sharon how far it was to the devils staircase and she said around 4 miles and that this was the best part of the course coming up but she also said that it was ‘a bit cheeky’…

I made a decision not to stop until I reached the bottom of the devils staircase then I would walk up it and take on some food/liquids. I had wanted to climb the devils staircase for years and finally I was getting my chance, the gift if reaching the top…a 6 mile downhill into Kinlochleven.

At the top of the Devils Staircase

Upon reaching the top of the staircase I was met by two people dressed as devils, I couldn’t work out if I was hallucinating but I decided to give them a wave and a hug as I was excited for the 6 miles down into Kinlochleven (KLL), finally some downhill!

There’s a well known phrase, be careful what you wish for and it definitely applies here, as I began my descent into KLL it became apparent that the path was not the soft, pine cone laden, muddy trail that I had hoped for but instead it was a path filled with wet, slippy rocks. I’m sure most of them had the potential to be ankle breakers and I felt like I kicked every single stone on the way down, it’s still unclear whether two of my toenails are going to survive the week after taking a beating on this section.

The third checkpoint where runners could get their drop bags was at KLL (mile 28) I had been happy to reach this checkpoint in 4hr 40mins which was 20 minutes faster that I had estimated. Unfortunately Ferelith hadn’t managed to get to the checkpoint in time to see me pass through, when she arrive I had already been and gone 10 minutes before. Up until this point I was feeling very well, I walked for roughly half a mile whilst I ate the contents of the drop bag before arriving at the bottom of a hill. Now, this is where it wen’t a bit pear shaped for me, having never run the route and being honest never having done any research on it I hadn’t factored in a big muckle hill at this point, turns out this was the biggest ascent of the day at 1,000ft in height and it completely took it out of my legs.

I lost over 14 places on this climb and it’s really given me food for thought on what areas of my running i need to improve and work on, uphill is definitely a must but not just running, simply hillwalking regularly would help me with this part of the ultra racing so that’s what I intend to do for my future races.

I found the section from KLL to Lundavra really tough, probably the hardest part for me, to give you some perspective it took me almost 3hr 30mins to run the last 14 miles, with the undulating route I simply couldn’t get into a rhythm.

After 42.5 miles and 8hrs 08mins of running I made it to Fort William and the finish line, I was aiming for 7hr 30m but as it was my first time I chose to give myself a break at the end and vow to be back next year faster and wiser and possibly wearing a triple crown. That will depend on whether I am lucky enough to get into the West Highland Way Race.

Finished!

Thank you to all who supporter and organised and to Ferelith for coming to support me.

Congratulations to Donnie and Caroline who took first places male and female.

Written by Steve Way - http://www.steveway.co.uk

Written by Richard Lendon - http://richrunnings.blogspot.co.uk

Can I go faster? Definitely!

Written by Dave Troman - http://fromrecoverytobeyond.blogspot.co.uk

The Lakeland 100/50, since it's first running in 2008, has grown in numbers and prestige, and rightly takes it's place as the UK's premier mountain ultra race. I've now run the race twice and watched once, seeing the race atmosphere grow from year to year. There is such a great buzz surrounding the event; from the pre-race social media frenzy to the moment you grudgingly drive away from the camp site on Sunday afternoon.

I had some great recce runs on the route (with John, Jonny, Marco and Rick) and felt really well prepared physically and confident in my ability to run the whole route without need to look at a map.

John and Jonny arrived in Keswick early on Thursday evening and we spent the night talking about the race and enjoying a lovely chicken lasagne (thanks Tracey). All my kit was packed ready for the drive down to Coniston the following morning. I find it interesting how little you pack when you have to carry everything yourself in the race (plus one drop bag) compared to the ridiculous amounts you throw into the car for a supported race like the West Highland Way Race.

We headed down to Coniston mid-morning, hoping to avoid any queues for registration and wanting to start soaking up that electric atmosphere. Within moments of arriving I was back to being either "John's mate" or "The guy in the videos" - well, I suppose it's better than just being a number. Then I registered and was number 296 ;-)

It was lovely spending a few hours chatting to friends and putting faces to social media friends. I even had a chat with a couple of runners over from America who introduce themselves after recognising my voice from the videos John and I made during our recces of the route in 2012. It was surprising how quickly time passed and before I knew it we were making our way into the pre-race briefing. I thought I was fairly calm until I came out of the briefing with race director Marc Lairthwaite whipping the runners into a frenzy - thanks for that.

Myself, John and Jonny pre-start. Photo Rick williams

Then suddenly I found myself on the start line. Time to put this plan into action.

It was no secret that I wanted to get back to Coniston in under 24 hours, I felt I was in good enough shape to do this but needed to put my game plan into operation. A disciplined start was needed, particularly as  the first three legs are relatively runnable. Although I have been training recently with a heart rate monitor, I decided not to wear one for the race and just run what felt like a comfortable pace. The Walna Scar Road is a perfect opening trail; not too steep and nice under foot and I felt great as I topped over the col and started the descent to Seathwaite (CP1). A nicely uneventful first leg.

A couple of miles after the start. Photo Debbie Martin-Consani

In 2012, I found myself in an early dark spot on the second leg, but this time I was skipping along nicely, enjoying the improved path alongside Grassguards Gill and through to the col below Harter Fell. One part of my game plan was to run well on the rough rocky sections. I have identified this as one of my strengths and figured I would play this card as often as possible, meaning I could conserve energy on the big climbs as I would be able to make time on the rough stuff.

I arrived at Boot (CP2) roughly on my expected time, but feeling great and, once my bottle was filled with water, I was on my way, running most of the way through the woods out on to the fells towards Burnmoor Tarn. I slowly caught up my friend, Dale Mathers, little knowing that we would be running together on and off for the next 16 hours. Once again, the sunset over Burnmoor Tarn was stunning, almost worth the entry fee alone with the surrounding fells basked in a red glow.

I knew that I would be turning my head torch on somewhere near the top of Black Sail Pass so wanted to get some warm food in me before night drew in. As I came into Wasdale (CP3), I was met by a club mate, Steve Angus, who informed me that another team mate, Andrew Slattery, was well up the field in 4th place (even though he had been suffering with illness in the build up to the race). I knew I was feeling good and took great pleasure in stuffing some soup and bread in.

The long climb to Black Sail Pass seemed to go without stress and I picked a great line down the technical descent into Ennerdale. I had only had the head torch turned on for 20 minutes, but on the climb to Scarth Gap I felt that my legs were losing power - I was putting in too much effort at this point in the race. At this point, I was just allowing myself to be dragged along by Dale and was glad to get onto the rough path down to Buttermere as it gave me an excuse to slow the pace down, hoping to recover somewhat. Unfortunately, once on the flat path along the lake, I was back to the struggle and to compound matters I started to feel a little nauseous. This was not part of the game plan, especially this early in the race.

At Buttermere (CP4), I managed a mouthful of soup and a swig of coke, hoping some caffeine might wake me up. I also made the decision that I would just use some Mountain Fuel Xtreme energy drink over the next section and not try to put any solids in at all. I needed to try and settle things down a bit as I was starting to lose my positive frame of mind - I should be enjoying this more than I actually was. I felt I should not try to keep pace with those around me but run my own race at this point; pushing on at this point could prove disastrous later.

I don't remember much about this leg, but do recall turning my focus back on to pick up the correct path to Barrow Door (always a good moment) - I guess it was just a grind. I hoped I might feel better once I got to Braithwaite (CP5) and walked in with the intention of eating some rice pudding. I sat down, looked at the bowl and knew that there was no way any was passing my lips. OK, same again, swig of coke another bottle of Xtreme energy and off we go.

Although I was feeling like crap, I was still covering the ground OK - not as fast as I wanted to be, but still putting one foot in front of the other and I knew that the easiest few hours of the race lay ahead of me, hopefully giving me time to get through this patch. At this point, I felt that I had lost more than enough time to make the 24 hour target fairly unlikely and this did little to brighten my spirits.

As far as I can remember, it was just more of the same through to the Blencathra Centre (CP6) but I had made another decision - I would try a new flavour. I forgot that I had some beef jerky with me and thought I would try that. Even if I couldn't stomach the food, I would at least chew the jerky and spit it out. The first few bit stayed in my mouth for ages but eventually I spat them out - it felt like progress. I had one other thought on my mind; lets see the sun come up.

I played a little psychological game with myself here. In 2012 I turned my head torch off as I stepped onto the Old Coach Road. This time we had started 30 minutes later, but I had turned my torch on at the same point. If I could turn my torch off at a later point, I must still be generally running faster than last time so I made the point of covering a mile or so of the track before turning off my torch. As the sun came up, I managed some more beef jerky which was swallowed; I'm going in the right direction. I managed a couple of small Mountain Fuel Power Pancakes which are really easy to eat and felt that I would leave things like that until Dalemain. A bit more coke and a few minutes sit down at Dockray (CP7) saw a bit more of a recovery and I set of with renewed vigour towards the drop bags at Dalemain.

Issues started to sort themselves out on the leg as a few elements conspired to aid the situation. The sun was coming up, I had my favourite part of the course to run on (the terrace path round Gowbarrow Fell overlooking Ullswater), I had managed to hold down the pancakes and jerky and my drop bag was waiting.

As I approached Dalemain, I knew I was really starting to get things back together, though I was still behind the time I felt I needed to run sub 24. I thought I would sort all my kit out first before even thinking about food - but I had a plan.

The marshals at Dalemain, and at every other checkpoint for that matter, were just amazing, nothing was too much effort for them and you had the feeling that you were the only person that mattered to them at that moment. What a wonderful event!

During the UTMB, I had Clare, on the Lakeland 100 I had Tom. Sometimes something just happens at the perfect moment which makes a huge difference. As I came into the tent at Dalemain, my friend Tom Sutton, who I met and ran with in the 2012 race, was there to give support. We chatted as I sorted my kit out, he said all the right things and he provided a familiar face just when I needed one. I can't thank you enough Tom.

I used my "Must do, might do" list, which everyone was very impressed with and by the time I had sorted my kit out, I was ready to think about food again. In training, I had been experimenting with using a Mountain Fuel Morning Fuel mixed with chocolate soya milk and had prepared the right mix of milk for one portion which Tom sorted for me, with everyone enjoying the paper party bowl I had in my drop bag.

Looking back at the results, I was in 23rd place at Buttermere as I started to feel rough and, despite easing back on the gas through the night, I was up to 15th by Dalemain. I stood up after a 14 minute break in the checkpoint and knew I was back in the game - time to get back into the sub 24 hour groove!

Everything was just so different now. I timed my departure to leave a few runners to chase in the early part of the leg to Howtown and felt like I was in a race now. I passed a couple who were taking a mile or so to get their legs moving again and pushed on trying to catch another friend, Richard Lendon, who was having a storming run, well ahead of his time from last year. I didn't hammer it to catch Richard, but used him to draw me along towards the checkpoint on the long drop down. Just before the CP, I finally caught my club mate, Andrew, who was starting to suffer. I have just found out that, not only did Andrew suffer with illness in the run up to the race, but he twisted his ankle somewhere in the first 25 miles, and has just been confirmed with a broken metatarsal. This is a tough race, but you try doing 80 miles of it, over that terrain with a broken foot and still come in 15th place overall! #machine #legend

Andrew and I approaching Howtown. Photo Andrew Slattery

Another friendly face at Howtown (CP9) as I was greeted by Mike Raffan and I quickly left with Richard for the longest leg of the race, up Fusedale, over High Cop and along the side of Haweswater to Mardale.

I do like this leg. That's the only attitude to have. Simple plan; don't go into the red zone on the climb up to High Cop so you can run most of the rest, especially the technical single track along Haweswater. I could see some runners further ahead which gave me something to chase and I just found myself in that comfortable zone, covering the ground and, most importantly, smiling. I knew I was going well and the results show that I was 3rd quickest on this leg. Just as I approached Mardale (CP10), I finally caught up with Dale again who still looked strong, which made me feel better still.

If I'm being truthful, I really used Dale to drag me along for the next three hours or so. He was looking smooth and covering the ground well, so I was able to just concentrate on my running style and tried to do some calculations as to whether sub 24 hours was back on the cards or not, but I wasn't able to get my head around that so thought I'd wait until I was nearer Ambleside. On the ridiculously long descent to Sadgill Farm, all I could think about was the fruit smoothies at the Kentmere checkpoint. It was quite warm at this point and I was craving a different flavour.

Dale and I arrived together and I looked on enviously as Dale threw down a bowl of pasta. I stayed a minute or two extra to enjoy my smoothie and some coke and then headed out, once again using Dale to drag me up to Garburn Pass. At times, Dale pulled away from me, sometimes out of sight, but I felt that I was running the pace I wanted to and was still feeling OK. Every MOT I gave myself was a pass; head, shoulders, stomach (just), legs and feet. If those elements stayed as they were, I was going to finish strong.

I caught Dale again as we approached Ambleside (CP12) and I was able to make some calculations. A nice easy training run would see me take about 3:20 to 3:30 hours from Ambleside to Coniston. As we arrived in the town, we had 3:45 hours to break 24 hours. The game was on.

In Ambleside. Photo Rupert Bonington

I had one final boost at the checkpoint as my friend Rupert Bonington was there to cheer me on. Rupert, who is part-owner of Mountain Fuel, really revved me up and gave me some information on those runners just ahead of me. I was in 8th place, but more importantly the chance of sub 24 hours was there and, possibly, a couple of extra places to grab.

The leg to Chapel Stile is relatively flat and short so it's a bit easier on the psyche and I left Ambleside feeling like I was on my way home. I lucked out here as I left just behind Lawrence Eccles who has a metronomic gait, perfect to drag me through the flat tracks past Elterwater and into Langdale. My plan was to make a move on the rougher ground after the Chapel Stile checkpoint as we made our way into Langdale.

I arrived about a minute after Lawrence but, as ever, the marshals did a fantastic job and by the time I had swigged some coke and had a few mouthfuls of stew, my bottle was ready and I was off. I hoped to open a small gap and then make use of the rougher terrain in the valley. It was great to be on my own again and running well so close to the finish, but as I approached the first of the big wooden stiles, I caught up with Kevin Perry who said he was going through a bad patch. You know you must be doing well if you are anywhere around Kevin; his record in this race over the years is phenomenal - 6th, 5th, 7th and 4th! This put me up to 6th place and I, stupidly, assumed that I would just waltz off into the distance. Kevin had other ideas. I would run on for a while, look back and there he would be. He hung on magnificently for a while and it wasn't until after the dibber on the gate above Blea Moss that I finally started to pull away.

I enjoyed the small climb and drop round to Tilberthwaite (CP14) - it really is a gorgeous, quiet part of the Lakes. My eyes flicked between the trail and my watch as I ran round the road to the CP. Could I make the 24 hours? In 2012, it had taken me 59 minutes to complete the final leg and as I arrived this time, a quick glance showed that I had 1:02 hours to break 24 hours. This is sooooo on!

I already had my poles out ready, dibbed, got half a bottle of water and set off up the stairway to heaven/road to hell (depending on your physical and mental state). It was all about rhythm; if I could get into the right groove, I would cope with the climb and still be able to drop like a stone back into Coniston. I didn't want to be cutting it fine, I wanted to enjoy the finish.

It didn't take too long to climb the steep part and, most encouragingly, I was able to run some of the lesser climb up to the start of the final descent. The poles were already stowed away as I crested the brow and I quickly got that short, fast step gait going to make an efficient drop down. In no time, I was on the tarmac road going past the Miners Bridge, swinging round past the parked cars and onto the main road through the village. Great support from the beer gardens of the pubs put just that little bit extra spring in your step and I crossed the finish line in 23 hours, 47 minutes and 18 seconds.

I managed a hug with Tracey on the way to the line and was greeted by a smiling Andy Cole. Then you get to experience on of those special touches that makes this event so good; you are taken, by your own personal marshal, through the canteen area where you are announced to receive cheers before being taken into the hall to be awarded your medal and finishers t-shirt. That marshal will only leave you once they are happy you are OK or they have passed you onto someone else who can look after you - a lovely touch.

Tired but happy!

The camper van bed was all set up ready for me, so I had a bit of a chat with Tracey and a bit of a doze, but within 40 minutes, I was ready for a shower - which was fantastic!

It was time to be on the giving end, so Tracey and I went into the canteen for some food and had a nice meal and chat with Tony Holland and family. Congratulations to Tony, who smashed 10 hours in the 50 race after being injured for much of the year. It's great, having a conversation that is broken every 2 minutes by applause and cheers, then you just carry on as you were.

What I would say is that I know some hellish good runners - congratulations to my friends who kicked some ass over the weekend; Jayson Cavill winning the 50, Matty Brennan sprinting to take 2nd in the 50, Debs being the machine she is taking 2nd, also in the 50, Marco grabbing 2nd in the 100 and Paul Tierney for getting the big win.

We waited for John to finish and had our fingers crossed that he would break 30 hours and we didn't have to wait too long as he rocked in at 29:36 hours - much bigger smiles than last time. I couldn't quite wait for Jonny as I was too tired, but was delighted to find out the next day that he had completed in just over 36 hours.

This event, and ultra running in general, was kind of summed up at breakfast the next day. I sat there in the sunshine, eating my fry-up, around the table we had runners of every ability from those delighted to finish the course to Great Britain internationals - you gotta love that :-)

Like every runner, I have to thank the whole crew that put this event on; from Terry and Marc to every marshal at the checkpoints to the event centre staff. This event is special and long may it remain so. I will be back... I'm not sure when, but I will be back.

Written by Peter Dennett - http://www.100marathonclub.org.uk

06:00, 13th and 14th June. The South Downs Way National Trail from Chilcomb near Winchester in Hampshire to Eastbourne in East Sussex, England

My Kit Review

This would be my second ever 100 miler after TP100, which was my first. There were certainly a few lessons learnt from TP100, but as far as my kit was concerned there were only a few minor changes, mainly to dispense with stuff I never used at TP100 and didn't expect to use them for SDW100. I also dropped my ‘food cup' in favour of a simple plastic bag after seeing other runner's use bags to good effect at TP100 to grab food at aid stations and allow themselves to eat on the go. As per TP100, I was using plastic bags to store items that needed to be kept dry. I found the security bags you get at airports idea for this as they are sealable and so fairly airtight. In fact my mantra on the subject is if an item that needs to be kept dry can't fit into an airport bag then it doesn't feature in my kit, and that includes clothing.

1 - A few items down on TP100 (and of course a change of map)

One addition though I had this time was a homemade wristband listing the aid stations by number and what miles and kilometres they appear on the route. This was mainly to save me asking that most common of runner's questions posed to aid station volunteers; “Half far is it to the next aid station?”, but also to allow me to break the race up into more manage chunks in the latter stages; easier to tackle 4 miles to the next aid station than say 20 or so miles to the finish.

The reason why I listed kilometres as well is that I normally work with those and so it's what my Garmin is set up to use; kilometres are far shorter than miles so crop up more regularly. Ok, there are more of them, but shall we gloss over that bit and move on?

Kit Check

Unlike TP100, there was an opportunity to do race registration and bag drop the evening before. So with the race HQ and start at Chilcomb about 20 minutes by car from where I live, I opted to take advantage of this. By getting the admin stuff done this way it meant less faffing on race day morning.

It was an overcast, very warm and muggy Friday evening, though thunder and rain were expected later that would hopefully clear the air.

2 - Chilcomb on a muggy Friday evening

At kit check my rain jacket receives some attention as the guy checking it doesn't initially think it meets Centurion running mandatory kit regulations. But on closer inspection he notes the taped seams. The jacket is very lightweight, possibly the lightest on the market but for the record it does meet all ultra races mandatory kit requirements for waterproofing guys! Anyway my kit inspection passes and I'm handled a blue casino chip. I've clearly going up in the world as at TP100 I only got a red chip. As with TP100 though no roulette wheel to play my increased stake on, but exchanging my chip I do get a race number and the opportunity to answer a few questions regarding my contact details and whether I was having crews or bag drops.

I also handed in my bag for the finish. The guy taking it seemed a bit surprised that I didn't also hand in a bag for Washington as mile 54. I didn't have one on the premise that I didn't really use the one I had at TP100. I was planning to use my trail running shoes anyway for the race so didn't need a spare pair, and I would be carrying a spare pair of socks with me from the start. The idea there was I could change the socks at any time and not be bound to changing them if I wanted to at Washington. That left the bottle of Lucozade which featured in my halfway bag at TP100. This time I decided I could live without that, being my second 100 miler and thus no longer a 100 miler virgin, I felt I was now grown-up and so could survive without such pampering luxuries.

Pre-Race Shenanigans

Then I headed home and the plan was to get a good night and with no race registration or bag drop to worry that would afford me a few extra minutes in bed!

The reality was in fact I didn't sleep well overnight and was up by 3am out of sheer frustration of not being able to sleep well. My mother picked me up at 5am as planned and drove me to Chilcomb for arrival around 5:20. My pre-race activities as they were mainly around waiting to use the toilets before catching the race brief shortly before the race start.

It was overcast and muggy, in fact quite repressive. It had rained overnight but the thunder had stayed away. I was cursing the weather as this was the second weekend on the trot I've had to put up with these Amazon-rainforest type conditions having done a marathon in the Netherlands the previous Sunday in similar conditions.

I had also picked up some weird cold in the week, one where I had no symptoms other than a rather runny nose. The fact I did a 10k road race on only the Wednesday before race day and achieved a seasonal best only highlighted the strange nature of this virus.

Race Brief and the Start

The race brief was similar to the TP00 one and included a demonstration of the visual aids we would encounter that would guide us on the course. The National trail acorn symbols, a Centurion Running arrow, the beloved red and white tape and new for this race, orange painted arrows.

The Race brief also mention that the exit of the field that we would about to do a lap of, that would take us on to the South Downs Way was a bit narrow, so some congestion was to be expected. I hoped to avoid this in the main by position myself near the front of the running field. Not right at the front, as that would probably result in me getting trampled to death by the elite runners, but just after them where hopefully in the main I would be out of harm's way.

This would also support my game plan. That was to follow a similar one for TP100 whereby I would try and do the first half was quickly as possible and then slog it out for the second half. As per TP100 I hoped to do this in less than 24 hours, but actually achieve the goal this time, and in addition I did have a rather romanticised view, even ambitious one of arriving at the Trig Point overlooking Eastbourne at mile 98 to be greeted by a splendid Sunday morning sunrise. Sounded like a very good sales pitch to me; perhaps I should take up secondary employment as a car dealer or estate agent!

The race did indeed start with a lap of the field, but there was a narrow section about halfway round, which didn't prove any problems for me before we're directed towards a gap in a hedge.

The lead guy was already some way ahead and I could hear the race starter directing the said leader towards the gap in a hedge. When I arrived at the gap in the hedge I ran through it to then find myself on the South Downs Way as promised. Yes, I was now on the course proper. This was initially a narrow footpath that did widen later on, consisting of mainly grass and dirt track.

To the First Aid Station

However, any hope of seeing the fine Hampshire countryside in the early stages was dashed by a lingering morning mist. Occasionally the route would be interrupted as we would cross the busy A272 Petersfield road, though marshals were on hand to assist us in the crossings.

As part of my first half plan the idea was to run the flats, bomb down the hills and shuttle up the hills. However, most people around me seemed to be taking a rather more consistent pace approach which meant that I was passed by quite a few runners up the hills but I caught and passed many of them on the subsequent downs. Furthermore, being fairly near to the front of the running field meant I was with some serious runners who weren't hanging about and so I gradually lost touch with them as the miles ticked by.

The first aid station is nearly 10 miles from the start, but having experienced something similar at TP100 it didn't feel quite so daunting waiting for its long arrival on the route this time around. As with TP100, I opted to try and eat stuff at every opportunity. With the muggy weather, my brain though decides fruit is the order of the day over savoury snacks. So after tucking in and grabbing some bananas pieces to go I continued my journey.

The Tree Root Dance

Along with the official National trail markers, the Centurion runners markers were reassuringly regular; a far cry it has to be said from TP100. The orange painted arrows were of particular note to me as they reminded me of the official yellow painted arrows that adorn the Camino de Santiago (St James' Way) in Spain of which various sections I've walked a number of times in the past.

Then around 13 miles, we came across a narrow section that seemed to consist of nothing but an infestation of tree roots. How I managed not to trip over any of them is a pure miracle but it did require some nimble footwork to get though it all. I was a bit conscious that as it was narrow I wasn't unduly holding anyone up. But since I was able to tagged on to the back of a couple of runners ahead of me with only one guy behind I didn't feel I was causing too much of a blockade.

But the tree root dance did take the wind out of me a bit and on the next hill after this I had to walk it. I was a bit disappointed to start walking so soon. But with the mist finally clearing to reveal blue skies, it was also getting very warm, so things weren't exactly on my side.

As I clocked some more miles, I then spot Rachel Smith. She was in a blue car and she actually spotted me first. I guess she was waiting for her other half; Traviss Wilcox. After a quick hello I pushed on.

Cheese and Pineapples

After seeing me off at Chilcomb, My mother was planning to see me at one of the earlier aid stations; either the car park at the Queen Elizabeth's Country Park (QECP); officially known as aid station two, or Hartling Downs; aid station three. When I arrived at QECP, which incidentally was preceded by a nice bit of downhill through some fields, she wasn't there, but I wasn't surprised as the car park was busy; not only the race aid station but with cars (naturally) as a result of people unconnected with the race who were there just visiting the park.

As with the previous aid stations, I continued my fruit fest, but spotting one of the volunteers cutting up some cheese, I ask if they could cut up some cubes for me. This they did and I prompted ate one at a time with pieces of pineapple, thus recreating that special moment at the last aid station on TP100. A few other runners noticed what was going on and the poor volunteer then had to cut up some more cheese cubes for those other runners.

QECP was over 10 miles from the first aid station so in theory the next 5 miles to Hartling Down should be a breeze by comparison, but it felt just as long. Things weren't helped by the fact that my Garmin reckoned it was more than 5 miles. Ok, Garmin miles tend to be a bit shorter than the real mile, but I was getting a bit concerned as well as suspicious in thinking that Centurion Running miles are a little bit longer than the real mile.

However, my arrival at Hartling Down was rewarded by seeing my mother. Whilst I continued my fruit fest, we had a chat; basically me explaining what the race's been like thus far, before we parted.

Familiar Faces

After passing through the aid station at Cocking; yes quite, and a race profile that seemed to consist of going either up or down hill, whereby I was regularly walking the uphill sections now, it was probably no surprise that the next two aid stations had ‘hill' in their name; these being Bignor Hill and Kithurst Hill. What was a surprise though was seeing Rachel Smith again, this time at Kithurst, noting down the race numbers of the runners as they arrived, me included.

Rachel though wasn't the only familiar face I had seen, shortly after Bignor I had been running through a field and noticed someone holding one of field gates open to allow runners though. It wasn't until I was nearer did I recognised who it was; an old skiing pal by the name of Ian Bruce who hails from Burgess Hill. He had threatened to make an appearance at some point but didn't say where or when. After passing through the gate we had a quick chat before I headed on, though a few miles later we met again.

3 - I came... and went

Less Familiar face-wise were a group of cyclists. I didn't know them but they regularly passed me only for me to catch up and pass them when they stopped for a break. I also saw the official race photographer, Stuart March, a few times and joked with him that ‘he certainly gets about a bit'.

In an Ok State at Washington

Kithurst was about halfway and my plan was going well. The legs were beginning to feel tired but I wanted to get to Washington before commencing the slog it to the finish part of the plan. Washington after all was ‘only' 4 miles on.

Unfortunately, I couldn't quite get to Washington before slowing quite a bit and when I arrived at Washington I'm asked by Karen Webber who was outside the aid station building welcoming the runners, how I was doing. I could only managed a simple ‘ok' to cover what I really meant which was ‘not great but I won't bore you with the detail'.

Inside the aid station hall, which had a distinctly American theme I gratefully accept some pasta. My stomach was feeling a bit uncomfortably empty after a day of eating mostly fruit and the pasta seemed to fit the bill of something more substantial. I sat down to eat the pasta, thus ignoring Traviss Wilcox's advice of not sitting down, but I was very much conscious of not outstaying my welcome, so literarily gobbled the pasta up as quickly as I could and after taking on some drinks I grabbed some bananas pieces to go and left.

On leaving Washington I see the aforementioned Traviss heading towards the aid station and not long after he overtakes me.

Dead Legs to Clayton

My legs had by now died, to the point where just moving was an Herculean task; my running was now more of a shuffle, which was a bit ironic as the route profile was a bit flatter now with somewhat more gentle hills. So despite the easier terrain, I wasn't able to make good use of it.

Then when the hills did return, I not only struggled really badly up them, but it took ages for me to recover from them. So it was probably just as well that the next few aid stations weren't too far from each other compared to the earlier ones. However, the aid station at Saddlescombe Farm reminded me that no matter how bad things appear, they could be worse as I noted a few runners here had decided to drop out of the race here. I was determined not to join them but my original plan of a sub 24 hours with that sunrise at the Trig Point, was now pretty much confined to the dustbin.

In fact my immediate priority was to get to Clayton Windmills (colloquially known as ‘Jack and Jill') before nightfall, but with the light already failing it was looking unlikely, but it's amazing how your eyes adapt to failing light and I arrive at Clayton Windmills without wearing my head torch whilst many runners leaving the said aid station had already switched to using their head torches; one of them was Traviss Wilcox.

4 - Whilst I was heading to Clayton my skiing pal was taking photos of sunsets

At my arrival at the aid station I briefly sit down to take out my head torch and my long sleeve hooded top, which had served me well at TP100 in keeping me warm, before grabbing some drink and food and heading back out. But as I walked up the hill from the aid station I still felt a bit cold so stopped to put my rain jacket on as well. Clearly the temperature had dropped rapidly since the sun went down but with my jacket on I soon got warm and felt if anything rather cosy in it.

Unexpected Welcome at Ditchling

With nightfall, the orange arrows and National Trail signs were somewhat less useful now as they weren't as easy to spot. However, this is where the red and white tape came into its own; the white sections of the tape are reflected and can generally be seen from some distance, so I increasing became more reliance on those, only seeking out the other signs for backup or additional confirmation.

As I headed through Ditchling Beacon I spot a few spectators ahead wearing head torches. On passed a couple of guys I hear them shouting ‘Is that Pete?' I stop and look behind to then recognise my old ski pal who I met earlier in the day. But I then realised he had another of our mutual skiing friends with him. I didn't expect the other guy to be here as he lives in Ashford, but he had decided to come all this way to watch the spectacle, which was a nice gesture. They also offer me a banana which I gratefully accept and eat shortly after.

However, other than that unexpected welcome, things weren't going goof for me, the legs were hurting now. Not like the latter stages of TP100 which was down to blisters, but just simply muscle pains and soreness. I had also resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to get any better than just walking and even with that I would occasionally slow my walking pace to offer some relieved to the legs before trying to up it again, but in turn the hours now seemed to tick by at an alarming rate and I feared this tactic would result in me being too slow to the point I would not even meet the 30 hour cut off for the finish.

A Dark Place

On reflection I don't think my mind was in a good place but at the time such doubts seemed so real. The fact that for most of the time I was alone didn't help. But the fact that I was a still moving was the glimmer of hope, plus the fact that I never DNF. I reflected on the occasions where I was in a similarly bad place and how I somehow managed to carry on and finish; pulling a calf muscle halfway through Marseille marathon and then spending the next 3 hours hobbling to the finish, a bout of Bronchitis at the Seville Marathon that took me three weeks to recover and various races where I had stomach issues, the most notable one being severe diarrhoea two third into the Porto marathon. This would be just another of those occasions, another of those tests of character. No, this wasn't the time and place for a DNF. And anyway, dead legs by comparison to the other events seemed too poor an excuse.

The accuracy of my Garmin compared to the Centurion Running miles though wasn't helping, as the aid station at Housedean Farm didn't appear when Garmin said it should. I did spot some lit houses but when I came near them there wasn't any aid station there, no familiar Centurion Running white flags. However, at least my Garmin was still working thanks to being powered by an external battery linked via the watch's USB cradle. A few runners on passing me asked how many miles we've done as their Garmin watches had long since died.

The aid station did eventually turn up and was a very welcoming sight, but I wasn't keen to hang around as time was most definitely not on my side. I also wasn't particularly hungry, especially after another runner turns up and promptly throws ups. Yes, it was time for me to go.

South-not-so-easy

As I walked through the night I would occasionally get overtaken by other runners, most with their pacers, but all of them asking if I was alright. Nice of them to enquire but there wasn't much they could do; I had to fight this out on my own. But it did demonstrate the high level of camaraderie in this game.

I was now also developing some blisters on my feet. These seemed to dislike the bumpiness of the course so when I came across a straight flat path of concrete it was a mighty relief. Of course the flat path didn't last forever, sadly.

For the next aid station at Southease, I initially didn't know where to go as for the first time I couldn't spot any obvious markers, but fortunately a guy was standing at a road T-junction and pointed in the direction I had to go. He also claimed the aid station was ‘literally' just down the hill. Well it was down the hill but also long a bit of flat section, then over a bridge towards Southease train station. Though I guess he was close enough, I was getting nervous in the latter parts of this bit as I was thinking I may have missed the aid station.

But at the train station, there were a couple of marshals noting down race numbers who then confirmed that the aid station was nearby. In fact the aid station was a short distance on the other side of the train line, but for safety reasons we couldn't cross at the road but had to drag our dead legs over the pedestrian bridge. Southease? More like ‘South-not-so-easy'!

Light at the Top of the Hill

At the aid station I again kept my stay short, only staying to get my drink bottles refilled. Though I had to confirm with the volunteers as to where I had to go, which was retracing my steps for a short while before going up a gravel track hill, yes, just what I wanted. Thanks again!

Things though improved at the top of the hill. The legs had finally come back to life, albeit in a not too great capability, but at least I could now manage a shuffle, rather than just walk. The other thing was it was now approaching dawn. No splendid sunrise, but at least I could begin to see where I was going and eventually I was also able to switch off my head torch.

By the time I arrived at Alfriston, it was most definitely daylight. I was feeling more my old self and even grabbed some food to go. Although I was now less worried about the race cut-off time now as my pace had picked up considerably I wanted to stick to the ‘keeping moving' urgency that I had developed overnight. On leaving I bump into Traivss again. I was a bit confused why he was here until he revealed he had some stomach problems and needed sometime out to resolve them. So at some point I must have passed him, but not sure where.

To Jevington

On leaving the aid station I wonder into a courtyard by a church. I had clearly missed a sign and quickly retraced my steps back to the aid station to then notice the familiar red and white tape showing the correct way. I then remembered the course notes that made it clear to cross over a white bridge and carry on towards Jevington and not turn right towards Exceat. In fact there was a piece of red and white tape on the Jevington post of the official South Downs Way signpost there.

Soon after I'm caught by Traviss and we have bit of a chat as we progressed. He agreed that we were looking at around 26 hours or so to finish this but then advised me to get some hiking poles for the NDW100. Then at the very next hill he clearly demonstrated how they can help as he marched up the hill quickly leaving me far behind.

The aid station at Jevington was for me bit of a non-event. Nothing to do with the wonderful volunteers there who kindly assured me that I would make it to the finish, but I was keen to keep going and my stay there was probably the shortest at any of the aid stations. With the race profile suggesting the final hill was up to the Trig Point. That was where I wanted to be as soon as possible.

Towards Eastbourne

It was some time coming but I eventually reached the top of that last uphill and I was now feeling mighty relieved that I had done the last hill of the entire course. I now had to find that Trig Point. Another runner who was a bit ahead disappeared through grassland and so I followed suit where I spot a red tent. Not quite what I expected; I was expecting some concrete post; i.e. the Trig Point, or to use its full name, the Ordnance Survey Triangulation Point.

I thought someone unconnected with the race was camping there but on arrival a marshal steps out welcoming me to the ‘unofficial aid station' at the Trig Point! She then points me to the gully we had to go down, warning me that it was a bit narrow and uneven in places. She wasn't joking, it was a very narrow and steep path of chalk and I proceeded with upmost caution as I didn't want to fall over and finish my race too early. Plus in places it was only really wide enough to have one foot in it at a time.

I then hear footsteps behind me and so moved to the side and let a fellow runner by. He thanked me but remarked he hated this bit, so clearly have had done this race before. He seemed to be able to move much quicker than me, but I wasn't tempted to copy his pace. The chalk eventually stopped to be removed by stones, branches and undergrowth as I entered some woodland, but essential no better under foot. I'm then passed by a lady runner who I had frequently seen on the route throughout. In fact we joked how often we had seen each over.

As with the other runner before her, she was descending with much more ease and dexterity than me. I think she knew I was struggling and assured me that the road wasn't far ahead.

My Pacer

The road did eventually arrive, though it did seem to arrive longer that I anticipated based on what the lady runner said, but at least I was now on the road and as such I was able to get running again. It started off initially downhill but slowly eased before I then had to turn right on what would be the final off-road section of the route. This was at least flat and fairly even underfoot and as such I was able to keep running and bizarrely even the blisters had stopped moaning. This took me to another road, now flat and I could see a few runners ahead who were walking.

My legs were now feeling the best they had for quite some time and with no complaints from the blisters I upped the pace a little. My confidence was also growing as coming from a road running background I was on my favourite running terrain; asphalt. In essential I was now in my element and for a while it didn't feel I had just been through 99 miles.

I was now passing the backend of the university that the race instructions were clear that we couldn't cut through to get to the finish. It's here that I then spot my ski pal who I've seen at numerous points on the course. I was expecting to have just a quick chat but he wanted to run alongside me. By his own admission, he hadn't really done any form of running for years, so this would be interesting I guess, but it was something he wanted to do and it was nice to have some company.

So we continued together down the road, before taking a left turn on to an asphalted footpath. My legs were beginning to feel tired again but with my friend making the effort to keep going with me I felt I couldn't ease up as it felt I would be letting him down. So we continued.

Eventually we got near to the car park where I had to pass round to the finish. My friend though had ran enough and had to stop to let me carry on. And on I did. Passing around the car park where a marshal remarked that I was the first person to be running at this point for some time. To then enter Eastbourne's sports ground. I could see the finish on my left, but I had to do a full lap of the athletes track, which at least though that was even and soft underfoot. Shame we could have this surface for the previous 99 plus miles of the course!

Sprint to the Finish

Ahead I spot another runner walking on the track to the finish. He was about a third of the way around. Could catch him? With that thought I forgot about my tired legs and set about chasing him down. He was still walking as I neared and it wasn't until the finish corner of the track that I was about to catch him. I thought he might respond; there were certainly people at the finish shouting at him to make a move. But he didn't, so I was able to pass unchallenged and get to the finish line a few seconds ahead of him.

In the excitement I forgot to initially stop my watch and when I did it had clocked 27 hours. I'm then presented with my buckle. Not by Nici Griffith as was the case at TP100, by some guy who I assume was the other half of Centurion Running?

5 - Finished (some more than others it seems)

My skiing pal then comes over to congratulate me and together we head into the sports pavilion, where I order a sausage sandwich. Yes, I suddenly felt very hungry. Whilst I collected my finisher's T-shirt and then eat my sandwich, my ski pal in the meantime pops back outside to watch some of the other runners finish.

I also spot Traviss and Rachel and pop over for a quick chat. I explained that I was a bit disappointed with my time, possibly being on the wrong side of 27 hours, but as they said, I had finish and so got the job done. Not everybody who started did. As it was, I found out later that I had sneaked under 27 hours by half a minute.

Postscript

After saying goodbye I joined my pal who then drove me home. It was good of him to do this as it resulted in a 4 hour round trip for him but he wanted to do. He seemed quite inspired by it all but it wasn't until the following days when he contacted me about running that I realised by how much. For starters he had bought a pair of running shoes and done a couple of 5k runs. I guess if you manage to inspire some one person then how you finish doesn't really matter.

However, regarding the race statistics, of the 264 starters, only 202 made it to the finish and within the 30 hour time limit with 107 of those finishers within 24 hours; overall a slight improvement on TP100. My own time was actually 26:59:28 and this netted me 158 th place, both not as good as my performance at TP100, so much to do in preparation for my next 100 miler; NDW100.

Although I had picked a few blisters in the latter stages of the race, they weren't nowhere near as bad as the ones I obtained at TP100, this was no doubt due to the somewhat drier condition underfoot, but probably also my choice of footwear as I know my trail shoes tend to dry out quicker than my road shoes when they get wet or damp.

Written by Peter Dennett - http://www.100marathonclub.org.uk

10:00, 2nd and 3rd May. The Thames canal path from Richmond in Greater London to Oxford in Oxfordshire, England

About me and my Race Plan

Although I'm a veteran at marathon running with over 180 events under my belt, this would be my first 100 miler. I would also be running solo; i.e. no crew to assist me and no pacer to accompany me in the second half. As I had no crew, I basically had to carry everything I thought I would need throughout the race in addition to the mandatory stuff, with the exception of a few items for the latter part of the race that would be in a kit bag available to me at the Henley aid station at mile 51.

I had opted to run in road shoes as the weather had largely been dry the week before suggesting the trail sections of the route would probably in the main be dry also. But in my Henley kit bag I had included a pair of trail shoes just in case the predicted forecast of rain significantly changed things underfoot, as well as a spare top, a fresh pair of socks and a bottle of Lucozade; that was a ‘treat' to allow me to drink something different than what was on offer at the aid stations. Water I find boring and Coke disgusting, though I know from experience that both are necessary evils and you just have to get used to their respective tastes.

1 - My kit for the race, of which much of it was mandatory

The plan for the race was based on one that veteran 100 miler, Traviss Wilcox had recommended, which was to get to Henley before night fall and then slog it out to the finish. To achieve that I was planning to treat the first 25 miles as a marathon and run it as one albeit at a conservative pace, then get to Henley hopefully by mainly running it and then after that just see it how it goes, but with the additional goal in mind of getting to Oxford and the finish within 24 hours.

In the weeks before I had ran a few marathons with varying results. Three weeks previously I ran Taunton and struggled with tired legs to get round in 3:43. A week later I was at Boston in the States and ran a far more comfortable and convincing race in 3:31. The week before this 100 miler I was at Blackpool, not quite as easy as Boston but still an encouraging 3:38. The morning of the Thames Path 100, guess what? My legs felt tired again, so it looked like another Taunton-style outing!

Arrival at Richmond

My kind brother-in-law picked me up at 7am and drove us the hour or so to Richmond, dropping me off right in the small courtyard next to Richmond's Old Town Hall, which was where the race HQ was. Inside the hall it was a hive of activity with people getting their mandatory kit inspected, collecting race numbers and generally sorting their gear and themselves out for the race. My first port of call was kit inspection. I had all my stuff, literally stuffed in my running vest so when asked I had to unzip some pockets, initially forgetting which ones had the mandatory stuff, to reveal the said items including a hard copy map of the Thames Path, head torch, backup torch and rain jacket. Once the guy inspecting this was happy he then handed me what looked like a red casino chip and told me to go to the desk where race numbers were being issued. There, half expecting to see a roulette wheel, but there wasn't, I announce my name and race number and in exchange for my chip I get my race bib.

Back outside and my brother-in-law opts to move the car as it's causing some traffic issues. It's here I bump into Traviss Wilcox and we have a quick chat before he disappears to talk to someone else whilst I head over to the van that is collecting kit bags for transfer to Henley and the finish. As well as my bag for Henley, I also had a bag for the finish that contained some leggings, a top and a coat; stuff that I could quickly change in to after finishing, mitigating hopefully any risk of getting cold, which can easily happen once you stop moving.

With over an hour to go, I then did some last minute preparations. First I filled my drink bottles. This wasn't though to be the best idea. The bottles are of the soft flask variety but I had modified them by putting some tubing in them to keep them upright with the tubing extending outside the top of the flasks with the bit values attached on top. An idea I got from one of the Facebook ultra running communities as the soft flasks when shrinking have a habit of disappearing into the mesh pocket they sit in and are then a pain to retrieve when you need to refill them. The tube eliminates this problem by keeping the bottles upright and so they don't disappear into their pockets, plus the extended tubing allowed you to drink from the bottle without needing to bend your head over as much. The downside as I discovered is that the arrangement isn't quite watertight and when you sit down, droplets of liquid escape from the top of the bottle where the tube extends out and basically dribbles on to your person!

I also made regular trips to the toilets, but queued well up in advance before I really needed to go. Something I've learnt from previous races.

Then my brother-in-law returns to explain the ordeal he just had trying to find something to park and then when he did discovered the extortionate charges that would rival those of many a pay-day loan company!

An announcement was then made stating that there would shortly be a race brief at 9:45 done by the start line, so we made our way there. The start line was on the Thames Path, a stone throw away from the Old Town Hall on the left side of the Thames looking upstream or westward.

2 - The start line, before the masses turned up

I bumped in to Traviss again who then promptly sits down on a bench nearby whilst the race brief was given. The brief was mainly around safety and showing off the route markers along with the established National Trail ones that would help us on our way, the most notable marker being a strip of red and white tape. There was also a big thank you for the volunteers who would be manning the aid stations that we would visit en route, many of which, who like us would be up all night.

With the race brief done, around 10:00 we were off!

An Unexpected Journey... to Kingston

Now, I normally knock out a quick first mile even for marathons just to get it out of my system before easing off into a more realistic sustainable pace. Something I ‘inherited' from my early big city marathon days where the first few miles are generally chaotic. Today though with legs already not feeling their best I opted to go for a more caution approach and setup off at a more subdued pace.

However in the first mile, I did manage to catch and pass Mark Evans (Mark H not Mark E I believe). Mark and I have regularly appeared in marathons together on the Kent coast and generally end up with similar times, though lately Mark have had the better of me. Hence on passing him I joked that he would catch and pass me at mile 22.

There was a lot of changing of positions within the running field before things settled down, though a kissing gate early on in the race did create bit of a bottle neck as you could only get through one at a time.

By the time things had settled down I was now chasing a group of five runners. Not really gaining on them but not losing them either.

As we continued I recognised some of the route from when I did the Thames Meander Marathon last year including the start area and early section of that race. As I reminisced about that race whilst also keeping a watching brief of the running group in front I then noticed there was no-one in front of those guys. A glance back revealed no-one behind either.

This seemed a bit strange and only when I looked across the Thames did I see loads of runners on the other side of the river. As I looked, the group ahead of me also looked across and realised like me that we had somehow missed the bridge that we had to cross. I thought about turning back but instead continued to follow the guys in front hoping there would be another bridge soon.

There wasn't. The group ahead would occasionally make turns that only led them to dead ends in their quest to get back on the right route but without success. However, it allowed me to catch them up on every occasion and saved me from taking those same wrong turns.

But the group did up their pace. No doubt to try and make up for lost time. I tried to keep up but at the same time was wary of going too quick and catching them only to then join them in the hunt for the right way.

We eventually passed through Kingston, initially over a railway line, then passing Kingston train station before finding a bridge that was being crossed by other runners, who were now on the same side of the Thames as us. I asked one of the runners if they had been to an aid station yet. They replied no. Phew, panic over, we were back on the right route and hadn't missed the first aid station and check point, but I was a bit concerned that my planned leisurely start had of course gone totally to pieces.

Eating and Drinking but no Time for Merriment

The terrain underfoot turned from tarmac and paving to dirt track. But at least the mud was dry and certainly my choice of road shoes seemed thus far a wise one.

Although I had my own drinks, it was a long 11 miles to the first aid station. I was keen to get to the aid station not only for refreshment but to do a distance check and determine how much extra I had covered on the unplanned tour of Kingston.

Before getting there I passed a pub called ‘The Weir'. I remember seeing that marked on the maps that I studied the night before so knew it wasn't far to go. When I did arrive at the aid station my Garmin reckoned I had done an extra mile.

The aid station was marked by white Centurion logo flags and a white gazebo. As soon as I entered, someone noted my race number and someone else behind a table of food asked what I what to eat and drink. Their urgency to assist me thankfully matched my own to get going and seemed to suggest that they could read my mind, which was saying we've lost time so let's not hang about, grab what you can and go.

I took on board some coke and water, and then prepared myself to eat some food whilst another volunteer kindly refills my drink flasks. Eating food on a run has been problematic for me. Either I develop stomach problems, or my mouth just dries up with the throat closing up soon after making swallowing impossible. Though I had been experimenting lately to try and overcome these problems I've had yet to resolve them satisfactory, so it was a case of here goes. I knew I had to eat something otherwise I wasn't going to finish.

At the Comrades marathon last year in South Africa, which was my qualifying race for this one, I tried to do the whole race on just fluids; water, coke and electrolyte, and although I finished the race, it was not without some discomfort; there's only so much you can drink before your stomach then starts crying out for something more solid to digest. So I was determined not to repeat that experience here.

First I tried a cheese sandwich. Mouth instantly dries up and throat closes up; unable to swallow. Panic initially sets in before I then had a light bulb moment. With the food still in my mouth I pour some water inside. I can't say the food tasted better or the experience was particularly pleasant but it worked; the throat opened up and as I continued chewing, I eventually managed to swallow. Ok, time to quickly try something else; sausage rolls. Actually, these seemed to fare better than the sandwiches, not needing as much water. I'll take some of these with me!

I had a small cup where I chucked in some of the said rolls; well actually the cup was an egg poacher made from flexible yellow silicone. I brought it along as I could screw it up in to a small ball and stuff in one of the pockets on my running vest where it would take up very little room.

It was Traviss who told me not to take too long at aid stations; basically get in and out and if need be, take your food with you and eat it on the way. This I did; however I couldn't really run with the food so walked until I had finished my meal. Then I was back to running.

Magna Carta Memorial, Royal Castle and Rowing Lakes

I was a little bit less apprehension about eating at the next aid station. Taking on sandwiches and rolls and religiously washing them down with plenty of water to aid swallowing, before moving on.

Soon after, I pass a tiled memorial dedicated to the 600 th anniversary of the signing of the Magna Carta. I was tempted to pause to take a photo, but felt it was more important to keep pressing on.

I then arrived at Old Windsor. I knew I had as there was a roads sign saying I had! It was some time though before I got to the more familiar part of Windsor and saw the spectacular Windsor castle. I then crossed the bridge that connects Windsor to neighbouring Eton. A bridge familiar to me as I've ran across it a number of times some years back as its part of the run route for the Windsor triathlon.

My familiarity of the area continued when after visiting the third aid station, I passed Dorney Lakes. For me it was strange to see it from the Thames as I'm more familiar from seeing from the lakes. Not rowing as the place is most famous for, but another place where I've done a few triathlons.

I then had to cross a bridge to enter Maidenhead. I knew I had entered Maidenhead as there was a road sign saying so.

To get to the next aid station at Cookham I had to leave the Thames path and follow some roads. Thankfully there were a few runners about who seemed to know where they were going. Perhaps I should have been more cautious after my experience shortly after the start, but on this occasion following the group ahead kept me on the race course and thus to the next aid station.

Halfway at Henley

After leaving Cookham I sent a text to my mother informing her where I was. She was planning to meet me at Henley, so I wanted to give her a heads up of my progress and estimated arrival time. As stated earlier, I didn't have any crew but my mother agreed to be the last familiar face I would see before nightfall, something I felt was necessary to help my morale. My mother also doesn't have Internet access but does have a standard mobile (not of the smart phone variety) so hence the text.

The next aid station though was at Hurley and we had to cross a bridge to get to this. We remained on this side of the Thames until Henley, where we crossed a bridge to go back on to the other side. However, I remember from studying the maps that it was a while to go before I would actually reach the Henley aid station.

I arrived at Henley just as it was turning to dusk, a little later than planned but crucially before nightfall. Among the runners and spectators I managed to find my mother. A helper then hands me my kit bag. I opted not to change my shoes but did drink the bottle of Lucozade. After drinking so much water, coke and pink electrolyte drink at the aid stations, as predicted this was a welcoming change on the drink front. I then went to hunt down some food and was kindly offered some pasta, which went down rather well. It didn't sink in at first but the volunteers were dressed as superheroes.

3 - Arriving at Henley just before it got dark

I also bumped into Mark Evans, who had been here a while and was now about to move on. I quickly informed him of my detour around Kingston before he then left. I then spent a few minutes giving my mother a similar update of my race thus far and after she wished me luck we parted company.

The Oracle

I had placed my head torch on my head before leaving Henley, which was just as well as shortly after it was getting really dark and struggling to see ahead I had to switch it on. I had done some night running including the odd race in preparation for this moment, but it still felt a bit weird to now be running in the dark after running most of the day in daylight.

It then started to spit with rain. It was hard to tell if this was a just quick passing of rain or something more prolonged. I initially kept going thinking it would pass, but also kept thinking of another of Traviss's gems of advice; get you rain coat on before you get wet. This thought get bugging me until eventually I could bear it no longer and had to stop and put my rain jacket on. Soon after I had and was about to getting moving again another runner stops by me, saying good idea before promptly getting their jacket on.

As it transpires, the rain didn't only continue, but started to be more than a gentle drizzle. So getting my jacket on was indeed a good move.

After what seemed like being in the middle of nowhere forever it was then a bit surreal to see the bright lights of the Oracle. Not the one from Greek mythology but the headquarters of the IT Company sat in the Business Park near Reading that shares its name. Another landmark I took note when studying the maps as I then knew the next aid station was nearby. However, on arrival, no-one had warned me of the steps that had to be negotiated to get in to the building housing the aid station. Some organiser's sick joke or what?

Inside I continued my feed of sausage rolls washed down, this time with electrolyte drink; I thought it would save some time if I ate and drank at the same time. It felt warm and inviting there at that aid station, but I had to resist the charms of the place and move on. It could have so easily have been a spider's parlour with me as the fly.

Just as I'm about to leave, one of the aid station volunteers warned me of a couple of points on the course ahead. The firstly was a bridge where we had to go over, yes over, not under it. The second was a path diversion about a mile later in Reading town centre.

Over the Bridge and through Reading

After leaving the aid station to go back into the less than inviting rain, I indeed sometime later came across the bridge I was warned about. I was about to go over when I spot someone ahead who had gone under. I was now confused. But then a couple of runners came up behind me and said I was right to go over. One of them said he had done this race before as well as helped with the organisation where on previous outings of this event quite few people have taken the wrong way here and had to be retrieved later.

From that point I opted to tag on behind this guy and his compatriot who I think was actually his pacer. Ok, again, probably not the wisest thing to do after my experience at the start of the day with following other runners but this guy did seem to know what he was talking about, plus he was in the main walking, which suited me fine as my ‘running' pace for what it was now worth wasn't much faster than the guy's walking pace, so I was prepared to take the risk.

After following a rather poorly lit part of the Thames Path we then came across street lights and a red diversion sign pointed us away from the Thames into Reading town centre. This I had gathered was the diversion I had been warned about. However, I wasn't really sure where to go next so I stuck to the informed runner and his friend like proverbial glue, crossing a couple of busy roads and passing some late night revellers, before a right turn that took us back to the sanctuary of the Thames path and yes, bizarrely I felt safe again, safe in the knowledge that my navigation skills did need such testing again, at least for the time being. With not needing my guide anymore I then upped my pace and gradually left him behind.

During the race brief we were asked to keep noise to a minimum during the night. So I had a bit of a chuckle when a while later near the Thames path there was some festival on with the sounds of much jollity, which was then rudely interrupted by the booming noise of a guy on the PA system announcing last orders. A short time later I hear the PA system again but fainter as I was now some distance from it, announcing that the bar was now closed!

The Sit Down and the Crossroads

For Whitchurch and the aid station there, I knew I had to cross a bridge but didn't realised the extent of how far we had to go after crossing the bridge and how it then seemed all uphill to the aid station.

On the bridge I'm passed by Kate Jayden and another runner, who may have been her pacer as he didn't seem to share in Kate's enthusiasm in taking selfies on the bridge. I must admit I was a little annoyed as well, but with me as despite Kate's occasional pause to take photos, she still managed to keep ahead of me reaching the aid station first.

Inside I grab some drink and food and despite Traviss's warning about sitting down or 'Beware the chair' ringing in my ears I allowed my concentration to slip and did indeed sit down. However, halfway through eating and drinking I notice Kate who hadn't sat down was about to leave. As if I had been woken from a daze, a sense of realism then came over me as I grasped what had happened. I was wasting time and needed to get up and go, and do that now! And that's exactly what I did, although by the time I had left the aid station, Kate who got out before me was already up the road and out of sight.

The route continued uphill before eventually levelling out. But then I hit a crossroad where it didn't seem obvious where I had to go next. I sense it may be straight on and indeed in the distance I could see the headlight of another runner; Kate perhaps? But then a couple of other runners came up beside me and point out the road to the left which has a strip red and white tape next to it. But the same road had a sign which read ‘Private Property'.

I wasn't convinced and after a short debate I left the other runners to continue discussing where they would go and opted to follow the road ahead. By this time more runners had arrived and joined the debate but I was already committed to my decision. Then one of the runners rushes up and joins me, asking if I was sure. I said I wasn't. We continued but walked rather than running as we looked out for strips of red and white tape that would confirm whether we were indeed on the right route. But as we continued things were looking bleak. There were now no runners' headlights either ahead or behind us. Doubt was quickly setting in and as we were contemplating going back I then spot a strip of red and white tape. Hurrah! We saved! I never knew a bit of tape could be such a welcoming sight! With the confirmation that we were on the right route, we then forged ahead where the road would come to an end and we found ourselves on a dirt track.

Things started to get very undulating now; in fact hilly. Initially some downhill then an uphill; so much for this being a flat course! I had also lost my company as he seemed to tackle the hills far better than me and had pretty much deserted me.

Thing did then settle down when I arrived back by the Thames. However, with all ups and downs I wasn't sure I was still on the right route. As the distance continued to clock up on my Garmin I was getting worried that I may have actually missed the next aid station.

Then the head torch started flashing indicating the batteries were getting low. I had spares, but wanted to get to the next aid station first and replace them there as it would be easier to do the swap.

A Friendly Face or Two

As things seemed to mount up against me, I then I see a chap who I think was involved in the race organisation as I was sure I've saw him at some of the earlier aid stations. I asked if I was going the right way. He replied yes and pointed out the bridge ahead that I had to cross to get to Streatley for the next aid station. Phew, panic over.

Streatley was a much smaller building than the previous ones. Not sure why I was surprised by its size. However it was no less stocked of food and drink. Now, I know someone did warn me about sitting in chairs at aid stations, but for some reason I couldn't stand and at the same time replace the batteries on my head torch. So I had to sit. Once the new batteries were fitted though I made a point of standing up again; I wasn't going to do another Whitchurch! An aid station helper though reassures me that I would only need a couple of hour's battery life before day break. And after taking on some food and drink and thanking the volunteers there, as I had at every aid station, I moved on.

Just up the road I bumped to Rachel Smith; Traviss's other half. She was waiting for Traviss, who apparently wasn't far behind me. She kindly walked with me for a while and gave me some philosophical words of wisdom when I confessed that the day hadn't gone to plan and that my hope of a sub 24 hour finish was looking pretty dead as I just wasn't moving quickly enough, and basically I wasn't in the best of places right now.

Daybreak and the Endless Meadows

As I headed upstream towards Wallingford, the sky was slowing turning from black to a dark bluish grey. A sign that dawn was on its way, but also that it was overcast, which was later supplemented by rain. Thankfully, I still had my rain jacket on. In fact I hadn't taken it off all-night.

At the Wallingford aid station I'm offered some pasta, which went down really well, before I have to have my first toilet stop. Only a pee, but it did seem strange that this was my first toilet stop of the race considering how much fluid I had taken onboard. However, in one of the adjacent toilets I could hear someone throwing up and clearly not well so reported this to one of the aid station helpers who then goes to investigate.

After Wallingford, there was a bit or road to navigate taking us through Shillingford, before I appeared to end up on a long stretch of seemingly never ending meadows. As I worked my way across one field, passing through a kissing gate I'm only greeted by yet another field; all rather demoralising and even another runner when on passing me comments dejectedly on the endless meadow.

Thankfully the meadows weren't actually endless and I eventually arrive at Clifton Hampden.

Not Succumbing to the Chair

Clifton Hampden wasn't quite what I had expected. After crossing a bridge I spot a Thames Path sign, but a marshal there instructs me to go carry on ahead on the road and turn left further up. I wasn't sure initially where I was going but then released where I was when I saw the familiar white Centurion flags outside the aid station.

Inside there were a few tired looking runners, of which a couple had succumbed to the chair. I didn't feel exactly great myself and did initially sit down before realising that would be a mistake and so immediately got up again.

To underline the point about the chairs, one of the aid station helpers walked over to another runner who it seems had been sat down for a while, and suggested they got up before their legs stiffen up too much and not be able to get going again. The volunteer was typical of those I had met throughout the race. Always attentive with a real sense that they knew what you were up against, but then I overheard at a few of the aid stations that some had taken part in previous years and so had lived through the same ordeal.

Another runner was sat down on talking to a relative on the phone. I had arrived after him but managed to get out before him. A boast to my morale albeit a minor one as I felt I hadn't wasted as much time as him at the aid station. In essence, I had in Formula One terminology; undercut him.

After leaving the aid station I retrace my steps back to the Thames where the marshal who had directed me up the road to the aid station earlier now directed me back along the Thames.

Blisters, Mud and Cocktail Sticks

My feet were getting really sore now and any slight wrong footing on the muddy terrain only made them hurt more. My feet had got totally soaked from the rain earlier and despite having plastering them with petroleum jelly at the start of the race, which normally works for me, I suspect I now had several blisters that themselves had their own blisters.

The guy who was on the phone at Clifton then passes me at a decent pace, but I reckoned it was a good mile from Clifton, which sort of shows how much time can be saved if you stay disciplined at the aid stations and stay no longer than necessary.

But pack to the Thames path, which was muddy and simply getting muddier, more uneven and peppered with tree roots and other hazards, I was now wishing I had changed into my trail shoes at Henley. With the lack of grip and feet really hurting; in fact quite severely now, my pace had become rather pathetic. But having got this far I was determined to keep moving, and the fact I was still moving was good enough to be called progress for me at this time.

Although the distance from Clifton to Lower Radley was probably one of the shortest distances between aid stations, it felt like one of the longest. However, I managed to get there and on arrival an aid station helper was quick to furnish me with whatever food and drink I wanted. I spot some cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks. These went down a treat (not the actual sticks obviously), and didn't require much water to wash them down. The juicy pineapple seemed to be enough to stop my mouth drying up and thus allow me to chew the cheese relatively unhindered. If only I had discovered these earlier in the race!

After leaving Lower Radley I'm nearly taken out by some rowers who were moving one of their boats and who had clearly not seen me, despite the fact that I had seen them coming and so made a point of trying to give them a wide berth.

Not There Yet

With that minor drama out of the way I continued, taking a quick glance at my Garmin watch, which sadly had confirmed what I had feared for some time. I wasn't going to finish under 24 hours. However, as if to offer some form of consolation, as the time clocked 24 hours, the watch suggested I had actually done 100 miles. Though of course what really matters is the official distance and time at the finish, but thanks all the same for the sentiment Garmin.

A mile or so later and another glance at my watch revealed it was now saying the battery was low. I couldn't believe the external power supply I had connected to it for the entire race had died. However, on examining said supply it looked a bit damp, despite being in a waterproof pack suggesting perhaps moisture had got in to its circuits and shortened it. Good job I had a backup power supply, so I switch them over and the watch then seemed ok and started charging. Thank goodness, last thing I wanted was for the watch to die a mile or so from the finish. I wasn't allowing myself to die so why should the watch get it so easy?

Eventually the muddy path turned in a more welcoming flat asphalted one. I was now surely on the outskirts of Oxford and did spot a sign shortly before that said Oxford was 2 miles up the path. As I continued, the sun was beginning to come out and consequently I was now getting a bit warm as I still had my raincoat on, but being so close to the finish I couldn't be bothered to now take it off.

Finally

Something I hadn't seen for a long time was people not connected with the pace. Many were out on the path just walking, but had clearly worked out what was going on or had been told and so many of them cheered me on as I started to try and improve on the little pace I had.

I was then directed left in to a grass field where ahead was a large inflated blue gantry; clearly the finish line. Although I couldn't quite muster a sprint I was at least running when I crossed the finish line where Nici Griffith, one of the race organisers then hugs me and presents me with what is my first ever race buckle.

4 - Oh, is it now over?

My mother was also there, and we have our picture taken by the official photographer before I finally sit down, knowing as last that there was no rush to get up. In fact I no longer had to ‘beware the chair'; I could actually embrace it!

A helper then offers me some chilli, which like the pasta earlier in the race, went down very well. In fact I probably could have eaten for England!

Then after watching a few other runners finish, my relief at finishing was slowly being supplanted by sheer tiredness so my mother then takes me home.

Postscript

After dropping me off Saturday morning, my brother-in-law had headed home and during the day had regularly checked my progress on the Centurion website. He had also relayed updates by text messages to my mother. Apparently he got quite involved with checking my progress right in the night, where at some point he fell asleep at his computer only to wake up a few hours later with his head resting on the keyboard. Bless!

As for my power supply that got a bit damp, that I can happily report, made a full recovery, and says it can't wait to get back on the road (if it could speak of course).

The statistics for the race make quite interesting reading; of the 265 starters, only 182 made it to the finish and within the 28 hour time limit with 106 of those finishers within 24 hours. My own time of 25:36:17 netted me 121 st place.

My feet had indeed developed blisters in the latter stages of the race; in fact most of the surface of my feet including the balls and the heels were covered in them. These blighters did take a few days to heal up properly so I didn't go running again for nearly a week, but two weeks after the Thames Path 100, I was back to running form with my next marathon at Koblenz in Germany, so no long-term damage it seems.