At 88k the route out of the aid station went vertically up onto the South Downs. I was feeling nauseous, my breathing was like a freight train and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I took a few steps forward. I sat down and waited for my breathing to slow down. I stood up and took a few more steps then sat down again. “I could just stop and go back to the aid station. I’m already way past my target time, it’s getting dark and it’s hours since I left Helen and Eileen. No one would judge me.”
A few walkers came past and asked if I was ok. “I’m fine, just having a rest”. A few more steps then sit down again. I’m more than 14 hours into this, does it all end here? Let’s go back the the beginning…
Way back… In 2001 I volunteered as a marshal for the London to Brighton road race and was inspired. I would love to do this one day. I just needed to get under the 4 hour marathon qualifying time…. A couple of years later the race was cancelled due to lack of sponsorship and that was the end of it.
Roll forward to my 50th birthday when I decided to challenge myself to a 50k race, finishing with a smile on my face. Suddenly I could see a way of fulfilling that decade old ambition. Action Challenge events are for walkers and runners with no speed requirements — providing great signage, support and encouragement on a 100k London to Brighton route. I signed up and the preparations began.
I trained hard, changed my diet, had regular sports massages, and focussed on May 23rd…..
Helen and Eileen had run a 50k with me and signed up for the 100k too. We planned to run together, but agreed that it was ok to separate at times and regroup at the aid stations to allow us to have good and bad moments at different stages of the race. I created a Facebook group for us to pull together all the plans we made for nutrition and training and in-event entertainment. I think maybe I freaked them out with over organisation, but for me I just wanted to get this right.
Our start time on the day was 6:25am which made for a pretty early start…. we did not leave excessive extra time, and rocked up to the starting corral at 6:22…. very relaxed and ready to go. Although earlier forecasts had predicted rain, by the day of the event we had balmy weather with the wind behind us - maybe a little warmer than was ideal, but no-one was planning on breaking any speed records, so nothing to worry about.
The course started out along the Thames, following some of the route of our 50k last year. We trotted along gently, checking our time and reminding ourselves to slow down. Our plans were for 6:50 per km to begin with, then go slower after half way. And we were going to walk the hills - if a football would roll down the hill towards you then it is too steep to run - I was to imagine a lot of footballs as the day wore on… We left the Thames after about 9k and soon turned into the first aid station.
Our schedule allowed only a few minutes stop at each aid station - we felt we had wasted time during our 50k, so being more disciplined would ensure we made good progress. It was hard though - 5 minutes for toilet break, topping up water bottles, grabbing a snack and have a photo taken is not a lot of time.
The course now moved away from being flat and we adopted our sensible run-walk strategy. We kept passing and being passed by the same groups of people. A bit of banter and keep moving forwards. We were heading east now, back towards Coulsdon. We found ourselves running alongside the lavender fields - oh that’s where we are!
Second aid station reached around 25 km and still on schedule. I was feeling some hot-spots so paused and applied some blister plasters. Only a few minutes after getting going again I could feel the plasters curling up inside my socks - disaster! I stopped on a bench, stripped the plasters off and applied huge pieces of rock-tape instead (many thanks to David my sports masseur for that advice and the foresight to supply me with several pre-cut pieces of tape). Ok, that’s better - not elegant, but does the job.
Long climb up to Farthing Downs - no running there - then drop down into Happy Valley. I ran across the meadow, then turned around to see no sign of Helen and Eileen. That’s ok, this is what we talked about, right? So I’ll just carry on and see them at next aid station if not before.
This was a beautiful part of the course. Very green, lots to looks at. I got a frisson of excitement going under the M25 - this is it, I’m really travelling now. A little later I could see planes ascending out of Gatwick… it takes nearly an hour to drive to Gatwick, this is officially a “long way”.
I was doing more walking than I had planned. There was a lot of uphill - this was the North Downs after all - but even the flat and downhill was hard to run. There were some very narrow trails, gnarly and covered in tree roots, ploughed fields that were dry and hard with deep ruts, fields with long grass that tugged at my feet and made any forward movement feel like wading through treacle. I didn’t want to risk falling or twisting an ankle and ending my adventure early, so instead I power-walked anything that felt at all outside my comfort-zone. I had practised power-walking, and felt good that this was the sort of event where not running the whole way was perfectly acceptable.
In retrospect I had got a lot of input in this event from walkers. Runners would have mentioned the unrunnableness.. probably.
As I waited to cross a road a lady was waiting on a bike on the other side of the road. Is she marshalling? She isn’t wearing hi-viz, but she doesn’t seem to be going anywhere and she is smiling at me. Stopped for a quick word - oh, it’s Helen’s sister - hello Carole! I guessed Helen and Eileen were about 10 minutes behind me and she said she would wait.
40k aid station and my right leg was sore! Was it sore enough to see the medics? No, not yet. If it is still playing up I’ll see someone at the 56k aid station when we stop for lunch. 10 minutes scheduled for this stop - where are the ladies? I stayed a little longer, then sent a text to try and find out of all was well and carried on.
Not a lot of company for the next hour or two. Just me and my thoughts. This was when I started to get poetic, comparing myself to ancient Briton’s “traversing swathes of the countryside” and going on “epic journeys”.
Pulled into the lunch stop aid station, picked up my drop bag and started to work through my checklist. A friend had recently told me about his attempt on a 100 mile race and one of the mistakes he advised against was not doing all the things he had planned at half way. So I changed my socks, reapplied body glide, ate some lunch, picked up my head torch (leaving the spare batteries - that decision came back to haunt me later), changed my juice cube*.
*My Garmin (GPS watch) only has 8 hours battery time when new, and mine is a few years old. I wanted to record my entire route, so I practised beforehand to ensure I could recharge my watch en-route. I got through 2 complete recharges, but was very pleased to have the full journey in a single file.
Still hadn’t heard from Helen and Eileen. Was someone injured? Were they still going? Texted hubby and he said that Helen’s automated Facebook updates were coming through (and didn’t show dropped out) so they were still moving. But after my 30 minute break, there was no sign of them. What to do? Torn between feeling guilty for not running as a team, and thinking “I trained for this and want to do the best I can”. I carried on alone.
There was a Trek Master leading a group out at the same time - I worked out from the results that her name was Yvette, but I forgot to ask her at the time. I said I wouldn’t run with the group, but passed and was passed by them multiple times over the next few hours. Always nice for a few positive words.
Shortly afterwards I got a text from Helen and Eileen - they were still going and I wasn’t to wait. Phew!
Things became less inspiring for a while. Lots of on-road bits, some of them very steep, both up and down. I tried to run anything that was flat or down… it felt like the road was eating my quads and I knew I would pay for it at some point in the future. One chap I chatted to overtook me on every uphill… then dropped behind on the downhills. There was a very sweet moment when we rounded a corner to see two little girls had set out a stall offering free refreshments - lemonade and cookies. Although the ‘crowds’ were pretty sparse, the few people who were out cheering were very supportive.
I rounded a bend, and suddenly the South Downs were spread out in front of me. An immense solid barrier between me and the sea. Eeek!
I spent far too much time in the next two aid stations… everything started moving slowly.. mostly me. It was just beginning to get dark so I slipped into my pink fluorescent jacket and put on my head torch… which was pretty dim… not taking those spare batteries may have been a mistake. I would have like to listen to a podcast to get me through this stage, but as I was running along a never ending road with no pavement (and was tired) I chose safety over comfort, and kept the use of all my senses.
Pulled into the 88k aid station and picked up a glow stick. I think it’s a “young people” thing - I had to get someone to help me work it - apparently you just snap it - who knew? Needed to recharge my Garmin again. Somewhere along the way I managed to switch the GPS off. I didn’t even know it could do that so it took a while to work out how to get it going again.
And then I was at that hill….
Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot, sit down… Somehow I got to where the road started to level off, and I could move forward without any more stopping. But now it was seriously dark, and I was on top of the South Downs. And my head torch wasn’t working.
I don’t really remember how it came about, but I found myself running along with what I thought of as my “military escort”. Colin was an ex-army man, walking the event for the third time. He had a hugely powerful light, and was generously sharing it with me, as well as setting an example of how to keep up a speedy power walk. Around this time I stumbled, twisting my ankle. I didn’t want to lose my escort (although I’m sure he would have waited), so I jumped up quickly and walked it off. It wasn’t until next morning that I realised I had a huge swollen bruise.
There was still a lot of ups to go, but we strode through the night and gradually the km ticked away and we saw the lights of the race course. Colin was going for a time, and as we approached he was excited to see that he was going to beat his time by more than he had planned - I was so relieved that I hadn’t held him back.
I finished. I had run (and walked) 100k in just under 17 hours. I am so happy and proud. It was brutal. It was fab!
My race number was 1159. Earlier in the week someone asked me if that was going to be the time I finished, and I said if I was still running at that time I was way behind schedule. In the end it was a close thing.
Take it down the highway like a rocket to the ocean, we can run
Today can last another million years
Today could be the end of me
It's 11:59, and I want to stay alive.
And I did.
