Written by Peter Dennett - http://www.100marathonclub.org.uk

10:00, 2nd and 3rd May. The Thames canal path from Richmond in Greater London to Oxford in Oxfordshire, England

About me and my Race Plan

Although I'm a veteran at marathon running with over 180 events under my belt, this would be my first 100 miler. I would also be running solo; i.e. no crew to assist me and no pacer to accompany me in the second half. As I had no crew, I basically had to carry everything I thought I would need throughout the race in addition to the mandatory stuff, with the exception of a few items for the latter part of the race that would be in a kit bag available to me at the Henley aid station at mile 51.

I had opted to run in road shoes as the weather had largely been dry the week before suggesting the trail sections of the route would probably in the main be dry also. But in my Henley kit bag I had included a pair of trail shoes just in case the predicted forecast of rain significantly changed things underfoot, as well as a spare top, a fresh pair of socks and a bottle of Lucozade; that was a ‘treat' to allow me to drink something different than what was on offer at the aid stations. Water I find boring and Coke disgusting, though I know from experience that both are necessary evils and you just have to get used to their respective tastes.

1 - My kit for the race, of which much of it was mandatory

The plan for the race was based on one that veteran 100 miler, Traviss Wilcox had recommended, which was to get to Henley before night fall and then slog it out to the finish. To achieve that I was planning to treat the first 25 miles as a marathon and run it as one albeit at a conservative pace, then get to Henley hopefully by mainly running it and then after that just see it how it goes, but with the additional goal in mind of getting to Oxford and the finish within 24 hours.

In the weeks before I had ran a few marathons with varying results. Three weeks previously I ran Taunton and struggled with tired legs to get round in 3:43. A week later I was at Boston in the States and ran a far more comfortable and convincing race in 3:31. The week before this 100 miler I was at Blackpool, not quite as easy as Boston but still an encouraging 3:38. The morning of the Thames Path 100, guess what? My legs felt tired again, so it looked like another Taunton-style outing!

Arrival at Richmond

My kind brother-in-law picked me up at 7am and drove us the hour or so to Richmond, dropping me off right in the small courtyard next to Richmond's Old Town Hall, which was where the race HQ was. Inside the hall it was a hive of activity with people getting their mandatory kit inspected, collecting race numbers and generally sorting their gear and themselves out for the race. My first port of call was kit inspection. I had all my stuff, literally stuffed in my running vest so when asked I had to unzip some pockets, initially forgetting which ones had the mandatory stuff, to reveal the said items including a hard copy map of the Thames Path, head torch, backup torch and rain jacket. Once the guy inspecting this was happy he then handed me what looked like a red casino chip and told me to go to the desk where race numbers were being issued. There, half expecting to see a roulette wheel, but there wasn't, I announce my name and race number and in exchange for my chip I get my race bib.

Back outside and my brother-in-law opts to move the car as it's causing some traffic issues. It's here I bump into Traviss Wilcox and we have a quick chat before he disappears to talk to someone else whilst I head over to the van that is collecting kit bags for transfer to Henley and the finish. As well as my bag for Henley, I also had a bag for the finish that contained some leggings, a top and a coat; stuff that I could quickly change in to after finishing, mitigating hopefully any risk of getting cold, which can easily happen once you stop moving.

With over an hour to go, I then did some last minute preparations. First I filled my drink bottles. This wasn't though to be the best idea. The bottles are of the soft flask variety but I had modified them by putting some tubing in them to keep them upright with the tubing extending outside the top of the flasks with the bit values attached on top. An idea I got from one of the Facebook ultra running communities as the soft flasks when shrinking have a habit of disappearing into the mesh pocket they sit in and are then a pain to retrieve when you need to refill them. The tube eliminates this problem by keeping the bottles upright and so they don't disappear into their pockets, plus the extended tubing allowed you to drink from the bottle without needing to bend your head over as much. The downside as I discovered is that the arrangement isn't quite watertight and when you sit down, droplets of liquid escape from the top of the bottle where the tube extends out and basically dribbles on to your person!

I also made regular trips to the toilets, but queued well up in advance before I really needed to go. Something I've learnt from previous races.

Then my brother-in-law returns to explain the ordeal he just had trying to find something to park and then when he did discovered the extortionate charges that would rival those of many a pay-day loan company!

An announcement was then made stating that there would shortly be a race brief at 9:45 done by the start line, so we made our way there. The start line was on the Thames Path, a stone throw away from the Old Town Hall on the left side of the Thames looking upstream or westward.

2 - The start line, before the masses turned up

I bumped in to Traviss again who then promptly sits down on a bench nearby whilst the race brief was given. The brief was mainly around safety and showing off the route markers along with the established National Trail ones that would help us on our way, the most notable marker being a strip of red and white tape. There was also a big thank you for the volunteers who would be manning the aid stations that we would visit en route, many of which, who like us would be up all night.

With the race brief done, around 10:00 we were off!

An Unexpected Journey... to Kingston

Now, I normally knock out a quick first mile even for marathons just to get it out of my system before easing off into a more realistic sustainable pace. Something I ‘inherited' from my early big city marathon days where the first few miles are generally chaotic. Today though with legs already not feeling their best I opted to go for a more caution approach and setup off at a more subdued pace.

However in the first mile, I did manage to catch and pass Mark Evans (Mark H not Mark E I believe). Mark and I have regularly appeared in marathons together on the Kent coast and generally end up with similar times, though lately Mark have had the better of me. Hence on passing him I joked that he would catch and pass me at mile 22.

There was a lot of changing of positions within the running field before things settled down, though a kissing gate early on in the race did create bit of a bottle neck as you could only get through one at a time.

By the time things had settled down I was now chasing a group of five runners. Not really gaining on them but not losing them either.

As we continued I recognised some of the route from when I did the Thames Meander Marathon last year including the start area and early section of that race. As I reminisced about that race whilst also keeping a watching brief of the running group in front I then noticed there was no-one in front of those guys. A glance back revealed no-one behind either.

This seemed a bit strange and only when I looked across the Thames did I see loads of runners on the other side of the river. As I looked, the group ahead of me also looked across and realised like me that we had somehow missed the bridge that we had to cross. I thought about turning back but instead continued to follow the guys in front hoping there would be another bridge soon.

There wasn't. The group ahead would occasionally make turns that only led them to dead ends in their quest to get back on the right route but without success. However, it allowed me to catch them up on every occasion and saved me from taking those same wrong turns.

But the group did up their pace. No doubt to try and make up for lost time. I tried to keep up but at the same time was wary of going too quick and catching them only to then join them in the hunt for the right way.

We eventually passed through Kingston, initially over a railway line, then passing Kingston train station before finding a bridge that was being crossed by other runners, who were now on the same side of the Thames as us. I asked one of the runners if they had been to an aid station yet. They replied no. Phew, panic over, we were back on the right route and hadn't missed the first aid station and check point, but I was a bit concerned that my planned leisurely start had of course gone totally to pieces.

Eating and Drinking but no Time for Merriment

The terrain underfoot turned from tarmac and paving to dirt track. But at least the mud was dry and certainly my choice of road shoes seemed thus far a wise one.

Although I had my own drinks, it was a long 11 miles to the first aid station. I was keen to get to the aid station not only for refreshment but to do a distance check and determine how much extra I had covered on the unplanned tour of Kingston.

Before getting there I passed a pub called ‘The Weir'. I remember seeing that marked on the maps that I studied the night before so knew it wasn't far to go. When I did arrive at the aid station my Garmin reckoned I had done an extra mile.

The aid station was marked by white Centurion logo flags and a white gazebo. As soon as I entered, someone noted my race number and someone else behind a table of food asked what I what to eat and drink. Their urgency to assist me thankfully matched my own to get going and seemed to suggest that they could read my mind, which was saying we've lost time so let's not hang about, grab what you can and go.

I took on board some coke and water, and then prepared myself to eat some food whilst another volunteer kindly refills my drink flasks. Eating food on a run has been problematic for me. Either I develop stomach problems, or my mouth just dries up with the throat closing up soon after making swallowing impossible. Though I had been experimenting lately to try and overcome these problems I've had yet to resolve them satisfactory, so it was a case of here goes. I knew I had to eat something otherwise I wasn't going to finish.

At the Comrades marathon last year in South Africa, which was my qualifying race for this one, I tried to do the whole race on just fluids; water, coke and electrolyte, and although I finished the race, it was not without some discomfort; there's only so much you can drink before your stomach then starts crying out for something more solid to digest. So I was determined not to repeat that experience here.

First I tried a cheese sandwich. Mouth instantly dries up and throat closes up; unable to swallow. Panic initially sets in before I then had a light bulb moment. With the food still in my mouth I pour some water inside. I can't say the food tasted better or the experience was particularly pleasant but it worked; the throat opened up and as I continued chewing, I eventually managed to swallow. Ok, time to quickly try something else; sausage rolls. Actually, these seemed to fare better than the sandwiches, not needing as much water. I'll take some of these with me!

I had a small cup where I chucked in some of the said rolls; well actually the cup was an egg poacher made from flexible yellow silicone. I brought it along as I could screw it up in to a small ball and stuff in one of the pockets on my running vest where it would take up very little room.

It was Traviss who told me not to take too long at aid stations; basically get in and out and if need be, take your food with you and eat it on the way. This I did; however I couldn't really run with the food so walked until I had finished my meal. Then I was back to running.

Magna Carta Memorial, Royal Castle and Rowing Lakes

I was a little bit less apprehension about eating at the next aid station. Taking on sandwiches and rolls and religiously washing them down with plenty of water to aid swallowing, before moving on.

Soon after, I pass a tiled memorial dedicated to the 600 th anniversary of the signing of the Magna Carta. I was tempted to pause to take a photo, but felt it was more important to keep pressing on.

I then arrived at Old Windsor. I knew I had as there was a roads sign saying I had! It was some time though before I got to the more familiar part of Windsor and saw the spectacular Windsor castle. I then crossed the bridge that connects Windsor to neighbouring Eton. A bridge familiar to me as I've ran across it a number of times some years back as its part of the run route for the Windsor triathlon.

My familiarity of the area continued when after visiting the third aid station, I passed Dorney Lakes. For me it was strange to see it from the Thames as I'm more familiar from seeing from the lakes. Not rowing as the place is most famous for, but another place where I've done a few triathlons.

I then had to cross a bridge to enter Maidenhead. I knew I had entered Maidenhead as there was a road sign saying so.

To get to the next aid station at Cookham I had to leave the Thames path and follow some roads. Thankfully there were a few runners about who seemed to know where they were going. Perhaps I should have been more cautious after my experience shortly after the start, but on this occasion following the group ahead kept me on the race course and thus to the next aid station.

Halfway at Henley

After leaving Cookham I sent a text to my mother informing her where I was. She was planning to meet me at Henley, so I wanted to give her a heads up of my progress and estimated arrival time. As stated earlier, I didn't have any crew but my mother agreed to be the last familiar face I would see before nightfall, something I felt was necessary to help my morale. My mother also doesn't have Internet access but does have a standard mobile (not of the smart phone variety) so hence the text.

The next aid station though was at Hurley and we had to cross a bridge to get to this. We remained on this side of the Thames until Henley, where we crossed a bridge to go back on to the other side. However, I remember from studying the maps that it was a while to go before I would actually reach the Henley aid station.

I arrived at Henley just as it was turning to dusk, a little later than planned but crucially before nightfall. Among the runners and spectators I managed to find my mother. A helper then hands me my kit bag. I opted not to change my shoes but did drink the bottle of Lucozade. After drinking so much water, coke and pink electrolyte drink at the aid stations, as predicted this was a welcoming change on the drink front. I then went to hunt down some food and was kindly offered some pasta, which went down rather well. It didn't sink in at first but the volunteers were dressed as superheroes.

3 - Arriving at Henley just before it got dark

I also bumped into Mark Evans, who had been here a while and was now about to move on. I quickly informed him of my detour around Kingston before he then left. I then spent a few minutes giving my mother a similar update of my race thus far and after she wished me luck we parted company.

The Oracle

I had placed my head torch on my head before leaving Henley, which was just as well as shortly after it was getting really dark and struggling to see ahead I had to switch it on. I had done some night running including the odd race in preparation for this moment, but it still felt a bit weird to now be running in the dark after running most of the day in daylight.

It then started to spit with rain. It was hard to tell if this was a just quick passing of rain or something more prolonged. I initially kept going thinking it would pass, but also kept thinking of another of Traviss's gems of advice; get you rain coat on before you get wet. This thought get bugging me until eventually I could bear it no longer and had to stop and put my rain jacket on. Soon after I had and was about to getting moving again another runner stops by me, saying good idea before promptly getting their jacket on.

As it transpires, the rain didn't only continue, but started to be more than a gentle drizzle. So getting my jacket on was indeed a good move.

After what seemed like being in the middle of nowhere forever it was then a bit surreal to see the bright lights of the Oracle. Not the one from Greek mythology but the headquarters of the IT Company sat in the Business Park near Reading that shares its name. Another landmark I took note when studying the maps as I then knew the next aid station was nearby. However, on arrival, no-one had warned me of the steps that had to be negotiated to get in to the building housing the aid station. Some organiser's sick joke or what?

Inside I continued my feed of sausage rolls washed down, this time with electrolyte drink; I thought it would save some time if I ate and drank at the same time. It felt warm and inviting there at that aid station, but I had to resist the charms of the place and move on. It could have so easily have been a spider's parlour with me as the fly.

Just as I'm about to leave, one of the aid station volunteers warned me of a couple of points on the course ahead. The firstly was a bridge where we had to go over, yes over, not under it. The second was a path diversion about a mile later in Reading town centre.

Over the Bridge and through Reading

After leaving the aid station to go back into the less than inviting rain, I indeed sometime later came across the bridge I was warned about. I was about to go over when I spot someone ahead who had gone under. I was now confused. But then a couple of runners came up behind me and said I was right to go over. One of them said he had done this race before as well as helped with the organisation where on previous outings of this event quite few people have taken the wrong way here and had to be retrieved later.

From that point I opted to tag on behind this guy and his compatriot who I think was actually his pacer. Ok, again, probably not the wisest thing to do after my experience at the start of the day with following other runners but this guy did seem to know what he was talking about, plus he was in the main walking, which suited me fine as my ‘running' pace for what it was now worth wasn't much faster than the guy's walking pace, so I was prepared to take the risk.

After following a rather poorly lit part of the Thames Path we then came across street lights and a red diversion sign pointed us away from the Thames into Reading town centre. This I had gathered was the diversion I had been warned about. However, I wasn't really sure where to go next so I stuck to the informed runner and his friend like proverbial glue, crossing a couple of busy roads and passing some late night revellers, before a right turn that took us back to the sanctuary of the Thames path and yes, bizarrely I felt safe again, safe in the knowledge that my navigation skills did need such testing again, at least for the time being. With not needing my guide anymore I then upped my pace and gradually left him behind.

During the race brief we were asked to keep noise to a minimum during the night. So I had a bit of a chuckle when a while later near the Thames path there was some festival on with the sounds of much jollity, which was then rudely interrupted by the booming noise of a guy on the PA system announcing last orders. A short time later I hear the PA system again but fainter as I was now some distance from it, announcing that the bar was now closed!

The Sit Down and the Crossroads

For Whitchurch and the aid station there, I knew I had to cross a bridge but didn't realised the extent of how far we had to go after crossing the bridge and how it then seemed all uphill to the aid station.

On the bridge I'm passed by Kate Jayden and another runner, who may have been her pacer as he didn't seem to share in Kate's enthusiasm in taking selfies on the bridge. I must admit I was a little annoyed as well, but with me as despite Kate's occasional pause to take photos, she still managed to keep ahead of me reaching the aid station first.

Inside I grab some drink and food and despite Traviss's warning about sitting down or 'Beware the chair' ringing in my ears I allowed my concentration to slip and did indeed sit down. However, halfway through eating and drinking I notice Kate who hadn't sat down was about to leave. As if I had been woken from a daze, a sense of realism then came over me as I grasped what had happened. I was wasting time and needed to get up and go, and do that now! And that's exactly what I did, although by the time I had left the aid station, Kate who got out before me was already up the road and out of sight.

The route continued uphill before eventually levelling out. But then I hit a crossroad where it didn't seem obvious where I had to go next. I sense it may be straight on and indeed in the distance I could see the headlight of another runner; Kate perhaps? But then a couple of other runners came up beside me and point out the road to the left which has a strip red and white tape next to it. But the same road had a sign which read ‘Private Property'.

I wasn't convinced and after a short debate I left the other runners to continue discussing where they would go and opted to follow the road ahead. By this time more runners had arrived and joined the debate but I was already committed to my decision. Then one of the runners rushes up and joins me, asking if I was sure. I said I wasn't. We continued but walked rather than running as we looked out for strips of red and white tape that would confirm whether we were indeed on the right route. But as we continued things were looking bleak. There were now no runners' headlights either ahead or behind us. Doubt was quickly setting in and as we were contemplating going back I then spot a strip of red and white tape. Hurrah! We saved! I never knew a bit of tape could be such a welcoming sight! With the confirmation that we were on the right route, we then forged ahead where the road would come to an end and we found ourselves on a dirt track.

Things started to get very undulating now; in fact hilly. Initially some downhill then an uphill; so much for this being a flat course! I had also lost my company as he seemed to tackle the hills far better than me and had pretty much deserted me.

Thing did then settle down when I arrived back by the Thames. However, with all ups and downs I wasn't sure I was still on the right route. As the distance continued to clock up on my Garmin I was getting worried that I may have actually missed the next aid station.

Then the head torch started flashing indicating the batteries were getting low. I had spares, but wanted to get to the next aid station first and replace them there as it would be easier to do the swap.

A Friendly Face or Two

As things seemed to mount up against me, I then I see a chap who I think was involved in the race organisation as I was sure I've saw him at some of the earlier aid stations. I asked if I was going the right way. He replied yes and pointed out the bridge ahead that I had to cross to get to Streatley for the next aid station. Phew, panic over.

Streatley was a much smaller building than the previous ones. Not sure why I was surprised by its size. However it was no less stocked of food and drink. Now, I know someone did warn me about sitting in chairs at aid stations, but for some reason I couldn't stand and at the same time replace the batteries on my head torch. So I had to sit. Once the new batteries were fitted though I made a point of standing up again; I wasn't going to do another Whitchurch! An aid station helper though reassures me that I would only need a couple of hour's battery life before day break. And after taking on some food and drink and thanking the volunteers there, as I had at every aid station, I moved on.

Just up the road I bumped to Rachel Smith; Traviss's other half. She was waiting for Traviss, who apparently wasn't far behind me. She kindly walked with me for a while and gave me some philosophical words of wisdom when I confessed that the day hadn't gone to plan and that my hope of a sub 24 hour finish was looking pretty dead as I just wasn't moving quickly enough, and basically I wasn't in the best of places right now.

Daybreak and the Endless Meadows

As I headed upstream towards Wallingford, the sky was slowing turning from black to a dark bluish grey. A sign that dawn was on its way, but also that it was overcast, which was later supplemented by rain. Thankfully, I still had my rain jacket on. In fact I hadn't taken it off all-night.

At the Wallingford aid station I'm offered some pasta, which went down really well, before I have to have my first toilet stop. Only a pee, but it did seem strange that this was my first toilet stop of the race considering how much fluid I had taken onboard. However, in one of the adjacent toilets I could hear someone throwing up and clearly not well so reported this to one of the aid station helpers who then goes to investigate.

After Wallingford, there was a bit or road to navigate taking us through Shillingford, before I appeared to end up on a long stretch of seemingly never ending meadows. As I worked my way across one field, passing through a kissing gate I'm only greeted by yet another field; all rather demoralising and even another runner when on passing me comments dejectedly on the endless meadow.

Thankfully the meadows weren't actually endless and I eventually arrive at Clifton Hampden.

Not Succumbing to the Chair

Clifton Hampden wasn't quite what I had expected. After crossing a bridge I spot a Thames Path sign, but a marshal there instructs me to go carry on ahead on the road and turn left further up. I wasn't sure initially where I was going but then released where I was when I saw the familiar white Centurion flags outside the aid station.

Inside there were a few tired looking runners, of which a couple had succumbed to the chair. I didn't feel exactly great myself and did initially sit down before realising that would be a mistake and so immediately got up again.

To underline the point about the chairs, one of the aid station helpers walked over to another runner who it seems had been sat down for a while, and suggested they got up before their legs stiffen up too much and not be able to get going again. The volunteer was typical of those I had met throughout the race. Always attentive with a real sense that they knew what you were up against, but then I overheard at a few of the aid stations that some had taken part in previous years and so had lived through the same ordeal.

Another runner was sat down on talking to a relative on the phone. I had arrived after him but managed to get out before him. A boast to my morale albeit a minor one as I felt I hadn't wasted as much time as him at the aid station. In essence, I had in Formula One terminology; undercut him.

After leaving the aid station I retrace my steps back to the Thames where the marshal who had directed me up the road to the aid station earlier now directed me back along the Thames.

Blisters, Mud and Cocktail Sticks

My feet were getting really sore now and any slight wrong footing on the muddy terrain only made them hurt more. My feet had got totally soaked from the rain earlier and despite having plastering them with petroleum jelly at the start of the race, which normally works for me, I suspect I now had several blisters that themselves had their own blisters.

The guy who was on the phone at Clifton then passes me at a decent pace, but I reckoned it was a good mile from Clifton, which sort of shows how much time can be saved if you stay disciplined at the aid stations and stay no longer than necessary.

But pack to the Thames path, which was muddy and simply getting muddier, more uneven and peppered with tree roots and other hazards, I was now wishing I had changed into my trail shoes at Henley. With the lack of grip and feet really hurting; in fact quite severely now, my pace had become rather pathetic. But having got this far I was determined to keep moving, and the fact I was still moving was good enough to be called progress for me at this time.

Although the distance from Clifton to Lower Radley was probably one of the shortest distances between aid stations, it felt like one of the longest. However, I managed to get there and on arrival an aid station helper was quick to furnish me with whatever food and drink I wanted. I spot some cheese and pineapple on cocktail sticks. These went down a treat (not the actual sticks obviously), and didn't require much water to wash them down. The juicy pineapple seemed to be enough to stop my mouth drying up and thus allow me to chew the cheese relatively unhindered. If only I had discovered these earlier in the race!

After leaving Lower Radley I'm nearly taken out by some rowers who were moving one of their boats and who had clearly not seen me, despite the fact that I had seen them coming and so made a point of trying to give them a wide berth.

Not There Yet

With that minor drama out of the way I continued, taking a quick glance at my Garmin watch, which sadly had confirmed what I had feared for some time. I wasn't going to finish under 24 hours. However, as if to offer some form of consolation, as the time clocked 24 hours, the watch suggested I had actually done 100 miles. Though of course what really matters is the official distance and time at the finish, but thanks all the same for the sentiment Garmin.

A mile or so later and another glance at my watch revealed it was now saying the battery was low. I couldn't believe the external power supply I had connected to it for the entire race had died. However, on examining said supply it looked a bit damp, despite being in a waterproof pack suggesting perhaps moisture had got in to its circuits and shortened it. Good job I had a backup power supply, so I switch them over and the watch then seemed ok and started charging. Thank goodness, last thing I wanted was for the watch to die a mile or so from the finish. I wasn't allowing myself to die so why should the watch get it so easy?

Eventually the muddy path turned in a more welcoming flat asphalted one. I was now surely on the outskirts of Oxford and did spot a sign shortly before that said Oxford was 2 miles up the path. As I continued, the sun was beginning to come out and consequently I was now getting a bit warm as I still had my raincoat on, but being so close to the finish I couldn't be bothered to now take it off.

Finally

Something I hadn't seen for a long time was people not connected with the pace. Many were out on the path just walking, but had clearly worked out what was going on or had been told and so many of them cheered me on as I started to try and improve on the little pace I had.

I was then directed left in to a grass field where ahead was a large inflated blue gantry; clearly the finish line. Although I couldn't quite muster a sprint I was at least running when I crossed the finish line where Nici Griffith, one of the race organisers then hugs me and presents me with what is my first ever race buckle.

4 - Oh, is it now over?

My mother was also there, and we have our picture taken by the official photographer before I finally sit down, knowing as last that there was no rush to get up. In fact I no longer had to ‘beware the chair'; I could actually embrace it!

A helper then offers me some chilli, which like the pasta earlier in the race, went down very well. In fact I probably could have eaten for England!

Then after watching a few other runners finish, my relief at finishing was slowly being supplanted by sheer tiredness so my mother then takes me home.

Postscript

After dropping me off Saturday morning, my brother-in-law had headed home and during the day had regularly checked my progress on the Centurion website. He had also relayed updates by text messages to my mother. Apparently he got quite involved with checking my progress right in the night, where at some point he fell asleep at his computer only to wake up a few hours later with his head resting on the keyboard. Bless!

As for my power supply that got a bit damp, that I can happily report, made a full recovery, and says it can't wait to get back on the road (if it could speak of course).

The statistics for the race make quite interesting reading; of the 265 starters, only 182 made it to the finish and within the 28 hour time limit with 106 of those finishers within 24 hours. My own time of 25:36:17 netted me 121 st place.

My feet had indeed developed blisters in the latter stages of the race; in fact most of the surface of my feet including the balls and the heels were covered in them. These blighters did take a few days to heal up properly so I didn't go running again for nearly a week, but two weeks after the Thames Path 100, I was back to running form with my next marathon at Koblenz in Germany, so no long-term damage it seems.