Written by Rodrigo Freeman - http://braziliangunner.blogspot.co.uk

Written by Paul Ali - http://ultraavon.com

The Winter 100 is the final event of the Centurion calendar year and the last event which makes up the Centurion Grand Slam. The event involves 4 x 25 mile out and back legs along sections of the Thames Path and Ridgeway. The race was first run in 2012 and at the time was held towards the end of November but was impacted by flooding of the Thames and had to be re-routed (and it rained constantly for about 17 hours I recall) and the event was subsequently brought forward to mid-October.

I knew I needed to get into better shape for the final event of the year having not really put any long training runs in (i.e. anything over 15 miles) since before the Thames Path in May due to a sequence of racing/recovering/tapering and family holiday/work/life over the summer months.

I knew my fitness over a long distance wasn’t where I wanted it to be and so a week after the disappointment of the T184 I was completing the first 25 mile recce of the Winter 100 with Nicole Brown (thanks for being my regular running buddy in the build up) along the Ridgeway and we were then joined by Paul Radford and Fiona McNelis on subsequent weeks as we ran a 25 mile leg most Sundays. I also had the pleasure to meet up with the awesome Team Consani one week and I recce’d a leg with Debbie and Karen Hathaway (who kindly didn’t rub the T184 result in at all… Karen won the race outright!).

The training didn’t quite go 100% to plan as I continued to experience a few minor niggles (sore knees and sore Achilles) which was symptomatic of my year to be honest. I also suffered a sprained ankle three weeks out from the race when running with Paul Radford, which saw me having to hobble 10 miles back to my car. Despite not hitting the mileage I wanted to and having to take a few days of enforced rest I did get all my long runs completed each weekend and also completed the Purbeck Marathon and my final run at the Longmynd Hike two weeks out from the race which then gave me a couple of weeks of rest all my niggles, taper and rest.

In summary, I was feeling 90% fit but not quite the 100% fit I had felt prior to the Thames Path 100.

In the few days before the race I had a bit of extra motivation (pressure) with a little fun bet with Nici Griffin. Several of you may be aware of the “lucky hat” which I started wearing at all my events a few years ago and its unfortunate association with wet weather that always seem to follow it.. at each and every event. As I have run a few Centurion events, they have been particularly unlucky with some of the weather conditions (2012 Thames Path – race abandoned, 2012 Winter 100 – 17hrs of constant rain, 2013 Thames Path – flooding resulting in a diverted route, 2014 North Downs Way – the remnants of Hurricane Bertha) in particular.

Quite simply, the hat has a fair amount of sentimental value to me and everyone else hates it. It even has its own spoof twitter account @PaulAlisHat (not run by me I hasten to add, but I now know who!)

The idea of a bet had first been mooted from a conversation back in June at the Endure 24 (the circumstances of which were; Nici was running, I was wearing my hat and it rained a lot) and a few days before the Winter 100 an exchange of messages between Nici and I led to agreement of the bet. The terms of which was as follows:

• If I ran 20 hours or over, Nici would get to keep (or burn I think was the likely outcome) “the Hat”.

• If I ran a sub-20 then Nici would agree to run a 100-mile race.

I’ve run about 15 races of 100 miles distance or longer and 7 specifically at the 100 mile distance. I’ve only ever run a sub 20 once which was a 19.36 set at the Thames Path 100 earlier this year. Whilst I had a certain degree of confidence I could run the time (as my finish times have improved a bit year on year) this was by no means guaranteed. Essentially, it was a fair bet with a certain degree of risk for both parties which is exactly how it should be.

We posted details of the bet on the Centurion Facebook page which generated a bit of interest from people and resulted in some mock banter between us both in the lead up to the race and on race days itself.

Race Day

The Winter 100 is a local event for me and I live a 20-minute drive from the start and knowing (and having run) each leg which gave me a little advantage. I arrived at the start of the race in plenty of time to some jibes and banter and mock threats of “random kit checks” at every checkpoint.

Nici and I caught up before the event and the banter began pretty quickly as I recounted to Nici my Daughters last words as I left the house that morning “Daddy, I don’t want you to lose the hat”…. Yeah it was a pretty cheap shot early on in the mind games! In tennis terms it was 15 – love to me.

The Sub 20 plan for the day was 4hrs for leg 1; 4-5 hours for leg 2; 5-6 hours for leg 3 leaving me with 6 hours for leg 4. If I could get back to Race HQ at the 75-mile point by midnight (14 hours in) then I was fairly confident I could march out the final leg in 6 hours. I gave Nici the heads up for my plan in confident terms… 30 – love to me.

Nici was predicting a 22hr finish for me and then recounted her plans for the ceremonial burning of the hat after the race had finished. Damn, point Nici’s, 30 – 15.

I heard the rest of the Centurion team and volunteers had been joking with her and were helpfully researching possible races for her the night before! I was assuming there would be a lot of banter and exchanges with runners and volunteers and I wasn’t disappointed at all.

I spoke to several familiar faces and a few new ones at the start and then walked to the start point with Shawn.

Walking to the start of the race (Photo Stuart March)

 Leg 1 – Thames Path West

A different mindset was needed today and rather than assume my typical position somewhere near the middle to back of the field at the start and then working my towards my general pacing group, I elected to start near the front with fellow club runner Wendy Shaw. It was Wendy’s idea to go for a fast (but not quite suicidal) but comfortably quick pace and we set off near the front of the field.

I also made a decision not to hang around at Aid Stations and not to waste time tweeting or Face booking at all. The sacrifices I had to make for this race you know…. it wasn’t easy….

Wendy and I dressed like ninja’s.

Wet weather had been predicted all Saturday but whilst it was overcast, it wasn’t raining and it was reasonably humid. I had decided to wear my leggings as I didn’t want to faff around putting them on if it rained or got cold at night but just wore a T-shirt at the start and was carrying a spare base layer and waterproof jacket if needed.

We set out quite quickly from Goring, west along the Thames Path towards the turn point at Days Lock. About a couple of miles in I called a couple of runners back who missed the left turn by the Pub and then ran chatting to Wendy and Dill mainly as we held an 8m/m – 8.30m/m pace on the outward leg not bothering to stop at the first Checkpoint (apart from having your number recorded).

This leg was a mixture of muddy paths, fields and some road. The ground conditions were a little tricky in places with my Invo8 Race Ultra 290’s not having the best grip and there were a few stumbles with Peter Bowles going down after Benson followed by me over a small wooden bridge which was wet and slippy.

The lead runners were already on their way back as I was a mile or so away from the turn point and it was great to see the top guys in action (the girls would overtake me a little while later into the race).

After a quick stop and a quick water refill on the turn point it was back on the return leg. About a mile into the return leg Ian Thomas stumbled and went down pretty hard and I stopped briefly to help him, fortunately he managed to carry on albeit a bit gingerly at first.

I continued on passing stream of runners coming the other way and giving a wave, hello, high five or a well done and headed back towards Goring. A few of the runners reciprocated with “Go The Hat!” type shouts which was much appreciated. Whilst 4 hours for the first leg had been my target I wanted to be a little bit ahead of this just to put some early pressure on Nici.

Hat-Bot? Photo by Stuart March

The track path sections on the way back were a little more tricky after 150 odd people had passed through and I had to take care on some sections after stumbling once or twice and it was actually quite nice to have some road and pavement sections to break this section up.

I arrived back in Goring in 3.37, in 14^th position. As soon as I entered Race HQ the volunteers were immediately winding Nici up. “So, twenty minutes up on schedule!” I beamed to Nici as I grabbed a few snacks, refilled my bottle and headed out the door for Leg 2. No messing about here, game on.

I think I headed out of the Aid Station ahead of a few others and gained a few positions here.

Leg 2 – Ridgeway North

The second leg saw runners follow paths and pavement for a mile or two before following the Thames river for a couple of miles after which it’s more of a traditional trail route covering subtle gradual incline through bushes, trees and more wooded areas. The weather was overcast and cool but there was some sunshine and this was a great leg to run particularly on the turn when it felt like there was a lot of downhill.

I ran by myself for a few miles passing through the interim Aid Station which was being manned by Jen Bradley and a few others and grabbed a few snacks and a drink. I had cut my arm somewhere possible after stumbling around on leg 1 and had a line of dried blood running all the way down my arm.

One of the Centurion volunteers pointed this out to me and asked if I needed any assistance which finally… finally allowed me to use the Jesse Ventura (Predator 1987 boys action film) “I ain’t got time ta bleed” line as I headed out the Aid Station. I’ve only been waiting 25 years to use that in a real life situation.

 Pulling a “Stouty”. Photo by Stuart March

Scott Harris caught me up and we ran together briefly before he moved on ahead and Sarah Morwood also passed me running the section before Grims Ditch. I was pretty impressed each time I saw Sarah on the course, she was absolutely relentless with her continuous pacing each time I saw her and looked really positive. A superb Ultra running talent (she came 4^th overall in 17.22).

Ed and Marco passed me on their way back running neck and neck at breakneck speed and Dave Ross was in 3^rd position about 15 minutes behind them.

I passed through the Grims Ditch section, through the Golf Course and then crossed the road about a mile away from the turn and crossed through the two ploughed fields before I spotted another runner not too far ahead who I caught up and realised it was Paul Radford. Paul mentioned he had a bit of injury trouble which I suspected as I was expecting to see him further ahead and I made some quip about getting further than our recce run on a few weeks earlier. As we approached the Checkpoint another few runners including Ryan Brown, Scott and then Sarah were coming back in the opposite direction.

We both grabbed a few snacks and a drink refilled our bottles before heading out together. We ran together for the next few miles over some really runnable slightly downhill terrain making some good pace until I heard a scream behind me as Paul had stumbled over and aggravated his injury. It was uncomfortable for him at first but carried on and a few miles later drifted ahead of me.

The downhill gradient (and Paul’s company) on the return leg meant I was quicker on the way back clocking sub 10m/m for most of the return leg. I hadn’t realised it at the time but I was in 8^th place at the 37.5-mile point which was confirmed by a text from Matt Dunn who was keeping an eye on the Centurion tracker.

Photo by Stuart March

I spotted Karen Hathaway a few times as she out supporting Debbie and appreciated the shout out as I passed her. I ran briefly with Warwick Gooch who I don’t think I had met before but I had spotted his name in the Centurion rankings (way ahead of me) on a number of occasions and it was good to put a name to a face. I think Debbie also overtook me around this point not too far from the Goring Aid Station.

Stouty had kindly agreed to pace me for a leg and he was planning to meet me at the 50-mile point. I had told him to be there for 6pm as I would be arriving between 6-7pm (8-9 hours). In fact I was actually going to get there just before 6pm (and before it was dark which was also a little objective) and I slowed to a walk as I phoned him to warn him but didn’t get through. Thankfully, Stouty had the presence of mind to check the tracker and saw I was doing ok and was there when I arrived.

I’m quite relaxed about having a pacer. It’s great to have a bit of company on a run but equally I feel comfortable running by myself for long periods. We had agreed Stouty would run leg 3 which meant it was a Saturday evening run and I felt this was the critical section of the race.

Arriving at the 50 mile point… like a steam train… maybe (Photo by Sunday Odesanya)

As I approached the Goring Aid Station and the sun was starting to set on the horizon I saw Kate Hayden and family out on a walk supporting John and jogged the last couple of miles eventually arriving back at Race HQ. Nici came over and cursed me as I let her know I had just set a new 50-mile PB time (honours even with that exchange).

Stouty was there but needed to get changed and I told him not to worry as I was ahead of schedule and could wait around for a few minutes if he wanted. (40-15 to me I believe, as Nici glared at me again).

I was feeling motivated and in control of my destiny but you don’t run a PB pace without having a few aches and pains but there was no way I could show any weakness in front of “the enemy” (Nici). I then proceeded with my planned change of shoes at the halfway point as James Adams wandered to say hello just as I pulled out my Hokas from my bag…..

Pulling another “Stouty” and on target at the 50 mile point (Photo by Ashok Daniel)

Damn, what did I say about showing weakness to the enemy?… wait for it… wait for it… and then James delivered some quip about the Hokas.

Hokas are like marmite, people seem to love them or hate them. I am currently experimenting with them as I do suffer from bruised and battered feet. In fact the last time I ran the Ridgeway Challenge in 2012 I had sore feet for a couple of days after and so anything which would help cushion my feet were a bonus.

Leg 3 – Ridgeway South

I changed into my Hokas, put on my base layer as Stouty finished changing and we set off for the third leg in 9^th position. I spoke to Ryan Brown who unfortunately had to drop from the race after aggravating an old injury which was disappointing as he had run well at that point and was placed quite highly at the time.

I could immediately feel the benefit of wearing the Hokas. A few minutes earlier my feet had been feeling bruised and sore and then I could hardly feel a thing. In my training runs I didn’t really appreciate the level of cushioning as the training runs didn’t tax the feet too much but when I put them on after 50 miles of solid running.. well difference and cushioning is really noticeable. Safe to say that I may be using this tactic again.

The plan was to run the flats and downs and hike the gradients for the next leg and see if we could get complete this leg in around 5 hours which would give me a comfortable 7 hours for the last leg. The first few miles were roads and paths as the route led onto the Ridgeway before a steeper section as you got into top of the Ridgeway and then it was a series of undulating terrain.

We put our head torches on after a few miles as it got dark quite quickly and then kept our run/walk pace going. A lot of the terrain on this leg was pretty runnable with good quality track/path (if a little stony in places) although there were a few wet and muddy sections to pass through.

I was pretty familiar with the navigation and we passed a few people who had missed a turn and directed them back on course which was a nice advantage to have in your locker as it provides confidence over your directions, knowledge of which sections are runnable and which ones you can take a break and generally just saves you time. It was home turf advantage for me.

Stouty did a great job keeping the conversation going and keeping me motivated (thanks buddy!) although my legs were really starting to feel it and I found it more difficult to consume food as my body started to reject it (I started to convulse slightly when I tried to eat something). I found fruit to be the most palatable of foods to digest because its largely liquid and has a nice sharp taste and I started to survive on tangerines, melon slices and grapes primarily but I knew I wasn’t eating as much as I normally do.

We ran/walked/hiked towards the interim Checkpoint being marshaled by Rich Cranswick (in Chicken costume) and a few others. It was a brief stop for a cup of tea (which I managed to immediately knock over first time) and then we pressed on. I was started to feel the need for a toilet break to the extent I was having a slight stomach ache but I was hoping to get back to the comforts of Race HQ rather than go ‘Al Fresco’.

We jogged/marched/plodded to Chain Hill to see Barry Miller, Martin Pether and a few others and headed back quite quickly past Stuart March taking some pictures near the monument.

The return leg felt more downhill than up and we jogged the downs and most of the flats and hiked the gradients (however gradual). I was definitely feeling the effects of the first 50 miles now as my legs were sore and aching (generally the hamstrings/quads) but we kept pressing on and were just about on course to complete this leg in 5 hours-ish.

We were passing runners coming in the opposite direction reasonably regularly now and kept offering a well done, wave or acknowledgment although as it was pitch black it was hard to distinguish who people were. However, one or two people still managed to identify “The Hat” (not me personally… I was simply the faceless host)

Stouty kept me moving, kept prompting me to run and I generally responded to this despite aching legs and a nervous stomach. I was looking forward to some hot food and drink at 75 miles as well as a visit to the toilet. We marched the last couple of miles towards the checkpoint passing Drew and Claire on Streatley Bridge who asked if I could at least run as I approached the Checkpoint to tease Nici.

That was always the plan Drew…. always the plan, regardless of how I felt.

I arrived back in the Checkpoint at 11pm and immediately dashed to the toilet (ahhh relief) and then tried to eat some chilli and bread which Gary handed to me as Ashok helped me with my bottles. I tried to eat the chilli, nibbled on some bread but couldn’t really consume anything at all and headed back out for the final push. Stouty was leaving me here having pushed me along leg 3, it was just my hometown stretch now.

Nici popped up again. Swore at me (not in a harsh manner) and then hugged me acknowledging that I was having a good run and admitting that at some level she was pleased I was doing well which was a kind and honest comment.

It was fair to say that as I was working my way through Aid Station and passing other runners whilst there was loads of support for “The Hat”, it was clear that people really wanted to Nici take on a big race next year and my own run was secondary to be fair.

In a perverse way it showed the admiration and respect people had for Nici due to all her contributions and efforts towards the UK Ultra running scene (not just Centurion events but also other events you have crewed at and supported) and there was a huge number of people who would be happy to support/crew/pace Nici if she had to tackle her challenge.

I’m not sure I got managed to get that message across but it now felt that from being 40 – 15 up and nearly having won the game it was back to Love – Love…

Photo by Ashok Daniel

Leg 4 – Thames Path East

13 hours into the race and I had a comfortable 7 hours to go to complete the last 25 miles. The hard work had been done and I was feeling the aches and pains now.

The last stretch of the race is pretty familiar with the few miles in Reading running past my workplace and lunchtime running territory and this leg would be completed in the dark.

I marched the first mile and grabbed a few shot bloks from my pack and tried to eat these but my body wasn’t reacting well to food and I convulsed and then spat these out .. back to fruit then.

After this point I tried to run some small segments. I find it mentally difficult to string together even a slow run in the latter stages of a race and find myself running in short bursts and this is what I started to do managing to keep the pace down to 11.30 – 12.30m/m.

The checkpoint at Whitchurch was run by a group of groovy hip funksters in 70’s style fancy dress and I passed through quickly, over the bridge and onto the fields towards Mapledurham. From there I followed the familiar path through the streets of Purley and towards Reading, down the steps by the Pub and back onto the Thames Path.

The tall grinning form of Marco Consani passed me at this point and I gave him a wave. By this point he had a commanding lead as it was a little while later that Ed passed me on his way to the finish.

The rest of the route to the Aid Station followed my usual lunchtime run and I plodded my way along the well lit path past the Boatyard, my office (which was a little strange seeing it at 2am in the morning), Tesco’s and finally over the horse-shoe bridge to the turn point at the Boatyard.

By this time the top ten runners were on their way back and Dave Ross, Sarah, Paul Radford, Debbie Martin-Consani and a couple of others had all passed me. I counted the number of runners on the way back which confirmed I was in 9^th place and when I got to the Aid Station unusually I was the only person there and had silver service treatment from the couple of volunteers on hand at the time.

I had a quick cup of tea and some fruit as that was the only food I could manage and then headed back. I was feeling pretty drained by now and I knew I hadn’t eaten the amount of food I normally would and found myself struggling to motivate myself to run at all and initially settled into a fast march on the way back. Based on my time, I was looking at a 19hr finish.

I did try and run in short bursts although there was no real discipline here it was simply a case of spotting a lamp post and running to it, marching and then finding the next landmark such as a bench, lamp post or head torch and running towards it. I started a game where I tried to make sure I was running each time someone passed me in the opposite direction. It all helped to keep the miles ticking over.

About three people were close behind me (within 5 minutes time wise) of the turn and I assumed they would catch me up and overtake me as they were all running and I was feeling my lowest around here and I started to work out a point on the way back where I thought I could hold my position. I decided this was the 90 mile point as anyone I passed there would be 5 miles behind (2.5 to the Checkpoint and 2.5 back).

As I passed through the familiar sites of Reading it started to rain. It didn’t feel heavy at first but was constant for an hour or two. I decided not to put my water proof jacket on initially as I was less than 10 miles to the end and simply couldn’t be bothered but after a while I could feel the rain had soaked my top-layer and was seeping through to my base layer and I paused briefly to put my jacket on.

I passed Wendy and her pacer Adrian through the streets of Purley and then trudged slowly through the fields in Mapledurham which were now wet with puddles and getting quite muddy and I was quite pleased to see Whitchurch bridge illuminated in the distance meaning I was about ½ mile away from the last Aid Station.

At this point a runner passed me in the opposite direction and asked where the aid Station was. I paused and said about 7-8 miles and he then realised he had missed the Whitchurch Aid Station and he over-reacted a bit by swearing profusely and cursing his luck and swearing blind that markings must have been removed. I guess emotions were running high at that point as I suggested he had better re-trace his steps and gave him some directions back.

A few minutes later I arrived at the Checkpoint to find the markings were in place and I spotted the same runner passing me having retraced his steps back to the Aid Station and back on the correct path. It was a good example of the highs and lows experienced during an Ultra showing sometimes how small things can really trigger an strong emotion in runners.

In all honesty, there had been no running for the last couple of miles before the Whitchurch Aid Station. I saw the funky groovsters again and paused briefly and sat down (I may have had a cup of tea) for a few moments before realising I was just wasting time and I thanked the guys and headed out for the final few miles to the finish.

Looking at my watch I was on for about a 19 hour finish which would be a new PB by 30-40 mins which was good but I couldn’t help feeling that there was a bit more to give and if I could have motivated myself to run a bit more of those segments then there’s a little bit more of improvement to come. It was a slightly surreal position that I was well under my target and at some level didn’t feel the need to have to work any harder now. I suppose after 18+ hours of exercise you can be excused for slacking off a bit.

I followed the wooded section and couple of hills away from the river taking care to avoid the tree roots covered by fallen leaves in the dark. By this point, I hadn’t been caught by any of the three runners who were seemingly close behind me on the turn and whilst I assumed that they would catch me earlier and I probably would have just let them run on, I now felt the desire to defend my top ten position and gradually I started sneaking in short running segments even if it was a 50 metres here or there or perhaps longer on a downhill stretch.

By the time I got to within a couple of miles of the finish I didn’t want to be caught and with the clock ticking over at 18.30, I really wanted to sneak under 19 hours (18.5x something sounds so much better than 19.0x hrs something) and started to jog a bit more through the fields and various gates and back onto the path. It was still completely dark as it was approaching 5am in the morning and Streatley Bridge took an eternity to appear but as soon as I saw it I broke into a sustained jog (which felt harder than it possible should as I was feeling out of breath despite the fact that it was no more than 10m/m pace for a few hundred yards) and ran into Goring Village Hall for the final time in 18hrs 56mins and holding 9^th position despite struggling a bit on the last leg. “The Hat” was victorious!

Nici was at the finish and we exchanged a hug and a few words (I can’t remember what we said now but we were back on very friendly terms following the earlier mock banter). I felt an overwhelming desire just to sit down on the floor which I did for a few moments before collecting myself and then being awarded my finishers buckle and Grand Slam finishers’ buckle which was almost an afterthought after the bet and the Hat banter during the race.

 Paul says “Finished:. Nici says “Oh s**t what have I done?” (Photo by Gark Kiernan)

All friends in the end.

I sat down had a cup of tea and got changed and briefly reflected on the race. A new 100-mile PB, sub 19 hours, my first top 10 position at a Centurion race and completing the Grand Slam all in the same race. It was a bit of a dream outcome and a far cry from some poor efforts in my last couple of races less than 2 months ago. I guess it shows what can be achieved with a bit of motivation! We were fortunate that the weather was pretty good and although there were a few areas where ground conditions were slippy the course was in pretty reasonable running condition overall.

 Photo by Centurion Running

A final word on the Centurion Grand Slam. There were 41 Grand Slam starters at the Thames Path but unfortunately only 16 people managed to complete all four events. Dave Ross dominated the Grand Slam finishing in a combined time of 70.03 followed by Warwick Gooch in 78.35, the consistent Peter Bowles 80.12 and then myself in 83.57. I had actually managed to get myself closer to my pre-year target of 83 ½ hours but still needed another half an hour from somewhere and it was a little too much to do after that shoddy effort at the NDW.

Well done to all of the Grand Slammers in 2014, it was great to see you all during the year!

Thanks to the Centurion team and the army of volunteers who supported the race once again, well done to the runners and in particular thanks to Nici for being such a great sport during the event (and afterwards by contributing a few words towards the write up) and giving me the motivation I needed to have a decent run and finish the Ultra running season on a high. St Oswalds Ultra has been nominated as the forfeit so runners book up the race and volunteers put the date in your diaries!

Winter 100 Report – Part 2 “The Bet” by Nici Griffin 

(Thanks to Nici for supplying these words which can also be found on her blog www.femmerun.com)

I’m sure by now you are quite bored if you have read Paul Ali’s version of events (hey! It’s comedy gold up there ^) but I feel it’s only fair to give my side of the story.

I’m not a superstitious person. I’ve never rubbed a rabbit’s foot (they’re hard to catch), I don’t ‘knock on wood’ and I smash mirrors for fun.  I am under no illusions that The Hat has any special weather powers. Let’s face it, it’s England – it rains.

 “I’m going to burn this hat when I get my hands on it..”

However I love a bit of banter and I love our Paul Ali. So it just seemed natural that him and I would fall into friendly back and forth banter/insults/threats about the hat.

If you’ve read my pitiful blog you may remember that at Endure 24 he even tried to bribe with said hat if I completed another lap but at 65 miles I was broken and I hated him, his hat and all things ultra. I got over that in 26 hours and signed up for another 24-hour race though.

In the lead up to the Winter 100 I wanted to, in my own silly way, give Paul something fun to think about. He’s had an incredibly busy year and quite shockingly his first ever DNF at the T184. I hadn’t spoken to him in person so wasn’t sure if this had ‘messed with his head’ but I just wanted the last big one for 2014 to have a bit of fun attached.

So I joking said “Bet you can’t run a sub 20 at W100″ and goaded him that if he didn’t manage it then I was going to get The Hat.

He countered with “If I do then you run a 100 miler in 2015″

Anyone who knows me will attest that I have ZERO desire for 100 miles.  Zero. It’s ok though. It was a sure bet.

But this was a sure bet for me. Paul’s best 100-mile time is 19:36 at this years Thames Path 100. Perfect conditions. Not the predicted deluge that was on for this years Winter 100. He’d never do it.  He’s had an event filled year. Tired legs and crap weather were in my favour.

So it was with ease I said “Sure, whatever”.

Then before I knew it there was a bit of a social media flurry on it. I was getting lots of messages of support and offers to pace/crew me.

Excuse me? I’m not losing!! It was a sure bet.

I won’t go into the details of Pauls race (note the aforementioned bored factor) but will tell you that it was a great day from start to finish. Although I do think he dealt some low blows. The first being that when he arrived for registration he informed me his little girl had asked him to not lose the hat! Low blow Ali, low blow. So I of course was very mature and countered by telling him that we had already purchased the petrol and the hat would be burned in the middle of the road outside HQ.

Now for those who don’t know the format of the W100 is 4 out and back legs of 25 miles so I knew I would get to see Paul 4 times (including the anticipated 22 hour finish). Before they even set off on leg 1 I had total strangers asking me how I felt about a 100 miles, had I picked a race yet, what was I thinking etc.

Whatever. It was a sure bet.

I wish I could say that once the race was under way I had put it out of my mind due to being so busy at HQ but it was here that the first major blow to my confidence happened. I started recalling conversations at dinner the night before with the event crew and some friends. James Elson looked at me and said “He’ll do it you know” and then the whole table gleefully started making suggestions for my 100 miler.

Fabulous! It was maybe a sure bet.

I have never been so frustrated in my life when the race leaders Marco Consani and Ed Catmur came flying into the hall at the end of leg 1. First thing Marco said was … “The hat looks good”.

Mid race banter

So when Paul comes skipping in I just stared at him. I was not chanting in my head about him tripping up. Honest. I did love though that so many runners at both the sharp end and the back of the pack were joining in the fun (or rather my misery).

I was still quietly confident that the weather and night time would send things in my favour. Bloody wish I’d taken Paul Stout up on the bribery offer though as he was going to be pacing him on leg 3. It was not a good sign when Stouty got there early for his duties because he had noted on the tracker that the bloody hat was rocking along ahead of schedule.

My stomach dropped when Paul came breezing into the hall looking like he was out for a Sunday jog and announced he has just made a 50-mile PB. I tried to persuade Gary (Kit Check Captain) to perform an hour-long details mandatory kit check and evaluation. He was too busy confirming the mileage for the West Highland Way to hear me.

That’s ok. It was a kind of sure bet.

By now I am genuinely worried and start praying (thanks for capturing that Gary). The ever-supportive HQ crew were doing their best to console me by gleefully researching on the HQ laptop what races I could do!!! Every time I went back to it there was one left up on the screen. I was even now being drawn into conversations of what kind would I like to do, why I can’t do a Centurion one, who would be on the crew ….. thanks so much for the solid support! Although on the bright side I did hear one runner say he had fallen almost taking the hat out with him! That cheered me.

“Nooooooooooooooooooooo” (Photo by Gary Kiernan)

End of leg 3 that stupid hat and its bloody owner came into the hall and my heart softened just a little bit (don’t tell anyone) as he looked a bit pained. As he sat there I couldn’t help but give him a massive hug and tell him that I wanted to be angry but I couldn’t as I was so bloody proud of him. He was absolutely on for getting a PB and ending his year in the right way. On a high. It seems the HQ team were too busy to console me as they were deciding between West Highland Way (with Elson offering to run an extra 4 mile loop with me to make up the distance), Hardmoors 110 and St Oswalds Way for me. How kind of them. What happened to team Nici?

It’s still ok. I could deny the bet right? After all I would never encourage gambling. No?

Stupid bet.

I will be honest and say it was at this point I resigned myself to the fact I would be taking on a 100 miler in 2015. Now anyone who knows me will agree that I love every one of our runners from the folks at front on fire, to the ones playing with cutoffs and to the ones who end their day early. Each and every one of them is part of my extended family whether they like it or not. Yet now I hated them as they came in the hall in differing stages of pain, joy, tears etc … it scared me. What have I done?

Oh well. It was a bet.

When Paul came in at the end of his 4^th leg I was standing waiting for him. What an amazing time. 18:56 !! I hugged him and quietly told him that I could not be prouder of him. I was not going to cry. Nope not me – I’m made of ice water.

Realisation sinks in..

I then felt a bit sick.

There is no such thing as ‘A sure bet’. I must be the last person to realize that little gem.

Now I know there are many who are thinking that surely Paul would not hold me to the bet. After all 100 miles is a crazy thing to have to do for the sake of a silly friendly bet. Small problem is that I would have absolutely taken the hat and burned it if I had won. A bet is a bet.

I have now officially taken on a coach. I have entered a race. I have made out my will.

I will continue to hate that hat.

Challenge accepted! Well done!

“Double or quits?”

Written by Bob Wild - http://ultra-average.com/

Disclaimer – I’m a very average runner (hence the name of the blog)…this is not the exciting story of a toned athlete smashing out huge mileage at great speeds, but rather the story of a bloke that ran a bit and tried to eat loads at the same time.

Second disclaimer – Alot of this lengthy race  report was fuelled by red wine, pain killers, and a sarcastic sense of humour, and completed mainly late at night.  I apologise now for the cowpat pictures.

Anyway, here we go….

 After a successful run in the summer, where I went into the 145 mile GUCR well-trained, with an organised crew, on a well-recce’d route, and had a great time…..it seemed time to do a run all by myself, with no crew or help, with a complacent attitude (after all, 100 miles is less than GUCR right?, so easier then…) and see what would happen.

 In fact, this race was really designed as a backup for me, just in case my ‘A’ race, GUCR in the summer, went wrong. I’d heard a lot of good things about how well organised the Centurion runs were (and how much food there was at the aid stations), and as I had an entry ready, it seemed rude not to do it, even though I wasn’t particularly focussed on it.. It was very much a ‘just for fun’ run.

The Winter 100 is 4×25 mile out-and-back spurs (pretty much along each point of the compass) along two trail paths (the Ridgeway and Thames Path) that intersect at Goring-on-Thames, a very posh village in Oxfordshire (how did I know it was posh?…..it doesn’t even have a Tesco’s…that’s how posh). This means you return to HQ every 25 miles, for access to a drop-bag (which is very handy) and there are aid stations at about mile 6 and 12.5 of every spur. Hence you can’t go much beyond 6 miles without an aid station, which is a nice thought on a 100 mile run with most of it in the dark. I would be doing it without a crew, a very strong contrast to my efforts at GUCR, where I had 3 mates follow me down the route like a royal procession, feeding me coffee and Smash at regular intervals, the W100 would be me carrying what I needed, getting myself round, sleeping in the car for a few hours and then driving 2.5 hours home – very ‘au naturel’.

As an example of just how little I trained (and how complacent I was)….my total mileage in the 40 days before GUCR was probably 350 miles and 40 days before W100 was about 100. I’d had a bit of a cold a couple of weeks before which didn’t help – I very seldom get colds etc, and get very frustrated when I’m not feeling good – so on a Sunday morning a few weeks previously I had driven the 2.5 hours to the race HQ, planning on doing the third or fourth spur of 25 miles to help out with the route when the darkness hit, and could only manage about 12 slow miles…not a good start. The last 2 weeks before the race I basically stopped running to try to get my mojo back, and build up some enthusiasm for it again, and luckily on the Wednesday evening I had a lovely 6 mile stretch-of-the-legs that gave me a bit of confidence (i.e. I didn’t have to stop and walk, feeling shattered).

Another fly in the ointment was that rather than having a couple of days afterwards off work, it looked like I was going to be back to it on Monday morning, which as I spend my days on my feet was not going to be pretty. Ah well, can’t be helped.

Friday morning was spent preparing enough food to feed an army….Imagine 7 tins of ravioli split into 2 sandwich bags for each tin, then put into another plastic bag (to prevent spills) and then wrapped up tightly to minimise space. It was a work of art. Add in some coke, biscuits, pepperami, a little Smash, lots of sherbet lemons (ultra-running tip of the day…..it’s very hard to feel crap and grumpy when sucking a sherbet lemon), red bull, coffee sachets, and the list continues. As I’ve said before, I don’t eat while I run, but I run at the same time as doing a lot of eating. It seems to work for me.

Right then, if you’ve persevered this far (well done!), you probably need me to start talking about the event itself.

I got to the HQ quite early, parked in a nearby road, chatting to a fellow runner (hello Ian), and got through the kit check quickly. I’m not sure I saw anyone there without the compulsory kit, but I hate to think what the cost of the ‘buyable’ stuff there was there…if it had been me I’ve had made it all cost at least £100. I then got the chance to stand around for a bit….lots of much more organised people looking like they could go a very long way. Lots of different drop bags (including a guys that had a little suitcase on wheels – bizarre I thought at the time, until I had to drag my bag to the car, not being able to carry it), and a lot of different drop-bag labels. I saw some understated luggage tags, a few stuck on labels, and some truly impressive laminated A4-sized massive personal statements of name & number. It was very “drop-bag-label-intimidating.” There was a great atmosphere in the hall though, and lots of people from Centurion as well as runners and supporters. I have no idea how some peoples tiny rucksacks carried all of the compulsory kit, I had what looked like a 40lb Bergen on my back compared to some.

The race briefing was surprisingly useful (and most people seemed to listen too!), I think they said there were 71ish volunteers, which is truly impressive for a race with about 150 runners. I particularly enjoyed the part about being quiet in certain sections of the run, in order not to disturb residents, which conjured up images of hoards of runners galloping along while whooping and screaming at mile 80, instead of the reality of single runners, shuffling along with their heads down, groaning gently with every step (or maybe that’s just me). Anyway, it was nice to be given the warning, and absolutely correct that we should be seen to be a ‘positive’ event to the surrounding residents.

So after the quick briefing, we meandered to the start point, and we nervously watched everyone watching everyone else deciding whether to start with a waterproof jacket or not.

at the start line…

We had been promised ‘heavy rain’ by the forecast, but there were a few hardy souls that were still in their t-shirts, as well as a few (including myself) who felt that having bought a bloody expensive waterproof jacket (with taped seams) I was going to wear it even if it wasn’t raining.

I love the 5 minutes before the running starts, just looking around.   I saw a guy carrying a stuffed toy, saying that he was doing the grand slam and had carried it around all the three previous 100 milers he’d done (to which someone correctly said “Couldn’t you have found a smaller toy to carry”). I saw a foreign looking lady behind me doing some amazing stretches (legs up round her shoulders etc) which looked positively painful, but hopefully helped her. And lots of nervous, but all excited, runners. I couldn’t see anyone that didn’t have an excited glint in their eye.

Without much ado (but there may have been some build-up at the frontthat I missed) we started, and made it about 200 yards before hitting a single file gate…at which everyone formed an orderly queue to get through. I’d like to see that done at the start of a 10k race, with everyone waiting patiently for the person ahead to get through, and no-one climbing over the fence to gain that precious 10 seconds.

muddy!

After the gate, we all formed a long long chain of single-file runners squelching through the muddiest part of the whole 100 miles. You couldn’t go quicker than the person in front due to the narrow trail, but felt you had to keep up with them in order not to slow down the person behind, so this meant everyone was fairly packed together, slipping and sliding on the mud. It definitely helped if you had big feet, grippy shoes, and a substantial body weight to drive your feet through the mud to the hard earth underneath. The was a 5ft petite girl ahead of me (number 170 I think) that was struggling as she had none of those three things, but on the positive side it meant I could run this first stretch at a fairly sensible pace. I’m not sure everyone behind me would agree though. To be fair to 170 though, once she got to the road she sped off into the distance, leaving the plodders behind.

There was still no rain, and it felt really quite hot & humid. Not, perhaps, quite the Sahara, but certainly not far off the MdS. I got chatting to Ian, a guy I’d met when parking my car, and trotted on in good company for the next few miles.

I got to the first aid station at mile 6, and simply ran through it. There were two (2!) people taking numbers outside and once I’d been tagged it seemed rude to stop, so on I went! I was a little surprised at the amount of people that disappeared inside the hall, not really understanding why, but I would get it later!

I carried on with another group, who all seemed very comfortable. A guy that had done a few Ironman triathlons (Sweden and Austria I think) and another that had done a double ironman, and had started (but DNF’d) a triple. All very impressive. Clearly I was in good company (or completely out of my depth and going too quickly!). Talking about future events, I happened to mention that I’d entered the Thames Ring 250 in 2015. “I’ve entered that” says the double ironman next to me, which is a hell of a coincidence, as there are only about 14 entrants so far (according to Facebook) and I’ve found one running next to me. The guy about 5 paces ahead slows and turns, and says “So have I”….and it turns out that three of us happen to be running along the same patch at the same time. Bizarre. So, Marcus Shepherd and Glyn Rayman, I look forward to running with you next June, and I hope we all finish in one piece…although I doubt it.

We’d already seen the leaders coming towards us looking very focused, and really ‘racing’ as they were all surprisingly close together. As we got nearer the 12.5 mile turn-around point, Paul Ali (and his hat) came steaming towards us at the head of a very strong sub-20 hour train. They must have been about 2-3 miles ahead at that stage so were moving quick!  I saw Paul a few times over the day, and each time he looked awesomly strong (so did his hat).

The 12.5 mile aid station was at the end of a long curving field, that (perhaps it’s just me) could have been cut across to save considerable time, but I’m pleased to say that no-one did. (I hope I’m not the only person that thought of that.)

It was lovely running in lovely surroundings…not sure about the sky though.

The aid station passed in a bit of a blur, and I was pretty much in & out quickly, walking back over the damn curving field while eating a banana that I’d thoughtfully brought with me. As I went along, lots of people were overtaking me & running ahead (including the Thames Ring 250 guys) but I was feeling quite good, enjoying the scenery, and it was probably at that point I thought I wasn’t going to push too hard today, but just enjoy the run.

I ran all the way back to the 18 miles by myself, just getting into the groove and getting my head into the right place for the next 20ish hours. I also spent an inordinate amount of time leapfrogging a girl (not literally) that had the same rucksack as me (we’ll call her ‘raidlight girl’) as I never spoke to her, and never got her race number, but we swapped places numerous times over the next 10-12 hours.

At 18 miles, I got to the aid station (the same one as at 6m) and here I WAS HIT BY THE FIRST REVELATION OF THE WHOLE RUN. I wandered inside the hall to get my water bottle filled…and was met by a cheery soul who said “Do you want your water bottle filled?” “Yes” I said, thinking that was very helpful of him, and how did he know? And then I spied the food…I’ve got to tell you, it was a children’s party of a buffet…there was finger food, cocktail sausages, I think (but I may have been hallucinating) a silver-foil covered round thing with cheese & pineapple on sticks, even full-fat coke (rather than cheap Tesco rubbish that has nowhere as much sugar, caffeine & E-numbers). I looked around for a clown and some balloon animals, thinking I’d crashed some other function in the hall, but then I was given my water bottle back so off I went.

 As I ran off, I reflected that I hadn’t just visited the best aid station I’d ever come across, but perhaps a banquet that had been set out for some Olympians (or something). I’ve clearly been doing the wrong events for the last few years, as I’m used to a gel & a plastic cup of lukewarm water. This was something else entirely. This was proper motivation to get to the next one!

Over the next 7 miles, I plodded away gamely, taking it all at a steady pace, becoming slightly aware of a bit of a pain in my ankle, but not getting too fussed about it. I was caught back up by number 170, just as we got to the slippery slidey mud stretch (rather amusingly) so I slowly stamped my way through the quagmire while she slipped & slid around the edges. All good filthy fun.

Before I knew it I was back to the HQ at mile 25. It had taken me 4 hours 31 mins for the first leg, and I was sitting in 68^th place (so the live tracking told everyone except me). In the hall I was again offered a positive banquet of buffet bits, and hot stuff too, but I had a plastic bag of lovely stuff in my drop bag which I was re-united with, so pulled some Smash (powered potato stuff made by aliens) out of this, got it in a cup with some water, and set off, stirring it as if it would make it taste better. When I did GUCR I think I managed 7 portions of it (every 6 miles) before getting sick of it. Today I managed about one spoonful before regretting I had ever considered the bland slimy carb-loaded mush for a meal. I forced it down (even the un-dissolved powdery bits) but it was grim. I washed it down with lots of water, pepperami, anything to take the taste away.

By now I was on the Ridgeway, a different trail to the first 25 miles, and perhaps given away by the name, it was a hilly bugger. If I wasn’t going up a hill, I was getting ready to go up a hill. I never actually seemed to go down. It was still quite hot and humid, but pleasant enough. I was still leapfrogging raidlight girl for the first few miles of this leg. The aid station at mile 32 was good (but no children’s party in sight unfortunately) and a particularly cheerful ambulance (with crew) were just outside it, with the door open invitingly. It looked very comfy inside.

I plodded on, with the leaders zooming towards me at about 32 miles. They were all very polite and said hello as they scorched the earth with their pace. I said “Well done” and thought that I hoped they didn’t accidentally trip and hurt themselves, allowing me 4 hours to catch them up.

Smooth cowpat…waiting like a landmine!

There was, again, some amazing scenery on this stretch (about mile 32 to 37) with lovely trails going through forests and even a golf course that was particularly adrenalin-fuelled as I tried to time my dashes across the various fairways with the golfers not hitting a ball at me. Jolly exciting.  Lots of cowpats too, lying in wait for the unsuspecting runner…good job it wasn’t dark at this stage!

Who’d have thought you could walk and poo at the same time….or perhaps it’s a message!

Some of the hills as I approached the 37 mile aid-station turnaround were steep, and although I was running down the hills (and walking up) it was energy sapping. However, the aid station, (naturally, at the top of a hill) was decked out in a Halloween theme, and was well stocked. I don’t know how many aid stations you’ve been to that have stuffed olives as part of their menu, but this was a first for me….and I’m particularly partial to stuffed olives. I‘m not convinced they added a great deal to my energy stores, but they taste better than gels (or Smash, thank god). So, a nibble on some snacks, and I walked back down the hill pulling my first ravioli meal out of my pack. Now, there may be some Neanderthals out there that don’t get the taste sensation of eating cold ravioli out of a plastic bag…but I’m not one of them. It was cold but slightly spicy, with just a hint of juniper, mahogany and penge – and it hit the spot.

 As I was plodding back towards 40 miles, I was seeing a lot of runners coming towards me, looking very tired and as it was getting darker and we weren’t halfway yet, I did start to wonder how many of them would make it to the end. However, that is probably exactly what people that saw me on their return leg thought about me…it’s all relative I guess.

…just getting dark.

 I got my head torch & shoulder torch out at about 6.20pm,  it was just getting dark enough that the forest trails with their exposed roots were getting hazardous. My shoulder torch is actually a bike light that sits on my shoulder bathing the surroundings with ambient light everywhere, which is really useful. Even better, I can pretend to be the baddie from Predator, who has a targeting laser-thingy that comes out of his shoulder on command. Or maybe that’s just me.

All the way back to the HQ at 50 miles, which took a while as I was mainly marching by now. I can generally march at a pace better than 15 m/m which although hard work, is less exhausting than running for a bit and then walking slowly for a bit. I love running/marching in the dark, although some of the forresty bits did freak me out a bit with shadows jumping out at me and then disappearing.

 Back at HQ, I changed my shoes and socks. Despite being very muddy, I was chuffed that my new waterproof socks did actually keep my feet free from the outside water, and just a thin base layer sock inside them to soak up the trapped sweat. In fact I changed the base layer sock only once and kept the same waterproof socks on for the whole 100 miles which worked well. I had a couple of sore spots on my feet, but nothing serious, and the rest of my body was holding up well (considering). I’d got to 50 miles in 10 hours 22 mins, so it was about 8.30pm, which is about right for me, and I would find out later that that was in 68^th position. I was impressed by how many spectators there were in the HQ, and again the atmosphere was quite lively, with lots of chatter. I was actually quite glad it was just me on my own, as I didn’t have to be polite an talk to people that had waited for hours for me….I could just go when I was ready. And I did.

A long long downhill though a lovely big field….magic.

As I walked away from HQ I had another bag of ravioli (yum yum) with a load of ibuprofen and paracetamol. This was probably the last time my stomach felt OK, as for the rest of the run I was feeling vaguely ‘not right’ but couldn’t work out why not. Maybe a bad ravioli or something.

As I was starting the third leg from 50 miles, the leader came galloping towards me, having finished 75 miles. This means he’d done 75 miles in about 10.5 hours….just amazing. And he was running really normally and bloody quickly. Wow. In fact, all the guys that were ahead of me and hence running towards me looked in good spirits, and took the time to say something as they went past, which was really nice. The out-and-back spurs gave a constant flow of people going in one direction or another which meant you never really felt ‘alone’ on the trail – a really good touch.

Anyway, 50 miles to 62.5 was Ridgeway again, which means uphill. And that’s all I remember really.  ‘Nuff said.

As pacers were allowed to join at 50 miles, there were a lot of runners in twos now, and it was easy to tell the pacers as they overtook me or I came up behind them – 1. They were running with some form and the person next to them was flopping along like a dead body – 2. The pacer had clean calf’s whereas the person next to them was covered in mud below the knee. I have a vivid memory of a couple (him pacing; her flopping like a dead body) overtaking me up a hill (it was all bloody hill) and then slowing, and then simply walking up the rest of the hill with their arms around each other like the were out on the town for the evening. I did think about screaming that he wasn’t allowed to push her up the hill like that, but then got caught up in the moment of true love and wanted to get a violin and serenade them.

….unsettled sky.

Somewhere around here I did my biggest navigation error, following the bloke ahead instead of turning right to follow a road round. I was a couple of hundred yards onto the new path when I became aware of a few guys shouting behind me, and realised they were telling me I’d gone wrong. The guy ahead of me was a fair distance ahead and I could see from his head torch that he was moving quite fast. The only reason for telling you this is because it gave me a chance to us my (compulsory kit) whistle that I’d bought specially off eBay (the best £1.99 of my life). In the dark cold night, it sounded very very loud, and got his attention easily, as well as most of the surrounding 200 miles. That was the adrenaline-fuelled exciting car-chase part of the night – blowing my whistle loudly. However, thanks to those guys that corrected the two of us, no idea who you are, but it’s much appreciated.

My stomach was still feeling odd, and I was feeling very thirty but didn’t want to put any more pressure on my stomach by filling it up with liquid. I resorted to sherbet lemons to stop me feeling so thirsty, and also to give me a bit of a sugar push, which worked really well. Sherbet lemons really are the king of sweets. They are just naturally happy things to have in your mouth.

The aid station at 62.5 miles was a rave in the middle of nowhere. Flashing xmas lights, dancing, glo-sticks leading like a runway up to the tent, buffet, and I seem to remember hearing the Prodigy on the stereo. There seemed to be quite a few people sitting here, but I just grabbed my first coffee of the night (ah, bless you caffeine, my good friend), filled my water bottle and set off. I’d intended to eat at this stage, but decided to give it a miss as I wasn’t sure what the consequence would be, however this did mean I was carrying around about 2 tins of ravioli with me everywhere which was becoming heavy as I wasn’t eating it.

Now, logic says that if you’ve just marched 12.5 miles uphill, in the pitch dark, then the next 12.5 miles should be downhill. The course profile shows it should be downhill. I’d decided I would run all the downhill parts, and march the rest, but was slightly confused to find it was all uphill again…or at least that’s what it felt like. If you haven’t guessed I’m not a great fan of hills (or running) so I was starting to get a bit cross when I absolutely could not find the downhills relating to the tough uphills I’d just gone up.

As I marched the last mile into HQ at 75 miles I forced down a bag of ravioli. It was actually still quite tasty, but I was very conscious of the likely effect on my now-rolling stomach. However, it was unrealistic to think I could simply not bother with fuelling, so it was a calculated risk to see if it was going to stay down. And it did, for now.

me, in a field

 I got back to HQ at 75 miles at about 3am, I found out later I was in 51^st place, probably due to my consistent pace (slow and then slower) and not really stopping at aid stations other than a water refill. Now it was time for some maths….I had 7 hours to do the last 25 miles to finish under 24 hours. If I maintained 15 m/m then I would be going at 4 mph, which would mean each 12.5 mile leg should be about 3 hours 7 mins, giving me 6 hours 15 mins for the 25 miles. Add in 20 mins for eating, weeing, getting lost etc, I would still be less than 24 hours. Sounds good

The winner actually finished while I was at the aid station, an awesome 15 hours for 100 miles.  Amazing.  And they didn’t bring him in on a stretcher either.

While I was at HQ, I jettisoned most of the food I was carrying, filled up with sherbet lemons, picked up another coffee and got on my way. I liked coming out of the HQ each time and having to ask which way to go, it was like a mystery tour. I’d been told the last leg was all flat (being the Thames Path) so I was looking forward to a nice meander along the river, watching dawn come up over the horizon, hopefully a bit of wildlife (there had been surprisingly little so far).

About a mile in, and I was in trouble. I’d finished about half of the coffee, and thrown the rest away as my stomach wasn’t having any of it. I was leaning on the fence at the side of the path, retching, telling myself that if I was sick I would only have to eat another load of food, and that it would be much more sensible to keep it all in. I was retching really strongly, walking about 10 steps and then leaning on the ‘sick-fence’ again for my stomach to try to empty itself again. This was my first experience of trying to be sick at a run, and it wasn’t pleasant. I felt lucky that at least there was no-one going past me at this stage as it wasn’t pretty. However, like all bad things, it passed, I kept my food down, and I started to feel better reasonably quickly. Ho hum, these things happen.

Did I say it was going to be flat for this leg? Rubbish. The Thames Path is the hilliest ‘flat’ trail I’ve ever run on. There was a hill in the first few miles that was so steep it had steps for gods’ sake. You can perhaps tell that I’d run out of patience with sodding hills, especially trying to maintain 15 m/m up them which was hard work, and told myself that my next run would be so flat I would need a spirit level to measure the hills.

The first aid station came really quickly, about mile 4 of the 12.5 I think, which was a bit of a shock (and a bit of a disappointment when I realised I hadn’t broken my own land-speed record for travelling 6 miles) but this was more than made up for by being confronted with one of the volunteers in full 70’s gear….afro, open shirt and medallion…..asking me if I was alright, at 4am, in some village hall somewhere in Oxfordshire. Clearly the ibuprofen and paracetamol were all kicking in at once, and I was hallucinating, but nevertheless it certainly cheered me up.

It was after this aid station that I went wrong again, missing a very sharp left turn and carrying on straight for 5 mins, but in my defence three others did the same and I still missed it when my Garmin told me I’d gone off course…it shows how tired we all were that we did not see the markings (on that way back, when it was light, they were clear to see). Anyway, about 5 of us got back on track, and pushed on.

It felt like a long slog to the 12.5 mile turnaround. The route markings weren’t great, but it was dark, I was tired, and we were all spread out so there wasn’t a nice runner up ahead showing me the way. With hindsight, this was the leg to have recce’d as it was definitely the hardest to find your way. I remember going through part of a housing estate that didn’t see to have any marking at all, but coming back through in the light I could see there were a few….perhaps everyone else knew the way, or I was just tired / emotional / pissed off.

I got chatting to a guy in a Buff top over the last few miles before the turnaround, which passed the time well. He was telling me he’d gone wrong by 30 minutes on an earlier leg, so was having to push to catch up the time. I was telling him how much I disliked bloody hills (he then said how much he liked hills, and that was why he’d chosen this run….bastard).

Anyway, we plodded on to the turnaround at 87.5 miles. Now, let me ask you a question….what would you not like to see at the 87.5 mile checkpoint? Is the answer 1. A clock saying it’s later than you expected, or 2. A flight of stairs at least 20 steps high? Answer – I got both. Who’s idea it was to put the checkpoint on the first floor of a building is a sadistic shit. I hope they put a camera recording all these poor runners stretching their legs for the first time in hours to go up a flight of stairs as it would be a sure fire hit on ‘You’ve Been Framed’ and they could put the £250 price towards a Stanna stair-lift. Once I’d navigated the stairs, I was confronted by a nicely placed clock on the table telling me it was 6.20 am. It should have been about 6.10am or earlier….not good. No time to sit (a lot of people sitting down again, which I found very odd so near the end), but grabbed a coffee and got back down those comedy steps.

Marching back to the finish, I was swiftly overtaken by the guy in the Buff top, running well. I was maintaining my 15 m/m pace fairly well, to achieve the 24 hours, and overtook a few guys limping hard, including one guy who asked me if it was bad to be peeing blood (oh dear). I felt a bit of pressure to keep moving quickly for this last 12.5 miles, and really was just keen to get to the finish. Quite a lot of runners overtook me which was really impressive, as there was no way I could get up any pace by then.

The 4 mile aid station came and went in a blur, and then back to the path for the last few miles. There were a few couples out walking dogs as it was quite a nice morning, but they were all very polite, even though they were clearly bemused at what I looked like. I kept checking behind me (as you do) to see if there was a crowd of runners catching me up, but the last few miles were all quiet.

A morning jogger (not a runner, a jogger – see what I did there?) told me “Well done, only 1.4m miles to go” when I actually had 2 miles to go…I don’t know if she was trying to help or took pleasure in crushing the spirit of tired runners but I hope to meet her in a dark alley in a future life.

Last corner off the path, turning right at the bridge, it was a lovely feeling to know I’d done the 24 hours. I’d purposely slowed down for the last few hundred yards to stay behind a guy that was limping really badly, and I remembered my experience of GUCR when I was almost overtaken by 2 guys with 0.5 miles to go (read my uninteresting GUCR race report to find out what happened).

A respectable crowd of people clapped us into the finish, which was lovely, and my finish time was recorded as 23 hours 42 mins. I’d finished in 43^rd place (out of about 150 starters and 94 finishers, improving from 68^th place at mile 50, which I was surprised at.)

Into HQ, belt buckle & T-shirt and a hand-shake (which always means a lot to me), and a very efficient bunch of volunteers fussed around me getting me my drop bag. As always, I know that to sit down now only brings the pain on quicker, so I was up and out quickly, dragging my sodding heavy dropbag (filled with uneaten ravioli, of course) to the car. Next time I judge a guy with a neat little wheeled suitcase as a drop bag I will apologise to him.

I got to the car, planning on sleeping for a few hours before the long drive back, but after 10 minutes of lying there with my eyes shut it clearly wasn’t going to happen, so I got on the move, chugging coffee at every services, eating Ginsters steak slices & Doritos, and singing at the top of my voice to the Frozen soundtrack (“Elsa, can we build a snowman etc”). Although I made it back safely, I would absolutely echo the race organisers when they say don’t drive home straight after finishing, but get some sleep (while your wife drives home).

1pm. Shower, sofa, Stella, yet more Doritos. Job done.

The Buckle.

So, what a cracking race! I can’t complement Centurion enough on their volunteers, organisation, route markings, kid’s party-style buffets at aid stations and general atmosphere of fun & adventure. Clearly there are some fantastic runners that take it very seriously and do amazing times, and they are well catered for, but for the ‘back-of-the-pack’ runners like me the event was just right. I hope the runners that finished after me felt similarly looked after (i.e. the aid stations still had stuffed olives left for them). 

picturesque scenery!

I loved the trail running; it has some much more personality and interest than pavements. It’s just a shame about the hills.

I’m still not sure why my stomach protested as much as it did. I ate absolutely tons of food during GUCR, but didn’t manage half the quantity in this race, but perhaps it just wasn’t the day for eating. I learned that sherbet lemons are a suitable food substitute if all else fails.

And lastly, my recovery? Well, I felt unbelievably stiff for the first few days, especially in my inner thighs, and the experience of going back to work on Monday morning was rubbish. My rightful place was on the sofa, and there I was having to explain to people why I was walking like John Wayne (and so, so slowly). As usual, a lot of people said “100 miles, I couldn’t do that!” or “You must be mad”, and as usual, I think to myself that if they only knew how the body & mind feels after completing a proper testing challenge, they would be out there with me.

I’m probably not going to run for a while now, I will fill my time with beer & Doritos and family time, but the Thames Ring 250 next June is beckoning…that’s going to be a monster.

…the food of kings! I salute you!

Written by Shawn Timmons - http://gonerunningshawn.blogspot.fr

Picture Courtesy of Sunday Odesanya L-R Shawn Timmons Tremayne Dill Cowdry Luke Ashton and Andy Nuttall.

We arrived at HQ which was in the Village Hall at Streatly, a different venue than last year. This gave more room and enabled runners crew to be at hand once they had returned from each of the 4 legs of the course. It was good to see Tremayne Dill Cowdry and Andy Nutall. We had our usual picture taken. I also caught up with friend Ian Shelly. Lousie Ayling, another friend had made some of her crack cake which I took delivery of. It's a well sought after piece of cake in the Ultra world! The time seemed to go really quick. I had one last quick kit check! James gave the race brief and then we all walked to The Morell Rooms, last years venue which served as HQ. It felt warm as we waited to start. The usual guys were up at the front, me and Luke wished each other good luck.

Picture Courtesy of Sunday Odesanya Luke Ashton and Shawn Timmons Start line Winter 100[]

Then at 10am the horn sounded and we set off, I heard someone shout "good luck Shawn". I think it was the lovely Jacqui Byrne another BOSH lady and ultra runner.  I had no real plan for the race, just to finish.  But I had hopes of just coming in under 24 hours.  However as soon as we hit the mud on the first leg I knew this could be a long day. This first check point was 6.5 miles in. There were a few fields and a path along the Thames as we made our way to Wallingford. There was comfort in knowing what was coming up ahead on the course.  I could see runners up ahead. I could feel my pace was slower. I was not overly concerned. I thought this would  benefit me later on in the race. My stomach started to feel a little gippy. I had my large bowel removed in 2007 and I had a bowel reconstruction out of my small intestine. It has its complications and one of them is I need the loo a lot. So I like the fact there are toilets at a lot of the aid stations on this race. 

A quick pit stop at Wallingford and off over a bridge and we are soon into more fields and mud! There was some more road work here and then more fields and lovely mud. Up to Little Wittenham CP2 a quick turn around and heading back the same way. There had been a change to this section of the route this year which added more road. Benson Lock was closed for works hence the detour.  As I was coming back on this leg I started to tire of the mud, the slipping about and the slower pace. I had to keep my eyes on the trail all the time. I felt tired already. I wanted to enjoy today and not get despondent which happened on North Downs Way 100 this year which had me dropping at 76 miles - just because I had listened to my head. There was nothing wrong with me!

Picture Courtsey Of Stuart March.

 So it was at this point I lowered my expectations, a sub 24 would not possibly be on the cards today. This made things easier for me to just keeping going and remain positive. I had started to eat as I started the race and this was making a real difference. It was good to get this leg over with. It was a real gutty one. I got back into Streatly and HQ.  It was good to see Sunday and John Fitzgerald waiting outside. I find some aid stations are time voids ( The Comfy Ones) and I manged to waste 27 minutes here. I could not tell you what I did. But I am a bit of faffer!! 

Picture courtesy of Sunday Odesanya. Off on second leg.

I headed out on to the second leg going towards North Stoke.This was literally across the road from HQ.  I was with Ian at this point chatting and catching up. It was good to have a bit of company. I tend to like my own company when running. I just like to focus on the task ahead and I am not a great one for small talk. This was also to be my second attempt at running a solo 100 miles without a pacer in the later stages. Northstoke was the next stop 4 miles away. We arrived at Northstoke mile 29 in 49mins. My time so far was 5hr 35mins. Ian headed off as I needed another loo break. It was good to see Nick Jones a friend at this aid station. We had a quick chat and I headed off again. Now off to Sywncombe. 

North Stoke Aid Station.

Getting there was some road and then fields along the Thames, after a couple of miles we hit the A4310 and run along it for a bit before going onto the undulating Grims Ditch.

 I like this bit of the route. Lots of tree and narrow trail. Lots of small ups and downs. I saw the leaders pass then Tremayne came running past grinning and shouting encouragement. He looked like he was really enjoying himself. A bit later I met up with Luke. I was expecting to see him sooner. But he soon let me know he was not having a good race today.  He is carrying an injury and his head is not in it. He lets me know he may drop at 75 and write today off as a training run. I wish him well and carry on. I hope Luke gets past it as he carries on the race.  As I get to Nuffield I go off course for 10 minutes and end up on Nuffield Golf Course - map and compass out. I have not gone too far, so I back track and cross a main road and am soon on my way to Swyncombe  and aid station 6 at 37.5 miles.

Arriving at Swyncombe, I said hello to Alma another BOSH lady and regular volunteer at Centurion events. I had something to eat and sat for a while and left with Louise who ran off ahead. She looked like she was having a good run, I drank a coffee on the move and caught up with Louise after some time. We were running together with head torches on. I was enjoying this part of the route with the ups and downs and darkness I was feeling good. I love the night running, I get a real feeling of freedom and a connection to the earth and universe. Louise soon ran off ahead as I stopped for another loo break.  There were now more people on this part of the course. I soon found myself back at Northstoke and talking to Nick. He was relieved to see me looking better and sounding better on the return leg. He got me a bag of Haribos which I enjoyed over the rest of the race. I ate and drank again and headed off feeling good knowing it was 4 miles to HQ. 

Getting back at HQ I said hello to Jacqui who was most helpful and got everything I needed. I wasted some time here, but headed out onto the third leg feeling good. I was confident with the course at this point and knew what was coming. After a bit of road work out of Streatly you start on a bridleway. I put some music on. Not one to normally do this as music can do my head in when running. Coming up a hill I power hiked as best I could making my way to Bury Down and the most exposed part of the course. As I was making my way along Blewbury down I passed Luke and called to him. Like me he had his head phones in. We spoke for some time. He was still not having a good race mentally. He felt that his race was over. I wished him well and hoped it would shift. I felt sad for Luke as I headed off. It's hard to drop. But I also admired him for having got so far. I know what it's like to run when your head is on you. It's not easy. Later on Luke was kind enough to text me and say he had dropped but also though wished me well and to stay strong.

The trip up to Bury Down was straightforward. I had a cup of soup and a slice of bread. It was a little cold but not like last year. I then headed up to Chain Hill. This part of the course is a real pig. And this may have been where I turned my ankle and done some ligament damage. It's technical in the sense there is loads of trodden gully's from horses and tractors. It is just hard work jumping about and trying to run  it. It was not as windy as last year and I was feeling really good still. I was keeping an eye out for a monument on my left as I knew once there the next aid station was coming up. I saw the monument and then a sight that made me smile. A mobile disco that was the aid station with lights and music. I was greeted with a 'come on' and a very warm welcome. It lifted my spirits. I sat and drank a coffee, and spoke to a guy who had to 
drop. 

I was soon off again and once past Bury Down aid station I was hit with the same thing as last year at this point of the race. Fatigue! I just had this overwhelming desire to lay down and sleep. My mind was just saying 5 minutes. I had some coffee beans which I ate. And then it started to rain. It was not heavy, but if it kept up I could end up getting cold and wet. So I pulled out my minimus smock and pants and chucked them on. I was very warm and snug and the wind and rain did not get a look in. I fought with fatigue for the next hour. Even the soft wet cross looked like a big soft bed. So inviting. I sat a couple times, but then shook myself. This was the start of a slippery slope if I gave in. So I whacked in the headphones and kept going. Running when I could and walking and hiking at other times. It was at this point I really noticed a pain in my right ankle. It was not too bad and I made a mental note to check once back at HQ.

How my ankle looked at the end. I had turned and caused some ligament damage.

Getting back onto the road was good, I started to run at an easy pace. But once I saw a sign saying 2 miles to Streatly I was hit with a high and started to run at a quicker pace, I was really enjoying myself and sped into HQ sweating. This was my shortest stop for 20 minutes. I changed my socks and I do not remember looking at my ankle. But in hindsight it was the compression socks that were holding my ankle in check. I put on bigger trainers as my toes had started to butt in the others. I put a lightweight jacket on and took some food to go. Jacqui Bryne was really helpful here again and got me what I needed. Earlier she had brought me some avocado and cut it up for me. We walked out of the aid station. I was buzzing.

Leg four, I knew what was coming which in a way made it easier. The course underfoot at times is very unforgiving. From towpath to compacted trail makes it hard going after 75miles of feet pounding. Coupled with an ankle that kept twitching with pain every so often. I made my way to Withchurch, this part of the course is not too bad, through some fields into some woods and up a slight incline then a tarmac road I soon found myself at Whitchurch. I was feeling good and knew I would be finishing. I just want it to be quicker than last year, I was still running at points, but I am sure I was not running as good as I thought I was. Through more fields and I bumped into Andy Nutall heading back, it gave me a lift to see him and know he was going to make a sub 24. I counted the fields as I went through them so I could break it down on the way back. I then saw Katherine Ganly a GrandSlam lady heading back and looking well fresh. It was great to see her and know she was going to finish a sub 24 also. I headed through a housing estate before getting back on the Thames Path making my way to Reading and the Wokingham Waterside Center. I turned 47 here on TP100 earlier in the year. My feet were hurting as was my ankle and I am sure I was running a bit like a chimp at times to ease the pain.

Getting to Reading was good, a nice Aid Station with lovely ladies who put on a great spread. Brigitte and Lisa and crew thank you. I had some soup and got a lollipop to suck on for the return Journey.

Wokingham Waterside center. The end of the Line.

 I head off feeling good and ran and walked. The pain was getting worse in my ankle, so I sat and I ended up taking a paracetamol. Not something I do is take painkillers on a race. But I did this time. It took the edge off. I caught up with Ian and his pacer Wayne. Ian's feet were really painful and he was reduced to walking. I carried on and was soon into Whitchucrh again with its 70's disco theme. I am really grateful to all of the volunteers for the hugs, smiles and care I got on this race, it was fantastic. With 4 miles to go I did not stay long. I just wanted to get back and beat last years time which I was on target to. Also my partner Donna would be waiting and I just wanted a hug. The last 4 miles I had a spring in my step.  My legs had coped well and I made good time. I was buzzing. I had ran my first 100 miles on my own and had remained positive and strong. The last mile as always I found enough energy to put on a good show and run. It felt great coming up to HQ and seeing Donna and others, the Centurion gang outside to see me in.  Thank you to everyone who helped and made this event possible but also very special for a lot of people. I beat last years time by 1hr and 11 minutes.

Written by Jon Fielden - http://www.jonfielden.com

Written by Paul Ali - http://ultraavon.com

Finally, that’s my race season over for 2012. I just have a silly target of 3,000 miles to complete (on 2,738 after the Winter 100) and that’s me done for the year.