Written by Peter Dennett - http://www.100marathonclub.org.uk
This was an opportunity to run along part of Britain's oldest path; The Ridgeway, starting in a farm field at the edge of the village of Lewknor, just off the M40 in Oxfordshire, finishing in the village of Avebury in Wiltshire 100km later. The stones mentioned in the race name are a direct reference to the prehistoric stone circle that practically encompasses the village and which we would ‘visit' shortly before reaching the finish line just north of them.
Although ‘only' 100km, or 62 miles long, I was treating this with the same preparation of the 100 milers I've done thus far. That essentially meant ensuring I was sufficiently kitted out for the duration. So as well as my now familiar Salomon running vest I had the usually accessories, including a map, spare top, spare batteries and a head torch. The head torch was mainly just in case things didn't go as planned and I arrive at the finish in the dark.
1 - My kit for the day
My plan was to finish in 13 hours in a concerted effort to beat nightfall whereby I would churn out the first half (50km) in a steady running pace of 5 ½ hours, followed by a slog to the finish of 7 ½ hours for the second half. That based on my recent performance at SDW100 and TP100. However, the plan was subject to how my left knee would feel. For over a week it had been giving me some grief starting with some sharp pains on the Potteries marathon, though I did do a pain-free if somewhat still uncomfortable hilly 10k on the Wednesday. But the signs were all saying the knee wasn't fully fit, so this was going to be one I was more likely going to have to play by ear.
As well as running vest and accessories, I had a bag for the finish that contained a spare top and jogging pants; the sort of stuff I might need to throw on after finishing in order to keep warm especially if I don't finish before nightfall.
Getting There
Now Avebury isn't that far from me, but Lewknor is quite a bit further, but my mother offered to drive me there with a further plan of collecting me later at the finish. I would text her about an hour before arriving at Avebury to give her time to get there as obviously I wasn't expecting her to be waiting all day there. But having been to Avebury many times I can confirm that there's a rather nice informative visitor's centre there and a pub!
Anyway, the most direct route though for us to get to Lewknor was not up the M40 but up the A34 and then head east cross country along some rather twisty and undulating ‘A' roads than quite frankly felt more like ‘B' roads, near Streatley and through Wallingford. Places I was already familiar with courtesy of the Thames Path 100 (TP1000.
A bit later than planned we did get to the start with about 40 minutes to spare; however we hadn't pre-booked parking. Considering my mother was only going to stay long enough to see me off and then leave, it seemed a bit of a waste to pay the £10 that was being asked for parking. In fact that sort of charge would make most onsite airport parking cheap!
However a marshal did kindly allow her to drop me off at the car park entrance. So after gathering my gear we bid each other farewell and I headed off towards registration, which was housed in a large tent.
The Start
The tent was full of people queuing to obtain their race numbers. There were more than one queue based on surname, but it did seem ‘A to D' was the most popular, typical!
Interestingly, there was no mandatory kit check, so when I eventually got to the front of the queue and given my race number I was free to then dump my finish line bag at a truck that would transport my bag to the finish, and head off to the start line.
I had a few minutes to kill, sadly not enough to join the queues for the toilets though thankfully I wasn't desperate for them, but to take a few photos and check out the exit of the field on to a dust track that seemed rather narrow for something that would soon have 200 people bearing down on it.
2 - The start
I then headed back to the start line where I arrived just in time for the race brief. This was conducted by some guy at the front of the start line under the start lien gantry. I'm guessing he was either standing on the bonnet of a car parked on the start line or wearing stilts as he towered above everyone. I couldn't tell from where I was standing thanks to a number of the other 2000 or so participants standing in front of me.
I do know he and the car then left before the race was started. The masses then descended towards the dust track that I spied earlier and as I thought earlier, the track was indeed rather narrow and so passing was virtually impossible as too was finding your own space and pace. It was a case of sitting tight and buying your time for the first opportunity to spot a gap to overtake a slower runner and seize it. However this was without problems as it seemed there were quite a few runners with the same train as thought as me so when a small gap did develop it quickly got filled. Still, good practice I suppose for the January sales at the end of the year.
Narrow and Steep
If the track was narrow taking a right turn onto the Ridgeway proper, was even more so. In fact that was barely wide enough for one person. It was also rather bumpy; nothing in the way of hills, just uneven, but thanks to the recent dry weather it was at least firm under foot.
3 - The track at the start
This carried on for a while before things became a bit more sinister when the uneven terrain became more undulating and eventually we came across some pretty steep hills. It was no good of the organisers putting the hills amongst the woodland thinking we wouldn't notice. In fact the tree roots on the course actually made matters worse and few people ran these hillier sections; I certainly ended up joining the walking brigade. All this and we were still in the first 10km of the race. My left knee took much objective to this reminding me that it only agreed to take part in the race on the condition it would be a gently undulating one. Thus my 5 ½ hours for the first 50km was looking a bit challenging now. Still it gave me the chance to chat to my fellow runners (or should I say walkers) and a couple who had done this race last year assured me that things would get easier, well, the terrain that is.
Thanks to a mix of determination and sheer stubbornness I made it up the hills and eventually arrived at the first official pit stop of the day. My experience with aid stations on ultra races, albeit limited experience is one of finding the aid stations laden with goodies like some sort of banquet. And when I mean goodies I do mean the unhealthy stuff that the medical profession keep harking on that we should avoid. Here, though things were a bit more modest and dare I say a bit on the healthy side; courtesy of a selection of cereal bars and bananas. Bananas of course are good, but I was a bit disappointed by not see cake or God's own food; cheese and pineapple sticks. Still, the people manning the aid station were very helpful even assisting me if refilling my drink bottles, so at least that tradition still holds true. However, no time to hang about and although my left knee would probably be quite happy staying here for the rest of the day, my destiny though lay elsewhere.
Grim's Ditch to Streatley
After some more undulating sections we then found ourselves going downhill. Normally I relish these moments but the left knee wasn't so keen. In fact it only seemed contented on the flatter sections. We were now in an area known as Grim's Ditch; a long stretch of the Ridgeway, although at the time I wasn't aware of it. I only found out later by reading the race information pack that was handed out at registration. A hard-copy booklet that contained quite a bit of usefully information on the Ridgeway, but due to its size (A5) and not being waterproof, a bit impractical for runners and that it also listed some of the flora and fauna that one may encounter on the Ridgeway I'm guessing more geared towards walkers.
Eventually we took a left turn along some gravel track to eventually find ourselves running pretty much alongside the River Thames. After a quick stop at the second aid station on the route, we continued alongside the Thames but amongst grassland. Someone had thoughtfully cut some of the long grass present prior to the race, but even so it was hard work, partly because there were a few lumpy bits that were potential ankle breakers if you stepped into them wrong. I made a point of going cautiously slow to avoid them or at least the ones I could see, which wasn't easy as the some of the cut grass covered them like traps.
The other reason why it felt hard was it reminded me of those endless and rather demoralising meadows in the latter stages of the TP100. My arrival in Goring couldn't come soon enough and I was mighty relieved to cross the bridge over the Thames between Goring and Streatley. This bit seemed both strangely familiar and unfamiliar. I had crossed the very same bridge in the TP100, but then it was in the middle of the night. I guess there can't be too many bridges that host two famous walkways.
Busy Aid Station
My reminiscing though soon stopped when the route when decidedly up out of Streatley. It would appear the grasslands before Goring had taken their toll on my legs as they felt quite heavy and tired. So I opted to walk, and it seemed most people had opted for the same tactic. Things did start to flatten out and as we were now on a road and I felt with my road running background I was duty bound to run it. Legs weren't overly keen to start with but they eventually accepted it. Though by this time the road had turned into a dirk tract and I was now at the third aid station.
Things were a bit more manic here, courtesy of a lot of runners. There was even a queue to get drink bottles refilled at the water station; a large blue tank shipped in by the organisers for the race at every aid station. Some folks had decided to sit down for a rest, but with ‘beware the chair' ringing my head I opted to keep my stay short, grabbing a banana and a couple of flapjacks I had spied on one of the tables with me. The flapjacks I stuffed in my running vest for later whilst I ate my banana whilst walked the hill that stood before us. Whilst not as steep as the ones encountered in the early stages it was very long and I was beginning to think that perhaps I should have brought some hiking poles along.
At the top though I was rewards with some nice views and an even better cooling breeze. It that been rather hot from the start and as such I had been consuming a lot of fluid; refilling both of my 500ml drink bottles at every aid station. Things got slightly better when the route then took us downhill, but here was differently a change in the path before us. The woodlands and narrow paths of the earlier sections were now replaced by wider chalk-based paths and rolling fields. Having visited the latter parts of the Ridgeway in my youth, this was more of the Ridgeway I remembered.
To Halfway
We then pass through a tunnel underneath the A34, a road that I frequently travel on. I knew the Ridgeway passed under the A34, but it wasn't until now I knew how and exactly where! After quite a bit of downhill it was a bit of a struggle to now find myself going slightly uphill. My left knee was becoming left significant in the scheme of things as other parts of my body were now vying for my sympathy, so the arrival of the next aid station was in that respect good timing.
Crisps were the new food item of the day on display here. However, as I have problems eating on long runs whereby my mouth dries up when I dry to eat, eating anything dry seemed a bad idea so I passed on them, the same reason I had passed on all the cereal bars, which seemed to feature on every aid station. What I would do for a bit of cheese and pineapple. Still no time to hang about I needed to move on. Thanks to the earlier hills and me walking on them I was quite a bit behind scheduled and looking to get to halfway in over 6 hours.
Despite being one of the flattish sections of the course thus far, the journey to halfway didn't feel like one of the easiest. Before I got to the aid station I pass a tall stone monument, which accordingly to my Garmin watch was exactly 50km from the start. However I know from experience that Garmin kilometres tend to be a bit shorter than standard ones , so wasn't that surprised to learn I had to carry on for quite a bit further before reaching the next aid station, which was officially just before 51km.
Time for a Break
When I arrived I had the option of grabbing a banana and going straight back out onto the Ridgeway or continue up the grass field to a large marquee that provided food, drinks and seating. I went for the latter. I think some quiet voice in my head said something about ‘Beware the chair' but quite frankly it got lost in the noise, especially when some nice young lady enthusiastically asked if I wanted some pasta.
In my defence I hadn't eaten that much on the route so far and was mindfully that I probably wouldn't survive the second half on fluid alone. Plus the poor old left, which had somehow survived thus far, deserved a well-earned break.
The sit down was bliss, but then the quiet voice of a few moments earlier was back and this time a bit louder. So I offered a compromise where I would east my pasta quickly like someone who hadn't eaten for a week and then get up to find something to drink before heading back out.
Up to now the choice of drinks at the aid stations had been generally water, orange squash and coke. Both the orange squash and coke had been giving me a bit of indigestion, plus the orange squash didn't actually tastes particularly orangey or nice; it certainly wasn't Robinsons, so that in the main left me with the rather bland water. So I fancied something different and I found it; milk. There were a couple of fridges filled to the brim with large bottles of milk, presumably to allow people to make tea and coffee as facilities to make these was also present. I don't drink either so they weren't an option for me, other than using a coffee cup and fill it with milk. It tasted great, so much, I had a second.
But then I reminded myself that I was in a race, what I had promised in my compromise and thus I needed to move on. On the way out I pass the counter where the pasta was being served and one of the people manning the counter offers me an ice cream tub, so I took one and promptly started eating it as I left the marquee and resumed the race. The ice cream hit the right spot as not only being refreshing it also cleansed the palette.
Flatter but Grassier
Time had clearly accelerated outside the marquee as although I thought I hadn't been there long I had spent more than I intended there as confirmed by my Garmin watch that stated I had arrived in about 6 hours but was now leaving over 20 minutes later.
To the next aid station the route was somewhat less undulating with grassland mostly replacing the previous chalk track. Still, it didn't feel particularly easy, not helped by the grassland hiding the occasional rut. Of all the aid station this far this looked like the most exposed as there wasn't any tree cover. Keen to try and grab some of the time spent at halfway I kept my stay here short and after refilling my drink bottles, swiftly If not exactly quickly, moved on.
However, that sub 13 hour finish was looking less likely now, but I was now at least heading towards a bit of the Ridgeway that I was familiar with; the Uffington White Horse and Wayland's Smithy. With the weather being particular hot and humid I hoped some reminiscing would provide a suitable distraction to this. Plus the grassy track was back to chalk.
Some Long Barrow Sightseeing and Feeling Sick
Initially this didn't quite work, mainly as I couldn't see the White Horse, despite passing along the White Horse hills, but when I state seeing signs for Wayland's Smith I hatched a cunning plan. I knew Wayland's Smith was just off the Ridgeway about 100m or so and decided to go and visit it. I had my phone with me so took some pictures of this long barrow that I hadn't seen since my youth, which might explain why it looked a bit smaller than it did all those years ago. But it was like seeing an old friend and on a more serious note did offer a few minutes respite for the left knee. For a few moments I had forgotten about the race.
4 - Wayland's Smithy Long Barrow
Oh yes, the race. I quickly returned to the Ridgeway and resumed even getting back into a half decent run before arriving at aid station 7.
Things though didn't go great here. As soon as I took something to drink, I nearly threw up. I've experiences similar problems with food but never with fluid. Even drinking water caused me to have convulsions. This was of great concern; if I couldn't take on fluid hat can I taken on? Thankfully I manage to keep what I had drunk, so quickly continued to avoid any possible embarrassment in case things got worse.
Roads and a Chat
The Ridgeway continued as before on chalky paths before delivering us to a long stretch of road. This was generally flat and felt one of the easiest sections f other course, even the left knee agreed it was acceptable. In fact the only notable climb was for the bridge that took us over the M4. There had been a couple of guys who I had been tailing from afar since pretty much halfway and this provided me the opportunity to slowly real them in. Finally I seemed to be making real progress. That sub 13 hours finish was looking like it was looking a little bit more realistic. Was this my second wind?
No, unfortunately, as with all good things they eventually come to an end. In my case it was the Ridgeway returning to the chalky off-road track of earlier. Oh well, nice whilst it lasted.
As if that wasn't enough there was bit of a climb as well. One of the guys I had passed on the road section catches up with me. He clearly was coping better on the hills than me but when we occasionally went downhill I seemed to fare better. With the now undulating nature of the course we regularly seemed to pass each other and so struck up conversation on each passing. Like me he had originally looked for a sub 13 hours finish but was now looking for a bit over that, and I was now resigning to the fact that I would be doing something similar.
Still Unwell and More Hills
At the next aid station, I cautiously started drink some water based on my experience at the previous aid station. But my caution was to no avail as again I was nearly sick. Clearly there was now an underlying problem, but I just had to try and get some fluid down. Thankfully temperatures were dropping as we were approaching the evening, but still I had to keep hydrated, though on this occasion I skipped refilling my drink bottles as they weren't empty.
On the next section we started slow descending before the descent became steeper. For the first time today the left knee didn't have any problems with this. I knew that the descent was coming as at the bottom of it the Ridgeway crosses the Marlborough to Swindon road (A346), another road that I'm very familiar with. And one where I've noticed hills either side it. Yes, either side it, after crossing the road I also knew that we now had to ascend. Sometimes prior knowledge isn't a good thing! However the other guy who I had been swapping places with prior to the descent catches up with me and we resume our chat before he eventually moves ahead.
The hill was particularly steep and I tip my proverbial hat in admiration to those who passed me whilst running, yes still running at this late stage of the race. I had long resigned to walking the hills, saving the running for flats and downs, or where the left knew allowed.
To the Final Aid Station
The chalky Ridgeway of earlier though was now slowly changing into something a bit more akin to that in the very early stages, namely, narrower, more lumpy and more grassland under foot. At the top of the hill we continued along a ridge that presented it own challenges, in the form of a camber, falling from left to right that only served to aggravate the left knee. There were also a few gates that we had to pass through, but the momentary pause required to open the gates actually provide some relief.
I then receive text from my other to say she was waiting for me at the finish. I was actually about to get my phone out to text her with my estimated arrival time, but she had clearly beaten me to it, though unfortunately for her I wasn't expecting to arrival at Avebury any time soon.
Eventually I arrive at aid station 9; the last one before the finish. As with the two previous aid station, taking on fluid was problematic so I kept it to a minimum, though I did refill my drink bottles just in case I felt too dehydrated in what would be the last 11km of the race.
Fading Light and Ruts
After leaving the aid station I pass Barbury Castle, or rather the remains of it; a grassy mound before slowly beginning a descent towards Avebury. The descent should have been a welcoming relief but it wasn't, this was due to the fact that the path was well and truly rutted. It was as if someone in a Land Rover had purposely driven though on a wet day before the race to specifically create tire tracks that were barely wide enough to accommodate both feet. What made matters worse was the ruts would come and go and you found yourself regularly having to check ahead to see which rut was the best one to take.
To complicate things further the daylight was fading as we approached twilight. My wish of finishing in sub 13 hours had gone. In fact the pace I was now going would suggest even a sub 14 hours was looking unlikely, thanks to my left knee now wishing to call it day forcing me to do far more walking than running.
Eventually it got too dark to see properly and to avoid risking tripping over in one of the ruts; I pulled my head torch out of my running vest and put it on. Somehow putting the head torch on only seemed to re-confirm more the fact that I had missed my original target time.
But rather than fill a bit down I just wanted to finish and give my knee that well- earned rest.
To The Stones
The rutted track did eventually finish, thankfully, as I then continued on a road towards the centre of Avebury, but it was now completely dark. I knew we had to go the stones before coming back on ourselves for a bit, but even so it did seem a little unnerving to see runners heading towards me, making me question whether I was going the right way. It was only the fact I recognised some of them as people who had overtaken me recently that I realised that they were ahead of me and thus I still had to keeping moving forward to get to the turn point that they had come from.
I did seem quite a long road, but I had made it to the Stones, this involved leaving road through a gate and then along a field passing some of the Stones back to the road. From the road I I effectively retrace my steps until a marshal in a bright yellow jacket directs me left into a field.
I thought I had seen the last of ruts, but I was wrong and with a slight climb was the last thing I wanted. I could see the finish line in the distance to my left, but it just didn't seem to want to hurry up towards me and say welcome.
The fact that I m passed almost effortlessly by two guys just made it worse, though they did offer me some words of encouragement and state that I had one last left corner before it's flat to the finish.
To the Finish
They were right of course, and to make things better it was a road. Ahead of me I could see the finish line, which was still too far away, but also a scattering of fluorescent green sticks. I initially though they were to direct me to a particularly side of the road, but then realised their scatting was too random for that; they were there for effect only. I guess after a day on the Ridgway I wasn't in the most alert of states.
As I ran amongst the fluorescent green sticks, the finish line did now at last wanted to beckon me forward, and being the obliging guy I am, I didn't want to keep it waiting any longer.
As I cross under the finish line gantry a crowd of people cheer my arrival and I ‘m presented with my finisher's medal. Behind the crowds was my mother who had waited so patiently for me; about 2 hours in fact.
5 - The Finish... got there eventually, in a time of 14:36:28
For me the 100km, had felt more like 100 miles and I was finally glad it was over. Well, the race that is. I then joined the queue for post-race food, and about 15 minutes later manage to sit down and gingerly started to eat, something I hadn't successfully done since halfway. After some initial convulsions, the body eventually accepts the food and I actually felt better for it. My mother then drove me home, not that I remember much of the journey as I slept most of it.