A little better, a little worse

Which is worse? The hell of the hot humid forest after 60k of running, or the bitterly cold and windy hilltops 30k later at close to midnight? 

This time we promised ourselves not to sign up to any of these events for at least another year. But after only a couple of days I can feel the memory of the pain fading and I’m wondering, what if…. ?

This is the story of my second London to Brighton 100k run. I had learnt some lessons the first time around and this was going to be better. And in some ways it was. But in other ways I learnt a little about being deceived….

I have no blisters, and although I’m feeling a deep fatigue, nothing hurts. My core was strong, my legs did the job I asked of them, my feet were nimble and I was able to run on the terrain. I knew what to expect, and the training I had done put me in the right shape to do this run (thank you Shirley Hills, Happy Valley and Box Hill).

Eileen picked us up and drove us to the start. In her heart she wanted to be with us, but her sensible head said ‘not this time’. So she waved us off with a smile at 6:30am from Richmond, and tracked us through the day, sending encouraging texts. She joined us briefly at Farthing Downs and ran with us, sharing news of parkrun - the world we had left behind.

We had planned a conservative pace for the first 25k. It starts along the Thames and is pretty flat, then rises to around 120m by the time we hit the second aid station. We were almost exactly on scheduled pace at this point, and were quietly confident that having started off slowly we would still have something in reserve when we needed it later. We met the lovely Lou and dog Jess here - nothing like a waggy tail to inspire happiness.

I wasn’t feeling hungry. I’d had bacon and eggs for breakfast, then half a banana later. I was drinking an electrolyte drink to keep hydrated. Nothing looked appealing to eat so I had a few salted peanuts as it was pretty hot out and I probably needed the salt.

Did I mention how strong I was feeling? I had felt a little ‘under the weather’ the day before, so was pleased that I’d managed to shrug that off. Taking the day off work and having a mid afternoon nap made me feel fully revitalised.

It was pretty hot. I put on my buff so the material hung over my neck to protect me from the sun. I suggested to Helen that this made me look like the cool kids…. her look told me she wasn’t convinced.

Helen was getting a little dehydrated. We shared my drink, then she had some water from some kids sweetly giving away water and biscuits to runners. After that we decided we had better carry two bottles each.

We had agreed that we would mostly run together, but would not hold each other back if we felt strong. In the next few stages I pulled away from Helen for a while, but she pulled back the time and typically arrived into the aid station just a few minutes behind me. The first time she did this I was a little over effusive in my greeting. I think I preferred running with company and was not looking forward to the loneliness of finishing on my own. Helen was worried about holding me back and kept urging me to leave the aid stations ahead of her. Looking back I wonder if she would actually have preferred me to leave her alone!

A couple of youngsters who had just teamed up together encouraged me to run with them. They were great motivation and I helped them keep going for a while too. Even though they had just met I got the feeling that I was a bit of a gooseberry, so I pushed on and left them behind. I saw them a few more times in the event - always together…. I do like a love story.

Spring flowers, blossom, lush green everywhere. Amazing views. It is an amazing route. This is why we do this!

I reached Tulley’s Farm at around 45 minutes behind schedule. It was about 3 in the afternoon and so hot and humid. I’d been doing quite a bit of walking and couldn’t even bring myself to run past the spectators. Not a good sign…. but hey, it would cool down soon. Followed my checklist, checked my feet, changed my socks, re-applied body glide, took my head torch. I checked the weather forecast - it wasn’t going to drop below 12 degrees tonight, so left my extra clothes in my drop bag to minimise what I was carrying. I ate some pasta… wasn’t really feeling it, but gotta eat, right?

I began to think I might have a bot of sun-stroke. Just a little. I drank some more, sat on a bench in the shade for a while and carried on. Around this time the route was through an area of scorched earth - downed trees and churned up earth. The path disappeared and we had to to climb over broken branches to make it through. It kinda matched my mood.

Helen texted me to say ‘I’m walking. Fell free to push on.’ I texted back that I was walking too. My stomach was feeling a little… odd… and I spent the next couple of miles wondering what I could eat or drink to feel better. A cup of tea would be ideal, but I don’t like tea. I know, peppermint tea! That thought gave me great comfort into the aid station. The volunteer there told me I looked really fresh… and somehow that felt wrong. Then Helen arrived and she told me I was looking pale. Having her confirm what I was feeling made me feel better. The peppermint tea was amazing.

From this point (Wivelsfield School) we continued on together. We weren’t doing much running, but we continued to make good progress. We made it to Plumpton College and I thought I really should have something to eat. As my eyes swept over the array of snacks my stomach started to object and I felt an irresistible wave of nausea. I barely made it to the nearest rubbish bin. Helen bought me tissues and water to clean up. We had to sit for a few minutes before I was ready to carry on.

And then my phone buzzed. It was Steve texting to say he was worried we would miss the last train and should he come and get us from the finish? We did agonise about this. We had planned for getting in late and having to wait for the milk train. But on the other hand, I had been sick, and… Ok, yes please! But it will be a good couple of hours.

And then, that hill. After last year I knew what to expect and I really wanted to get up the hill without having to stop. We set out from the aid station in a group as it was dark. I told Helen to go at her own pace and I would see her at the top. And it was so frustrating - I just couldn’t do it - I had to sit and rest, again and again and again! Two chaps from the group stayed with me - I’m not sure if they were ‘trek leaders’, or just fellow travellers, but it was humiliating. People kept pausing as they passed to ask if they could help, offering food and drink. But slowly, eventually, I reached the top of the climb. And then, you know, I was fine! So I need to talk to a doc and tell her that if I stress my heart and lungs for 90k (cos my legs weren’t a problem), then a steep hill is too much… I think I know what the advice would be.

And then it was just the ups and downs of the South Downs to cover. I was feeling strong, so was leading the way. Helen was finding it harder (not least because she had seized up waiting for me). I was trying to keep my pace down slightly and she was pushing hard. But it was a long way and it was so, so, cold….and dark… and went on forever. We talked a bit, and promised each other we wouldn’t sign up for another Action Challenge event next year, and we would change our strategy for the South Coast Challenge in August (cos doing the same thing and expecting a different result is the sign of madness, right?)

And then we were in Brighton. Nausea again. Then home, and more nausea. Remember those salted peanuts? Yep, back again.

So what of that deception?

Not being hungry is the first - burning 7000 calories in a day is not without cost. Next time, have a fueling strategy and stick to it.

Feeling ‘under the weather’ is a more truthful that the adrenalin fuelled feeling good at the start of a run.

Weather forecasts lie. Always take extra clothing for after the sun goes down.

And finally? The pain fades so fast… after only 36 hours I was wondering if I should sign up for a flat 100k….

Yes, I’m an ultra runner.