report

Written by Tremayne Dill Cowdry - http://dill-runs.blogspot.fr/

Raring to go!

In 2008 I read a book called "Life on the Run" which was a tale of three guys journey across the UK following the Wainwrights coast to coast route, straight after reading it I bought the Harvey maps and dreamt of one day doing it myself. Well the maps got shoved to the back of the map drawer ready for future use. Fast forward to the last few years and after completing several 100 milers my mind started to wonder whether I could possibly run 200 miles. It's the natural progression, I think anyone with the mentality to run 100 inevitably wants to try 200 miles. My finger has hovered over the enter button a couple of times for the Tahoe Rim 200 but I could never really justify the cost. Then last year an advert flashed up on FB for The Northern Traverse, 190 across the UK following the Wainwrights route from St Bees Head to Robin Hood Bay. This was meant to be! So as soon as I received my annual refusal from the Western States I entered. I was in The Northern Traverse 2016.

All present and correct

After a couple of days of fine weather and R and R at St Bees the day arrived. We collected our number bibs, had trackers attached and walked out onto the grass ready for the 10am start. I was out sufficiently early to go and dip my toes in the water as is the tradition, touch the water on the West coast and the East coast when you finish. Group photo taken, we were called to the line, as usual on long events no one is prepared to step forward which I find a bit strange, as if we are all waiting for a group of elites to step up. Well Eoin Keith had stepped forward so had John Knapp and I tucked in with them no need to be shy. The horn went and we were off, there was a single track bridge 50 mtrs from the start so we sprinted to it, then immediately into a half mile climb out of St Bees. It was heating up already and the skies were crystal clear. We power hiked up and Eoin started edging ahead along with John and a couple of others. Their pace was slightly fast for me so as we rounded the light house at the top I maintained a steady pace and let them go. We turned in land and within the first hour I was on my own.

Happy on Day 1

I was loving running a nice slow pace and soon reached the first climb, Long Barrow, I power hiked through the woods and up the hill soon flying down the other side whilst still thumbing the map. It was red hot and I had made a late decision to carry an extra bottle making 1.5 litres, glad I did really as it was going to be red hot. One of the main hurdles of this event was the self sufficiency, each feed station was between 30 and 46 miles so between those points you are on your own. You either need to carry enough water to get you through, buy it on route or source it from else where. Well just before Ennerdale lake I found a café and stopped for an ice cold water. I ran the alongside Ennerdale water and it was gorgeous, beautiful surroundings, cracking trail, red hot, this was heaven. The trail soon left the water and into the forest, it was roasting and I was getting through my water very quickly. I stopped and filtered some water with my Sawyer Straw, a very time consuming process. I filled a couple of bottles and ran on. I reached the Black Sail hut but passed straight through bearing left up and over the hill. The run down to the slate mine and beyond to Rosthwaite is stunning. I was really on a high, keeping hydrated, well fed and not pushing too hard. I felt great. I passed two of the early leaders on the way down briefly saying 'Hi' but still making the most of this good spell. Leaving Rosthwaite the run took through more cracking trail to Grasmere and Thorney How an unofficial drinks stop. I wandered in and there was a lovely lady stood at a table with jugs of squash, flapjack and the like. No one else around just as though she had been waiting patiently all afternoon for runners to pass through. We chatted about drinking stream water and she said she had drunk straight out the mountain streams all her life and I had no need to filter. I was 50/50 on this, on one hand I had contracted campylobacter just the previous year drinking from a stream and on the other the Sawyer Straw was too time consuming. I left there with a big chunk of flapjack and headed the nine miles through to Patterdale, up and over Grisedale Hause. I arrived at Patterdale before nightfall, bang on schedule and decided to have a good feed up, Joe Faulkner was running the food and I know from previous experience how good his soup is so I had three bowls. John Knapp was in there and we sat and chatted about what a great day it had been.

Trail runners heaven

My feeding plan for the event had been to consume 3000 calories every twelve hours. This was to be made up of Gu, Jelly Babies and Tailwind and then stuff as much real food as I could at the feed stations. Also at each feed station were several tents so you could either sleep at every station or none or indeed sleep on the hill should you need to. My plan was to skip the first sleep, sleep for 2 hours at Kirkby then grab any other sleeps I needed on the hill.

John had got ready and left and I put on my long sleeve top and head torch in preparation for the night ahead. I left Patterdale and we were to head up to Kidsty Pike which was a good couple of hours. Kirkby Stephen was about 36 miles away so it would take me till morning to reach there. This is a cracking section, up past Boredale Hause, Angle Tarn and through to Kidsty Pike. I hiked the majority and ran where I could, we were well over 50 miles in and it was really dark and chilly before I reached the Pike. I had put the map away and was using GPS now. Had I been camping more and moving slower with a clear head I would have tried to nav by map alone but given I was aiming for the fastest time possible I opted for GPS especially during the night. As I headed down to Haweswater my eyes started flickering and the sleep demons were coming on. The previous days mountain running had taken its toll and I was nodding off on my feet. Lack of sleep certainly is a weakness of mine, if you want to do well in a non stop multi day event you have to cope well with no sleep and I don't! I'd made a last minute decision to wear Hokas as it had been so dry which I was happy with but as I bumbled along Haweswaters rocky edge I was tripping and stumbling. I took a Pro Plus as I couldn't shake off the the flickering eyelids. As the trail improved the caffeine kicked in and I felt slightly better, enough so to run with out the fear of falling over. As we reached the end of the water I was passed by two runners. My tiredness had cost me already. I left the road and came across a metal container full of drinks and an honesty box. Very nice, I thought as I choose a drink and choccy bar my head torch shining in the box. As I did a car passed by then quickly spun round and screeched to a stop next to me. "What the hell are you doing!" was shouted at me. I looked up and two massive geezers were sitting in their car looking ready to stove my head in. After a quick explanation the air was cleared and I was able to move on enjoying my can of coke.

I made my way onto Shap, the tiredness had subsided for now and I was able to run. I was getting really frustrated with my bottles, I was worrying that one of my soft flasks was going to fall out of the side pocket of my pack. This minor issue was stressing me out so I decided to put a full bottle in the main part of my pack then I could access it in an emergency. I ran into Shap, it was 2am. There was unmanned drink station located there which I thought would be closed so I pressed on into the night, only later did I find out it had been fully stocked with drinks and sandwiches, Doh! I ran up Shaps main street and soon veered off onto moorland and open fields. It was very dark and the terrain was up and down. I realized one of my bottles was almost empty so reached for my spare bottle, Shit, it had gone! I must have dropped it earlier while fiddling with my pack. I had 300 mls and 18 miles to Kirkby Stephen, this was never going to last. After the previous red hot day I was thirsty and needed to find water fast but as the miles ticked by I realized there was nothing, no streams, no tarns, nothing. I was still running ok but was seriously dehydrated, my mouth was almost stuck shut. I was in daylight now and spotted a tarn ahead and ran towards it with visions of gulping down loads of fresh water. It was not to be though there was a massive barbed wire fence between me and the water. In my shaky state the fence as an obstacle too far. Shortly after as cracks felt like they were appearing in my throat I found a puddle. Admittedly there was sheep shit in the puddle but it was wet so I popped out my Sawyer Straw and drank from the puddle, needs must. Thankfully it was enough to see me through until I found a nice flowing stream and managed to fill my bottles. I lost a few places through this tough stage but it didn't matter I was running my own race and this is all I could do.

Kirkby Stephen

I got in to Kirkby Stephen mid morning roughly 24 hours in and bang on my schedule. My plan now was to grab a few hours kip before cracking on. I ate and drank and headed for one of the tents. As I lay in the hot tent every sound was magnified, the light shone through my closed eyelids and my heart was pumping. I was never going to sleep. I laid there for a further 20 minutes before trudging back indoors for some more food and a mental re-plan. It was 10am and the next section to Richmond was 37 mile or so, I decided I could continue through all day and reach Richmond by nightfall then I could sleep. My mind was made up and after greasing my feet I headed out of the feed station. Soon after leaving I was rising back up again, it was a steady hike up to Nine Standards Rigg, it was gorgeous at the top I would have been quite happy to stop a while and look around but no it was time to push on. After some cracking trail running on the high ground it was time to descend again. I was running well and my quads were holding up. I had a really sore shin on my right leg from the hard descents of day one but this although very painful was a minor issue. The run across Malbecks Moor was lovely but my eyelids were flickering again, the lack of sleep was really taking its toll. It was a lovely sunny afternoon and every so often I would lay on the soft grass for a 5 minute power nap. They can be quite effective and gave me the strength to get through. I was about 20 mile in to this stage and roughly 30 hours without sleep. Just prior to Reeth there was some great technical trail and I was loving the scrambling, I climbed to the top of what seemed like a disused quarry and found a well made path heading down, I was hallucinating really heavily now. I have learnt to embrace hallucinations and they don't phase me, they just make life tricky especially when my eyelids are so heavy. I ran into the village and in my tired state I had it in my head that this was Richmond and I was really boosted by the prospect of sleep and rest. I chatted to a random guy who had been following the tracker and waiting ages to see a runner. He soon informed me this was Reeth not Richmond and my heart sank. There was still another 11 miles to go. I walked into the local shop, sweaty, stinking and incoherent but the shop keeper didn't bat an eyelid as I stocked up on water and chocolate. I trudged through the village eating my chocolate trying to get motivated for the next 11 miles. This was a tough moment in the race, we were around the 100 mile mark 33 hours in and roughly halfway, my feet hurt, I was tired, my shin was killing me, I'd had enough.

The route to Richmond was actually very nice, lots of grassy fields and woodland but not too many hills. I perked up as I ran two thirds of every field and walked one third. The miles ticked by as I dreamt of the lovely sleep I was due to have. I could see Richmond in the distance and everything in the world seemed great again. I was quite high up looking down at the village and it was roughly 9pm, I thought I'd walk down into town but even this seemed to go on for ever. I circled the town centre before doubling back on myself and eventually finding the rugby club, this all felt counter intuitive and I still swear I did an unnecessary lap of the town. Eventually I jogged into the feed station just as it started to rain.

I sat down with a massive sigh of relief, I could rest! I took my shoes off and started to eat some chicken stew. There were two other runners in there preparing to go out. They were discussing the night ahead, preparing their maps, they looked so un flustered and I felt so shit. I couldn't comprehend heading straight back out. I grabbed my kit and limped over to my tent in the now heavy rain. I jumped into my sleeping bag and set the alarm for 3 hours. In what felt like seconds I was gone and a few seconds later the 3 hours had passed and my alarm was bleeping. It was still raining and about 1 am. I donned my headtorch and sorted my kit in the cramped tent. My feet were noticeably swollen and I struggled to get my shoes back on. After 20mins or so I walked back over to the main feed station. I ate some porridge, a fried egg sarnie and a couple of teas, there were two others in here now one guy had just walked in and another was prepping to go back out, although he didn't look too keen. I was mentally preparing for the next stage breaking down the mileage etc. I was told at this point there would be no sleeping at the next aid station, a storm had hit and they were unable to set up the tents. In real terms this meant I had 45 miles to the next feed station, before entering straight into the last 30 mile on no rest. Ok keep calm I'm going to leave here at 2am, walk for 2 hours until daybreak, I should be at the feed station by 3pm, an hours stop then an 11hour 30 miler for a 3 am finish. Simple.

I left at 2am as planned, the rain had stopped and I power hiked into the darkness. My legs were stiff but I soon shook it off and the swelling in my feet subsided. I broke into a run as the first particles of light guided my way. I passed Catterick race course through grassy flat fields. The water on the grass was rolling down my legs and quite quickly my feet were soaked through. This was going to be a hindrance later on. I entered a secluded lane and walked towards a car with full beam bearing on me. This felt weird in my tired state and I half expected the engine to roar before the driver attempt to mow me down. I walked the couple of hundred metres to the car and as I walked along side the window was open. My eyes adjusted to the driver. "What ya doing?" he asked in a gruff voice. "Running the Coast to Coast" I replied. "Sure you are, it's four in the fucking morning". "I Know". "Well you better have some chocolate, keep your spirits up" he said as he cracked me off a few squares of his Aero. He pulled away laughing and shaking his head. A quite surreal experience that I'm positive actually happened. The lanes and fields continued for miles and I had several variants of running on the go, varying from actually running to power hiking to the ultra hobble. I felt happy at this point and was confident about the miles ahead. Through the ever over grown fields I eventually reached the A19. I knew there was a garage there and bought food, a sandwich, coffee, chocolate and maltloaf. I gulped down the coffee and stuffed in the sandwich before running the gauntlet across the now very busy dual carriageway. I walked up the lane eating my maltloaf and my thoughts were on my feet which were now soaked through and badly macerated. The pain was searing up my legs and by my reckoning I was at mile 150, it was about 1pm. 40 miles to go. I was hoping my feet might dry out a bit with a fresh pair of socks. Little did I know what lay ahead.

OMG I felt rough

The trail rose up through the forest and it was stunning, a very different scene to the grassy fields. After a lengthy climb I joined the Cleveland Way, the wind was getting up and coming from the North, whipping the tree tops and driving the now constant rain into my side. The rain was now soaking through my windproof top and there was a definite chill in the wind. I managed some running through this section and the Cleveland Way was very nice, I'm sure it would have been much nicer on a better day. I reached an unofficial feed station at the Lord Stones Café. I opened the door to the café but it was rammed full of people and red hot inside. This wasn't going to help stopping here so I left and pushed on. I started heading higher on the Cleveland Way and decided to tuck in some bushes to change coats. The rain was now driving in on the high wind and the conditions were testing to say the least. I dropped down to a road and again convinced myself that this must have been the feed station but couldn't see any signs. Maybe I was wrong again, I couldn't face getting the map out in the high wind so pressed on. The trail from here was very runnable and wide it also kept going up. The higher I went the stronger the wind blew, it was howling. I was in the clouds and the cold was going right through me. My feet hurt and I was exhausted but I had no choice but to run it was just too cold. The trail just kept rising and it was very exposed. I really started doubting my position, visibility was poor and stopping wasn't an option. I had a nagging feeling that I'd gone wrong. I was so cold and beginning to get worried. I needed shelter to regroup but there was nothing. Eventually I squatted behind a bank long enough to get my trousers on. I was not in a great mental state everything just seemed too hard to compute. I got my emergency phone out to ring in to make sure I was on track still but I couldn't work out how to use it. I realized I only had a few minutes before this got serious. I needed to know where I was on the map now otherwise I would have to get in my bivy then that really could be race over. I got a grid reference off my GPS and got a fix on my map with the compass. Thank god for that I was still on track but about 2 miles outside the feed station. I packed my kit back up and started moving quickly forcing myself to run. I ran all the way to Blackey Ridge and missed the turn. I ran on for several hundred metres before realizing my mistake I turned and headed back. I picked the correct turn and suddenly the pub emerged out of the cloud. What a relief! I nearly cried. I grabbed my kit bag before setting up camp in the disabled toilets of the pub. I completely stripped down and warmed by the radiator. I tried to grease and tape my feet but they were shot. Mile 160 about 57 hours in on 3 hours sleep. Mentally I was finished, I was dog tired, it was 5pm. The only thing that got me dressed was knowing that I had one stage to go and it was too late to quit. I put multiple layers on and headed back out the pub to the feed station van. For the first time I felt too sick to eat which was not good. I stood in the van while they made me some rolls for the next leg. They were lovely and chatting away to me but my mind was in a daze their voices passed in one ear and out the other. I prepared myself mentally again for the next leg.

Just 30 to go.

30 Miles!! FFS!!

As I shoved the door open of the van I stepped into the gale, it was a head wind as I crossed the carpark, the wind was deafening and I tucked my head down a ploughed forward. My thoughts were, What am I doing? How am I going to finish this? I felt lost. It was actually impossible to run into the wind, I kept my head down and battled the wind the warm pub was now a distant memory. After a mile or so the trail turned off the road and across the rough moorland. It was flooded and thick with heather, the path was indistinguishable and really tough to follow. I followed my GPS to the line, occasionally seeing snapped branches so I knew others had passed through. This was as tough as it gets and not enjoyable, I was praying for some lower ground. Darkness soon set in and I was cold again. The cold didn't fight off the tiredness though and I was falling asleep on my feet. At one point in my frustration I started yelling profanities at the weather. The trail alternated from moor to trail to road but still no descent. The sleep monsters were full on now, I was hallucinating constantly, every rock or bush had a face. I was ignoring the faces but kept stopping and nodding off on my feet. I would suddenly snap out of it before carrying on. For large portions I was convinced I was with someone and would chat with them but the truth is I hadn't run with anyone for 60 hours!

Relief

At last I was starting to descend and the chill eased off. It was late at night as I walked into the village of Glasdale where I came across a phone box, it looks so inviting! That I got into the box and curled up in a ball on the floor. I took a 5 min power nap. My feet were so sore I could no longer step without the feeling of walking on broken glass. I had to shuffle along on the outside of my feet. The hills still seemed to go on for ever and the moorland didn't become any easier. I entered the woods at Little Beck and it was a steady ascent through thick trees, at points I would lose the trail and end up climbing through trees, it was muddy and steep. I eventually emerged out the top of the woodland and knew I wasn't far from the end now. I followed the last bit of moor to a well made trail this was it, I was on the home run. The trail turned into a track which turned into a road and at last I saw a sign for Robin Hood Bay. I left the road and headed down through a camp site to the coastal path. Daylight had arrived an hour previous and this coastal path was definitely a sting in the tail, up and down it went seemingly forever. I was hallucinating heavily still and all the rocks were alive with faces. It really was just a hobble now my as the pain in my feet was just mind bending. At last one final climb to a gate and stood at the gate was John Knapp, my god this is it the final stretch? He congratulated me and let me run off down the main street to the finish. I turned the last couple of corners to be greeted by my wife and James, the two solitary figures at the finish. I collapsed in a heap on the line only lifting my head to receive my medal. I starred into the sea and felt a wave of relief, it was over. 8th place 190 miles in 69hours incorporating 3 complete nights and just 3 hours sleep over some of the country's toughest terrain. I was spent.

Do I have to move?

Macerated foot. That is pain right there.

I slept for almost 24 hours straight post race and felt completely shattered for days after. I also picked up a nasty stomach bug somewhere on the route which has not helped recovery. This race was always something I wanted to do, the course was harder than expected and it's definitely an itch scratched. Not sure if I'll ever enter a straight 200 mile race, the lack of sleep certainly limits my ability to compete at this distance. My feet slowed me down massively at the end but that is something that can be worked on but the difference between me and the guys above me was ultimately sleep. I just have my limits on sleep. I can easily go one night with out sleep I just struggle to go two. All things a side though I have managed to finish injury free and have a clear race calendar between now and Spartathlon. Let the training commence.

Written by Andy Cole - http://ajc-runninglate.blogspot.fr

I made my way carefully over the "Three Sisters" of the Cleveland Way escarpment, Cringle Moor, Cold Moor and the Wainstones. It was something after 2am, the mist had brought the visibility down to maybe 15 yards in the torch beam and the enthusiastic northerly wind was making the gentle rain feel a lot wetter than it should. I didn't know whether there was anyone else on the course for miles in either direction - two and a half days after the start the field had got pretty strung out. Not a great place to have an accident I mused. A bang on the head, broken leg or even sprained ankle would generate some interesting complications at this point. Then almost immediately the next thought, of course, this is why we do these things. I was completely happy in my world.

1. Preparations

When the Northern Traverse event was announced last year I got my name down almost straight away. A route I had always wanted to do but never quite got around to (Wainwright's "Coast to Coast" from St Bees to Robin Hood's Bay) and organisation by James Thurlow's "Open Adventure" outfit (I had done the inaugural "Lakes in a Day" run in 2014 and enjoyed it so much I already had already had my entry in for 2015) were a combination too good to miss.

I had ideas about recceing the course, but most of last autumn was taken up with preparations for my (ultimately unsuccessful) attempt on the Spine Race and once we were into the new year other priorities intruded, so somehow it never happened. I knew the Lake District section (Ennerdale to Haweswater) because we spend a lot of time there and some of the North York Moors (Ingleby Cross to Bloworth) from the Hardmoors events, so in the end I decided that would be enough and I would just enjoy the experience of coming to the rest "fresh".

I learned from the Tor des Geants back in 2012 that a good strategy for me in multi-day races is simple. In that race I reached a very low point towards the end of Day 2 and was on the point of dropping out, but then got a grip and concentrated on looking after myself rather than the progress I was making. By Day 5 I was going as strongly again as I had at the start. You can tolerate a fairly high degree of deterioration over say a 100 miler taking maybe 2 days; it's short enough to "hang on" to the finish, but get to double that mileage and it won't work. Even if you can tolerate toughing it out physically, spending several days in increasing discomfort doesn't seem like much fun. So for me the only way to tackle a long event is to enjoy the journey, go at a pace at which you always feel good, look after your feet, and let forward progress take care of itself.

I wasn't sure how long the Northern Traverse would take. At almost 5 days the overall time allowance seemed fairly generous for a course of 190 miles and 28,000 ft of ascent. With the event due to start at 10.00am on Monday 30th May that meant a final cutoff at 8am on the Saturday morning. I guessed I could do nearer to 4 days; I had promised to meet friends and family at the Keswick Beer Festival on the Friday evening, so allowing a few hours for the train journey back that seemed to fit OK. I would take it steadily then push a bit near the end if necessary.

The Open Adventure concept for races is one that appeals to me. You have well stocked, well organised "Feed Stations" along the course at regular intervals, to which a drop bag containing spare shoes, clothes and so on may be sent, but in between these you are very much on your own - no course markings, no intermediate checkpoints, no marshals. no "safety team". You need to be responsible for yourself. In fact there are no conventional checkpoints at all because competitors carry a GPS tracker, which as well as showing the organisation where everyone is on the course, is used as the basis for all time recording. There is an SOS button on the tracker which will initiate a rescue, but once pressed it signals that you are out of the race; and as James said at the briefing "Getting lost is not an emergency!" The course for this event was defined as a line on maps issued to runners, and the rule was you must not deviate from the line by more than 200 metres; if you found yourself accidentally off course you had to go back to the course at the place where you left it. On the Northern Traverse there would be four feed stations at convenient (or sometimes, the only feasible) locations. The longest stage between feed stations was 46 miles and the shortest 28 miles.

2. The Lakes

Gathering for the start at St Bees, the only two of the starters I had met before were Greg Crowley and Matt Neale, but there wasn't a lot of hanging around after handing in drop bags and picking up trackers, and at precisely 10.00am we were on our way under a cloudless blue sky, tackling the first short climb up onto the cliff path. The route followed this northward for about four miles, a bit more of the "just keep the sea on your left" navigation that had seen me through so many miles last year in the Ring of Fire and Hardmoors 60 races. I chatted for a mile or so with Dan Milton who also thought he would take around 4 days, but he seemed to be going naturally a bit quicker than me so I encouraged him to push on and catch up with his girlfriend Claire Turton a few yards ahead. They were intending to run the whole race together.

The field soon spaced out and by the time we turned inland at Sandwith I could see no-one either ahead or behind. I suspected there were few if any runners behind because right from the start I had adopted a regime of only running when it seemed easier than walking. In general, this was all the downhills plus any flat sections that had easy ground underfoot.

The run along the coast was beautiful but after that the course followed sundry field paths, tracks, bit of minor road and old railway line through generally uninspiring countryside and old mining areas. Somewhere along here I was caught and passed by Anne Green but otherwise saw no-one else. It was great to leave all this behind on the gentle ascent of Dent Hill, our first real countryside, with views and skylarks and the Lake District drawing us in beyond. As the vista expanded I saw one or two other runners ahead - I wasn't completely alone then! Jogging down the steepish grass on the far side of the hill I met another runner coming back up - he'd dropped his glasses and was going back to look for them. I sympathised, I can see well enough in bright daylight but haven't a chance of reading the map at night without my specs.

The weather was superb, fine and warm. Later, some runners complained of the heat but I love these conditions. I stopped to refill my water bottles in Nannycatch Beck as I hadn't started out with much from St Bees. In spite of the recent good weather I knew that water would be clear and plentiful through the Lakes but I would need to plan much better across the peaty Pennines and the relative dry North York Moors. In no time we seemed to be at Ennerdale Bridge, end of "Day 1" for Coast to Coast walkers. I knew there would be a cafe here but as it was a bank holiday I was wary of relying on it so for this first day I had brought more food. On this sort of event I would normally set out on each leg with just a bag of Haribos and a few sachets of Mountain Fuel. I ate my cheese sandwiches walking the lovely path along the southern shore of Ennerdale Water. I actually overtook a few runners here! The long forest road from the end of the lake up to Black Sail hut is not too interesting, but once there I felt I was on home ground. Another couple of runners were taking a breather at the hut, but the quality of the rest of my day now depended on reaching the cafe at Honister before it closed at 6pm.

From Black Sail the route goes up alongside Loft Beck, the first real climb of the day, and it was good to be properly in the hills at last. The track across the top, once featureless, now sports a cairn every few yards so I guess a few Coast-to-Coasters have got lost up here to prompt this. Then it was easily down to the old tramway and then the cafe with nearly forty minutes to spare. I took my time over a big latte and an all-day breakfast panini, the first hot food of the day. There were several runners in and around the cafe and as I started out I ran into the guy who I had seen back on Dent Hill looking for his glasses, who turned out to be Jesse Palmer. We carried on down the track to Seatoller and then Rosthwaite together, chatting to discover that we had many mutual friends and had done a lot of the same events. But as we started the ascent of Greenup Edge it was clear that Jesse naturally favoured a slightly faster pace than me so I encouraged him to go on and wished him well. I loved taking the long ascent up past Lining Crag and over the usually boggy ground to the pass at my own pace, I couldn't think of anywhere I would rather have been on such a stunning sunny evening. The jog down the other side, bouldery and tricky at first, then a bit of grass to the top of Far Easedale, then a long varied track all the way down to Grasmere was also pure pleasure. There was a photographer near the bottom, so my tale contains a rare photo - I don't normally bother to take pictures, I just like to remember the experience.

Nearing the bottom of Far Easedale

Just before Grasmere, our route turned off for Thorney How, a hostel offering free hot drinks, so the chance of a cup of tea was not to be missed, accompanied by a large and delicious slice of flapjack. The people at the hostel had a live feed from the trackers so I asked how many people they still expected through. It was good to learn that everyone had by now crossed Greenup Edge, barely an hour back.

The next ascent up to Grisedale Tarn is mostly on an easy path up steepish grass, so out came the poles. I had debated with myself whether to bring them or not on this trip; for the normally technical ups and downs in the Lakes I don't find them much help, but on long easy ascents such as you get for mile after mile in the Alps they give you a sort of "four-wheel -drive" and help you get into a rhythm which makes life a lot easier. I decided they were worth the weight in the bag and had already used them on Dent Hill and the long forest road. I ate my remaining food, a marmalade sandwich, and pressed on upwards. It was getting progressively darker and as I reached the col the light had to go on. But from here it's an easy four or five miles down to Patterdale and the first feed station at the Starkey hut. I arrived five minutes after midnight, fourteen hours from the start, a couple of hours quicker than I had anticipated but conditions had been exceptionally good.

The ritual of arrival. A cup of tea, decide a shower is an unnecessary luxury tonight, so the first job is to sort out feet. Socks off, clean, inspect for damage, no problems, a fresh application of Sudocrem all over and clean socks. Now we can concentrate on the rest. Chilli and baked potato, more tea, magic. Decide to have a snooze for an hour but don't really sleep so up for coffee, flapjack, thanks everyone and out into the night.

I left Patterdale with Jesse and another runner but as soon as we started climbing it was clear they wanted to go faster than me so I let them go on and carried on at my own pace. It was light by the time I reached Angle Tarn but it was cloudy, and from here up to Kidsty Pike, the high point of the trip, visibility got progressively worse. Our map showed a direct route from the top of the Knott to Kidsty, but I decided in the mist it would be as quick to follow the main path south to pick up the good path that I knew went up Kidsty from near the little col. Less than a quarter of a mile further and I thought quicker and safer on the day. There was a cold breeze on top so it was good to lose some height down the long descent to Haweswater, which starts off easily but has one or two scrambly sections lower down, At the bottom we joined the path along Haweswater shore which I have followed many times in both directions on other events. It was warmer down here and the sun was starting to break through. Once at the dam at the end of the lake, a few miles of nondescript farmland led to Shap. As I approached Shap I caught up with Hisayo Kawahara and asked her how it was going. "I'm just so tired!" she said. We jogged the last few hundred yards to Shap where there was another potential hot drink stop at the New Ing Lodge. We found not only hot and cold drinks but free cheese and pickle sandwiches, what a bonus. Interestingly a number of runners converged on Shap within a few minutes of each other, we saw Jonathan Wood, Dave Rowell, Dave Howarth and Daniel Aldus also at the Lodge pitstop. Then five minutes later Jesse arrived, having spent a while searching for Kidsty summit in the mist. I had heard that water was problematic between Shap and Kirkby Stephen, 20 miles further on, so made sure I had a full litre. I also felt a need for some ginger biscuits, so I popped into the Co-op to get some.

I somehow expected the 20 miles from Shap to Kirkby to be dull, just a link between the Lakes and the Dales, but it turned out to be very enjoyable. Rolling limestone moors, solid underfoot and now under a blue sky. No severe gradients so they passed quite quickly in a mixture of walking and jogging, and before long I was turning up at feed station No 2 at the Rugby club in Kirkby Stephen at 3.30pm, about 12 hours after leaving Patterdale.

3. The Dales

It had been a sweaty afternoon so time for a shower at Kirkby, a plate of lasagne and some melon (what a discovery, full marks to whoever thought of this) and a brief chat with Anne Green who arrived at about the same time. Proceedings were enlivened by the building fire alarm going off for no apparent reason. The gallant feed station crew eventually found a way to turn it off after about five minutes. I still felt I could do with some sleep though so I went out to a tent. Maybe it was the wind flapping the tent, maybe the metal signs on the railings by the rugby pitch creaking, but again I didn't do more than doze for an hour, so I gave up, had a 5,30pm breakfast and set off into the Dales.

The climb up to Nine Standards Rigg was fairly long but very gentle and on a road then a good track all the way - another place I was glad I'd brought the poles. On the way up I passed Ed Strong who had stopped to adjust something; I expected to see him later though as he seemed to be going more strongly than me. I could see the nine big cairns from quite a way off but as I gained height the clouds started to swirl in, and by the time I reached the standards they appeared quite atmospherically out of the mist when I was almost on top of them. I didn't know it at the time, but this was to be the end of the fine weather for the trip.

The route off the Rigg was easy to follow at first but then got quite vague, though a saving grace was that after all the fine weather we had had it was mostly dry - it was typical Pennine moorland that is normally squelchy all over. I was glad it was daylight because that meant I could keep picking up the traces of the path that were there, it would have been much harder at night. I think had it been clear you could see the odd marker pole which turned up from time to time, but visibility was maybe 50 yards or so by now. The route aimed for what was shown as a jeep track where it turned left, but you couldn't tell from the map whether that would be a solid gravel road or an easy to miss double trod in the grass; it turned out to be the former, so it would have been easy to take a slight "aiming off" bearing and blast straight down to it, but those are the sort of things you only find out by being there (or talking to someone who has). I was happy enough to take my time and be careful.

A mile or so down the track it crossed a bridge but a smaller path carried on without crossing. I pulled out the map to check and as I stopped I heard a voice from behind "How are we doing then Mr Cole?" It was Jesse and Ed; we carried on together down to Keld.

Jesse had reccied a lot of the route so it was easy to cruise along without thinking about the navigation for a while. We turned off along a small path to keep high above Keld when the main track went down, but then the other two were setting a pace too fast for me so I let them go on ahead. It was now dark. A few minutes later the lights had stopped. When I reached them Jesse explained that he had stopped for some "foot maintenance". They passed me again as I was nearing the curiously-named Crackpot Hall. Jesse said the route got a bit tricky through the old mine workings but it basically followed the left side of Swinner Gill. They soon got ahead, gaining height, and their lights disappeared into the darkness.

Conditions were now getting a bit tricky. It was dark and misty, and a cold wind had sprung up. But the main problem was that it had started to rain a bit making all the rocks gleam in the reflected beam of a torch. I was going through an old mining area with piles of stones everywhere so it was difficult to make out a path amongst all the rubble. I found the gill and followed it upwards, sticking to the left bank. The path was narrow and quite tortuous with little scrambles in places and passing more evidence of old mining activities. I persisted and before too long saw lights above me. I gradually caught up and discovered that it was Jesse and Ed working out whether they were at the right place to cross the stream. I pulled out my gps, it hadn't helped in climbing up the gill because I had just drawn a straight line from somewhere near the start, but it confirmed this point pretty well spot on, so we crossed and soon our path turned into a much bigger track across the moor. When I got home I looked in the guidebook I had to see what it said about this section. This is what I found......"The path now bends north behind the [Crackpot] Hall to climb above the narrow gorge of Swinner Gill. Make sure you head uphill to follow the correct trail or you'll eventually find yourself on a lower, parallel but precipitous sheep track barely two boots wide and clinging to the side of the gorge below the correct route. Whichever route you stumble on, before long you arrive at the eerie remains of Swinner Gill smelting mill with waterfalls alongside. Again from here it's possible to stray onto a tricky path alongside the north banks of East Grain Beck instead of the easier way a little higher up the valley side, but both deliver you with a sweaty brow onto the breezy expanse of Gunnerside Moor".

I guess it's all pretty easy in daylight, but I'm still not sure which combination of the above options I took! One thing for sure though the "breezy moor" was dead right. We were now up on exposed ground at around the 2000ft contour and the wind was fairly whipping across. Jesse recognised the turning to the descent to the footbridge across Gunnerside Gill, remarking dryly as we scrambled down out of the wind that "The only problem is we've got to regain all this height on the other side". Nevertheless, he led us down and up, down the long track to Surrender Bridge and through the tricky field paths to Reeth with only occasional resorts to a gps to confirm direction from Ed or me. He was going more strongly than either Ed or me, his only problem was blistered feet which were clearly giving him some problems on the downhills. But without his knowledge this section would have taken me a lot longer. Reeth was very quiet, and as soon as we realised that the Dales Bike Centre, who had kindly left their toilet block open for runners, was not actually in Reeth but in Fremington half a mile down the road, we were out of it.

As we reached the bike centre it was not far off getting light. Jesse said he would push on without stopping, Ed said he would rest for a while and my intentions were to use the loo, fill up my water and then carry on. Ed and I went inside and he settled down on the floor; I was in and out quite quickly and off down the next section, which was a mile or so of road down to Marrick Priory.

On the "Priory Steps" up through the wood towards Marrick village I was suddenly hit by overwhelming tiredness. I needed to sleep, if only for a few moments. Just before the end of the wood I lay down on the stone slabs and crashed out for 10 minutes. It was enough, after that I made reasonable progress through the fields to Richmond, feedstation No 3, which I rolled into a shade after 8.30am. I was looking forward to Richmond, run by Jon and Shirley Steele, I've known them a while. I first met Shirley in 2007 when we were both making our way fairly slowly across Rannoch Moor in the West Highland Way Race, and I ran across Jon three years later, or rather he ran across me as I was throwing up in a meadow in Switzerland during that year's UTMB. I try to do at least one of their "Hardmoors" events each year. Shirley was at the door as I arrived. "How was that then?". A bit of a tough shift, I had to admit.

My primary need now was for sleep, but I had a cup of tea and some cake while I sorted feet. Taking my mug and plate back to the kitchen, I had a somewhat bizarre conversation with Shirley. ....

"Andy, exactly how old are you now?"

"Er, not quite sixty-eight, a couple of months to go."

"So your date of birth is 1948, right?"

"Er, yes."

I usually make some quip about being the same age as the NHS at this point, but my sleep-deprived brain couldn't put it together. And I'm still not sure what it was about. I thought they were supposed to ask you who the Prime Minister was when you were perceived to be a bit out of it.

A solid two and a half hours sleep made the world of difference. Chicken stew with potatoes, peaches and yoghourt, lashings of tea and I was good to go, ready to face the "flat bit". I really wasn't looking forward to the twenty miles or so of flat fields across the Vale of York. I was glad it had come in daylight because agricultural territory can be tricky at night because there is often no path on the ground, you're working from field edge to field edge. But I was pleasantly surprised, the whole way was good, easy to follow tracks, no sloppy ground and reasonably interesting countryside. And it had some villages, which always give the possibility of a nice pit stop. At Bolton-on-Swale there was no shop or pub, but a sign outside the church offered "Self-service tea and coffee", so I spent a somewhat serene 10 minutes inside on my own brewing up. A few miles further on Danby Wiske had a pub, another little sit down for a pint of coke and two packets of wonderfully salty crisps. By now, most places you visited had heard of the race and seen some runners. The chef at the pub knew more about where people were ahead of me than I did.

A mile after Danby Wiske I came upon a sad sight. Jesse's feet had finally given up and he was unable to continue. He was now only able to make progress by walking on his heels which meant his speed was "two miles an hour and falling". He'd rung his wife to pick him up in Danby Wiske and was making his way slowly back there. But for his foot problems I'm sure he would have gone on to finish inside three days.

My own thoughts were now focussed on Ingleby Cross. There was a pub there and if I could make it there while they were still serving food, a good meal would see me onto the North York Moors in good shape. Another runner had caught me up a few miles back but had then stopped to adjust something. I expected him to come past at any minute but he must have been going only a little faster than me because I didn't see him again until we were just approaching the notorious A19 crossing. He turned out to be Chris Haswell, and we discussed how close we were to the pub. It looked like touch and go on getting there in time so I'd hatched a plan B which was to go into the shop at the petrol station on the A19 for pies, sausage rolls, and any other worthy food they had. Chris declared this his plan A by getting a large coffee as well, while I chose to forego the drink and make for the pub, now only a half a mile or so distant. Meals were until 9pm, I arrived at four minutes past. I smiled as nicely as I could to the lady behind the bar. She was sympathetic but the chef would have to be consulted. She came back with "You can have cottage pie or chilli con carne". I stayed an hour.

4. The Moors

It was dark when I set out from the pub, I had got quite cold in the wind and rain the previous night on the moors above Keld, and as tonight promised more of the same I suited up before starting. Paramo jacket (great for anywhere you're not going too fast, just a vest underneath is all that's required, keeps you dry and comfortable in all conditions) and OMM overtrousers (the only ones I've found that don't make a continual rustling noise), then off up the hill to the Cleveland Way. I've done this section half a dozen times over the years so no problem in tackling it in any conditions, tonight was just a bit slower than normal. I followed the track easily over Scarth Moor and Carlton Bank, although the visibility was down to almost nothing. The rocky track ends abruptly in a sloping field just before Lord Stones Cafe, easy to know which way to go...........if you can see the cafe. But I was happy it was straight on down and soon the cafe lights appeared out of the gloom. I tried the washroom doors to see if I could top up with water but they were all locked; no disaster, I had enough to get to the Lion Inn at the pace I was going.

I remember from my first trip over here on the inaugural Hardmoors 55 back in 2010 that it was very misty and difficult to find the way back onto the rocky track after the cafe. No problem with some familiarity though - find the fence, follow the fence, simples. I enjoyed picking my way over the three little peaks, remembering the last time I had been this way was in the "formal fun run" at Jon and Shirley's wedding a while ago.

Coming down to Clay Bank in different conditions..........

I paused a while to have a drink at the road crossing at Clay Bank and was quite surprised when two other runners came past - I wasn't as alone as I had thought. I didn't recognise them but looking back at the times I think it must have been John Fraser and Chris Bird. They carried on and I didn't see them again.

Easy ground now, the broad track over the moors to Bloworth Crossing. It was daylight now but still misty and that just emphasised what a lonely spot this is. I remembered one windy September night when I had brought my tent out here to marshal one of the early Hardmoors 110 races; nowadays Jon makes it a self-clip so the guild of "Bloworth Crossing Keepers" who have taken numbers and handed out jelly babies here is no more. New ground for me beyond here though as Wainwright's route leaves the Cleveland Way and heads south down the old railway track to the Lion Inn.

It's around six miles from Bloworth to the Inn (Feed Station No 4) and I found it one of the most frustrating sections of the whole trip. It's dead level and easy ground under foot but somehow I just couldn't summon up a jog. I tried counting steps, running towards marks and so on, but all to no avail. Fifty or sixty paces and I was walking again. Just too tired I guess. In the end I gave up and just walked steadily. I think the surroundings would have been impressive if I could have seen them, it was clear that thousands upon thousands of tonnes of material had been shifted to create the cuttings and embankments for the now defunct mineral line, but for me they just disappeared into the mist. So I plodded on with my thoughts and waited for Blakey to appear. At least the wind seemed to be coming mostly from behind now.

The Lion Inn sits on Blakey Ridge, a high, exposed place. There is nothing else there. In fact nothing else around for miles. Yet the Inn is popular for this in a similar way to Tan Hill on the Pennines, so no spare space to get a base inside. The original intention was to have the feed station in a small marquee next to the Inn, but we had been told back along the course that it had proved impossible to get any tents up there because of the wind, but food was being served out of a van. It didn't sound too promising, and I had got it into my head that it was probably better to push on through, lose some height out of the wind, then get things together in one of the villages between the moors and the coast. When I arrived however at around 7am, I found the amazing Joe Faulkner running a 24 hour bistro, complete with comfortable seating for 6 diners, in the back of a transit van. Two bowls of chilli and a pint of tea and I already felt a different person. I was undecided now whether to carry straight on. It was only 28 miles to the finish, but they had managed to get some of the small tents up outside the van now so a rest was possible. "Look", the ever-wise Joe advised, "Go and get an hour's sleep, have some breakfast and you'll still have 12 hours to finish in daylight." Decision made.

An hour's solid sleep, porridge and coffee, and I was out into the gale again on the last lap. The crew of the feed station at the Lion, which was open for longer than any of the others, were far more deserving of a finisher's medal than any of the runners.

The first mile northwards up the road was directly into the wind and it was hard enough just to make progress, regardless of the speed. Then a track turned off at right angles and we gradually veered round to moving south again then gradually started losing height. After the first mile I was able to run all the way down to the first village at Glaisdale, 5 or 6 miles distant. A 4mph average rather than the barely three I had been achieving down the railway. There's a lot to be said for a sleep and some food. Glaisdale was awake but I felt I was going well so decided to give it a miss, and followed a muddy riverside path then a bit of road to Egton Bridge which the route sort of skirted, then an easy level track to the larger community of Grosmont. Chris Haswell caught me up again along here and we stayed together a bit and chatted. He said he thought he was suffering from shin splints and it was getting painful. I had decided to stop in Grosmont but he was carrying on so we parted again.

I found a place for tea and jam scones, like you do in these Yorkshire villages. I was glad that I did because the next bit was quite a shock, as the mile or so of road out of Grosmont proved to be one of the steepest climbs of the whole course. Having taken off all the waterproofs at last I was a bit chilly coming out of the cafe but really warm again by the time the road levelled out. A bit of nondescript but harmless moor led to the charming hamlet of Littlebeck. From here, the next mile or two alongside the beck, going up a wooded ravine, would have been wonderful had the path not been so obliterated by slippery mud. As it was it was still fairly spectacular. I stopped for a quick look at "The Hermitage", a cave hollowed out of rock with a rock "bench" inside (and where I found out chatting after the finish that Ben Taylor had stopped for a sleep), then diverted a few yards for a look at the "Falling Foss" waterfall. The mud ended as we came out of the trees, then there was just a little climb up a road onto the moors again. Chris appeared again here; I don't know how that happened, but this time he passed me and stayed ahead to the finish!

The two miles of moor from here to the outskirts of Hawkser were my least favourite part of the whole trip. Boggy trods, ankle deep and worse if you didn't get the best line. Slop like this belongs on the Pennine way where it would be made welcome, not contaminating the otherwise brilliant Wainwright coast-to-coast route! But then we were out onto dry land at Hawkser. I sat on a stile to wring my socks out, and as I was doing this Chris Bird came running by at a cracking pace, clearly intent on the finish. But I knew it would come soon enough now, so I carried on through the village and down to the cliffs of the North Sea.

5. The End

I knew it was four miles or so to the finish, but I wasn't really in a hurry. The stretch from the Lion had gone relatively quickly, it was about 6pm as I went through Hawkser so plenty of daylight left and the chip shop would still be open when I reached the finish. I was pleased that I was still able to jog some of the level bits along the coast, and the downhills went easily. Visibility was much better down here and as I approached Robin Hood's Bay I could see Ravenscar up on the cliffs in the distance. Then it was off the cliff path and down the long steep hill through the town to the seaside and the finish. Race Director James was there by the slipway, ready with a welcome and a medal, and then as I sat and reflected for a moment or two, fish and chips magically appeared.

I finished in three days, nine and a half hours, in 19th place. The word was that there were 60 starters but I could only see 50 on the live tracking. Whichever it was, I made it comfortably into the top half of the field and that's a bit of a bonus for me these days. With a bit more focus, a bit more discomfort and fewer stops for cakes I might have gone quicker, but that wasn't really the point. I came for the trip, and the trip had been good. I had survived pretty well, no injuries, no aches and pains, no blisters.

Was I going to join in the competition sprint up the hill to the village hall? I think I said something like well I made it here from St Bees without having to run up a hill so I'm not going to start now..............

This was a great event over a wonderful course. Thanks to James and all his team for managing to get it so right first time.

Written by Richard Stillion - https://richyla.wordpress.com

26.11.2016

1st Male Jeff Pyrah: 7.9.26

1st Female Samantha Amend: 8.51.00

The inaugural Wendover Woods was the final Centurion Race of 2016, the four 100s were done and this was the fourth 50 of the year. It was also Centurion’s first lap race consisting of 5×10 mile loops, the course resembling (to me anyway) a badly drawn hoody figure with elfen shoes and long arms.

The overall elevation was 9,500 feet of a lot of ups and downs.

I can’t help thinking that this race had the feeling of a fun run about it, only without the fun, or indeed the running, hehe. Sections of the race had been given names, possibly for a bit of fun, and possibly if someone was injured they could describe the section they were on. Section names were Power Line, Hell’s Road, Railing in the Years, Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Hillfort Loop, Gnarking Around, The Snake and Crossroads Loop (although I can’t remember seeing this sign). I did think of a few more names for parts of the course, namely:

Root Avenue

Root Plaza

Root Canal

Joe Root Street

Root……there were plenty of roots – I suppose if you’re in a wood, then it goes without saying. Amazingly, it wasn’t until about mile 48 that I had any grief with the aforementioned trip hazards, more of which, later. There was one point I saw the ubiquitous Stuart March – race photographer extraordinaire – on the floor. I’d assumed he was going for a certain camera angle, but who knows, he may also have tripped over a root and decided to stay there for a bit.

I hadn’t run this sort of distance since 2014 and training was going well until a road marathon about five weeks ago where my right foot ended up in a lot of pain. I tried a few training runs, but the pain persisted, so it was a case of rest. Annoyingly, the pain didn’t go. Even on the morning of Wendover I was wondering whether to call it off, but I just went on the theory that if it hurt when I wasn’t running, I may as well go and run. I really needed to get out and I’m also doing the Arc of Attrition in February and I saw this as essential training so the alarm was set for 5.20am, I sorted a pretty minimal mandatory kit and off I went. It was foggy and pretty cold when I got to the trig-point field. I was wearing a long sleeve running top and jacket, beanie and gloves, but I didn’t want to put any more on because once you start running, you overheat. So it was a case of hanging it out until the start, which wasn’t long in fairness. We all walked across the field, queued politely to get over a stile and assembled for the start. Whilst waiting for my turn to go over the stile, I met Victoria – the person who inadvertently got me into this fine mess in the first place. It was good to have a chat and a catch up. Following a “power” briefing, James got us away bang on time. We were on a bit of a slope so l planted myself at the back and walked up. I was unsure about my foot anyway so wanted to start gently and the route was going to be a difficult one – the three other Centurion 50s had a 13 hour cut off, this one was extended to 16 hours, read into that what you will!

It was also going to be a psychological challenge because as a looped route, the drop option was available every ten miles, so this called for a strategic approach.

First loop was an exploratory one. I’d read a few Facebook comments from people who’d covered the route a few weeks ago and there were plenty of reports of very steep ascents, so it was going to be interesting. The first mile included a bit of an incline, but then some easy running, passing a Gruffalo carving. For the next twenty miles or so I was trying to think how the rhyme went about terrible teeth in terrible jaws, but I couldn’t remember what it was that was all over his back. I remembered the poisonous wart on his nose.

The course was all over the place and pretty complex but was exceptionally well marked – Centurion staff were constantly doing the rounds to check on the markings throughout the race. Some parts of the course came very close to each other and in the briefing James had pointed out, if you want to cheat, then do so, but you’re only cheating yourself. Even now, it’s difficult to remember which bit of the course came first but I’ll write as I remember it.

As I mentioned, I can’t remember seeing a crossroads sign, but I think this was possibly the first loop which wasn’t too long, bit of downhill, around then back up again.

Next was Power Line – basically a path under a power line which opened out onto a field and across to another part of the wood, then back up again.

The next section brought you down to the aid station which was situated around halfway, but hold on, you can’t go in, you have to go that way – Hell’s Road. It goes without saying it was uphill. For quite some time, I might add. And then there was an even steeper uphill. Followed by a downhill. Oh, hang on, and then uphill again to the Go Ape area. Now it was downhill and then along a rooty bit and eventually a road track down to the aid station. I recognised Corinne here and said hello. I tried not to faff for the first couple of laps so carried on up a long and not too steep hill. Then there was a good, clear, stretch of running leading eventually the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. I’m assuming a Green Day fan was in residence when they were thinking this one up as it certainly wasn’t a broken dream to run, it was possibly the best bit of open stretch to run on. Regarding markings, on loop 4 I was daydreaming with my head down and missed the turning, but thankfully there was an orange X sprayed on the floor to show it was the wrong way! Saved me a bit of time backtracking.

On next to The Snake, just above Wendover town/village. This part was used in the Piece of String race a few years back which I was helping out at. I remember a few of the runners – Anna Buckingham and David Pryce to name a couple of them – just ran up this part, loop after loop. It’s only when I was slogging a walk up it myself that I had an appreciation of how good these runners are.

So a long slog later and then I turned back on myself to the Hillfort Loop which was a pretty nice section to run on. The hillfort being of similar ilk to Segsbury Camp, Uffington, Liddington and Barbary Castle on the Ridgeway. It was around here that I caught up with Charlotte and Julian so it was good to say hello. The route took you downhill until you met a marshal and there it was – Gnarking Around. I looked this word up and it’s in the urban dictionary. It was pretty apt. But to me it became Gnarls Barkley. There were quite a few of us slogging up this bit, it was very steep but pretty short and I mentioned out loud that this would be fun at mile 49. So one mile to go to finish the loop, a bit of down and up then along to Railing in the Years which were some of the worst bits of railing I’ve ever seen, you had to bend double at the start of them to grab hold of them. Crossing the road, there were some wooden railings and I found that they were good leaning posts to empty my shoes, which I found myself doing every lap due to the crud that got in them. Gaiters may be an option. A bit more of a climb at this point to the top, then turn left and you could see the end of the loop. Over a stile then on to shout your number, pick up some food, then out again.

So that was the loop. Up and down, up and down. We had to have our head torches with us after 1pm. James Elson (race director) had suggested people may drop at the end of the third loop, so to make sure I didn’t do this, I didn’t want to hang around at this point, so I picked my head torch up at the end of the second loop, along with a ton of gels and a wad of Vaseline. I carried the splodge of Vaseline with me until I reached the woods before applying it!

The fog had also lifted after an hour or two showing the woods and surrounds in its autumnal splendour. I kept bumping into the Centurion guys checking the course and it was good to see Drew, Claire, Chris and Gary and another chatty guy who I didn’t know.

I was wondering how long it would take for me to get lapped by the front runners and was praying it wouldn’t be the first lap! In fact it was around mile 19 when two guys absolutely flew past. The race was full on, they were ten miles ahead of me already. They came hurtling down one section and then up again, so light on their feet. Good to get a glimpse to see how it should be done! I was pretty pleased in the end that I think I was only lapped by about 20 people in all, I thought it would be more.

As for the psychology of the loop running. For my part, I broke it down as loop one being an exploratory loop, taking it easy. Lap two, reaching the half marathon mark, then 17 miles saw a third of the race done. Loop three would reach the halfway point, marathon point, then anything more, would be ultra territory. Loop four – well, 33 miles was the most I’d run in the last two years, so it was good to go past that, and for the rest of it, I just thought, for every step I’m taking, I only have to do this once more. The final loop – well, that’s okay because you know that you don’t have to do it again!

I picked up a niggle at the end of loop four on the outside of my knee and it really hampered my running for about four miles. It went as soon as it came so I could get on and run thankfully. As for the root incident. This was around the Hillfort Loop. Down I went, quite hard on my left side which jarred a bit. Wanting in on the action was my right calf which simultaneously went into full on, rock solid, cramp. I was really impressed with my theatrical yelps and aaaaaahs, but where’s an audience when you need one? I just lay there until I could feel the calf loosen up a bit. I was wondering if it was going to be cramping for the rest of the race, but thankfully it was fine. So, off I waddled and finished the race in a time I, personally, was delighted with. I was so euphoric I was thinking of stage diving the finish gantry, but it would have just been my luck to have punctured it. That would have gone down well. I settled for a bit of a bounce off it. And then my medal, t-shirt and some welcome, wholesome soup.

Is that the finish? Nope. For the finale, I must thank each and every person involved with this race. The markings were absolutely faultless on a thoroughly demanding but really fun course. Marshals, out on a cold day for the full 16 hours duration of the race – plus putting up and putting away. A lot of the 100s don’t require that amount of time. Everyone involved was cheerful and encouraging to the last. Thank you, thank you.

Congratulations to Centurion – James, Nici, Drew et al. on another successful year and kudos to all the 100, 50 and 100+50 mile grand slammers – to remain fit throughout the year is no mean feat and is something that eludes me.

I dedicate this race to my wife, brilliantly supportive in the last month and waiting for me when I got home with a hot bath, followed by food and lots of simpering noises to my self-inflicted agony.

Written by Andy Law - http://running.andylaw.info

I've been meaning for some time to start writing a few words about my running - races, training, nutrition, motivations and related bits, but never seemed to get around to it. I think this is mainly due to the fact that as an unspectacular and average, middle-of-the-pack runner I wasn't so sure that anyone would be that interested in reading it.

My experience last weekend running the South Downs Way, however, was so incredible that it has finally kicked me into gear to write something, hoping that I might be able to share at least a small amount of the feeling generated by running this amazing event. I'm hopeful that this may help to inspire some to give it a go and others to understand why I love participating in a sport which many consider crazy.

I arrived in Winchester around midday on Friday 10th June and checked into my hotel room at the Royal Winchester. I'd grabbed some food on the way, trying to chose things that would give me a bit of a carb based glycogen boost for the following day without causing my stomach any issues. I suffer with IBS, so I'm aware that some foods cause me more stomach issues than others, and this has been significantly highlighted during ultras in the past. With that in mind, I'd picked up possibly the most middle-class lunch ever of freekeh and quinoa salads, which I knew I could stomach without issues.

I spent the afternoon exploring Winchester and doing a bit of shopping to try and pass the time and keep myself from thinking too much about what was in store for me the following day. I also managed to sneak in a couple of hours nap, which was a relief as I was pretty sure I'd fail to get off to sleep that night.

Late afternoon/early evening I got my mandatory race kit together to head down to the race start to register, but before doing so I headed down to reception to try and book a taxi for the following morning. As Winchester's a pretty small city all the taxis for 5am on Saturday had already been booked (lesson for next time, and I can't say that Centurion didn't warn us in advance - book well in advance!). I was determined this wasn't going to stress me out though though, as I was pretty sure I'd find a way to get to the start and at worst it was only about 1.5 miles to walk there. Having said that, I didn't really want to put any extra distance in my legs the following morning before even starting. Fortunately a fellow SDW100 runner, Martin, came into reception (it was fairly easy to tell that he was a runner with his Salomon race vest on!) and he mentioned that he had a spare place in his taxi for the following morning. Result.

Martin and I took a walk down to the start for registration. It was really good to chat to a fellow runner who had run in 100 milers before and my big fear of the following day, running through the night, was something that Martin was really looking forward to, saying that the lift you get when the sun starts to come up is really something. That set my mind at rest a bit, as I'd been worried that whilst I'd trained running in the dark with a head torch I hadn't trained for running the entire night, and especially not after having been running for 14-16 hours. It was also reassuring to chat to someone who had similar goals for the following day, hoping to come in under 24 hours and I found out at this point that there was a different buckle for sub-24 finishers as there was for others, which kind of stuck in my mind. In truth, my absolute dream goal was to finish sub-24 hours but I held very limited hope of it actually happening. I knew how tired I'd been at the end of SDW50 a couple of months before where I'd finished in about 10 hours 30 mins and had considered pulling out of the 100 as a result. So I thought I'd be struggling to maintain any sort of decent pace by the end of the race. If, indeed, I got that far, 100 miles is after all quite a long way to run. Realistically, my goal for the race was just to finish within the 30 hour cutoff. Anything better than that would be a massive bonus.

Whilst chatting away, we managed to completely miss the turning into the field for registration. It was only a couple of minutes walk back and it was easy to see how we'd missed it as the field was accessed through a relatively small gap in the hedge. At least I'd now recce'd about 200 metres of the first half of the course though, as I'd only had a chance to recce the second half of the course during training!

Arriving at registration made everything hit home. This incredible challenge was going to be here very soon. Kit check and registration passed without hitch and only took a few minutes and I made my way back to the hotel, trying to keep my nerves and excitement in check. It had been good to meet and fellow runner and have a bit of a walk to stretch the legs, but now I just wanted to grab some food and get an early night. I did about an hour's worth of stretching, ate dinner and frantically packed and repacked my race pack and drop bags for the following day and set out my kit for the morning. I tried my best to get off to sleep at around 8.45 but, as expected, my mind was whirring round so much thinking about the following day that it took me until at least 10.30pm to get to sleep. The next thing I knew it was 4am and my alarm was going off.

Game time. I was surprised by how calm I felt, and even though it'd been a short night's sleep I felt well rested. I'd been working hard for 6 months towards this day and had trained well the majority of the time so it was actually a feeling of relief that it was finally here. It had been the only thing I'd really thought about for the last 2-3 weeks. I wolfed down as much breakfast as I thought I could stomach (chia seeds with almond milk, banana and berries - my breakfast of choice before a long run), put copious amounts of vaseline on the bits likely rub (I'll leave that to your imagination!), taped up nipples (you only forget to lube/tape up your nips once before a long run and the lesson is learnt for life) and got into my kit for the day. I felt great, it's finally here!

Ready to go, I went to zip up my overnight bag, and as I was doing so the zip split. On trying to drag the zip back to the start to get it back on track, the whole zip came off. Damn! This is the sort of thing that would usually really annoy me (especially in a sleep deprived state), but this morning I just thought "if this is the worst thing that happens today, then that's pretty good going!". I was determined not to waste energy on something as trivial as this and hoped I'd be able to sort something out at reception. As it turned out I was able get a bin-liner to put it in, classy.

*Note, I can't have been as calm as I thought I was, as I since discovered that there were two zips on the same track on the bag, so I could have just used the other one!

I grabbed my bags and headed down to reception. Another runner who was waiting outside (apologies, I don't remember your name - I'm going by the excuse that it was still 5am in the morning and I was feeling a little bit nervous) offered me a lift in her cab, and as Martin's cab was already pretty full I accepted the kind offer. The taxi driver asked us "so how far's your run today?" and when we told him we were planning on running 100 miles to Eastbourne he seemed pretty lost for words but wished us luck. We arrived at the start and I wished my fellow runner the best of luck and proceeded to try and get my head straight, ready for the long day ahead.

I saw I couple of guys from the Bosh Facebook group I'm a member of, Kevin and Nick and went to have a quick chat before the start. I also had the chance to speak briefly with Jess Gray, a fellow Bosh member and all-round incredible runner who'd won the SDW50 a couple of months previously and with whom I'd spoken with once before at the start of my first ultra, London to Brighton Challenge in 2014 which ended for me at 80km of the 100km race. Whilst that race ended badly for me, the memory has been incredibly important to draw on mentally in subsequent races. Indeed, one of my mantras for today was that "nothing could hurt as much as not finishing would", drawing heavily on that memory of L2B. We all wished each other well for the day, and started heading towards the start.

I bumped into another runner Brandon, who I'd met at the Three Forts Marathon in May, and his friend Martin and had a quick chat. Brandon has done many 100 milers, and chatting to him at Three Forts and throughout SDW100 really helped me mentally and helped give me the belief that I could do it, thank you Martin!

James Elson of Centurion called the runners to the start where he gave us our instructions for the day. He talked about how everyone should take care of each other on the course and that we should all follow the red and white markings, not the markings to the village fete which the leader of the race had done a couple of years previously after 90 odd miles! On the course during in the day, I'd get to see quite how much the runners do take care of each other out there. It's quite simply an amazing group of people that take part in this event, not to mention those that support and organise it.

Before I knew it, we were counting down to the start and then off doing a lap of the field before heading out on to the South Downs Way. It felt so good to finally be running, and I tried my best to settle into a sensible pace. I tried to run at a pace where I didn't feel like I was putting much work into it. Every time I felt like my legs were working too hard or that I was breathing too heavily, I dialled back the pace until it felt relatively easy again. At this point of the race there were frequent, but not at all steep, hills. We all slowed to walk the uphills, which at this early stage of the race I found a little frustrating, although I certainly wasn't going to get carried away by running them so early on. I've learnt the hard way that pushing hard early on can pretty much only end one way for me. There was a fine, cool drizzle in the air at this early stage and the temperature was just about perfect for endurance running and I was hopeful it would stay this way for the rest of the day.

I trotted along, keeping as light on my feet as possible and before I knew it we'd reached the first aid station at Beacon Hill. I didn't really feel the need to eat anything at this stage, so just got a top up of my water bottles by one of the many great Centurion volunteers and got going back on the trail as quickly as I could. I knew that the next aid station, around 13 miles away, would be where my family would be waiting for me and I was really excited to see them all. It's an odd thing in a race like this, but 13 miles feels like it's just round the corner so I felt like I'd see them in a couple of minutes, which put a bit of a spring in my step.

During the next couple of hours on the way to Queen Elizabeth Country Park (QECP) though, the refreshing drizzle that had accompanied the start of the race stopped and the temperature was steadily rising. Still, I felt good and concentrated on trying to keep running light on my feet. As I got nearer to the QECP checkpoint, my toes and in particular my big toenails were feeling a bit painful where they had been hitting the end of my shoes. The socks I was wearing were relatively thick and my feet were incredibly hot and sweaty (and possibly a bit swollen as a result), so I decided I'd change my socks at the checkpoint as a priority. I'd packed a slightly thinner pair in my backpack, as I'd had a similar issue a couple of times previously running in these socks during a couple of training runs, but other than this I felt great.

Before long I was entering QECP, and was looking out for my family straight away. I checked my phone, and saw I had a message from my wife - she'd managed to forget the bag of food that I'd prepared. For the last few miles I'd been really looking forward to having one of the sushi wraps I'd prepared (just rice, miso and nori, I wasn't going to risk raw fish in the middle of a 100 miler, I'm not crazy!), so I was initially a bit disappointed but not for long. I was determined not to waste energy on getting wound up by something so insignificant and knew that I'd be able to find plenty to eat at the checkpoint. I hadn't realised that there was quite such a distance between entering QECP and the checkpoint, so it was another 10-20 minutes or so until I reached it, but turning round the corner I spied them and had an immediate boost. It was great to see how excited the little ones were - my daughter Kaia, son Theo, nephew George and niece Ronnie, and they'd made some awesome signs and flags for me, one with an awesome message from my son Theo. My favourite bit of the message is "100 miles? how?", which is a bloody good question! In case you can't read the rest of the message in the image, it says "Dad keep on going you are doing so well. I will be so proud of you when you have done it. In my mind it would be impossible. Well done."
What an awesome support team! I didn't hang around for too long though, as I still had the small matter of around 77 miles left to run. I had a chance for a quick chat with my everyone before heading over to the aid station to refill my bottles (I'd emptied both 500ml bottles by now as the conditions were pretty hot and muggy by this point) and excitedly picked away at the amazing array of food that is provided the well-stocked Centurion aid stations. In my excitement at devouring about 3 peanut butter and jam wraps (seriously, just the best thing ever!) I managed to completely forget to say hello to Graham Carter, who had started the '2016 South Downs Way 100 - First Time 100 Mile Runners Chat' Facebook group and which had been a great help in preparing for the race. So, firstly thank you Graham for setting that up to help first-timers like myself and secondly thank you for being one of the incredible Centurion volunteers (seriously, Centurion volunteers are quite simply some of the nicest people I've ever had the privilege to meet, both during SDW50 and SDW100 and I can't wait to volunteer myself at Wendover Woods 50 in Autumn) and finally sorry that I got distracted by food and didn't say hi!

At the QECP aid station, I also overheard a conversation between Shelley Harris and one of the volunteers, who I'd been running with on and off since near the start of the race, about the reason that her and her partner Mark were running with it being a year to the day that they had lost their daughter. I have to say that what they were doing and the reasons for it really stayed with until the end of the race and I am in awe of their strength and courage - truly inspirational.

On the way out of the aid station, I bumped into John Fitzgerald, another Bosh member, who was also volunteering. As I passed, he said "I'll see you again in Alfriston later on" and while I was hopeful I would, I knew deep down that it was still about 77 miles from there. As a result, I had a quick thought about the big journey I still had to make.

There was a long walk-climb through a forest away from the QECP aid station - a pattern that seems to be repeated from most checkpoints - and it was very hot and sticky. Being within the forest meant that the humidity hung in the air and there was absolutely no breeze whatsoever to cool you down. It was very hot indeed, and I also realised that I'd failed to change my socks, what with the excitement of seeing my family and peanut butter and jam wraps. I decided that I'd better stop and do it now before it became a bigger issue, so found a spot to sit down. Immediately after doing so, my feet felt so much better and I noticed how much more room my toes had to move around and was confident that I stood a much better chance of retaining my toenails.

The next aid station was only around 5 miles away and it was only about another hour or so I got there. I'd managed to empty both my water bottles again in this time as the conditions were getting hotter. I'd made sure that I was getting regular S!Caps down to ensure that I wasn't losing too much salt, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep well hydrated and I'd started to notice that my pee was darker than it ought to be. I made sure at Harting Down aid station to take on as much water as I could before heading out on the trail as a result.

Around this point I began to feel pretty terrible though, and quickly got into a circle of negative thoughts in my head. As it wasn't yet 30 miles through the race, thoughts like "if I feel this bad, this early on, then how the hell am I going to manage another 70 odd miles" kept on going round in my head and whilst I was trying my best to concentrate on more positive thoughts, I was really struggling to turn it around. Every time I tried to distract myself with more positive thoughts, a negative one seemed to immediately override it. I spent almost the entire distance between Harting Downs and Cocking aid stations in this low spot and found it really difficult to get moving at any decent speed on the flats and downhills, but kept plodding along as best as I could, listening to music to trying and maintain some sort of tempo and rhythm when running.

I was still feeling really down as I approached the Cocking aid station at 35.1 miles and conditions were absolutely sweltering at this point. My amazing support crew was out in effect here and I got a real boost in seeing them again and in truth the thought of seeing them again had been one of the few things keeping me going for the previous 5 or 6 miles. I tried my best to hide the fact that I was feeling pretty crap, but I'm pretty sure it was clear I wasn't in great shape and that I wasn't looking particularly strong. I stayed a bit longer with everyone here than I had back at QECP, and it felt like it helped in pulling myself together. I mentioned that my dream goal of sub-24 hours was pretty much gone already, as I was finding the conditions such tough going, but I was determined to finish. I think this was as much to reassure myself that I could still do it as anything else though. I downed a bottle of water with an electrolytes and realised just how thirsty I'd been as I did so, grabbed a couple of Clif bars and headed up the hill to the aid station to grab some bits of food and top up water bottles. One of the volunteers at the aid station asked how I was doing, and when I told him that I'd been really struggling with the conditions and wasn't feeling great, he told me that they'd had quite a few people drop here. For some reason this made me feel better about the fact that I'd was struggling, knowing that I wasn't alone in that, and I set off from Cocking and started marching up the hill away from the aid station.

By the time I'd completed the climb up the hill I was beginning to feel stronger and more positive then by the time I set about running the first downhill I had a real sense of euphoria. I allowed myself to 'do the airplane' and let out a few loud whoops. It was a truly strange how quickly I'd gone from feeling really down in the dumps to feeling on top of the world. No matter how many books, race reports and articles you read telling you that this can and often does happen multiple times in a single ultra, it's difficult to believe that this is true until it happens to you. I knew that this feeling wouldn't last for long, but I was determined to enjoy it whilst it lasted and was so relieved that I'd come through a long difficult spell. I thought to myself that I needed to hold onto this feeling for when I inevitably got to hard moments later in the race.

Feeling suddenly so good again, meant that the 6 miles between Cocking and the next aid station at Bignor Hill passed within the blink of an eye. Having said that, it was incredibly hot. When I was approaching the Bignor Hill aid station I saw another runner was having a jug of water poured over his head, and thought "I'm having some of that!". I also spotted Brendon and Martin who were just leaving the aid station. Only an hour or two earlier I'd thought I'd seen the last of them for the day and that had no chance of catching up with them again (actually I'd wandered whether I still had any chance of completing the race), so this reinforced the fact in my mind that I'd really turned things around - for the moment at least.

I grabbed some food, and asked if I could possibly have a bit of a "shower" too. I have to say, the feeling was one of the single most pleasant things I've ever felt. It was very cold which I'd usually find extremely unpleasant, but it helped so much in cooling me down and also made me aware of quite how hot I'd been. I doused my cap in water and headed off. It wasn't long after leaving the aid station that I was back up to boiling point again, but it had been great to cool down for a short while. I was still feeling great at this point despite the heat, and before long caught up with Brandon and Martin on the downhill towards the Arun valley and stayed for a short while to chat. I was feeling really good though so pressed on, suspecting that they'd catch me back up before long (I knew there was still a very long way to go and that I would have some more peaks and troughs).

I was concentrating on getting to Amberley, where I was due to meet up with "The World's Most Awesome Support Crew™ (TWMASC)". I got chatting with Barrie Duerden, who I recognised as the genius who's jug-of-water-over-the-head idea I'd copied back at the previous checkpoint, and it was really nice to have some company for a few miles to talk about previous races and hopes for today. Barrie was hoping to better his previous best in this race of around 25 hours, and still thought it was possible to break 24 hours from where we were. The thought of breaking 24 hours hadn't really crossed my mind much during the race so far, but as we weren't too far from half way and running with someone who'd run a lot of 100 milers and mountain races I allowed myself to dream a little, but didn't let myself get carried away. We reached what I thought looked like Amberley, but couldn't see "TWMASC™" anywhere so thought I must be mistaken. However, as I got to a stupidly steep hill, I realised that this was the start of Kithurst Hill, as I'd run this a couple of times as my in-laws live in Storrington, not to far away from here. I was a bit disappointed not to see them, but knew the next aid station wasn't too far, so sent a message to them to let them know that I was on my way up towards the aid station. They hadn't thought that I'd be able to reach Amberley so quickly, so I assumed that 1) I'd looked in pretty bad shape back at Cocking and 2) I'd managed increase my pace well since feeling rubbish.

Barrie seemed like a man possessed with the way he attacked Kithurst Hill, and I let him go ahead in front, as there was no way after 50 miles that I was going to try and match that pace uphill! I love the view from here though, and I knew that I was approaching the halfway point and would definitely see "TWMSC™" soon. It's funny how your memory can do strange things to you though, as I'd thought that the climb wasn't too far to the top, but at this point it seemed to go on forever.
View from Kithurst Hill At about 5pm I reached the top, with some brilliant support from "TWMSC™" and some of the awesome Centurion volunteers. My sister-in-law, Amanda, and niece and nephew weren't here though as George had managed to leave his iPad in the pub where they'd all had lunch (mmmmm, pub.... the idea of a pint at this point of the race was almost too good to be true). I'd reached the halfway point in about 11 hours, which meant that I thought I had a half-decent chance to get in under 24 hours, although I was certain that I'd slow down significantly in the second half of the race.

I was irrationally excited at the aid station at seeing more peanut butter and jam wraps - seriously, how good after running 50 miles?! I filled up one of my water bottles with water and electrolyte and the other with water and got a hug from Kaia and Theo, wishing me luck for the rest of the race as they were to go home for dinner from here and then to bed. I'd been worried before the start that I'd be tempted to call it a day here and head back to my in-laws, but I felt great and so said bye to everyone and pushed on up the hill. It was only 4 miles until Washington, the first checkpoint with drop bags, so I was keen to push on to there as I knew I had a fresh top to change into. It was cooling down a bit now in the early evening and I was looking forward to getting out of the top that I'd clearly sweated bucketloads into today!

Along the top of the hill, I felt I was running strong and would be in Washington before I knew it, then suddenly BANG. I felt like I'd been shot in the inside of the knee, and almost fell down with pain. Oh no, please no, this is bad and I've never had anything like this before. This is the end, I thought, absolutely gutted! I was feeling so strong and just couldn't believe this had happened. I tried to walk, and it didn't actually hurt so bad, so I started running easily - no, that hurts a lot. I walked it for a couple of minutes, trying to feel out if it was worse in certain different positions, but couldn't really tell. So I tried another little trot, and it was excruciating again. After a few attempts at running, however, I found that if I angled my foot towards the inside, the pain was much reduced and I was able to continue running. After a couple of minutes I could barely feel it, although every time my foot straightened out it was painful. I was confident that I could continue though even if it meant running in an odd way. Result!

It was difficult going downhill with my new strange running technique, but I knew that the Washington checkpoint wasn't too far off so carried on plugging away. Before long I was jogging into Washington, and said a quick hello to Scott, who I'd met at Three Forts and who would be pacing Brandon and Martin later on, and made my way down to the checkpoint.

I took advantage of the proper toilet facilities available and doused my face with cold water before going to grab my drop bag. I retrieved my head torches first, as I couldn't possibly leave the checkpoint without those, then searched my bag for my change of top. Nowhere to be found, only a base layer. With the weather forecast having predicted conditions to be much cooler today, I'd only packed a long-sleeved compression top here, as I assumed that I might need it due to cooling temperatures at this stage. Oh well, again I'm not going to let something so insignificant get to me. I passed up the offer of hot food - partly as I was still feeling quite warm, partly as pasta doesn't always do good things to my stomach, but mainly I'd reached this checkpoint (54 miles in) in just under 12 hours, so was keen to get going again as soon as possible and give everything I had to push towards Eastbourne and give myself a chance to make the finish in under 24 hours. I grabbed a couple of wraps, downed some flat coke and headed out the door and back on my way.

This is a section of the course that I've run a fair few times, so I felt comfortable that I knew what to expect for the next 15-20 miles, and I seemed to reach the top of Chanctonbury ring before I knew it. I started on the way down the hill, but my stomach started playing up and knew from previous experiences that I didn't have too long to find somewhere to do something about it. I also knew that on one of the previous times I'd run up here I'd had the thought that "this wouldn't be a great place to have to find a bush", so was a little bit concerned. A little way on, I managed to find a hedge that I thought I could conceal myself in. Just as I was backing in (I'm sure this cuts a beautiful mental image!) though, someone walked past and I had a thought that this must be a pretty strange thing to come across during a nice peaceful walk up on the downs. Still, I had no choice as my stomach was doing somersaults so as soon as this lady was further from view, I continued my reversing maneuver into the hedge and was able to deal with the matter. It's fair to say that this was not my finest moment, but it was a massive relief and I was able to hit the trail again and make my way down towards Botolphs. I was starting to feel very tired but the thought of sub 24 was really spurring me on to keep pushing as much as I could. I also knew that there was a long climb to come from Botolphs up to Devil's Dyke which is almost entirely non-runnable so I was keen to take advantage of the downhill and flat terrain whilst possible.

I arrived at Botolphs at about 7.50, just shy of 14 hours into the race. The awesome Centurion volunteers topped up my bottles and I grabbed a few bits to eat, as well as some extra some bits to eat on the climb up to Devil's Dyke. I sent my wife a message to say that I was just leaving the aid station as I was due to meet her at the top. I've found this climb to be pretty hard going in the past, as it's a long slog uphill. I realised that the England Euro 2016 match was just starting so I tried to get the commentary streaming on my phone, but anyone who's spent any time in this area of the world is probably thinking "why did you even bother trying?!", and it didn't take long before I gave up. On the first part of the climb, I was overtaken by a couple of mountain bikers, who gave some words of encouragement as they passed. It wasn't long though before one of them wasn't able to cycle the steep and uneven terrain, and I quickly overtook him back. It felt pretty good to pass someone who I knew hadn't been running for 60 miles or so, and I really had to hold myself back from saying something really dickish!

The tarmac on the way up to the YMCA and radio masts was a welcome relief from the uneven chalk ground that forms the majority of the route, but I was unable to run here very much unlike I'd been able to in SDW50 and Three Forts Marathon, but I wasn't too despondent about that as I knew there was still a way to go to reach the top of Devil's Dyke. The short downhill section after the radio masts felt great though, and I was shocked to feel so fresh after 60+ miles. Just before the bottom of the field I met another runner who didn't seem in a great way, however. I tried my best to say that it's possible to come through the other end, as I'd felt truly awful earlier on, but he didn't seem optimistic. It seemed more of a "mechanical" than my "feeling-a-bit-rubbish-and-sorry-for-myself" issue though and I knew there wasn't a lot I could do to help, so when he said that I should press on, I did as I was told. I wished him all the best and genuinely hope that he was able to get through it, but it was a stark reminder to me that it could quickly change for me from the good place I was currently found myself in.

Devil's Dyke is one of my favourite spots on the South Downs Way, and I was lucky enough to experience a stunning sunset whilst climbing up here.
Stunning sunset towards the top of Devil's Dyke I powered my way up to the top as quickly as I could, growing in belief all the time that sub-24 was possible. I sent a message to my wife when I could see the pub to say that I'd be there fairly soon. Of course, the reception being what it is around here, she didn't get this message right away so when I did get to the top, she wasn't here. Never mind, again I thought "this isn't going to affect me today"! I called her and she said that they were coming from the car park as quickly as possible, and I almost set off towards Saddlescombe Farm as I knew there was a car park down there, but some of the other supporters told me that the car park they were coming from would be near the pub, so I quickly headed off in that direction. I met my wife and mother-in-law about 50-100 metres up the road, and declined anything from my food bag again (I'd basically made them carry this heavy bag around all day, taking just two small bottles of water from it, a couple of Clif bars and some home-made energy balls and there was A LOT more in it than that - sorry for that!!). I said that I now had it in my head to go for sub-24 and they both told me that they thought I could do it, and with that I was back on my way, with a bit of a spring in my step, full of belief that that sub-24 hour goal was possible. I genuinely couldn't believe how fresh my legs were feeling.

Before I knew it I was at the Saddlescombe Farm aid station, which was a short 1 mile downhill from Devil's Dyke. A quick use of the facilities, some more wraps and flat coke and I got my head-torch out and ready to use for the next section as it was starting to get pretty dark now. I left Saddlescombe Farm and power-walked my way up the hill as quickly as I dared. Once I arrived at Pyecombe Golf Club (about 2 miles from Saddlescombe) the head-torch was really needed, but I felt really up for the night time section as the move into night had brought with it a welcome drop in temperature. I had an odd thought that the kinder climatic conditions would allow me to up my pace (I obviously wasn't thinking too clearly after nearly 70 miles of running).

As I approached the aid station at Clayton Windmills, I took a look back at where I'd come from, and the sight of a line of torches coming down the hill was truly a thing of beauty. The journey along the South Downs Way is full of stunning scenery and there are many images that will stay with me for a long time, but this was something that you'd never have a chance to see outside of this race and it will stay with me for a long time.

On arriving at the aid station at Clayton Windmills, I retrieved my second drop bag, and excitedly got out the fresh t-shirt that I thought I'd been after at Washington. I also decided to put on a base layer, as the temperature had dropped a fair bit and there was quite a fresh breeze. This was the first aid station I'd reached in the dark and it was certainly a bit surreal. But as I was still feeling fresh I refilled quickly and grabbed some chunks of cheese for fuel (like pretty much everything else that day, they tasted unbelievably good!) and set off into the night time towards the next aid station at Housedean Farm, around 7 miles down the road.

I don't really recall much about this next section with it passing without incident and still feeling fresh. I did question my choice of putting on a base layer though, as I was still having to drink loads to keep hydrated and was feeling very warm. When I reached the downhill section to Housedean, I became aware of a stone in my shoe which I was keen to get sorted asap, but as I knew that the Aid Station was just around the corner I decided I could wait until I reached there to sort it. I got into the aid station and got a refill of water and grabbed some coke (I never, ever drink coke in normal daily life, but it was tasting so good and giving me a lift, and if you can't have it during a 100 mile run then when can you?!). I headed over to a chair to sort out my shoe, sat down and realised that it felt SO GOOD. Beware the chair! I'd read those words in so many places before the race, and now I understood why. I realised that I was sat next to a guy who I'd met in the return coach at SDW50. I'd been ready to pull out of SDW100 by the end of SDW50 as I'd had such a hard time, but my chat with this man (I'm really sorry, I don't know your name!!) had been really helpful in convincing me to double my efforts in training and take it as a wake up call, so thank you. He was going through a hard time himself at this point, but said to me "oh, you're still within 24 hour pace". I'd been relaxing into the chair, as my flawed calculations on the way into the checkpoint made me think that I was well within 24 hours pace. The Centurion volunteer sat with us then confirmed this, saying that they expected 24 hours finishers to come in in about 20 minutes. Hearing this, I basically just jumped up from my chair and started going. I'm really sorry, I don't think I said goodbye, good luck or anything and just legged it, but I was worried having thought that I was about an hour inside target and knowing that 20 minutes is very easily lost when so fatigued.

Shortly after Housedean is a mammoth climb, which had really torn me to pieces in SDW50 but I kind of felt like I was being chased now, so pushed really hard all the way up here. By the top of the hill, I'd started needing to pee about every 2 minutes, but managed to perfect my walk-wee technique to save time. Apologies to anyone who was able to see this from behind with my head-torch. I'm pretty sure it would make for some amusing viewing.

I think the fact that I couldn't really see the climb helped me, as before I knew it I was up on top of the hill and running along the ridge. It was a beautiful site up here, looking down at the lights of the roads and houses below and I was able to keep what felt like a good pace. I'd started the climb up the hill with a guy on his mountain bike who was out supporting his friend and towards the end of the ridge he caught back up with me. This was a good time for this to happen, as it wasn't really clear to me which way to go from here. I knew I needed to head diagonally off to the right, but it really wasn't very easy to see there the path was, so when he said "if you see me coming back then you know it's the wrong direction" I was relieved as I didn't really have to think very much and could just follow the bike lights disappearing into the distance. The lights gave me direction just long enough to get to an area where I was next to a fence and able to follow the Centurion markings, and carried on plugging away.

I reached the long downhill road section, and even though I remembered this section clearly from SDW50, I kept on questioning myself whether I'd gone the right way, as I hadn't seen one of the red and white Centurion markers for quite some time. Eventually I saw another marker and this gave me the confidence to push on. I really felt like I was flying at this point, pushing as hard as I could and I felt like I'd run a really good section of the race and must now be able to think that sub-24 hours was within reach. I thought that the Southease Aid Station was just around the corner, but there's a LOT further between the end of this road section and Southease but I still felt good so carried on pushing. I was surprised that I wasn't even feeling tired, even though it was now well after 1am.

The railway station at Southease eventually came into view and the Centurion volunteer said something along the lines of "wow, that looked like a proper run coming down there", which was a welcome boost. This was then followed up with the words "if you push you can still get within 24 hours". Damn, I'd thought that pushing hard in this last section I must now be well within reach! With those words ringing in my ears, I did my best to be super-quick at the Aid Station with a quick water refill and a few small bits to eat. It was weird that I still wasn't feeling particularly hungry, but was determined to listen to my body which had worked for me well so far today. As I headed back out to climb the hill up out of Southease, I worked out that I had about 4 and a quarter hours left to run 16 miles. Under normal circumstances I'd be confident of my chances in covering that in half the time, but knowing the climbs that I still had to overcome I still felt like it was a close call as to whether I'd be able to break 24 hours. I was still feeling wide awake and stronger than I'd expected to feel after running 84 miles though, so I felt confident that it was definitely doable.

I wasn't far up the hill though before I started to disappear into mist, with my head-torch lighting up the mist and nothing else. It became very difficult very quickly to follow the path (and by path, I mean more tightly mown/trodden grass) and I quickly got well off the beaten track. I was trying to find my way and looking back I saw others coming up behind me (I'd passed a couple since Southease so knew there were others behind) who might better know where they were going. In doing this, I managed to kick my right foot straight into a thistle with a couple of spines sticking firmly into the top of my foot. Ouch! Bloody hell that hurts, and I felt like a right idiot for taking my eye off the ball for a moment, especially when I was walking through what a golfer might refer to as the deep rough. I tried my best to pick out the prickles, but they were small enough to be invisible to the naked eye but big enough to cause significant discomfort. I wasn't able to completely get rid of them, but was able to move them enough to stop them from causing me constant pain. That would have to do, as the couple who I'd passed back down the hill passed me and seemed to know where they were going so I quickly followed behind. When we reached the top of the hill, they quickly started a run along the flat ground and I tried my best to follow them, as the mist was so thick and I didn't fancy being up here on my own - I rated the chances of me getting lost on my own in the middle of a cloud as pretty high!

As I started to run, one of the thistle thorns stuck into my toe and I had to stop as it was excrutiating. Before I knew it the couple I was following were out of sight and I was on my own. I sorted out as best as I could the thorn situation, and tried to run. Without others to follow, however, I really couldn't keep up a run as it was so difficult to see where to go and just didn't feel safe. I was soon with another runner, George, and we picked our way along the paths as quickly as possible, which wasn't quickly at all to be honest. I must have been a right miserable bugger to be with during this section of the race as I got it in my mind that this was my 24 hour target gone. I'm really sorry if I brought you down George as I know you were aiming for sub-24 as well and I think my miserable moaning convinced you that that was now a no-go. Sorry, you got to spend time with me at completely the wrong time in my race, I'm not always that miserable!

We plodded along without much talk between us. I know at this point I was starting to feel tired, but it was great to have the company and help in keeping to the paths. It felt like this section from Southease to Alfriston went on forever and I was also starting to get very cold, so as we came down out of the cloud I said that I fancied giving it a go at running if only to warm myself up a bit. I didn't manage to last long though, having spent so long walking it was incredibly difficult to get the legs moving into a run again and it wasn't long until George was back with me, "that didn't last long!" - too bloody right. It was now my turn to watch George disappear into the distance, but the dawn chorus was starting and although it was still dark, there was the promise of daylight with the birds starting to sing. We really weren't far from Alfriston though but I thought I should get it over and send a message to my wife to say that she shouldn't bother coming to the track for 6 to pick me up (she'd very kindly offered to come and pick my up at the finish), and I was surprised when I got an answer from her almost straight away - it was about 3.40 in the morning, but apparently she couldn't sleep because she'd been thinking about stupid old me running through the downs! It shows how down in the dumps I was, as I said that 7am was probably more realistic, even though I was only 9 miles from the finish and it wasn't yet 4am.

It was an incredibly welcome sight seeing the old church which houses the checkpoint. Coming into the church, I saw the welcoming faces of friends from Bosh, Sharon Dickson and John Fitzgerald and proceeded to have a good old moan about the conditions! I must have been a right miserable old bastard, but I was just so upset at having pushed so hard for the sub-24 only for it to seemingly be taken away from me by the weather conditions. John suggested that it was still well within the realms of possibility to complete the last 8.5 miles in 2 hours 10 minutes, but I'd already decided in my head that it wasn't possible, mainly due to the "hill from hell" out of Alfriston and so sat down and had a cup of coffee and didn't rush myself out of the checkpoint. John and Sharon suggested that I should just enjoy the last 8.5 miles if I thought it wasn't possible and whilst logically I agreed with them, I didn't think I'd find it enjoyable having worked so hard towards that goal that now felt out of reach. The chat did make me reassess what I'd told my wife in terms of times though, so I sent a message to say that I probably wouldn't be too much after 6 after all and I was going to give it a go still for sub-24, whilst still not really thinking it was possible. The response to this message was that everyone in the family, my sister-in-law and parents-in-law all replied encouraging me to give it a go - they were all awake and it wasn't even 4am, as they'd been thinking about me up on the downs in the middle of the night (plus they'd probably been woken by WhatsApp notifications). It made me decide to give it a everything I had, and then even if I did come up short then I couldn't feel bad.

George had been in the checkpoint at the same time, and we left together for the last section of the journey to Eastbourne. It was now fully light outside, so no need for head-torches. We attempted a run along side the river, but I took a slight wrong turn up the bank and we probably only managed about 50 metres before being slowed back to a walk. The fact that it was now light, along with the messages of support from everyone and the caffeine really had given me a lift though, and when we got to the start of the climb, I started to push as hard as I could. I knew it was a long hard climb, but I wanted that one-day belt buckle really badly and walked it out as close to a run as I dared and left George behind. I kept checking my watch, trying to work out whether it was still a possibility. I decided that if I could push to the top of the hill quickly and get running asap then it was still just possible and resolved to push myself as hard as I could and try to ignore the inevitable pain as much as possible.

The relentless climb out of Alfriston did seem to continue for quite some time, but I kept pushing myself. It did, however, feel like it lasted much less time than at SDW50 where I'd not really been prepared for it. As soon as I reached flatish ground at the top, I started to attempt to run. It was really hard going as I hadn't really had a proper run since Southease, around 7 miles ago. I started but had to stop 3 or 4 times as it hurt so much, but I was determined to get the legs moving properly and eventually got them going. Whilst it initially hurt, it actually felt great to be moving at a decent speed again and pushed as hard as I could. Before long I was coming down into Jevington and ran straight past the aid station here, shouting to the volunteer "I'm giving it a go for 24 hours!" as I passed. I felt like my legs were actually moving pretty well now and that I was really motoring down the hill. It was still extremely tight as to whether it would be possible to make it in under 24 hours though, especially as I knew there was one last climb up to the trig point. On reaching the last hill, I walked as fast as I possibly could and broke into a run on the less steep parts 3 or 4 times. It was hard going and slightly crazy to run my only uphill of the race after about 96 miles but I still had that dream target to aim for.

I reached the top and the trig point with about 35 minutes to get to the track in Eastbourne. I sent a message out to my family to say that it was going to be a photo finish, and in doing so walked straight past the turning down to Eastbourne. Thankfully I probably only went about 50-100 metres down the hill before I realised my mistake, but this was something I really didn't want or need at this stage. I worked my way back up as quickly as possible, giving myself a stern talking to on the way and telling myself that I was going to have to push as hard as I ever have for the next 30 minutes.

As anyone who has run the SDW50 or 100 will know, the run down from the trig point is pretty hairy in places and it was difficult to pick up much speed down here. I kept the legs going as quickly as I could though. At the first fork in the path, I chose the right hand fork and quickly found out this was a bad choice. I felt like I was being slowed down significantly by this bad choice, but kept moving through the overgrown path that I found myself on and it wasn't too long until I was back on the main path. I was now able to pick up the pace a bit and drive on down towards Eastbourne. It seemed to be taking an age to get down onto the paved surface though, and I was starting to lose hope slightly, but suddenly there it was, tarmac!! It felt good to be on a harder paved surface and I could really pick up the pace, at least until making the turning to go off-road again, behind a row of houses - another section which seemed to go on forever! It was a massive sense of relief to finally reach the main road and I knew that it was now or never, time to push through the pain barrier. Crossing the road, I opened up my stride and began to really run hard. It felt so good to be running quickly and I think the fact that I'd mentally prepared myself for a significant amount of pain meant that it didn't hurt anywhere near as much as I thought it would. As I came to the end of the first road, I saw another runner who I'd been running with much earlier on in the race. I tried to encourage him to run with me, but he said that he couldn't run, but "you might still do it!".

The road to the turning past the hospital seemed to last for an age and I kept questioning myself if I could keep going like this. I kept pushing the legs hard though, and eventually the turning off around the hospital appeared. I had just over 10 minutes to get there and from my experience with SDW50 I still wasn't certain if it was possible. I was repeatedly shouting at myself by this point to keep pushing hard (I would have looked like a bit of a nutter if anyone had seen me). 2 or 3 times I had the disappointment when I turned a corner which I thought was the last before the track but turned out not to be - so disappointing and soul destroying!!

Words cannot express quite how good a feeling it was to finally see the car park at the end of the path, which I knew was next to the athletics track and I now knew that sub-24 was going to happen. I couldn't quite believe it!

As I entered the track, I was looking around everywhere to see if I could see my wife, but she was nowhere to be seen and I slowed to a walk, slightly disappointed. There was another runner on the track and he had done the same so it didn't feel so wrong. The call came over that we had 7 minutes to complete the lap for sub-24 hours. I have to admit that I thought to myself "OK, I'll just continue to walk this in", but then shortly after there was another call saying "6 minutes to complete the lap". This second call was in such a way to say "come on, get your butts in gear" and at this stage I really didn't have the energy to argue so I broke into what felt like almost a sprint, but in reality I'm sure it resembled as a pained stumble. It felt good to try to run it in quickly, but I only had enough to make it around about 250-300 metres of the track before I had to slow it right down again, but I'd done it! 100 miles! 23 hours 55 minutes, plenty of time to spare!

Just after passing the line, I saw my wife Melissa, sister-in-law Amanda and mother-in-law Pat rushing in through the car park and when they shouted over to me, I found it impossible to hold back my emotions and immediately broke down in tears. To be fair, I've got form at the end of races for this, but this time it was incredibly raw after the rollercoaster of emotions I'd been through during the previous 24 hours. I'd written my kids a letter before starting the race to try and explain my motivations for trying to achieve something like this. A lot of which has to do with losing my own parents and had a quick thought about how much it meant to me and how they'd somehow been with me throughout this journey. I'm not religious at all or particularly spiritual, but I did truly have moments during the day where I felt them pushing me on. One thing that my Mum used to tell me all the time when I was growing up was that if you want something enough you can get it if you set your mind to it, and in the case of this race she was absolutely right. Hopefully this is a message that I'm passing onto my own kids now.

At the finish line, more than a little teary eyed!

There was one small minor drama left to come. After grabbing a bite to eat (like many other foods that day, the hot dog tasted like the single best hot dog I've ever tasted) and a cuppa provided by the awesome Centurion volunteers (honestly, they are all the most amazing people you could ever have the pleasure to meet and are so helpful, to the point that I felt I was almost being offensive when I said I'd put my own ketchup on my hot dog!), we went to sit down next to the track and I realised I didn't know where my buckle was. We couldn't find it at all, and to be honest I wasn't too bothered about it as all I needed to know was that I'd managed to finish. Amanda took it on to make sure that I got one though and spoke to the Centurion guys at the finish. They made sure that I got a replacement (I have absolutely no idea what happened to the other one, but wasn't exactly with it at that point), and I can't thank Centurion enough for that, I worked hard enough for it!

We made our way back to Storrington, and the drive back made it hit home how far I'd run. It wasn't a short drive and that was only around the half way point. As I arrived back, I was handed a card by my daughter, Kaia, which set off the waterworks again for me. Such amazing support from all my family and I couldn't be prouder of them all.

But what an amazing adventure and such a magical experience. I'm certain I'd be saying that even if I'd fallen short in my attempt to get under 24 hours. Everything about it - the stunning scenery along the South Downs, the other runners, the Centurion staff and volunteers, supporters, the bloody hard challenge, distance and the hills (did I mention the hills?!?!) - combine to create something that I've never experienced anything even close to elsewhere. I'm so proud to be a member of the unbelievably welcoming Ultrarunning and Centurion communities. They are made up of the most incredible and inspirational people imaginable and the support that everyone gives to each other is quite something to behold. I'd encourage anyone thinking about taking on a challenge like this to give it a go, it's an absolutely incredible experience. If you work hard for it and believe in yourself you never know what's possible, I certainly didn't know whether I was capable of running 100 miles, but I somehow managed it.

So thank you to everyone I met along the way, thank you to Centurion and a massive thank you to my family for the support they gave me. I've had a week off since the race, and think I'll take another few to let my legs recover but I can't wait to get back running and identify some new challenges for the remainder of this year and next.

Written by Owain Thomas - http://www.ultrarunningmatelot.co.uk

Sometimes there comes along an event that sounds so simple you aren't sure how well it will go. Well "Escape from Meriden" was one of those type of events.

When I entered I had not long come off the injury bench and needed an event before the end of the year, after I had finished all my professional courses for work as I couldn't afford to get injured during them. It just so happens this one popped up on my news feed on Facebook. I had a brief look saw it wasn't expensive and sounded fun!

So the weeks went by and I was busy with my courses slowly realising the event was getting closer. Soon enough I had finished my courses and the week later the event was on.

For the first time ever when it came to a big event I was so unprepared. The route wasn't planned (which was very important for this event) and kit wasn't even sorted (not until the fee hours before leaving the house).

I think all my courses I had done had zapped any enthusiasm or motivation for anything. My wife went on to the Good Run Guide and planned my route out at her work, printed off snap shots for me to use if needs be. Already she is back in to Support Crew Mode Level - Veteran and we hadn't even left yet!

Eventually we had left and got on the road picking my son up from school along the way. We had to travel into two vehicles as I had to shoot off for another course starting the following Monday in Portsmouth so we didn't have much choice. The wife was dropping the boy off to the Grandparents which just so happened the route headed towards, and then she would drive down to the start leave her car there and drive the support van around.

My head wasn't quite in the game as that Thursday just gone my Aunty was pronounced brain dead after a major Epileptic Fit where my cousin had to carry out CPR for 25 mins after he found her. Friday they switched off the life support machine. So I was now running for 3 people, Phil my best mate who died in March, My Nan who passed away in August and now my Aunty. Let's just say I have had a better years and my head has been in better places.

I am a lucky man though because I can run and with this event I can run anywhere and any distance I wanted!

So the quick concept of this event for those who don't know. Basically you enter, turn up to the registration between 10pm and 11.55pm then the race starts just after Midnight. Once started you run, in direction as far as you can within 24 hours. The aim is get as far as you can as the crow flies (straight line) so it doesn't matter if you ran 90 miles on your watch if the crow flies only 45 that is your official mileage. There targets to aim for 30 crow miles - certificate (pathetic distance certificate as it's called for not planning route better etc) 50 Crow miles - Silver Crow, 60 crow miles - Gold Crow and the big one 90 crow miles for the Black Crow!

So as you probably realised a good well planned route where you lose little mileage is needed.

I arrived in Meriden known as the Centre of England around 7.30pm the traffic on the M5 was horrendous due to all the road works. I sorted my feet out and partially got ready. I grabbed some food from the local chippy and decided to try and get some sleep where I could before registration opened. I set my alarm for 10.30. The wife was on her way back and due around the same time.

Getting changed in the Van

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. I could hear the traffic around me for quite a while and thought well if nothing else I get to chill out prior to the run.

Knock Knock on the van side door "Owain" said my wife, I opened my eyes and thought awww my support crew has arrived, time to get sorted. "What time is it darling?" I asked. "11.30pm I got caught in traffic because they closed part of the M6 on the way here"

"F@&;@, why didn't my alarm go off??" Looks at phone "ahhh I selected 10.30am!! Bollocks!!!"

Runner Mode Level - Idiot achieved! Made panic set in. I only have 20 mins to get to the registration and it's 10 min walk away from where I was parked at the start.

Shoes quickly on, left the wife at the support van and off I ran to the registration which was in the village church hall. I arrived mid safety briefing and tried not to look panicked at all.

Runner Mode Level - Act Cool achieved.

The safety brief finished I collected my number and tracker (vital bit of kit as that's how they know the distance we finish at)

Despite not looking ready at all compared to the everyone else, I pegged it back to the van, where my wife had my stuff ready for me. Anything else I will grab at the first CP she'll set up. Support Crew mode Level - Done this before.

The start sort of ready

I had a few friends entered and supporting in this event and I managed to see a couple just before we started. All asking where I had been. Doh!

Start

Not quite the start I was after. Soon enough the words "Go" was said by the RD Richard and we were off! 100 entrants either as soloists (80 of them) or in pairs scattered in various directions. Now this is where as a viewer of the live tracker came into its own. Obviously I was running so didn't see but seeing screen shots it looked brilliant!

20 Mins after we started the tracker looked like this

I headed off in the direction my wife pointed me in and soon joined by a lady runner called Fiona. Our paths unknowingly crossed before at this years Hope24. We chatted for a few miles where she said her goal was to run for the 24 hours then continue on to Aberystwyth (135 miles) by Sunday night. Bloody bonkers, but then it's the crazy things like that, that I love in this community as people who don't run don't understand why we do it. Soon our paths changed and that was it then I was now alone. I say alone I still knew others were racing with me but weren't with me. It was a strange feeling!

My first destination was Birmingham. Yep during the early hours of the morning I was risking running through Brum. My support crew (yep no longer wife now as I was in full runner mode) was tired but worried about my safety running alone through Brum stayed awake every so often stopping where she could checking I was ok and keeping me on track.

I was making my way through Brum passing fresh puddles of blood on the floor, which obviously made me feel great when I got stopped by two drunk blokes. In my head I thought "uh oh I'm not going to blend in dressed like I am" They asked what I was doing, so I engaged in conversation. Told them what I was doing, next thing I was accepting sips of their whisky and doing some random handshakes like I was in the Stone Masons. Yes it was wasting some of my time but to be honest at this point it didn't really matter as long as I didn't get a certificate I was going to be happy. I left them and made my way through the Bull Ring dodging all the night goers. The directions I had from my support crew was head to the Odeon Cinema then the museum. Well I was on my way to the Museum and with little signage I ended up running past it.

After not having a clue where I was I got on the phone to the support crew. Trying to describe where I was, wasn't working so now I had resorted to facetiming my support crew at the "You are here" tourist sign.

Yes I was here

Then out of the darkness came a young woman in tears in her best trapping gear. "Please help me, I need to get to the Hyatt" she said
" I am sorry I am not from round here of you can guess, I am lost myself" I replied. This produced more tears bear in mind I am still facetiming the support crew at this point "I'll call you back darling" and I hang up.

"Please you have to help me" she cried.

I get out google maps search where she was after. Jesus is was miles away. Not knowing the best way to go I just said "Just head down that way keep going until you get there and stay safe" and I sent her on her way. I did laugh to myself though hoping she'd be alright.

So back to myself in that time my support crew was all over getting myself out of the mess I was in and guided me out of Brum to the CP set up waiting. According to my wife "Never in my life would I have thought I'd be on the side of the road with a camping stove on boiling the kettle to make a cup of tea for you at about 3 in the morning waiting for you to run here" I have to admit neither did I!

It was feeling very cold but it was remaining dry. My support crew was was tired but now at Support Crew Mode level - Trojan.

I was feeling ok, apart from cold I was going well and despite losing time in Brum, I was making good time. I had made it out of Birmingham in piece and safe. I was then told there was a runner only 1 mile behind following my route called Sammy. Little did I know at the time it was Sammy Daye from Atlas Running famed with events like Last Man Standing at this time.

2hrs in I'm number 193

I thought to myself "Yes I am not going to be alone, they're bound to catch up" Sadly our paths didn't cross as Sammy took a slightly northern route where I continued to cross Westerly. I continued on my way, following the route given however I then reached a point when I ran out of path along a road, so took a public footpath which seemed to follow the road. Not a great idea as it took me on the canal path and eventually off the route I was heading when I get a phone call from the support crew. "where the bloody hell are you going?"

"I don't know do I? Lol" so have getting a stern telling off for going off piste I was soon put back on track.

After 25 miles I was sat in the van trying to warm up, I added more layers on as the temperature just didn't seem to want to rise. I was looking forward to the sunrise because I knew once it was up it was going to be better running. Soon enough around 7.30am the sun rose and when asked what I needed at the next CP I responded a Maccy D's Breakfast Wrap and hot chocolate. I kept passing Macdonald's along the way and thinking I could do with some of that shit. What a great choice it was! I needed something warm to eat and drink. It tasted so good! I was now running through Staffordshire countryside enjoying the scenery.

Breakfast on the run!

Running on the frozen roads and paths wasn't easy I had to be careful. I had already slipped on black ice and smashed my knee.

8hrs 20 mins in!

The miles were ticking off, I was making good time and around 12 hours in I stopped for a 45 minute lunch break. The support crew had warmed up one of my acquired ration packs from work. It went down well. It was from this point the temperature had started to drop again as the sun went behind the clouds.

Good ole Rat Pack food!

My support crew during this time had informed me my friend Luke Elliott (a fantastic runner) still hadn't reach the 30 crow mile line yet. I had been passed it for a while so thought "Holy Crap this has never happened before me in front of Luke" Despite he had covered slightly more miles at the time. It was showing what a great route decision my support crew had made for me.

I soon hit Shropshire and heading towards my first chosen goal Shrewsbury where my boy was staying. I ran through the beautiful Ironbridge again where I was started to chat to locals asking what I was doing but time was ticking on and I had to crack on.

Shropshire!

The skies had turned dark and head torch was back on. Shrewsbury was in sight 5 miles to go. I plodded on and I arrived at the CP. I was by now in pain, my back was in bits from an injury that hadn't healed properly from a course I did a couple weeks prior and my feet were aching. It was here I was told I had half a marathon to go to reach the Gold Crow 60 Mile as the crow flies target. I had already covered 59 miles. I had the time even if I crawled it I could still achieve it. My brother in law who lives in Shrewsbury came out to pace me to the last half marathon. My support crew pointed me over the roundabout telling to aim for the green lights I could see at the time and head down the by pass.

Not the quickest but happy with progress!

So off we went and I head down where I saw green lights. I didn't realise as I chatted away to my brother in law that it didn't look like a by pass. My phone rang, I thought "that'll be the wife telling me I have gone wrong again"

"Did you purposely mean to take the wrong road?" She asked

"No why would I want to do that?"

Oh bollocks! So I added about another mile on to my journey and the fact I now had to go through Shrewsbury town centre late at night with traffic. Not the greatest ideas I have ever had.

I got to the point met by the support van with 11 miles to go. Little did I know those 11 miles would turn into what was the longest 11 miles of my life.

Runner mode level - Dribbling heap

Each mile seem to last longer and longer the more pain and uncomfortable I felt. My conversation went downhill and I start to lose the will to live. It was this point with around 6 miles to go I had to dig deep, I looked up to sky and asked my best mate Phil for some strength. It was his turn to be there for me. It seemed to work I with the help from my bro in law dragged my sorry arse across the 60 as the crow flies mile line. As soon as the support crew refreshed the tracker and it showed I had done it. I sent the text and switched the tracker off. 22 hours 41 mins 73 miles later I did it.

Just outside Oswestry I completed what turned out to be a brilliant but simple event. I had such an experience. I finished 26th soloist and 34th overall out of all the entrants. Runner Mode level - Gladiator

The finish tracker pic after 24 hours, that's how we ended up!

A result I wasn't expecting. I have to thank my sponsors X-Bionic UK, Sunwise and Tailwind Nutrition UK for their continuing support and faith in me.

I was overwhelmed but the support online, I think they probably had the best online tracking experience to date, my bro in law for coming out and getting me through the last section and of course the biggest thanks was for my support crew my wife - Support Crew Mode Level - Legendary whom without I'd not have achieved any of it.

Back at the start to retrieve the Wife's car.

I dedicate this run to my best mate Phil, my Nan and also my Aunty who never left my thoughts throughout.

So that completes my last big event of the year. It's now time to start helping my wife run her first ever marathon at London (she doesn't currently run hardly) whilst also start looking at the big 2017 year.

Until next time

Owain

Written by Kingsley Jones - https://kingsleyjones.wordpress.com

It’s one week since the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc 2012, and again it was an epic. The weather forecasts on the days before the race indicated things would be interesting, with Il Meteo saying snow would fall as low as 1400m on the Italian side of the massif. A string of texts flowed from the organisers saying ‘pack for wintery weather’ and ‘take an extra layer’. The forecasts worsened as the set off time got closer, and the inevitable yet brave decision by the organisers was made. In an incredible four hours they managed to reroute and waymark an adapted course, that avoided all the high passes which would be too deep in snow to cross. The revised course was completely in France, and 103km with 6000m vertical, so whilst a lot easier, still no walk in the park.

The set off had its usual fanfare and old emotions bubbled up as the UTMB theme of the Conquest of Paradise by Vangelis roared out across the town. Soon we were off running through the streets lined with people ten deep on either side, then out and on route to Les Houches. I relaxed and fell into a good steady rhythm and pace. Darkness fell as we ascended steeply to Col de Voza, and the rain started to fall. Heavily. The descent from Delivret into Saint Gervais was muddy and very slippery with all the rain run off, with many runners falling. I was very glad of my heavier poles that I’d decided to carry.

Congratulations to the people of Saint Gervais and the race volunteers for making the food station the most welcoming party atmosphere, despite the rain. It was a great effort, and a real boost, before the muddy river tracks threading the way up to Les Contamines. Many runners were slowing here, but I was stronger than last year, and kept my pace steady. Beyond Notre Dame de la Gorge, we headed up the Roman Road to Nant Borrant and Refuge le Balme. It was getting colder and sleet was falling. I was already wearing three layers but had one spare.

After a quick stop at the fire at Le Balme, to warm up, I headed up to tackle the highest section of the course. The rain gave way to snow, and before long the accumulation was 5cm deep. As I zig zagged higher the snow covered all the tracks and got deeper and deeper. The wind picked up, and I thought that no runner at that location could ever question the decision of the organisers to re route the race. To have gone any higher in the night would have been madness. The trail to Le Signal is rocky, slippery and not too enjoyable on the best of days, so in the early hours of the night in the wind, mud and snow, it was a bit of a battle. My highlight of the night was running in thick fog, with the light from my head torch bouncing back off the cloud, straight into the side of a cow! I don’t know who was more surprised, but I know who was more angry as she ran off, bell clanking, back legs kicking.

Eventually the cable car station emerged out of the fog, before the long cold descent back into Les Contamines. I lost a lot of places in this section, as my muscles had got cold, but eventually I sploshed into the village, and a very welcome food station. On the far side of town the trail ascended forest tracks up and over to La Gruvaz, before wiggling around to Bionnassay. At last it was the end of the long wet night, and as dawn came the rain started to let up. The ascent to Bellevue was horrible, with mud literally flowing down the single track steep trails. A bit tired, and more than a bit grumpy I finally arrived at Bellevue.

Here we got our numbers checked and we were warned about it being extremely slippery and muddy on the descent to Les Houches. They weren’t joking. The pace slowed to a slither. I remember being quite angry at the amount of damage we were all causing, and the mud just got deeper. Seriously deep. It became more of an effort to pull each foot out of the mud, and the clay rich mud grabbed my shoes so well. Eventually we emerged onto the track into Les Houches. I had built a good margin of nearly four hours ahead of the cut offs, so throttled back.

After the food stop in Les Houches we crossed into the Aiguilles Rouges, where I think I know every millimetre of track. We climbed and descended, almost for the sake of gaining vertical meters to make it tougher, but as I passed 84km I knew I’d run two marathons in distance and could ease back more to reach the finish without injury or too much fatigue. The weather improved, but still I ran wearing a micro-fleece jacket as it still wasn’t warm. As I entered Argentiere, I saw Dave and Emma had come to support, for the final 10km back into Chamonix. The trails became even more familiar, and soon I was on the edge of town.

Last year I’d been a physical wreck reaching town, hallucinating and staggering to the finish. This year I knew I could enjoy every second of it. I jogged through the streets, lined with cheering crowds, waving at people I knew, and eventually seeing Sarah and our 4 month old baby Freya on the final corner. I don’t mind wearing my heart on my sleeve on this one, but on any trail race I always have a mental image of what will make me reach that line. Last year it was the honour of getting the finishers jacket. This year it was always a picture of running across the line with my girls. As I reached them, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and we jogged the last 100m through the town square and towards the finish, Freya happily grinning in her papoose, the crowds cheering us on.

Nothing quite beats the surge of emotion and pride as you take the final steps to the finish, yet for me it disappears in an instant as soon as I cross it. I’m a trail running junkie that is always searching for that amazing pre finish high, but the low soon after is strangely hard to bear. All those hours of training and racing, focused on one goal. When the finish line is crossed, I know I need another to focus on.

So my abiding memories of the UTMB 2012 will be the endless mud, the mixture of rain and sweat running down my body, and the warming fires at Notre Dame and Refuge le Balme.

My apologies to the cow for running into you. My admiration as ever at the organisation. My respect at the safety decision to alter the course. My humble appreciation at again being a UTMB finisher. It will always for me be the greatest trail race on the earth.

Written by Nicola Hoy - https://nicsjourneyto100.wordpress.com

So what’s it all about?

On 30 April 2016, I found myself at Richmond Waterside, with a bunch of amazing runners about to attempt to run 100 miles. I say, ‘about to attempt’ but anyone who knows about these types of events (and for that matter anyone who knows me well of late) will understand that there was ONLY one outcome in my mind – you don’t enter a 100 mile ultra marathon with any conclusion in your head other than finishing. With my head buzzing and stomach churning with excitement and nervous energy, I think I will always remember the moment when I looked around at the people congregated with me by the Thames (some serious looking ultra runners), all fantastic gutsy people with unbelievable resolve, and thought to myself… HOW DID I get from my old world to this new world?!!

My blog will be an attempt to reconcile that story and to share some of my thoughts, tips, feelings, and to try to get down some of the endless streams of thought that go through my head (particularly whilst running). I will touch on the journey in this post (which is meant to be the story of the race) but hope you will join me for further updates, where I will look back along the long road along which I have travelled, my inspirations, my influences, my reasons, my life lessons. I also hope that you you will come with me on my journey beyond this achievement, as I am just starting to find myself and there will be many adventures ahead.

Looking back

I never used to run … correction, I never used to exercise (but to be fair I started exercising before I started running). I found exercise not long after my 40th birthday. How, why? I was pushing it with dress size 14 and did not want to start buying 16. My motivation was as simple as that. So I bought some trainers, joined a local leisure centre gym, started doing exercise classes and soon got hooked! I changed my eating habits too so initially the weight just dropped off. By the time the weight loss steadied I had already become addicted to the exercise, had made new friends at the gym and was loving the new me. Then I was hit by injuries, mainly to my feet – plantar fasciitis, tendonitis and issues with my toes (all caused by a combination of too much impact too quickly, poor bio mechanics and over pronation). To cut a long boring story short, I continued to exercise but injuries and treatment to my feet (including surgery on the left foot) prevented me from doing any real running. I managed a 10k race in 2013 but foot issues kicked back in shortly after that. Doctors and physiotherapists ‘suggested’ that running was not for me ……. red rag to a bull springs to mind! After extensive physiotherapy (luckily I am in a private healthcare scheme), and top class advice and remedial massage from my friend, exercise instructor (and more recently my personal trainer) Cameron @ jensenexercise, on 01 January 2014 I started to run again – just a couple of miles that day.

In February2014 I ran a 10k race at Greenwich Park with my daughter Natalie (who has fantastic long legs and is brilliant fast half marathon runner) and some of my wonderful friends who I had met through the gym. I had been doing bootcamps run by Cameron as part of my workouts and was loving the outdoors. By now I was doing PT with Cam too (check out jensenexercise.com), I think we both realised that I wanted to push my fitness and he really does have a remarkable ability to nurture and support his clients in finding and achieving their own goals. I ran the London Bupa 10k, but as good as it was there was something about the crowds and the road running that just wasn’t me! I had heard a bit about trail running and OCR (Cameron was a keen obstacle course racer). In May 1014 I ran my first half marathon and my first trail run in Bedgebury forest, and loved it. I did a few OCRs that year (including a Spartan race with Natalie and a Tough Mudder with my lovely friends from the gym). It was Cam who steered me towards my first Marathon (a hilly trail multi lap race called Beauty and the Beast), which I followed up with another trail marathon a few months later. Then I started googling and that’s when I discovered ultra marathons (it’s surprising how much you learn from typing the words ‘trail run’ into a search engine). Before that I had no idea that people ran anything like 100 miles, but after I found these races existed there was only one question in my head ‘Can I?!’. My inspirations are a whole new post so I will save it for another day but I did read Running Past Midnight by an awesome woman called Molly Sheridan and I think she influenced me the most (closely followed by Dean Karnazes). The renowned Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc (UTMB) caught my eye and I thought…’that’s my goal – one day’. Ok so moving on (this is getting quite long and the race has’t started yet ….. haha all things ultra hey). I have a memory of saying to Cameron ‘I want to run 100 miles’. His response was ‘I know that, I’ve known for a while'(another sign of a top trainer). Despite my urge to ‘jump in at the deep end’ even I realised that you kind of need to work up to 100 miles, so last June 2015 (just 18 months after starting running) I ran Rat Race The Wall Ultramarathon, a 69 mile race from Carlisle to Newcastle (following Hadrian’s Wall). That event is worthy of a blog post in its own right so maybe I will go back to it another day. It was life changing for me. I trained like a trojan and entered a world far beyond any world I ever dreamt I would be part of. A lot of things were changing in my life and I liked this part of it. My exercise, fitness and running were really helping me to find myself and to cope with everything else that life was throwing at me. Aside from officially defining me as an ‘ultra runner’ the other fantastic result of ‘The Wall’ was the friends that I made. A Facebook Community that I joined prior to the race was particularly active, and being new to ultras I found the camaraderie, tips, build up, excitement and support through training to be priceless. A small group of us like minded folk who ran ‘The Wall’ (albeit some of them I never actually met at the event and only knew virtually!) set up a new chat group with a new aim – to run 100 miles. Known as the ‘TP100 Nutters’ we chose Centurion Running TP100 as our goal for 2016. Following The Wall, I ran a 60 mile ultra (The White Rose) in Yorkshire in November. Well I say 60 mile, but due to going off course’ several times, I managed to clock up 65. Although shorter, I found that race tougher than The Wall, both physically and mentally but was not deterred.

Getting to Thames Path 100

Ok so 2 years ago I struggled with 10k. But once I started pushing the miles my resolve was unstoppable and my training became an addiction. I had no idea how to train for an ultra, but I liked learning. For both The Wall and TP100 Iooked at 100 mile training plans but never actually managed to follow them .. I basically overtook them. In the last year I have clocked up 4000 miles on my Garmin, averaging 70-75 miles a week, increasing to 80 -100 miles per week leading up TP100. I regularly run over 50 miles at the weekend, with a 30+ most Sundays. (complimented by lots strength, core, balance, cardio and circuit training etc.) I guess I am relatively lucky on the injury front. I get niggles and have had some issues, but regular foam rolling, hot baths and remedial massage (from Cameron) I seem to keep nasty injuries at bay. 11 weeks before TP100 (with training going really well) I managed an epic fall whilst out running, and split my knee open. I was wearing long running tights, and not realising how bad the wound was I continued running for about 8 miles, and it wasn’t until I looked the leggings off that I found my knee was gaping open to the bone (there’s a lot to be said for lycra). So off to the hospital I went to get it cleaned a stitched, followed by a frustrating 11 days with no running. Apart from that minor setback training went well, or as well I thought it could. Getting my head around the fact that I was going to run 100 miles was somewhat harder but I was more determined than I had been about anything.

Having entered the race back in July 2015, it was a long 9 months – but I passed it ‘chatting virtually’ to my fellow ‘TP100 Nutters’. The evening before the race we met up in Richmond and it was both brilliant and surreal to meet in person the guys I felt I knew so well but had only spoken to online. Two of them, Vikki and Bruce, I had met at the Wall, and Vikki had run the White Rose Ultra with me. Vikki is awesome, check her out at http://100milermum.com (she completed the infamous Northern 100 in New Zealand in March – just a month or so before TP100). I roomed with Vikki at hotel in Richmond the night before TP100, poor woman didn’t get much sleep with my excitement and pent up taper energy (I really don’t cope with taper well!).

A race of Two Halves – the first 50(ish)

Right, let’s get back to the waterfront at Richmond. Having passed the kit check (following a last minute nervous panic the day before that my jacket did not meet mandatory kit specifications – of course it more than did), having packed, unpacked and packed my drop bags and ultra pack numerous I stood at start wondering if I had the right food, enough warm clothes, the right socks ….. and so it goes on. James from Centurion Running gave the pre-race briefing and then we were off. I started off strong and was pleased with my running. Just into the race I found myself running with David (one of my ‘virtual’ friends), a great guy and I was enjoying chatting as we ran. Unfortunately I lost him early on and found myself quite a bit ahead of the guys I knew. Before the race, against my better judgement, I had allowed myself to set the goal finishing within 24 hours. The cut off was 28, with relative cut off times at each of the 13 checkpoints (aid stations). 24 hours was ambitious I knew, and 100 miles was unknown territory for me, so finishing was ultimate goal and sub 24 hours would be the icing on the cake. As I said I started strong and for the first 22 miles I continued strong, I was making good time for me. I chatted to people as I ran and most were experienced ultra runners impressed to have a ‘virgin 100 miler’ in their midst. This boosted my confidence, however I was under no illusion that the race would be tougher than I could imagine. The course was relatively flat meaning that the terrain would not determine pace. The Thames Path is tough on the feet and I was dreading running through the night. As most endurance sports participants know, you don’t think about running 100 miles, you break the race up and are effectively always running to the next checkpoint. TP100 was well organised with 13 well stocked aid stations and 2 mid race bag drops, so whilst you could have a crew, I was running unsupported. The fist aid station was at Walton on Thames, 11 miles in. Or so they said 11 miles, but actually according to my Garmin it was closer to 12. As the race progressed I learnt that the distances are not exact (how could they be?) and not to take the expectation of the next checkpoint distance so literally. At the first couple of aid stations I enjoyed peanut butter wraps and some other goodies provided by the wonderful volunteers. I cannot praise the people enough – absolutely amazing – more to say about them later.

I continued to run strong (for me) but the going was tough. I became conscious of the fact that my piriformis was NOT hurting, this was good. I had had a niggling injury for some weeks – literally a pain in the butt and had thought that I would be plagued with it throughout the race, but deep tissue massage from Cameron a few days before the race had saved the day. Several times I bumped into Kate Jayden, who I had met briefly at The Wall. She’s another awesome ultra runner and triathlete (she has bling from a number of 100 milers and Iron Man plus more). Kate complemented my running tights and shared her vegan Percy Pig sweets with me – it’s surprising the things you remember! I also ran with a couple of American fellas, a gorgeous French guy and others. All were welcoming and encouraging and I was enjoying my run. I remember going through sun, rain and hail. Several times I found myself with a couple of guys. One was particularly friendly and supportive but to my annoyance I cannot remember his name (I want to say Paul but I think Paul was someone else). I saw him several times throughout the race, his mate was called Bill, so I am going to refer to him as Bill’s mate. Anyway Bill’s mate suggested I stick with them as long as I could if I wanted someone to run with. He called me a little ‘speed demon’ which I really am not, but his words were encouraging. At around 22 and 36 miles I had a lovely surprise. My friends Nina and Lou (both whom I had met through exercise) were at the roadside (75 percent of race was trail but the was a little road) waving banners and cheering me on. It was great to give them a hug and hear their words of encouragement. I continued to run well ticking off aid stations and eating what I could. I was drinking water and ‘electrolytes’, which I tried for the first time thinking they would help my body to cope (I know I know – nothing new on race day!!!!). I did obviously start to slow. I tried not to stop for long at the aid stations but found it harder to get my legs going again after each stop, often walking for a while. At Hurley 44 miles (45.5 by my watch) I sat down. I starting to struggle to eat but was still trying to push food down and take in as much liquid as I could. I saw Bill and Bill’s mate who gave me more much needed encouragement. Many people seemed to be tending to blisters but luckily I was not suffering. My hip flexors were screaming however and I was starting to feel what I can only describe as ’empty’! I hadn’t seen my fellow ‘TP100 Nutters’ since the start, however I had seen Vikki’s husband who was supporting her, and who told me that Vikki had been struggling with a painful swollen ankle. I doubted very much that it would stop her but I was concerned for her and my other friends. I was still happy with my time, by my reckoning I managed the first 50 in about 10 hours 40 mins. By halfway I was slowing though and I had cleared my mind of the ‘finishing in 24 hours’- I knew I could not maintain pace,this was all about making the cut offs. Henley was the half way checkpoint (or just after) – badged as 51, I made it 53 – I know I know, I have learnt that lesson. Here I had my first drop bag so could access more stuff. I had not eaten any of the food that I was carrying and didn’t actually want the food in my drop bag either. I tried to eat food offered by the volunteers, accepted a welcome cup of coffee and sat down to try and layer up clothing to get me through the cold night. This is when I first felt the effects of the race. I was struggling to co-ordinate to change my clothes. Bib numbers needed to be visible on our fronts, so I had to unpin my number and put it onto a long sleeved top, I struggled (note to self – get one of those bib number holders that you wear on a belt around your waist!). I spent far too long at the checkpoint and think my spirits dipped a little but I was over half way now and was still feeling ok – just didn’t want to eat. I hadn’t been checking phone or social media (just the odd text) but at this point I did post an update on Facebook saying that I was over half way and heading off into a long night. Cam sent me a text message, which I did read, telling me that I would go through hell but to keep in my head how admired and loved I was. That helped. As I was leaving, I saw Vikki at the station – she sent me on my way with some encouraging words, that helped too. So I trudged on into the night.

The second half

Not long after that Vikki caught up with me, and subsequently overtook. She has a rare ability to increase in speed, while the rest of us get slower, Vikki gets quicker. I was pleased her ankle was holding out and she was moving well. I ran / walked alone and also with a couple of guys. There was Martin (who was on his 3rd attempt at TP100) and from the 51 mile point he had a pacer whose name I can’t remember (again I want to say Paul, so maybe he was – someone was called Paul!).

There was a thick fog – freezing. I didn’t feel that cold but it was eerie. We were going through fields and it was difficult to see the gates, difficult to see anything despite head torches. I ran when I could and then walked a bit. Then as I trudged along someone came up behind me and took me by the hand. It was Bruce (one of my TP100 Nutter friends, who I had met at The Wall). Bruce is a great guy – he is training to run The Spine next year (that’s a story for another day). It was great to see Bruce, and we stuck together for the rest of the race, helping each other along. Reading was the 58(ish) mile checkpoint. This one was inside, several of them were. I think it was at Reading that I was peeing black. A slightly worrying sight. All I could think of was ‘Rhabdomylosis’. I had heard of this condition whist watching a tv programme about Eddie Izzard’s 27 marathons in 27 days. The first time he had attempted it, he had pulled out due to this condition which is where the body starts to break down skeletal muscle, and if prolonged it and lead to renal failure. Luckily I recovered soon after the race. The night was long, my hands were cold despite my gloves. Bruce had a pair of thermal over mitts – fantastic they are, he gave them to me claiming that my need was greater than his. This is what Bruce wrote about me in a group chat after the race:

‘So, how do you upset Nicola Hoy during an ultra?
Simple. At mile 66 take her away from the TP route and run through an estate to a church at a dead end and say “Sorry, it’s not this way, back up the hill” More Brucie bonus miles added.
Then when the fog came down there was no way I could keep up with her so I said ” Go ahead and join those In front I can’t keep up with you”
Whoosh, gone at about 7min mile pace at which point I knew I’d messed up. She NEVER complains, when shivering uncontrollably she said she was fine, everything was fine, she never swore once, probably unable to get a swear word in between mine. I learnt a lot about fortitude during those long hours from you Nicola.
End of story.‘

I remember the detour, although I think it was my fault as much as Bruce’s, and I suspect that he just couldn’t hear me swear. Anyway they were kind words and we helped each other along. At the 71(ish) mile stop at Streatley (I think it was), neither of us felt great. One of the volunteers changed the batteries in my head torch for me. I cannot praise those guys enough. Bruce was eating beans and tried to get me to but I just felt sick and worried about retching. By now I was surviving on sips of coke and coffee. We saw Martin and Paul (or not Paul) several times. The night eventually turned into day – the sunrise was beautiful but I felt I had nothing left. Onward we ran (and marched when we couldn’t run).

The last 15

What can I say? The last 15 miles seemed like 150. My watch was already near 90 so that didn’t help the head. By now Bruce and I were realising the need for quick turnarounds at the checkpoints, so we were planning what we needed to do to get in and out. I did text my daughter Natalie at one stage. She and my best friend Sue were meeting me at the finish. I knew that everyone was tracking my progress on Centurion Running’s live tracker but I text her anyway to say that I was still alive (just)!

Bruce was trying to do Maths, trying to work out how long we had and what pace we needed to go at. I tried too but gave up very quickly – the brain could not cope with Maths at this stage, but Bruce persevered. The last 9 miles (final 2 sections) I was hot, dehydrated and running on empty. I think we redefined ‘digging deep’ that day. It took everything plus some more. I couldn’t tell you what was hurting, by now it was just everything. In the final stages we spotted Matthew Pinsent with his family beside the river. I think I stared and pointed a bit through my delirium! The last stretch of pathway went on forever or so it seemed but finally Bruce and I turned the corner to the home stretch. I just wanted it to end. We had said that we had nothing left in us to run to the finish line, but of course we found a little something – you always do!

So after 26 hours and 48 minutes I finished my first 100 mile race and was handed the coveted buckle. I always imagine an emotional finish but in reality at the end of an ultra I just feel surreal and overwhelmed. It was my Natalie who ran over, hugged me and burst into tears, followed by Sue and then Vikki (who of course had finished).

Everything hurt, I felt sick, I hadn’t slept and I was pale as a sheet. But there was only one thought in my head …….. ‘I want to do another one!’

Written by Nicola Hoy - https://nicsjourneyto100.wordpress.com

nicsjourneyto100 in 100 mile run, Endurance, fitness, NDW100, North Downs Way 100, running, Ultra running, Ultramarathon, Uncategorized August 11, 2016 4,218 Words

An early start

Early on an August Saturday morning I found myself in a Primary school hall in the beautiful Farnham, registered and waiting for the pre race briefing for what would prove to be my toughest challenge yet. This was my second 100 mile ultra marathon, as I had run Thames Path 100 just 3 months earlier. You can read all about that (and my journey to get there) in previous post Did I really run 100 miles? – TP100. Wind back 2 years and you would find me training for my first trail marathon (having only just completed a half marathon, and only having been running a matter of months). A couple of years back I didn’t even know that Ultra marathons existed, and had no idea that people ran 100 mile races, but as soon as I did know, the seed of an idea was sown. I was a late comer to exercise, finding a bug for it in my 40s, and was even later to running, following a lot of problems with my feet (which I am still managing). So here I was (at 48 years old) standing in a hall full of ultra runners about to embark on my second 100 miler in just over 3 months. Despite being a relative novice, a part of me had wanted to have a bash at the Centurion Running ‘Grand Slam’ which involves completing all 4 Centurion 100 mile races in one calendar year (in reality it is actually within about 5 1/2 months). But cost, planning (or lack of it) and other circumstances prevented me from entering them all, and having missed South Downs Way 100, it is not a possibility for me this year. That said, my original goal was to run 100 miles (so TP100 was this year’s objective), but anyone who either knows me, knows the wretch of the’post race low’ or both will understand exactly why I went on the waiting the list for NDW100 during my post TP100 blues. So I had entered the race just 5 weeks ago meaning not too much time to build up and think about this one. That’s not to say I didn’t train. I train hard, with high mileage each week supplemented with other training too, including PT with my friend and trainer Cam (jensenexercise.com). I had recovered well after TP100 and got back to training quickly, and so just needed to increase intensity and focus when I entered NDW100. It was Cam who got me to the start on Saturday morning, literally (and physically and mentally). I was both nervous and excited in equal measures, knowing I would need to dig deeper than ever and thinking to myself, “Am I ready?” I never start a race with any other outcome in my head than finishing, but I was thinking “Where am I going to dig this from?”

So back to that hall, kit check complete, drop bags dropped. James (Elson), Race Director (and founder of Centurion Running) gave the pre-race briefing. I digress but must point out how well Centurion is run. The races are organised fantastically, the waiting list is managed really well, and if you ever email a query, you always receive a quick, friendly and helpful response from James or Nici (the other lovely face of Centurion). “Look after each other,” James told us, “Don’t get lost, it is hot out there, make hay when the sun goes down.” Wise words these would turn out to be!

The first 25 miles

Let’s get on with the race (before you all switch off. Off we went at 6am, 240 of us started this time. The first few miles I settled in quite well, the group is fairly close at first so there are always people around. I remember earlier on, I was running behind a couple of guys who were chatting. Both of them relayed stories of experienced ultra runners they knew of who had been completely broken by this race and not completed it. I put my fingers in my ears!

During TP100 I had got very dehydrated and had not taken on enough nutrition, which had made me feel pretty rough and I was determined to be better with that this time. So from the start of NDW100 I made sure I drank and I ate at least something at every aid station. The bacon sarnies that a very nice guy was handing out went down well too!

The first 25 miles was an enjoyable run, great trail, great company, good spirits. Puttenham and Newlands Corner Aid stations came and went with the first of the amazing volunteers that looked after us so well.

At mile 20 we were in woodlands and I managed to trip (on a tree route or something), making a spectacular dive and landing face down with a tree trunk straight in the chest and stomach. It got me in the diaphragm so winded me completely. Other runners came to my aid, a particularly nice guy was telling me not to worry and to breath slowly, others stopped too. I sat in the dirt for a minute while I caught my breath, then got up and carried on. It was a bit early in the race for circus tricks and I was determined not to let the tumble ruffle me. That said, I was pretty shaken and felt rather bruised and scraped.

I’d heard people say that it got tough from Box Hill and they weren’t wrong. The first 25 miles almost lulled us into a false sense of security. The stepping stones at Box Hill were a bit of fun and Stuart March (the superb photographer) was there getting some great shots. After the Box Hill aid station we had our first taste of those STEPS! A big hill that we climbed via woodland steps that appeared to be never ending. At the top we were rewarded with the most stunning views but by now it was starting to get hot.

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Hot slog to half way

From the top of Box Hill onwards, the course was hilly, but the scenery was nothing short of breathtaking. It was getting very hot. I had been running with a guy named Miles, it was his first 100. I saw him on and off during the first 50 miles. From about mile 26 ish (I think) I ran with a guy named Paul. We got chatting and ended up sticking together for pretty much all of the race. Paul is a great guy, really good to run with and I am so grateful that he was there to keep me going (particularly later on). Conscious that I needed to keep hydrated, I was making sure I drank lots of water and filled up at aid stations (those awesome volunteers were quick to fill our bottles throughout. I also took electrolytes and was consciously dropping a tab into a water bottle every so often. Haunted by the memories of feeling sick during TP100, I was ensuring that I ate something at every aid station. Bananas, sandwiches and wraps were going down particularly well, and at Reigate Hill we were treated to ‘Percy Pig’ and ‘Colin the Caterpillar’ sweets! The heat was energy sapping and it kept getting hotter (far hotter than the forecast!). We were up and down a lot of hills now too … gone was the comfort of the first 24 miles. A lot of the hills were steep (or were wide woodland steps), not particularly runnable and difficult to push yourself up or down. By now the quads were starting to protest. Paul and I were running and walking intermittently. Paul is a ‘Slammer’ (so going for the Centurion Grand Slam), so he’d done Thames Path too. Both of us said that we had run out of steam and pretty much walked the last 30 miles of TP100. We didn’t want to do that this time, and heeded the words of James to take it easy and not overcook it during the day. It was still tough going though and, feeling sore from my fall, I was still thinking “Where am I going to get the energy for 100 miles of this from?”. I text my daughter Natalie at around mile 38 (Caterham), just to let her know I was ok but that the race was brutal.

Coke saved the day

At the aid stations I was guzzling Coke (that brown fizzy liquid really is a endurance athlete’s best friend). I very rarely drink Coca Cola, but on a race I positively crave it! Paul was feeling the same, and throughout we were desperate to get to each aid station, not only to chip off the miles, but to get to the Coke! At Botley Hill and Knockholt, the volunteers couldn’t pour the stuff quick enough.

Halfway boost

As my fellow ultra runners will know, when you run 100 miles you are always running to the next aid station, so the aim is always the next checkpoint, and gradually you chip them off. There were a couple of tough sections leading to half way but the thought of getting to the halfway point was big mental plus. I ran with Paul a lot, and Miles too leading up to Knockholt. The field was starting to space out more, but we would see some of the same people every so often. People walking the trail would ask us what we were running and were often amazed at the distance we told them. One guy said “Oh so you should be finished by about tea time then?” “Erm a little bit longer but hopefully by tomorrow midday was my reply!” Not even the winner would quite make it to Ashford in time for tea! Knockholt Pound seemed a long time coming, but eventually we got there, a town hall this time (a lot of the aid stations were gazebos or tents), and we had drop bags and hot food. I think I made it there in about 12.5 hours, which I thought wasn’t bad considering the toughness of the terrain. I managed to eat pasta, which was a big positive as at the TP100 halfway point I had been unable to eat anything. I spent a bit longer at this aid station, people generally do (and I actually sat down), but as much as you want to stay in the comfort of the room, the legs will cease up and it will be harder to start again. That was a mistake I had made during my first 100 miler. The volunteers at Knockholt were as lovely as as at all stations. There was one particular guy who was asking us how long we had been there and telling us not to ‘take root’, so armed with paper cups of hot coffee (for me) and tea (for Paul) we headed off again. By now my feet and legs were hurting, but knowing we had past the halfway point was a massive boost. My friend Vikki (who I met through ultra running) text me with kind words of support – that helped.

Passing home (almost)

There was a tough section after Knockholt (all of it was tough really) but this was a 10 mile stretch and seemed a long one. I had actually run not too far from where I live and at one point I was faced with a sign ‘9 miles to Bromley’, which probably meant it would be less than that for me to actually run home …. how tempting! Actually not tempting, just a little odd feeling. I had not given too much thought to the route before the race, had I checked or thought about it a little more this would have been obvious. We passed through Otford, a village where I have run through a few times on my training runs, albeit from a different direction. I made a mental note to make sure I include a bit of the North Downs Way next time I am in that area. We ran through a lot of corn fields, which reminded me of my training runs arounds Lullingstone and Shoreham (makes sense as we were not that far away). And the hills kept on coming! Paul and I were running whenever we could despite being tired. This ultra was tough. A lot of people were dropping at the aid stations, I really felt for them.

Garmin times and getting lost

My Garmin (Fenix 3) was always ahead on the mileage. The mileage can never be exact (as James had reminded us during the race briefing, this is not exactly 100 miles, it is a trail race). I was a bit ahead of the published mileage, so was making a point of asking at each aid station how many miles to the next, then working out on my watch roughly when we should get there. When you are pushing onto the next aid station (everything hurting, so tired and craving Coke), if it takes a lot longer than you are expecting it is really hard mentally. Wrotham seemed to take forever to get to and by now it was getting dark. We were in and out of the aid stations quickly. Despite the fact that the body wants to stop for a while, it is better to get moving as quickly as possible. I was hurting and aching but the good news was that I was still eating and drinking. My Garmin bleeped ‘low battery’ warning (so much for 24 hour battery life hey). But no problem, as it is very easy to charge on the go provided you remember to pack the charger lead and a USB charger (which I had). I think it was between Wrotham and Holly Hill that Paul and I took a wrong turn, I should know but am not sure. It was around about mile 65 I think. Throughout the race I was a bit paranoid about going the wrong way. The North Downs Way is a National Trail so is way marked, and in addition to this Centurion Running mark with reflective tape, particularly at points where we deviate from the trail or where there is a choice to be made. There were several occasions when I was worried as I had been going for a long time without seeing a marker. Spotting a strip of reflective tape in a tree was a major comfort and stress relief. The further you get into the race (and particularly at night) the more tired you get an less you want to get lost or run extra miles. But that’s what Paul an I managed to do. We came out what I can only describe as a ‘cow proof gate’ and set off down a path that we thought was the right way. After about a mile (probably a bit less), we were conscious that we hadn’t seen a marker for some time. Out came the map and Paul attempted to locate us on Google Maps. When you are not sure where you are, it is difficult to work out where you want to be, and I think I should give most of the credit to Paul for getting us back on track (albeit I did dismiss his idea of a different route to meet the correct trail, insisting that we back track). So that lost us a bit of time and added about a mile onto our distance. We picked up pace to get back on track and make up time.

Pushing on….everything hurt ….

The night time was dark but still warm. I didn’t even need a long sleeved top. (TP100 had been very different, the night had been very cold). By now everything hurt. The hills were still coming and steps too. The trail was loose and hurt my feet. A few other runners would pass and we would pass them, and at times with the pack we ran. Running as much as we could and walking when we needed to, we all tried to push each other on. I was desperately trying to keep up as I didn’t want to be left on my own during the night, too paranoid that I would get lost. The trail was tough and it was easy to trip in the dark. Everything hurt. Bluebell Hill to Detling, we pushed the pace, I started to worry about time (although there was enough, I just wanted to chip off the miles). The guys I was running with on and off (including Paul) made up pace and got ahead. I was slow getting up some hills and extra careful down the steps. But I managed to push on, upped my pace somehow (not sure how) and caught up at the aid station or just after. I wasn’t really stopping now, just to fill water and to grab food. My feet were so painful!

Rob

There was a guy named Rob who I met several times. He was running his first ultra in a bid to break the record for the largest person to run 100 miles. A super guy, he had friends pacing him for various stages from half way. At one stage towards the end he seemed to be a bit despondent and I really hoped that he would manage to keep pushing.

That Bridge

I think we passed over the motorway 2 or 3 times. There was one passing where we went over a very very long bridge. It is obviously a bridge where people take themselves at desperate times, as there were numerous signs on it saying ‘Samaritans are here to listen 24 hours every day’ and listing their number. I found that quite poignant :(

Detling (82 miles) to Lenham (91 miles) …. OH MY GOD!

Ok so picture this ….. I’ve run 84 miles (by my watch), the quads are screaming, feet are shredded, it’s 4am, I’ve been out there for 22 hours, eating is now getting difficult, I’ve just pushed for a few miles to make time and progress, everything hurts! Then comes some of the toughest 9 mile of the race. I’d heard people say early, ‘If you make it to Lenham, then you’ll finish!”and I soon found out why. Hill after hill, loads and loads more woodland steps, up, down, up, down. Field after field, hilly and bumpy. The hills were often steep and the steps unevenly spaced. More steps! It took everything to push the climb or get down the steps (down was often worse). The legs said NO, the quads screamed, everything hurt. But I had to keep going. I was pushing a run whenever I could. I was worrying about time (doing bad Maths). I just wanted it over! The sun came up, which was probably stunning but I didn’t really notice. More steps, more hills, more bumpy trail. I kept tripping but managed to gain my balance (I was thankful for all the core and balance work my trainer Cam gets me doing – I’m sure it helped). Every jerk of the body hurt all over. This section was long and had some big hills and so many steps. If anything was going to break me it was this section, but I wasn’t going to let it …. I was determined to get to the end and get that buckle!

Cows on the trail

One particular field (which was occupied by cows), the field led straight onto the trail, the trail being narrow through the woods. Some cows had got right onto our track, and the only way to get through was for me and another runner who was just behind me to literally nudge them out of the way!

The final 12

At Lenham I didn’t stop, I just gave my number. I asked the Marshall if there were more steps. He promised that there weren’t and that it flattened out from now on. I had about 5.5 hours left before the 30 hour cut off and had 12 miles to complete. Pace was slow now, everything hurt and I felt there was nothing left in the legs. But I managed to keep pushing. I had dropped back a little from Paul, but I caught him again and we jogged on as much as we could, walking when the legs ceased up. It was a lot flatter but the trail was often stony and there were other obstacles such as gates and styles. My Garmin bleeped 100 miles, and no sooner had I acknowledged it, I was faced with another style. Lifting the legs at this stage was was unthinkable (but only if I thought about it), it had to be done. We weren’t totally sure of how far we had to go, but when we finally made it to Dunn Street (the final aid station), the volunteers confirmed that it was about 4.5 miles. All I can say is that it seemed the longest 4.5 miles ever! The first 1.5 – 2 miles was trail, then we deviated from the North Downs Way and headed along roads to the Julie Rose Stadium for the finish. That stadium seemed to take forever to come. At one stage I asked a man how far it was, he told us about 800 meters, but it was at least another mile! Paul and I were watching another runner ahead and kept waiting for him to turn but he kept going. By this stage I couldn’t run. There was grit in my shoes, my feet were hurting, my back ached, my legs were shot and I was feeling battered and bruised. My arms were scratched and grazed from the trail and I was bruised from my early fall. I just needed it to be over. But I was almost there and I was going to get my second buckle!

The finish

I eventually shuffled into the stadium with my new buddy Paul, and of course you have to run to the finish line. It was only 100 meters and somehow you find it at the end, so I pushed the legs and feet to run to the finish line. My daughter Natalie and my friend Nina had come to ‘scoop me up’ and had been waiting patiently. They cheered and filmed me as after 28 hours 34 minutes I finished the North Downs Way 100! I clocked up 105.7 miles, not quite sure how I completed that race but I did it!

Stuart was at the end (with Sarah) taking some amazing photos. Of course Nici was there too dishing out buckles and hugs. I was presented with my second buckle and felt so proud, despite being barely able to walk. Oh and Rob finished not long afterwards, putting him in the record books!

As for me, well 240 people started the race, 153 finished, 23 of those who finished were women, and the 13th woman was little old me! I’ll take that. Oh and guess what ….. I want to do another one!

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Family

When you run an ultra, you are not running alone. You can run in solitude if you choose to, but every runner out there is looking our for each other. It’s like you are a family on the trail, the camaraderie is second to none. Then there are the volunteers, they are just amazing. They feed us, fill our bottles and bladders, look after us, fetch for us, make sure we are ok, encourage us and direct us. They are always smiling even throughout the night and they give up their time to help for free. I would like to volunteer at a race and I would love to give to runners some of that special support that volunteers have given to me!

What next? …..

My bucket list needs a very big bucket …. there are some amazing ultras out there. As many know, I have a real ambition to do UTMB. I now have 11 qualifying points, so only 4 needed from 1 more race. 2018 is the plan for that to celebrate 50th Birthday. There are a few others that I would love to do too. Right now, I have an adventure running up Mount Snowdon in a few weeks time with my lovely daughter. But I am also eager for another ultra to train for …. so watch this space

Written by Neil Bryant

Last year, I noticed a race in the Lakes called Le Tour de Helvellyn. It’s a 38 miler that is held on the shortest Saturday of the year. I couldn’t do it last year as I couldn’t work out how to arrange the transport without it costing a small fortune. A little while ago when I was on the way back from the Yorkshire Dales I popped in to see my good friend David Miles.

He said that he was doing it this year and that I should do it with him and come up the night before and stay at his place. Perfect, What a star! I didn’t need any more prompting. We both entered and I bought the relevant map and highlighted the route in. This race was totally unmarked and there would only be water out on the course so we would have to carry all our own food. A great deal of my big runs are unsupported anyway so this didn’t bother me at all. During the week the weather had at last turned pretty wintery and there had been some snow on the hills. There were due to be strong winds which could make it very interesting going over Stick Pass which is the highest point of the race. As the week raced by the forecast improved till it eventually reported much lower wind speeds and no snow. Even good visibility, which would be incredible.

As soon as Lou and I finished work on the Friday, we got into the hire car and begun the long journey up to Dave’s place in Parbold which is just off the M6. Over five hours later we arrived where we were warmly greeted by Dave and at the same time Jeanette, his wife and Jack his son returned from a karate class. I hadn’t seen Jeanette and Jack since JOGLE so it was great to see them again. We had an awesome lasagne that Dave had cooked and chatted lots about running and running and umm… running. We eventually got off to bed as we were planning to wake at around 5ish.

What seemed like minutes later we were wandering around eating breakfast and having some good strong coffee before getting in the car and driving to Askham which was just over an hour up the M6. When we arrived we parked in the village and had a 2 minute walk to the village hall which was serving as race HQ for the day. Jesus it was cold! I only had shorts on which I’m normally ok with but when I considered how strong the wind could be on top and how much colder it would be, my tights seemed like a good idea for the first time since the really cold weather last winter! The road was pretty slippy with a thin layer of ice. We registered and got a hot drink, before going back to the car to get our kit. The race didn’t have any single start time, instead there was a window of two hours. The people who were going to walk it should start at 7 and the mountain goats should go at 9. This would hopefully even it out a bit at the cp’s. Dave and I had planned to start around 8 and actually did end up leaving at around 0815. The first few hundred metres were on the road and it was quite difficult with the ice. We then got onto a Bridleway that I thought would be a little better but in fact was equally difficult.

Eventually we were on the open fells and the footing improved. I had put on my tights and had two thermal tops on underneath my waterproof jacket with a fleece hat and gloves. I was toasty and knew that soon I would have to strip down a bit as I didn’t want to be getting kit wet with sweat when I might need it dry later on on the higher parts. We took a path that wasn’t quite right so I got the map out and did things properly by following the whole of the route as we progressed. We had really good visibility but could make out some heavy cloud over the tops of some of the hills in the distance. In the direction in which we were heading! Before we had set off we had overheard some people commenting on how much snow there was going over Sticks Pass. I imagine that with the high winds that we would probably experience up there it was certainly going to provide some entertainment!

We soon stopped and I stripped off one of my thermals and the fleece hat, replacing it with my cap. Much better! It was just up and over the shoulder of a hill and we were at Martindale where the first cp was situated. We clipped our sheets with the orienteering clippers and moved on quickly. All was good and the weather was stunning but still looked threatening high up on the tops where we would later be. The next leg would take us to Patterdale which was up a track which got steeper and rockier the higher you got. We climbed into the bottom of the snowline and when I turned while taking a breather I was rewarded with a stunning view of the green valley floor slowly turning white up the hillsides. We ran across the top in a couple of inches of snow before starting a long and fun descent down into Patterdale. When we arrived at the cp, Louise was already there which was a nice boost. We clipped our sheets, had a banana and moved on heading along the road to Glenridding. I had a quick look at the map and saw that we needed to cross one river before turning left up towards Sticks Pass. As we headed over a bridge, a runner behind informed us that we had just passed the turn. I checked my memory and realised that I wasn’t too sure whether we had already passed over a bridge or not and for some silly reason decided to go with the other runners judgement. Dave and I ploughed on up the hill. I was excited that we were nearing Sticks Pass. After around 10 minutes we got to a bridge and already doubt was creeping into my mind. I looked ahead up the valley and could see not another soul. I looked over the map, and, annoyed with myself, realised our error. We hadn’t gone over a bridge. I was right and should have trusted my own judgement. Never mind. It only added around 2km according to the GPS readout so not too bad. It would have been annoying had I been racing but today was all about being out in the hills with Dave. We soon go back onto the road and passed over the bridge we should have continued over before and soon came to the bridge at Glenridding where we took the correct path and slowly we started climbing. After a little way on the Greenside Road, we arrived at the Helvellyn youth hostel.

The view was getting better and better as the hills got bigger and the angles got steeper and steeper. The snow capped tops were getting closer too! It was an awesome sight to behold! We now came off the path and headed straight up through the snow heading into the unknown as the tops were still shrouded in cloud. As we proceeded the going got steeper and steeper. I was feeling really good and was really enjoying the moment and was just itching to get up into the deeper stuff. I was surprised at just how many other people there were out climbing up the hill and I’m not sure why I was surprised, but almost everyone had skis with them. As we got closer to the high point of the trail we were using, we began to feel the force of the wind as it howled over the top and we first felt the massive extra drop this gave to the temperature. Once we were fully enveloped in the cloud we had a visibility of around 30 metres at the best and a virtual white out. It was lightly snowing, but the strong winds were blowing it into our eyes which was pretty painful. I kept my head down so the peak on my cap provided some protection. As I looked around at the sight of the spindrift blowing towards me over untouched virgin snow with no idea of the surrounding scenery or horizon due to the white out, it gave a slight Arctic feel to it. It was shear beauty that I had never experienced before.

It was also pretty bloody cold so we really needed to keep moving. I had to stop in a little gully that provided a little protection so that I could change my gloves into my large Goretex ski gloves as my hands were getting really cold.

After a little while I was grateful when we begun descending. Soon we’d be back out of the clouds. It was a fun descent which saw Dave take a few comedy slides on his backside down the muddy snow. Suddenly we popped out of the cloud and were rewarded with the most magical view of the bright green valley below us. We dropped down to the dry stone wall where the next cp was located. We clipped our cards and moved on following the wall down the valley. It was really pretty wet and slippery along the path we were following but it was a fun, technical trail to follow for a little while before we followed the wall around to the right towards some woodland where I could make out the red jacket of Louise at the next cp. As we approached we heard the sound of cow bells and soon were greeted with father Christmas who had volunteered his services at the cp and was dishing out hot drinks to those who wanted them. I was nice and warm now and Louise gave Dave and I a hunk of bread with a flask of chunky soup each. We greedily wolfed it down before saying thanks and goodbye and shooting off towards the entrance to the forest next to the car park. When I looked over the maps of the route beforehand, I hadn’t really checked the contours. We were both now learning that this part of the route was actually pretty lumpy and was far from a real break in the race. What it did provide though was some snow free, beautiful single track that snaked its way through the trees. We caught and passed a few other runners on this section. When we eventually came out of the opposite end of the forest we swung left and followed a wall up a gully on the long climb that took us the other side of Helvellyn that Sticks pass had crossed over. The climb was nowhere as severe as Sticks Pass and we seemed to be pretty sheltered in comparison.

The question was, would the pass take us into the base of the clouds before beginning to descend, or not? Shortly after beginning to climb we had left the green valley below and were back above the snowline. I could see that we were getting closer and closer to the cloud, but at the same time as I looked ahead and saw some other runners I saw that they weren’t in it yet. Maybe we would not quite enter it this time and face the harsh weather it would provide. The path flattened out a little and soon we were shown the beautiful shining Grisedale Tarn surrounded by the white landscape. I knew that we had to work our way down past it keeping it on our right before descending below the snowline again towards Patterdale. The descent was long and quite difficult with much slipping and sliding on the snowy top part and with equally difficult footing on the rocky lower slopes, but it was all good fun. Dave took a rather comical fall right into the bed of a stream, unfortunately getting the inside of his gloves wet in the process which would take a while for him to re-warm.

After this really long descent we were back on familiar territory and soon arrived at the cp where I noticed that Lou wasn’t there. I half expected her to be here. Never mind. We got a coffee each from the ace crew before leaning against a wall and eating some food. Next thing Dave tapped me on the shoulder and pointed towards a car coming into the car park. It was Lou. Ace! We chatted a bit before shooting off, keen to catch as much of the daylight as possible. We now were just back tracking the first section of the race so knew what was in store. The first section was a decent ascent that just about took us into the snowline for one last time before a nice drop back towards Martindale. Once we arrived at the Martindale cp, I stopped and put on a warm hat and my head-torch in anticipation for the prevailing darkness. We set off with the scent of home in our noses. I remembered reading that the organiser had cooked up a load of soup for the finish. I was really looking forward to a massive bowl with some chunks of bread. The last of the course was over moorland and was relatively flat(ish!). As we came out onto the open moorland, the darkness became too much and we switched our torches on. After a little error on the trail which meant a spell of wading through deep, freezing cold water and bracken. After finally getting back on track we only had a couple of km’s left before we arrived back at the village hall to finish in a time of 9hrs and 20 mins.

Garmin upload

Not bad for a steady day out in the hills. I felt pretty good and was met by Lou who was waiting for us. The soup was as good as I had imagined. What a stunning day it had been.

This was my first real experience in the Lakes midwinter and I had been blown away by the beauty. Dave and I will most definitely be back again for this one. Whether I have it in my legs next year after Trans-Europe though is another question!

Next is Christmas. I plan to do nothing except for an attempt at the northern 96 miles of the Offa’s Dyke footpath which is a Trailblaze, supported by Lou. Could be fun!

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