Written by Peter Dennett - http://www.100marathonclub.org.uk
06:00, 13th and 14th June. The South Downs Way National Trail from Chilcomb near Winchester in Hampshire to Eastbourne in East Sussex, England
My Kit Review
This would be my second ever 100 miler after TP100, which was my first. There were certainly a few lessons learnt from TP100, but as far as my kit was concerned there were only a few minor changes, mainly to dispense with stuff I never used at TP100 and didn't expect to use them for SDW100. I also dropped my ‘food cup' in favour of a simple plastic bag after seeing other runner's use bags to good effect at TP100 to grab food at aid stations and allow themselves to eat on the go. As per TP100, I was using plastic bags to store items that needed to be kept dry. I found the security bags you get at airports idea for this as they are sealable and so fairly airtight. In fact my mantra on the subject is if an item that needs to be kept dry can't fit into an airport bag then it doesn't feature in my kit, and that includes clothing.
1 - A few items down on TP100 (and of course a change of map)
One addition though I had this time was a homemade wristband listing the aid stations by number and what miles and kilometres they appear on the route. This was mainly to save me asking that most common of runner's questions posed to aid station volunteers; “Half far is it to the next aid station?”, but also to allow me to break the race up into more manage chunks in the latter stages; easier to tackle 4 miles to the next aid station than say 20 or so miles to the finish.
The reason why I listed kilometres as well is that I normally work with those and so it's what my Garmin is set up to use; kilometres are far shorter than miles so crop up more regularly. Ok, there are more of them, but shall we gloss over that bit and move on?
Kit Check
Unlike TP100, there was an opportunity to do race registration and bag drop the evening before. So with the race HQ and start at Chilcomb about 20 minutes by car from where I live, I opted to take advantage of this. By getting the admin stuff done this way it meant less faffing on race day morning.
It was an overcast, very warm and muggy Friday evening, though thunder and rain were expected later that would hopefully clear the air.
2 - Chilcomb on a muggy Friday evening
At kit check my rain jacket receives some attention as the guy checking it doesn't initially think it meets Centurion running mandatory kit regulations. But on closer inspection he notes the taped seams. The jacket is very lightweight, possibly the lightest on the market but for the record it does meet all ultra races mandatory kit requirements for waterproofing guys! Anyway my kit inspection passes and I'm handled a blue casino chip. I've clearly going up in the world as at TP100 I only got a red chip. As with TP100 though no roulette wheel to play my increased stake on, but exchanging my chip I do get a race number and the opportunity to answer a few questions regarding my contact details and whether I was having crews or bag drops.
I also handed in my bag for the finish. The guy taking it seemed a bit surprised that I didn't also hand in a bag for Washington as mile 54. I didn't have one on the premise that I didn't really use the one I had at TP100. I was planning to use my trail running shoes anyway for the race so didn't need a spare pair, and I would be carrying a spare pair of socks with me from the start. The idea there was I could change the socks at any time and not be bound to changing them if I wanted to at Washington. That left the bottle of Lucozade which featured in my halfway bag at TP100. This time I decided I could live without that, being my second 100 miler and thus no longer a 100 miler virgin, I felt I was now grown-up and so could survive without such pampering luxuries.
Pre-Race Shenanigans
Then I headed home and the plan was to get a good night and with no race registration or bag drop to worry that would afford me a few extra minutes in bed!
The reality was in fact I didn't sleep well overnight and was up by 3am out of sheer frustration of not being able to sleep well. My mother picked me up at 5am as planned and drove me to Chilcomb for arrival around 5:20. My pre-race activities as they were mainly around waiting to use the toilets before catching the race brief shortly before the race start.
It was overcast and muggy, in fact quite repressive. It had rained overnight but the thunder had stayed away. I was cursing the weather as this was the second weekend on the trot I've had to put up with these Amazon-rainforest type conditions having done a marathon in the Netherlands the previous Sunday in similar conditions.
I had also picked up some weird cold in the week, one where I had no symptoms other than a rather runny nose. The fact I did a 10k road race on only the Wednesday before race day and achieved a seasonal best only highlighted the strange nature of this virus.
Race Brief and the Start
The race brief was similar to the TP00 one and included a demonstration of the visual aids we would encounter that would guide us on the course. The National trail acorn symbols, a Centurion Running arrow, the beloved red and white tape and new for this race, orange painted arrows.
The Race brief also mention that the exit of the field that we would about to do a lap of, that would take us on to the South Downs Way was a bit narrow, so some congestion was to be expected. I hoped to avoid this in the main by position myself near the front of the running field. Not right at the front, as that would probably result in me getting trampled to death by the elite runners, but just after them where hopefully in the main I would be out of harm's way.
This would also support my game plan. That was to follow a similar one for TP100 whereby I would try and do the first half was quickly as possible and then slog it out for the second half. As per TP100 I hoped to do this in less than 24 hours, but actually achieve the goal this time, and in addition I did have a rather romanticised view, even ambitious one of arriving at the Trig Point overlooking Eastbourne at mile 98 to be greeted by a splendid Sunday morning sunrise. Sounded like a very good sales pitch to me; perhaps I should take up secondary employment as a car dealer or estate agent!
The race did indeed start with a lap of the field, but there was a narrow section about halfway round, which didn't prove any problems for me before we're directed towards a gap in a hedge.
The lead guy was already some way ahead and I could hear the race starter directing the said leader towards the gap in a hedge. When I arrived at the gap in the hedge I ran through it to then find myself on the South Downs Way as promised. Yes, I was now on the course proper. This was initially a narrow footpath that did widen later on, consisting of mainly grass and dirt track.
To the First Aid Station
However, any hope of seeing the fine Hampshire countryside in the early stages was dashed by a lingering morning mist. Occasionally the route would be interrupted as we would cross the busy A272 Petersfield road, though marshals were on hand to assist us in the crossings.
As part of my first half plan the idea was to run the flats, bomb down the hills and shuttle up the hills. However, most people around me seemed to be taking a rather more consistent pace approach which meant that I was passed by quite a few runners up the hills but I caught and passed many of them on the subsequent downs. Furthermore, being fairly near to the front of the running field meant I was with some serious runners who weren't hanging about and so I gradually lost touch with them as the miles ticked by.
The first aid station is nearly 10 miles from the start, but having experienced something similar at TP100 it didn't feel quite so daunting waiting for its long arrival on the route this time around. As with TP100, I opted to try and eat stuff at every opportunity. With the muggy weather, my brain though decides fruit is the order of the day over savoury snacks. So after tucking in and grabbing some bananas pieces to go I continued my journey.
The Tree Root Dance
Along with the official National trail markers, the Centurion runners markers were reassuringly regular; a far cry it has to be said from TP100. The orange painted arrows were of particular note to me as they reminded me of the official yellow painted arrows that adorn the Camino de Santiago (St James' Way) in Spain of which various sections I've walked a number of times in the past.
Then around 13 miles, we came across a narrow section that seemed to consist of nothing but an infestation of tree roots. How I managed not to trip over any of them is a pure miracle but it did require some nimble footwork to get though it all. I was a bit conscious that as it was narrow I wasn't unduly holding anyone up. But since I was able to tagged on to the back of a couple of runners ahead of me with only one guy behind I didn't feel I was causing too much of a blockade.
But the tree root dance did take the wind out of me a bit and on the next hill after this I had to walk it. I was a bit disappointed to start walking so soon. But with the mist finally clearing to reveal blue skies, it was also getting very warm, so things weren't exactly on my side.
As I clocked some more miles, I then spot Rachel Smith. She was in a blue car and she actually spotted me first. I guess she was waiting for her other half; Traviss Wilcox. After a quick hello I pushed on.
Cheese and Pineapples
After seeing me off at Chilcomb, My mother was planning to see me at one of the earlier aid stations; either the car park at the Queen Elizabeth's Country Park (QECP); officially known as aid station two, or Hartling Downs; aid station three. When I arrived at QECP, which incidentally was preceded by a nice bit of downhill through some fields, she wasn't there, but I wasn't surprised as the car park was busy; not only the race aid station but with cars (naturally) as a result of people unconnected with the race who were there just visiting the park.
As with the previous aid stations, I continued my fruit fest, but spotting one of the volunteers cutting up some cheese, I ask if they could cut up some cubes for me. This they did and I prompted ate one at a time with pieces of pineapple, thus recreating that special moment at the last aid station on TP100. A few other runners noticed what was going on and the poor volunteer then had to cut up some more cheese cubes for those other runners.
QECP was over 10 miles from the first aid station so in theory the next 5 miles to Hartling Down should be a breeze by comparison, but it felt just as long. Things weren't helped by the fact that my Garmin reckoned it was more than 5 miles. Ok, Garmin miles tend to be a bit shorter than the real mile, but I was getting a bit concerned as well as suspicious in thinking that Centurion Running miles are a little bit longer than the real mile.
However, my arrival at Hartling Down was rewarded by seeing my mother. Whilst I continued my fruit fest, we had a chat; basically me explaining what the race's been like thus far, before we parted.
Familiar Faces
After passing through the aid station at Cocking; yes quite, and a race profile that seemed to consist of going either up or down hill, whereby I was regularly walking the uphill sections now, it was probably no surprise that the next two aid stations had ‘hill' in their name; these being Bignor Hill and Kithurst Hill. What was a surprise though was seeing Rachel Smith again, this time at Kithurst, noting down the race numbers of the runners as they arrived, me included.
Rachel though wasn't the only familiar face I had seen, shortly after Bignor I had been running through a field and noticed someone holding one of field gates open to allow runners though. It wasn't until I was nearer did I recognised who it was; an old skiing pal by the name of Ian Bruce who hails from Burgess Hill. He had threatened to make an appearance at some point but didn't say where or when. After passing through the gate we had a quick chat before I headed on, though a few miles later we met again.
3 - I came... and went
Less Familiar face-wise were a group of cyclists. I didn't know them but they regularly passed me only for me to catch up and pass them when they stopped for a break. I also saw the official race photographer, Stuart March, a few times and joked with him that ‘he certainly gets about a bit'.
In an Ok State at Washington
Kithurst was about halfway and my plan was going well. The legs were beginning to feel tired but I wanted to get to Washington before commencing the slog it to the finish part of the plan. Washington after all was ‘only' 4 miles on.
Unfortunately, I couldn't quite get to Washington before slowing quite a bit and when I arrived at Washington I'm asked by Karen Webber who was outside the aid station building welcoming the runners, how I was doing. I could only managed a simple ‘ok' to cover what I really meant which was ‘not great but I won't bore you with the detail'.
Inside the aid station hall, which had a distinctly American theme I gratefully accept some pasta. My stomach was feeling a bit uncomfortably empty after a day of eating mostly fruit and the pasta seemed to fit the bill of something more substantial. I sat down to eat the pasta, thus ignoring Traviss Wilcox's advice of not sitting down, but I was very much conscious of not outstaying my welcome, so literarily gobbled the pasta up as quickly as I could and after taking on some drinks I grabbed some bananas pieces to go and left.
On leaving Washington I see the aforementioned Traviss heading towards the aid station and not long after he overtakes me.
Dead Legs to Clayton
My legs had by now died, to the point where just moving was an Herculean task; my running was now more of a shuffle, which was a bit ironic as the route profile was a bit flatter now with somewhat more gentle hills. So despite the easier terrain, I wasn't able to make good use of it.
Then when the hills did return, I not only struggled really badly up them, but it took ages for me to recover from them. So it was probably just as well that the next few aid stations weren't too far from each other compared to the earlier ones. However, the aid station at Saddlescombe Farm reminded me that no matter how bad things appear, they could be worse as I noted a few runners here had decided to drop out of the race here. I was determined not to join them but my original plan of a sub 24 hours with that sunrise at the Trig Point, was now pretty much confined to the dustbin.
In fact my immediate priority was to get to Clayton Windmills (colloquially known as ‘Jack and Jill') before nightfall, but with the light already failing it was looking unlikely, but it's amazing how your eyes adapt to failing light and I arrive at Clayton Windmills without wearing my head torch whilst many runners leaving the said aid station had already switched to using their head torches; one of them was Traviss Wilcox.
4 - Whilst I was heading to Clayton my skiing pal was taking photos of sunsets
At my arrival at the aid station I briefly sit down to take out my head torch and my long sleeve hooded top, which had served me well at TP100 in keeping me warm, before grabbing some drink and food and heading back out. But as I walked up the hill from the aid station I still felt a bit cold so stopped to put my rain jacket on as well. Clearly the temperature had dropped rapidly since the sun went down but with my jacket on I soon got warm and felt if anything rather cosy in it.
Unexpected Welcome at Ditchling
With nightfall, the orange arrows and National Trail signs were somewhat less useful now as they weren't as easy to spot. However, this is where the red and white tape came into its own; the white sections of the tape are reflected and can generally be seen from some distance, so I increasing became more reliance on those, only seeking out the other signs for backup or additional confirmation.
As I headed through Ditchling Beacon I spot a few spectators ahead wearing head torches. On passed a couple of guys I hear them shouting ‘Is that Pete?' I stop and look behind to then recognise my old ski pal who I met earlier in the day. But I then realised he had another of our mutual skiing friends with him. I didn't expect the other guy to be here as he lives in Ashford, but he had decided to come all this way to watch the spectacle, which was a nice gesture. They also offer me a banana which I gratefully accept and eat shortly after.
However, other than that unexpected welcome, things weren't going goof for me, the legs were hurting now. Not like the latter stages of TP100 which was down to blisters, but just simply muscle pains and soreness. I had also resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to get any better than just walking and even with that I would occasionally slow my walking pace to offer some relieved to the legs before trying to up it again, but in turn the hours now seemed to tick by at an alarming rate and I feared this tactic would result in me being too slow to the point I would not even meet the 30 hour cut off for the finish.
A Dark Place
On reflection I don't think my mind was in a good place but at the time such doubts seemed so real. The fact that for most of the time I was alone didn't help. But the fact that I was a still moving was the glimmer of hope, plus the fact that I never DNF. I reflected on the occasions where I was in a similarly bad place and how I somehow managed to carry on and finish; pulling a calf muscle halfway through Marseille marathon and then spending the next 3 hours hobbling to the finish, a bout of Bronchitis at the Seville Marathon that took me three weeks to recover and various races where I had stomach issues, the most notable one being severe diarrhoea two third into the Porto marathon. This would be just another of those occasions, another of those tests of character. No, this wasn't the time and place for a DNF. And anyway, dead legs by comparison to the other events seemed too poor an excuse.
The accuracy of my Garmin compared to the Centurion Running miles though wasn't helping, as the aid station at Housedean Farm didn't appear when Garmin said it should. I did spot some lit houses but when I came near them there wasn't any aid station there, no familiar Centurion Running white flags. However, at least my Garmin was still working thanks to being powered by an external battery linked via the watch's USB cradle. A few runners on passing me asked how many miles we've done as their Garmin watches had long since died.
The aid station did eventually turn up and was a very welcoming sight, but I wasn't keen to hang around as time was most definitely not on my side. I also wasn't particularly hungry, especially after another runner turns up and promptly throws ups. Yes, it was time for me to go.
South-not-so-easy
As I walked through the night I would occasionally get overtaken by other runners, most with their pacers, but all of them asking if I was alright. Nice of them to enquire but there wasn't much they could do; I had to fight this out on my own. But it did demonstrate the high level of camaraderie in this game.
I was now also developing some blisters on my feet. These seemed to dislike the bumpiness of the course so when I came across a straight flat path of concrete it was a mighty relief. Of course the flat path didn't last forever, sadly.
For the next aid station at Southease, I initially didn't know where to go as for the first time I couldn't spot any obvious markers, but fortunately a guy was standing at a road T-junction and pointed in the direction I had to go. He also claimed the aid station was ‘literally' just down the hill. Well it was down the hill but also long a bit of flat section, then over a bridge towards Southease train station. Though I guess he was close enough, I was getting nervous in the latter parts of this bit as I was thinking I may have missed the aid station.
But at the train station, there were a couple of marshals noting down race numbers who then confirmed that the aid station was nearby. In fact the aid station was a short distance on the other side of the train line, but for safety reasons we couldn't cross at the road but had to drag our dead legs over the pedestrian bridge. Southease? More like ‘South-not-so-easy'!
Light at the Top of the Hill
At the aid station I again kept my stay short, only staying to get my drink bottles refilled. Though I had to confirm with the volunteers as to where I had to go, which was retracing my steps for a short while before going up a gravel track hill, yes, just what I wanted. Thanks again!
Things though improved at the top of the hill. The legs had finally come back to life, albeit in a not too great capability, but at least I could now manage a shuffle, rather than just walk. The other thing was it was now approaching dawn. No splendid sunrise, but at least I could begin to see where I was going and eventually I was also able to switch off my head torch.
By the time I arrived at Alfriston, it was most definitely daylight. I was feeling more my old self and even grabbed some food to go. Although I was now less worried about the race cut-off time now as my pace had picked up considerably I wanted to stick to the ‘keeping moving' urgency that I had developed overnight. On leaving I bump into Traivss again. I was a bit confused why he was here until he revealed he had some stomach problems and needed sometime out to resolve them. So at some point I must have passed him, but not sure where.
To Jevington
On leaving the aid station I wonder into a courtyard by a church. I had clearly missed a sign and quickly retraced my steps back to the aid station to then notice the familiar red and white tape showing the correct way. I then remembered the course notes that made it clear to cross over a white bridge and carry on towards Jevington and not turn right towards Exceat. In fact there was a piece of red and white tape on the Jevington post of the official South Downs Way signpost there.
Soon after I'm caught by Traviss and we have bit of a chat as we progressed. He agreed that we were looking at around 26 hours or so to finish this but then advised me to get some hiking poles for the NDW100. Then at the very next hill he clearly demonstrated how they can help as he marched up the hill quickly leaving me far behind.
The aid station at Jevington was for me bit of a non-event. Nothing to do with the wonderful volunteers there who kindly assured me that I would make it to the finish, but I was keen to keep going and my stay there was probably the shortest at any of the aid stations. With the race profile suggesting the final hill was up to the Trig Point. That was where I wanted to be as soon as possible.
Towards Eastbourne
It was some time coming but I eventually reached the top of that last uphill and I was now feeling mighty relieved that I had done the last hill of the entire course. I now had to find that Trig Point. Another runner who was a bit ahead disappeared through grassland and so I followed suit where I spot a red tent. Not quite what I expected; I was expecting some concrete post; i.e. the Trig Point, or to use its full name, the Ordnance Survey Triangulation Point.
I thought someone unconnected with the race was camping there but on arrival a marshal steps out welcoming me to the ‘unofficial aid station' at the Trig Point! She then points me to the gully we had to go down, warning me that it was a bit narrow and uneven in places. She wasn't joking, it was a very narrow and steep path of chalk and I proceeded with upmost caution as I didn't want to fall over and finish my race too early. Plus in places it was only really wide enough to have one foot in it at a time.
I then hear footsteps behind me and so moved to the side and let a fellow runner by. He thanked me but remarked he hated this bit, so clearly have had done this race before. He seemed to be able to move much quicker than me, but I wasn't tempted to copy his pace. The chalk eventually stopped to be removed by stones, branches and undergrowth as I entered some woodland, but essential no better under foot. I'm then passed by a lady runner who I had frequently seen on the route throughout. In fact we joked how often we had seen each over.
As with the other runner before her, she was descending with much more ease and dexterity than me. I think she knew I was struggling and assured me that the road wasn't far ahead.
My Pacer
The road did eventually arrive, though it did seem to arrive longer that I anticipated based on what the lady runner said, but at least I was now on the road and as such I was able to get running again. It started off initially downhill but slowly eased before I then had to turn right on what would be the final off-road section of the route. This was at least flat and fairly even underfoot and as such I was able to keep running and bizarrely even the blisters had stopped moaning. This took me to another road, now flat and I could see a few runners ahead who were walking.
My legs were now feeling the best they had for quite some time and with no complaints from the blisters I upped the pace a little. My confidence was also growing as coming from a road running background I was on my favourite running terrain; asphalt. In essential I was now in my element and for a while it didn't feel I had just been through 99 miles.
I was now passing the backend of the university that the race instructions were clear that we couldn't cut through to get to the finish. It's here that I then spot my ski pal who I've seen at numerous points on the course. I was expecting to have just a quick chat but he wanted to run alongside me. By his own admission, he hadn't really done any form of running for years, so this would be interesting I guess, but it was something he wanted to do and it was nice to have some company.
So we continued together down the road, before taking a left turn on to an asphalted footpath. My legs were beginning to feel tired again but with my friend making the effort to keep going with me I felt I couldn't ease up as it felt I would be letting him down. So we continued.
Eventually we got near to the car park where I had to pass round to the finish. My friend though had ran enough and had to stop to let me carry on. And on I did. Passing around the car park where a marshal remarked that I was the first person to be running at this point for some time. To then enter Eastbourne's sports ground. I could see the finish on my left, but I had to do a full lap of the athletes track, which at least though that was even and soft underfoot. Shame we could have this surface for the previous 99 plus miles of the course!
Sprint to the Finish
Ahead I spot another runner walking on the track to the finish. He was about a third of the way around. Could catch him? With that thought I forgot about my tired legs and set about chasing him down. He was still walking as I neared and it wasn't until the finish corner of the track that I was about to catch him. I thought he might respond; there were certainly people at the finish shouting at him to make a move. But he didn't, so I was able to pass unchallenged and get to the finish line a few seconds ahead of him.
In the excitement I forgot to initially stop my watch and when I did it had clocked 27 hours. I'm then presented with my buckle. Not by Nici Griffith as was the case at TP100, by some guy who I assume was the other half of Centurion Running?
5 - Finished (some more than others it seems)
My skiing pal then comes over to congratulate me and together we head into the sports pavilion, where I order a sausage sandwich. Yes, I suddenly felt very hungry. Whilst I collected my finisher's T-shirt and then eat my sandwich, my ski pal in the meantime pops back outside to watch some of the other runners finish.
I also spot Traviss and Rachel and pop over for a quick chat. I explained that I was a bit disappointed with my time, possibly being on the wrong side of 27 hours, but as they said, I had finish and so got the job done. Not everybody who started did. As it was, I found out later that I had sneaked under 27 hours by half a minute.
Postscript
After saying goodbye I joined my pal who then drove me home. It was good of him to do this as it resulted in a 4 hour round trip for him but he wanted to do. He seemed quite inspired by it all but it wasn't until the following days when he contacted me about running that I realised by how much. For starters he had bought a pair of running shoes and done a couple of 5k runs. I guess if you manage to inspire some one person then how you finish doesn't really matter.
However, regarding the race statistics, of the 264 starters, only 202 made it to the finish and within the 30 hour time limit with 107 of those finishers within 24 hours; overall a slight improvement on TP100. My own time was actually 26:59:28 and this netted me 158 th place, both not as good as my performance at TP100, so much to do in preparation for my next 100 miler; NDW100.
Although I had picked a few blisters in the latter stages of the race, they weren't nowhere near as bad as the ones I obtained at TP100, this was no doubt due to the somewhat drier condition underfoot, but probably also my choice of footwear as I know my trail shoes tend to dry out quicker than my road shoes when they get wet or damp.
