Written by Tom Wright - http://life.tomwright.me.uk/

Tough is understatement. Bloody awful is more apt! I have been running for five years, the last three have included numerous marathons and ultras. Saturday was the first time I wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere comfortable. Beer in hand. Savouring sunshine. Why the f*** do I do this shit?

Early climb at Caerthillian Cove before the sun came out

Seriously, I was a miserable bastard for most of the 44 miles of EnduranceLife’s Classic Quarter. At mile 25 I nearly broke down in tears in front of my wife and kids as I begged to be taken home. Thankfully, Nadia saw through my mental frailty and told me to just “run through it”! 

IT being a stomach issue like nothing I have ever experienced on the trails. The full force of every downhill step was directed into my stomach and it hurt like hell. I didn’t feel like being sick but I couldn’t eat and that is what destroyed me. As the carbs expired, the pace slowed. As the pace slowed my metabolism turned to burning whatever wasteful energy it could find. By the time I reached Lands End, just shy of nine hours after setting off from the Lizard, I was a gaunt shadow of my former self. Why I had such bad stomach issues I cannot say. At first I attributed it to a dodgy ginseng Bounce Ball I consumed an hour in but so many other runners reported stomach issues so perhaps the baking sun and sultry air had a part to play. Just some dealt with it better than others. 

I did not!

Fortunately for one brief moment, the misery of the day was surpassed by the most exhilarating feeling of joy as, for the first time, my daughter stood on the finish line clapping and cheering me in. 

The excitement in my daughter’s eyes when she saw me was uplifting enough to over-shadow the suffering the south west coast path had dished out.

I really don’t feel the urge to recollect the events of the day in usual linear fashion. Despite the sunshine that beat down on us from mid morning a dark cloud hung over me. I had spent the past week reciting the course features which I know so well and mentally preparing for the challenges that would arise. In particular the long, monotonous, flat miles from Marazion to Mousehole. I don’t do flat very well and knew these could break me. I fell into the trap! It took me 2 hours 20 minutes to cover 11 miles. The same 11 miles I had run in less than ninety minutes the previous year in the relay!

Hot and sweaty! On the climb to Rinsey Head

Despite my cantankerous demeanour there were numerous positives to come from the day. I familiarised myself with several recognisable faces from the Cornish running community and am starting to feel a part of the crew and not just the crowd. Certainly helped in part by my recent decision to join Truro Running Club and, vice-chariman, Paul’s kind offer of a 4am lift from town to the Lizard for registration and briefing. A few brief words with Duncan (Oakes) who went on to finish second ahead of the West Highland Way this coming weekend, and, brief reacquaintance with Tom (Sutton) and Rick (Keefe) on the sidelines, all of whom I first met on the Plague last year. (Not entirely sure Rick recognised me from behind the zebra lens of my new Julbo Trail sunglasses). 

As we traversed the uncharacteristically dry moorland of the Lizard cliffs, Emily (Cooke) imparted some justified wisdom on the unsustainable pace set by so many runners early on. I probably should have taken heed of her advice. After all, Emily has an AoA buckle! Predictably, she eventually passed me at Penberth, six miles from the finish. Likewise, Nicky Taylor who I overtook on the climb to Lizard point just minutes from the start, passed me in Mousehole harbour thanks to her methodical pacing. These are Cornish runners with huge experience of ultra distances and it was a privilege to spend some time, if brief, running with them.

Loyd (Purvis) has a habit of appearing when I am crying out for help - like a guardian angel! He was there following my fall in the dark from Portholland cliff on last year’s Plague and as I struggled my way up Penberth harbour’s steps almost resigned to walking the last 10km of the course with little hope of meeting my target there he was sat waiting! Inspired we jogged/walked together for the next two clicks to Minack theatre and those infamous granite steps. He prepared me for the climb, belittling the status the steps probably didn’t deserve. Rightly so! The switchback steps at Trequean Zawn and Porthguarnon are far more deserving of respect. It still took a few restful moments and cursory remarks to drag myself to the top. 

The car-park of Minack was to be a turning point. One last chance to meet the family ahead of the push to the finish. Refuel on coconut water and oranges - the solids still weren’t settling. A little bit of rejuvenation and perhaps the support would spur me on to break nine hours after all. However, the girls weren’t anywhere to be seen. Realising how slow progress was over the extremely technical boulders west of Lamorna I had sent a text reading: “One hour to go. Minack x” Nadia took that to mean I was one hour from the finish and had hurried on to Lands End!

Deflated I dragged myself from the water station, refusing to tarnish year’s of pescetarianism with a few jelly babies. Loyd gave me some parting words of encouragement to reach the sub nine hour target and was gone into the distance. 

The final foot steps to the finish.

Perhaps I am being a bit hard on myself. I finished in 8:49, including a comforting hug with my family before crossing the line. I was 8th in my V40 category and 43rd overall in a larger, and far more competitive, field than every previous year. Still there is underlying frustration at the time I could have run had I not bonked so horribly.

I thought running on home soil would be an advantage. I learnt that in actual fact the close proximity of a homely sofa and cold beer make the desire to drop all the more enticing. This was most definitely the closest I have been to accepting the humbling DNF. Whatever tricks my mind threw at me I weathered the storm and the job is done!

I think my daughters are far more deserving of this medal than me having spent most of the day supporting me along the south west coast path.

Would I run the Classic Quarter again… never say never!