Written by Jess Gray - http://tinkstrails.co.uk

In the pitch black with the rain and wind hitting me sideways I found myself crouched down in the wet grass.  I was somewhere along the ancient Ridgeway trail approximately 68 miles into the race. Unable to put one foot in front of the other, I had come to a standstill.  Around me it was eerily silent but in my head a thunderous battle was raging; a battle between giving up or pushing on.  The words in my head were so loud, they were almost deafening ‘Maybe I just can’t run 100 miles….’

This was to be my third attempt at running 100 miles.  It wasn’t originally a race I had planned but I’d had to withdraw at mile 60 mile of South Downs Way 100 in June with an on-going knee injury.  This was such a disappointment as up until that point of the race I felt really strong and had been running well.  Once I had finished wallowing in self-pity, Coach Fifty and I decided that I needed to put these demons to bed, so I put my name on the waiting-list for the Autumn 100.

Finding myself standing on the start line, grinning for photographs with two very speedy ladies; Cat Simpson and Susie Chesher, I reminded myself that there was only one goal today; placings, times, course records were all irrelevant.  It had been drilled into me by Coach Fifty from the moment we knew I’d made it off the wait-list….I just had to finish.  We both knew that I would want to be competitive, I don’t really know how to race any other way, but we also knew that whatever happened out there, excluding a limb falling off, I was to finish.

Relaxed at the start with Susie Chesher (L) and Cat Simpson (R) photo: Stuart March

This style of race was also going to be a completely new experience for me as it is made up of series of four different 25 mile out and back legs which start and finish in the village of Goring on Thames.

Leg 1: Goring to Little Wittenham and return

A few runners raced off as the starting claxon sounded, my urge to chase them was almost uncontrollable but somehow I reined it in.  I had been warned that this section was pretty flat so it was crucial I didn’t get carried away with the pace otherwise I may end up paying for it later on.  The plan was to settle into a pace which I hoped would get me back to Goring close to 3 hours 30 minutes.

Full of smiles near Benson  Photo: Stuart March

I ran with a few guys but there wasn’t much chat going on until we saw the lead runner Mark Denby, who was already heading back to Goring before we’d even got anywhere near the turnaround point.  There were mumbles of amazement and awe at his speed from everyone and we briefly chatted about how long he could keep going at that pace.

At the turnaround point I filled up my water bottle and grabbed a gel.  With horrible sweaty hands I fought to open the slippery packet, so for the next mile or so I was distracted with gel juggling whilst shouting support and encouragement to fellow runners and friends heading towards the turnaround.  When I had finally managed to ingest the gel and focus again on running I realised I had sped up but it still felt comfortable so I tried not to worry.

I checked in back at Goring in 3 hours 18 minutes, slightly ahead of schedule but this leg is actually only 24 miles, so wasn’t too far off target and now I was looking forward to heading out on the undulating Ridgeway.

Leg 2: Goring to Swyncombe Farm and return

I grabbed a full water bottle and banana from Team Gray at the CP and raced back out onto the course.  As I opened my banana I chastised myself for not remembering to ask Thea how she had done in her own race. That morning Team Gray had dropped me at the start before driving to Oxford so Thea could compete in her first Cross Country race for Wycombe Phoenix before coming back to crew for me.  I was so upset at this that I momentarily thought about running back to apologise, so as I looked back over my shoulder I was very much surprised to see Susie Chesher behind me.

As she caught up, bouncing along, she told me she’d got lost leaving Goring, ending up in someone’s front garden.  She looked fresh, comfortable and full of running.  She smiled as she told me we were on pace for the ladies’ course record.  I felt excited for her, I had a feeling she might go on to smash it today and I was very happy to let her go.  In my head the only thing that mattered today was to finish.  As the gap between us started to open up I wasn’t going to try and stay with her, I even had to tell her to stop holding gates open for me and get on with running her race!

My favourite part of this leg is the undulating narrow path up and along Grim’s Ditch.  the twisting path is riddled with hidden tree roots, so it takes a lot of concentration to stay upright.  Normally I love skipping along here from side to side, but today, disappointingly, it just felt like hard work.

On the Ridgeway     photo: Stuart March

At the turnaround point at Swyncombe Farm I grabbed a few segments of satsuma before heading back to Goring.  On the return section I felt much stronger, I was enjoying the race again and the fun of the tricky trail.  I still felt positive I was going to finish, although it had dawned on me that I was feeling nowhere near as comfortable as I had felt at the SDW100 in June.

Maybe something to do with this was arriving back at Goring in 7 hours and 8 minutes, a massive 50-mile personal best for me and certainly not planned!  I tried to eat some fruit and take in some calories by swigging chocolate milk, but I was really struggling, there was nothing that could tempt my appetite.

I left the aid station, walking over the bridge trying to chew and swallow yet another satsuma, but I tossed it aside almost gagging on the texture before breaking back into a steady run.

Leg 3: Goring to Chain Hill and return

I’m very familiar with this leg of the course having raced the Ridgeway Challenge in 2015 and it is undoubtedly tough.  The trail climbs very gradually all the way to the turnaround point and with a mix of chalk, stony trail and grassy field it really is tough on the legs and lungs.

At this point the rain had started and the daylight was deteriorating rapidly.  I didn’t want to stop to get my head torch out, so I made myself a little game.  I challenged myself to beat the dark by pushing hard to get to the 58-mile aid station at Bury Down before it was pitch black when only then would I stop to get my head torch on.

Near Swyncombe photo: Stuart March

I just about managed it, I pulled out my head torch and my crew gave me my Ashmei Gilet to wear as I was feeling too warm for a full waterproof jacket, but the temperature was dropping.  At this stage I was beginning to struggle mentally so I started to break the course down into sections, only thinking about checkpoint to checkpoint.   I knew the turnaround was only 4 miles away, so it was a case of head down, concentrate on my footing along the trail and keep pushing forwards for as long as I could.

I’d seen the race leaders heading back towards Goring, well at least I’d seen their head torches and they all appeared to be running strong.  I had a great shout out of encouragement from John Stocker which really cheered me up. At one point I did try to work out how far ahead of me they were but simple numbers were proving too difficult to process this late into the evening.

At the Chain Hill turnaround, I gulped down a cup of ice cold water and it was absolutely the best thing ever.  After sweet drinks and horrid sickly sweet gels, plain old water was amazing.  I drank three cups of water successively and started to wonder whether I was slightly dehydrated. The fabulous volunteers tried hard to tempt me with all sorts of delicious food, but nothing appealed except for a few more satsuma segments.

I was now aware of just how tired I felt, everything was starting to hurt from my shoulders to my toes and that positivity I had felt earlier in the day was starting to wane.  As one of the volunteers remarked that she could see some head torches approaching in the distance I forced myself to leave and get running, trying hard to focus on downhill fun I was about to have!

Once back at the Bury Down checkpoint the wheels were really starting to fall off.  The volunteers made me a milky coffee and Phil handed me a homemade cookie that was nearly as big as my head.  I was finding chewing really hard work, so instead broke the cookie into pieces and dunked it in the hot coffee so it was soggy and easy to swallow.  Then before I had much of a chance to resist my family chivvied my back out into the cold wet night but I was nearly broken.

Within minutes of jogging out of the CP in the pitch black with the rain and wind hitting me sideways I found myself crouched down in the wet grass.  I was somewhere along the ancient Ridgeway trail approximately 68 miles into the race. Unable to put one foot in front of the other, I had come to a standstill.  Around me it was eerily silent but in my head a thunderous battle was raging; a battle between giving up or pushing on.  The words in my head were so loud, they were almost deafening ‘Maybe I just can’t run 100 miles….’

I was so close to quitting, I had nothing left to give, I was almost done.  Suddenly I could feel this rising sense of disappointment welling up inside me.  In my head was a vivid image of the next morning waking up without that 100-mile buckle. The feeling was so powerful, I believe this turned it around for me, well that and the effects of the cookie.  Moments later I managed to claw my way out of that very dark place and much to my amazement I was running once again, firing on all cylinders.

Heading back along Goring High Street a head torch called out my name, I didn’t immediately recognise the voice, but it was my friend and fellow runner Kevin Smith who has been volunteering at Goring earlier in the day.  He had been told by Phil that I was struggling to eat and he had decided to come and give me a few stern words of advice.

Back at Goring Kev produced a packet of doughnuts, a flake and handed me a milky coffee.  Now I’d normally inhale any offering of chocolate but I put it in my pack for later as an emergency.  Team Gray helped me change my trainers from Salomon Fellraisers into a pair of La Sportiva Helios as I knew the next section was dry and flat and thought my legs might benefit from a lighter trainer.  I had fresh socks ready too but I decided against peeling off the pair that had well and truly moulded themselves to my feet over the last 75 miles.

Leg 4: Goring to Reading and return

With some food inside me and just over 25 miles left to run, I knew I had beaten those demons that had haunted me along the Ridgeway, my challenge now was to keep moving forward and avoid being overtaken by too many people.

This last leg is pretty flat, with one sharp hill and a few steps not far out of Goring. As I hiked the hill I took the opportunity to take on a gel and have a little chat with myself.  I had berated myself after my poor performance along the Ridgeway, but now I told myself that I was over the worst, this was the easy bit, I told myself that I could do this.

I had recced this section of course so I had no worries about the route, but I was slightly concerned about running in a residential area as a lone female late on a Saturday night.  However, I only had one nervy moment when I was running towards three young boys who had one dimly lit torch between them.  I tried to run as tall and confidently towards them as possible, but maybe I was slightly too confident, as I think they were more scared of me and my blinding head torch as they shouted some abuse about not being able to see who I was, however I wasn’t going to hang around to argue that’s for sure.

Somewhere on the outskirts of Reading I saw John Stocker again, he told me he had not been very well.  A few moments later I too was overcome with nausea, so I stopped to dry wretch at the side of the path.  I felt terrible, I wanted to lose my stomach contents so badly but I couldn’t force anything out so I carried on.  At this point there was slightly more walking than running and I was overtaken by a male runner as we headed towards the turnaround point pushing me into 6th place.

The legendary stairs up to the final check point weren’t actually too bad.  In the CP the volunteers proudly told me how terrible I looked, which made me laugh.  With just over 12 miles left to run, I was at the point now where I just wanted to finish, it wasn’t never going to be pretty or stylish.  I was not that happy about being over taken just before the turnaround point so I got out of there as quickly as possible for the final run for home hoping that I could hold on to my original 5th place.  As I hobbled down the stairs I saw Paul Ali just about to come up and as lovely as it was to see him, he was too close for comfort!

Just over a mile or so later I felt I was running pretty well all things considered, but then I saw Cat Simpson and her Dad running towards the turnaround point and she looked blooming amazing, so effortless.  Like so many of my other races the last section was run on pure adrenaline, pushing hard, refusing to be overtaken, there is nothing like being chased by another lady to make me take it up a gear!

The last few miles of the Thames path really dragged on.  At one point I was so convinced I only had a mile left that when I asked a runner going the other way how far it was to Goring and he’d replied ‘oh a good 2 to 3 miles’ I nearly screamed! So when the faint illumination of bridge at Goring came into view I finally allowed myself to smile.

The crowd of volunteers and supporters outside the village hall cheered as I ran through them towards the finishing table situated just inside the hall.  All I could manage was a little whoop of joy as I shouted out my number to the time-keepers for the very last time.  I stopped my watch having started it 16 hours 42 minutes earlier, finishing as 2nd lady and 5th place overall and my first thought

I am a 100-mile runner…

I am so grateful to the army of Centurion volunteers, Team Gray and my best mate Lucy and her boyfriend Robin who selflessly helped to get me to the end of this race and my sincere apologies to the guy in the toilet at the finish who had listen to me vomiting up my stomach contents in the cubicle next door!