Hardmoors 110 - 06/05/2017

Fortitudine Vincimus "By Endurance we conquer" - Sir Ernest Shackleton's family motto.

The Cleveland Way is a 110 mile national trail skirting the North York Moors National Park from Filey Brigg on the Coast to Helmsley in the heart of the Moors.  It takes in an incredibly varying trail, from tiny fishing villages nestled at the bottom of cliffs home to thousands of nesting seabirds through to huge panoramas across wild and remote heather moors home to ancient abbeys and castles.

That is a looooooong way. 

My legs are going to hate me.

The whole route typically takes 7 to 12 days to walk and ascends cumulatively over 6,000 metres.  The challenge of the Hardmoors 110 is to complete this monster of a trail in no less than 36 hours.  It would be my hardest run to date, only my second hundred miler and a key element of my preparations for UTMB this summer.  My goals were simple, to finish with a smile and hopefully with enough time to pack my bag for a morning flight to Tenerife the following day!

Some typical Hardmoors encouragement.

I arrived at the start line feeling good having had an excellent preceding month of training however there were a few nerves due to the scale of the challenge and lingering memories of a painful experience at the Hardmoors 55 in March.  I had my best crew yet in my corner with Bobby and Rachel on support and friends Ben and Paul on pacing duties from half way.

It hadn't rained for weeks and the trails were bone dry

so I opted for my roads shoes from the start.

As Jon the race director delivered his race briefing up at the race start at Filey Brigg, a runner from the special ten year anniversary 200 mile distance came through and everyone applauded him.  He'd been out since the previous morning and had already covered much of the Yorkshire Wolds before now starting along the Cleveland Way.  We would be passing him along with many more hardcore 200 athletes on the route.  Our race was to be merely the "fun-run" in comparison! 

And they're off! At Filey Brigg

Nervous chat at the start but how many would finish?

I started the race cautiously ensuring that my watch never ticked beyond ten minutes per mile (or at least I thought I did).  I was feeling good and gradually moving through the field.  So much so that my crew struggled to catch me, meaning I didn't see them for a little while.  Every time they parked up, my tracker showed I had been through only moments earlier.  When they did appear on the trail it was a brief high five before we could have a proper catch up at Ravenscar.

My crew finally caught up with me! - Yes they had a car...

Here Bobby and Rach had checked in as it was one of the official crew checkpoints and were waiting for me in the village hall where they had cheese and ham butties ready for me.  I restocked my electrolytes, smashed a sandwich and got moving quickly again.  Legs moving well and feeling good, next stop Robin Hoods Bay in only four miles time.

All smiles approaching Ravenscar at mile 22

Good to compare this with the last photo on this page :-(

By now the coastal trail was showing its full glory, hills and cliffs rising above the booming ocean below.  The miles were being eaten up and I found myself alone on the trail.  No matter though, as there was so much to occupy the mind with such a beautiful landscape.

Soon descending again to Robin Hoods Bay before climbing the steep hill to the checkpoint.  I expected the guys to be there with more sandwiches but they had missed me again.  It was a bit unnerving this time as I knew it would now be after Whitby until I saw them over ten miles away so I was in for a little longer without fuel than I had anticipated.  A quick call to check everything was ok and we agreed to rendezvous at Sandsend at mile 36.

Moving well and feeling strong, only 88 miles to go!

Just as Whitby appeared on the horizon a couple of friendly faces came into view.  Sue and Terry my Aunt and Uncle had been sat waiting for me (for two hours apparently - a little premature but I love the enthusiasm).  It was a real boost to see them at a stage when I sometimes suffer around 34 miles or so.  They agreed to drive to Sandsend to meet up with me again and my crew. 

Now the race was really on, could I negotiate the tourist hordes in Whitby and get to my crew before Aunty Sue demolished all my Jaffa Cakes! 

Jaffa power - who needs protein shakes?

Whitby was rammed and it was frustrating having to weave between the crowds but soon enough I was past the Abbey, down the 199 steps and back up to the whalebone arch.  Soon I would be back with my crew which was a relief as I was now ready for a pit stop to refuel and regather, one third of the way in.

Legends at Sandsend! - Thanks for turning out guys.

Sorry I made you miss the jumble sale Terry...

I was eating and drinking really well so far and it kept me feeling strong and my mood high.  I  was having a really good run and I said to Rachel that "today was a good day."  Onwards to Runswick Bay on 41 miles.

Cool and grey at Sandsend - Not a jellied eel in sight.

Runswick Bay is one of my favourite beaches in the UK, perfect sands, nesting fulmars and a perfect fishing village nestled beneath the cliffs.  Here the route traversed the  beach and I caught two younger guys who I ran with for a while, grilling them about running in the alps as they had last summer both finished the tour of Monte Rosa (UTMR).

You can just see me and my two fellow runners here after

having run the beach section at Runswick.

Soon we were climbing up to the car park together where my crew would again be waiting for me.  This time I opted for rice pudding which I promptly poured all over my crotch much to the hilarity of my sister Rachel.  For some reason she wasn't keen to help clean cold rice pudding from the crotch of a man who has just run 41 miles.  Dereliction of crewing duty I hear you cry! 

Apparently blood is thicker than water but not quite as thick as rice pudding...

Still feeling good climbing out of Runswick - I love this place!

I was sensing the first proper milestone approaching now at Saltburn which was ten miles away.  Here I would be leaving the coast but picking up my first pacer Ben, and my crew were straight off to bring him to me. 

All I needed to do was get myself there which was easier said than done.  I needed a little help from an angel in a Hoka hat in Staithes after a wrong turn as she ran me back to the bridge where I needed to be having climbed too high too early.

Despite the wrong turn, I had now dropped the two young guys and wasn't seeing other runners at all save for the odd 200 competitor.  The brave 200ers I passed I was always encouraging.  Their thoughts would now be turning to their second night out and to be honest I wondered how many would make it through.  Huge respect to all who toed the line on the 200, an awesome challenge in the true sense of the word.  At least my suffering would be done by Sunday lunchtime all being well...

As I was alone in the countryside south of Saltburn my mind started to wander a little and I began to lose a little focus.  I decided to switch on the phone, and attempt to read a little and run (not recommended). I had had so many messages of support on social media and text it gave me another real lift and helped me get back on track. 

Friends and family were tracking me online and sending support it was really touching.  It gave me energy and the next few miles were done so much more easily.  Before long I was being clapped onto the beachfront at Saltburn where despite my early arrival, my trusty crew had delivered me my pacer right on time!

Saltburn Selfie - where's the chippie?

Ben would be pacing me to the foot of Captain Cooks monument in twelve miles or so.  The section is almost all uphill and would include Roseberry Topping a mini mountain at the Northern Edge of the Moors.  It was now 6pm so I piled down a load of food (sandwiches and crisps) mainly.  I grabbed a banana for the journey and Ben and I were soon headed inland climbing all the way.  Ben had been tracking my progress and was worried about keeping up but now with over fifty miles in my legs the feet were starting to feel a little heavy for the first time.

The miles ticked by well enough though as we chatted and trotted our way towards the hills. We passed the winning lady of the 200 on the climb out of Saltburn, Shelli Gordon who is a seriously impressive athlete.  Ben rejoiced in the fact that he could enjoy running past her for a change! 

I was by now pretty much hiking all the uphills but making steady progress and I had reached as high as twelfth place or so by this point.   Not that it really mattered, I was enjoying the journey and stilfeeling strong.

The cavalry has arrived! - Nice new kicks Benj ya big poser...

Having a pacer really helped keep up the momentum, lift the mojo and keep focus.  At my last and only other 100 at SDW100 I had noticed the advantage others with pacers had over me out on my own and it certainly helped me having a little friendly company along for the ride.  Meanwhile it was time for my crew to snaffle some fish and chips and go ferry my second pacer Paul to me at Captain Cook.

After suffering a brief wobble with my stomach at Fox and Hounds (mile 57) which I staved off with the now battered banana, Ben and I were soon in familiar territory in the woods above Guisborough where we have run together lots.  Now the light had started to fade and a low cloud had rolled in as we reached High Cliff Nab.  I wondered how soon we would see Roseberry Topping in the clag but sure enough it began to loom out of the murk and struck an imposing sight as we started our descent towards the foot of the climb.  The route had to ascend and descend this mini mountain before a final descent to Captain Cook where I would pick up my second pacer Paul.

It was on the climb that we were passed by a runner for the first time in hours.  He was moving much stronger and I have to admit it did get me thinking about what the night might have in store.

Ascending Roseberry Topping

Ascending Roseberry Topping - faster runner coming through behind

As we descended to Gribdale Terrace from Roseberry it was just after nine and almost dark.  Rach was hollering encouragement to us coming off the hill but I was starting to struggle a bit with the steep downhills now.  I had run 65 miles and climbed a lot of hills with the dreaded three sisters still to come. 

I had developed a hotspot on my left foot so I spent some time patching my feet, eating pot noodles, getting a change of clothing and replacing my road shoes for the Hokas which would hopefully provide a bit more protection underfoot.

Job done Ben - Now where are those noodles!?

Soon enough farewells were said and Paul and I fixed headtorches and headed off up to Captain Cooks monument and Kildale.  No sooner had we set off than Ben came running up the trail to say I had forgot to refill my bottles and to remember to refill at Kildale.  A schoolboy error but it shows how the brain gradually loses its sharpness on these long events.  Another benefit of having a supportive crew around you to do your thinking for you! 

Ben was now away home for a late bedtime.  Legs still fresh enough for a respectable time at the North Lincs half marathon the next morning.  Nicely done, I doff my running cap to you sir!

Trail warriors (reflective)

Duly recharged at Kildale (mile 68) Paul and I began our ascent into the remote moors and the desolate Bloworth Crossing.  A place which is bleak in the day nevermind in poor visibility in the middle of the night.  I was paranoid about missing an important turning up here and we almost did save for Paul stopping randomly to put on his hat.  "Oh look there's the path right there!"  Checking the Viewranger app on my phone we were sure we had the right track, a close call as no one wants to get lost up there in the dark with over 70 miles in their legs...

Signs not good for an improvement in this blogpost..

Once up on the moors we had a long tab to Clay Bank where our crew would be waiting again for a refuel before taking on the steep climbs over the three sisters (Cringle Moor, Cold Moor and Wainstones).  Here there was a spectacular show of fairy lights, flumps and inflatable dinosaurs (including a particularly scary T-Rex when least expected) at the check point.  Cheers guys best checkpoint on the whole route! 

Unfortunately the mirth was short lived.  It had become hard. I tried to eat some cereal here as I knew this next few miles could take an age in the cold and dark with such steep ups and downs to come.  Paul was a real hero here helping me through this section as I went into my shell a little, I can't thank you enough buddy it would have been lonely and so much harder out there without you.

If you've managed to read this far you deserve a trophy,  So here it is. 

Haven't you got something better to be doing like descaling the kettle?

Somehow we negotiated the three sisters, the worst of the climbing now behind me.  As we descended through the woods towards Osmotherley I first noticed a scarlet streak across the sky signalling the new day would soon be with us.  All that remained was to climb up to square corner where we would see the crew again and from there its only 20 miles home. 

Cheers Paul, what a star running all night with me!

As we ran through Osmotherley a torchlight came into view moving towards us.  It was Pete, a friend who I had shared a tent with on a hike of the Welsh 3000s a couple of years ago.  He had been crewing a friend who had dropped out. 

Waking in the middle of the night at Osmotherley YHA he had seen from my tracker I was close, got dressed and come out to meet us with cherry tomatoes!  Pete is one of my running heroes having come 3rd in the mighty spine race last year and rendezvousing with us at 3.30 am with tomatoes was typical of what a generous and some might say slightly crackers fellow he is.  Thanks buddy what an ace surprise to see you.  Pete's surprise appearance sparked an upturn in pace and Paul and I closed in strongly on Square Corner with the hoot of a tawny owl in the woods calling out as dawn was now breaking.

Please be warned that the following section contains

mild terror, pus and defecation. 

The squeamish may wish to cut to the end.

At square corner I was surprised to see Bobby with her trainers on and ready to go, to be honest I wasn't complaining, I was done with lonely miles for the weekend.  Paul and I said our goodbyes and we were quickly off on the climb to Black Hambleton. 

Unfortunately my guts were now on the revolt after a day of eating childrens party food and the dreaded squat to relieve myself on legs battered by 90 miles could be resisted no longer.  Fortunately Bobby didn't mind (who said romance was dead) and as I looked back there was no one else around.

After the climb we did well combining the ultra shuffle on flats and downs with hiking uphill.  A rather flat section passed by well as my mood lifted a little with the increasing daylight.  It was nice to run with Bobby for a while rather than relying on her being my patient waitress and nurse all weekend.  The journey to Sutton Bank passed quite nicely, I was well on track to get this done by lunchtime at the latest.

Unfortunately it was as we got to Sutton Bank that things changed for the worse.  Rachel swapped with Bobby and joined me on the painful descent to the last checkpoint at White Horse.  It seemed to take an age and despite the amazing encouragement offered at the checkpoint, my mojo hit an all time low.  My feet were now blistered and complaining badly.  It had been a long night and it seemed so long ago that I was happily ticking off the miles along the coast.

After hauling myself back up the dreaded steps and back along Sutton Bank I passed three or four runners coming the other way.  They seemed close and looked so much stronger than I felt although they were in fact over a mile behind me at this point. 

Rachel brought the car round as I decided to attend to my feet for the last ten miles at the roadside.  I had run so far and so well, I was doing reasonably well in the rankings having not been passed all night and had proved to myself I can still be running after 100 miles.  In the act of sitting down, removing my socks and seeing the blisters though my desire to race evaporated in that moment. 

I knew I would get it done, but for some reason my desire to keep pushing hard simply evaporated.  I drained two painful blisters which erupted what seemed like gallons of fluid onto my spanking new running jacket and I frankly didn't care. 

If I see another damned Acorn!!!

After patching up with zinc tape I was hobbling away up the road in a rather strange mood.  I confess from here I didn't once get into a shuffle never mind a canter.  It was like a switch had been turned off.  Rather than a march, the last ten miles to the finish turned into a saunter in the sunshine.  Past beautiful Rievaulx Abbey and finally into Helmsley for the finish. 

A few runners streamed past me and I didn't even blink never mind up the tempo.  The race had taken its toll on my body but it was my mind which had faded, despite being amongst the first finishers I was one of the slowest over the last section.

Finally I was picking up the yellow signs which led to the finish at the Rugby Club.  I hiked up the hill and did manage that smile at the finish.  I had a great reception, applauded into the room by volunteers and fellow finishers.  I admit my tired smile did turn to tears with a few kind words from Shirley Steele and an offer of some hot crumpets.  It doesn't take much to set me blubbing when I've taken a battering like this one. 

Congratulations to Jon and Shirley on ten years of the Hardmoors 110, what an incredibly special race series and community you have created.  It has been awesome to run at so many of your brilliant events.

Computer says.......YES!!!

My finish position was 19th in 27 hours and 42 minutes, the missing mojo for the final section had cost me around forty minutes and six places.  Of the 121 starters 84 had finished, respect to everyone who stood on the startline for this monster and the 200, tough to kill the lot of you!

Is this the end, what day is it, am I even bovvered?

I need a lie down...

After a week or so my feet have healed well and there are signs of life in my legs again.  I have had a little time to reflect.  On the whole I had a great run for so much of this race, I learned so much and put a few demons to bed.  I can't help but think though that if I just believed in myself a little more I could have turned this run into something a little bit more special by just gritting it out a bit more at the end.  I'm not sure really what happened but if you end up pacing me at a miler, you have my permission to kick my arse ALL the way to the finish line.

But hey its only my second go at the 100 mile distance so I'm going to focus on the positives and learn from the few negatives to be even stronger for my next one.  To be honest I'm going to need all the help I can get because next time it will be at the greatest trail race in the world.  Bring on UTMB!!!!

Love and hugs to my pacers Paul and Ben and especially to my amazing crew Rachel and Bobby who have been with me throughout my ultra running journey these last three years and suffered my boring trail running chat all this time. 

This race feels like a real team effort and I am so grateful for your time, love, encouragement and energy.  It was a monster but we tamed it together.  This medal is shared so if any of you want to borrow it for blinging up a ball gown or a black tie outfit some time just let me know.

Hard earned bling this one...

Can't sign off without thanking Rachel, Paul, Ben, the Chia Charge guys and Ann Brown for the use of the photos in this post.  See you out there!

 

 

Hardmoors 26.2 Series Roseberry Topping - 13/12/2015

'In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there is an invincible summer' - Albert Camus

So to my eighth and final race of 2015, a hilly winter marathon with a good mate for company looking to crack his first 26.2!

I am a huge fan of Jon Steele's Hardmoors Series having completed the Hardmoors 55 and 60 ultras earlier this year.  The races are well organised, relaxed and friendly and it just so happens they are all held up the road from me in the beautiful North York Moors.

So what better way to make your first foray into long distance trail running than a Hardmoors marathon for one of my oldest buddies Ben.

We arrived in time for the race briefing where we learned that Jon had thrown in an extra four miles or so to ensure we would get full value for money!  This would take the distance beyond 30 miles and towards the official 50km ultra distance - what an awesome (if unorthodox) way to break your marathon duck for him.

The briefing ended with a brilliant round of applause for hero ultra runner Dennis Potton who was amongst the runners on the day.  Dennis had found time to save a drowning child on his way to the finish of the Hardmoors 60 in September.

The sun had started to rise above the Moors as we left Guisborough Sea Cadets and made the first sticky, muddy ascent to High Cliff Nab on the Cleveland Way.  We were greeted by a spectacular sight as the sun lit up a snow crusted landscape with cloud enveloping the valley bottoms.  Wow, it doesn't get much better than conditions like this in December.

After taking us up Roseberry Topping (twice) and then on to Captain Cook's monument we made good progress on the frozen ground through Kildale and then up onto the High Moors.  A tough long climb then before leaving the Cleveland Way and descending East to Castleton and Commondale. The sun continued to shine all morning illuminating incredible frosty views in every direction.

Whilst receiving our punishment on Roseberry Topping, Rachel, Bobby and Simon were taking on the '10km' route which was actually closer to 9 miles!

Simon, Rachel and Bobby ready to go - Photo credit Suzanne Dunn

Well done ladies on your first trail race, and massive good luck to Simon taking on the mighty Marathon des Sables in 2016!

Our final climb back up onto the High Moor came after Commondale and by now the snow was melting fast in the sunshine leaving deep freezing puddles which Ben found soothing on his battered feet and I found plain horrible!  By now our pace had slowed a little but we determined to finish and it was a relief to finally reach the woods high above Guisborough as the light of the day began to fade a little.  Here we were caught by an experienced runner training for the Spine race in January, one of the world's toughest ultramarathons.  He was so impressed by learning Ben was taking on this tough challenge as his first marathon he had to stop in his tracks and shake him by the hand!

It was good to run hard down into Guisborough where we were cheered by waiting Bobby with our friends Chris and Becki who had arrived in time to cheer us home.  I didn't detect the shiny eyes promised by Ben at the finish line but I know we were both proud of finishing this tough run and it was a privilege to be there with him throughout his first marathon.  Massive respect buddy, that was a hard route to pick for your first one and you pushed it all the way to the end even when it got really tough.  I hope it will be the first of many for you!

Tough to kill! - Photo credit Chris Pickwell

Congratulations to the Hardmoors family (runners and volunteers) who created another brilliant event with excellent organisation, aid stations and most importantly that special friendly vibe.  I'll certainly be back for more in 2016 and hopefully with friends again too!

The South Downs Way 100 - 13/06/2015

'Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So... get on your way!' - Dr Seuss

So, the day finally arrived. My fourth ultra in twelve months only a year and eight months since that painful first marathon.  In my broken state then, I would never have guessed I'd be here at 6am in Winchester on a warm and overcast morning about to attempt run 100 miles.  I've crammed in a lot of running adventures since then and learned so much about this awesome pursuit of trail running.

Friday night registration and kit check - it all sounds so simple!

All ready for off - 6am start at Winchester

The South Downs Way 100 is one of the tougher 100 mile races in the UK due to the 4,000m of ascent between Winchester and Eastbourne.  It carries a weighty 4 UTMB qualifying points and is also a ballot qualifier for the original and most prestigious 100 mile race in the world; the Western States Endurance Run. Based on previous years, around a third of the starters wouldn't be making it to the end in time for the 30 hour cut off.

I had a dream target to get one of the special '100 miles one day' buckles and had made a schedule for 23 hours based on previous finishers times.  In the days leading up to the race I tried to reconcile that this was my first 100 and not to be too disappointed if it didn't work out that way given how much can go wrong.  I knew my pace would be fine for the first half but everything beyond mile 62 would be a step into the unknown.

I had my elite race crew of Rachel and Bobby in tow with a boot full of kit and produce resembling a 5 year old's birthday party buffet.  This was in addition to the 14 aid stations on the route.  Shortage of food was not going to be an issue although I realised if I spent 5 minutes in each I would be adding 70 minutes onto my time even before I spent any with my crew.  Don't hang around at aid stations!

I set off too quick, landing at the first major check point after 22.6 miles in 3hrs 33 feeling brilliant and being swept along with the excitement of it all.  My crew informed I had gained almost 20 minutes on my schedule already.  I wasn't too worried though, I knew the first half of the race was more runnable than the second due to the hills being more rolling than the steep ups and downs to come. My tactic was to run long and hard from the start and see what I had left at the end, I didn't want to finish in 24.01 wondering what if?

This was pretty naive in hindsight and I would be paying for it soon enough.

Time for a refuel Queen Elizabeth Country Park

  
I would next see Rachel and Bob at Cocking after 35 miles and what a difference a couple of hours had made.

Whilst I was still moving quickly, I now felt terrible.  The heat was building, I wasn't injured but I felt weak and I had so far to go.  I had hit the wall big time, my head was mashed.

A playlist of negative thoughts swishing around my brain.  Why am I doing this? It is stupid and pointless.  What am I trying to prove? and, Who even cares?

The only thing that kept me going was the thought of living with a DNF only a third of the way in just for 'not feeling it'.  I grunted and grumped at my crew and tried to smash as much food into my face as I could in the hope it would shake me out of my black hole.  I was then off again heading back up into the hills with a dark cloud hovering above my head.

What happened next was amazing, my biggest low was followed an hour later by the biggest high.  I started to feel strong again as the calories kicked in.  I had the most amazing runners high which made the hairs on my neck stand on end.  I was running strong and free again after 45 miles and breezed into Amberley grinning like a loon.

Amberley crew station - Feeling good

I now knew what was to come having recced the remainder a few weeks previous. This gave me a boost despite the huge distance still to go.  We were into the most beautiful part of the SDW now, a stunning rollercoaster of chalk hills with views down into lush green fields and wildflowers all set to a skylark soundtrack.  There was nothing to do but drink it all in and eat up the miles whilst the legs still allowed. What a stunning landscape.

Half way passed and then the Washington aid station where I high fived Elvis at 54 miles in 9hrs 46. Around 45 minutes ahead of schedule now.

The next 15 miles passed in a blur, the sun came out, it got hot and then cool again, shadows grew, the landscape became more beautiful and colours were turned up to eleven as the end of the day got closer.  I dropped into Clayton Windmills at 70 miles and found myself back amongst a group having being on my own quite a while.  I was now starting to do those sums in my head, I think I can do this, I can walk 30 miles, even if I run only a little I've got a good chance of my 24 hour dream if I can just hold it together.

My feet were feeling pretty battered now from the rock hard chalk and flint under foot.  I joined the other guys in running a few yards off the trail on the softer grass to relieve the punishment.

Big skies - summer shows itself on the SDW

Man those chalk and flint trails are tough on the plates of meat

Soon after a quick stop at Jack and Jill the iconic windmills at 70 miles, I was climbing up to Ditchling Beacon and a familiar face was running towards me.  Rachel had hiked up the trail and it was great to run with her for a mile or so.  When we got towards the car I stopped to check out my feet as I could feel a pressure blister building on my right heel.  Bobby quickly slapped on some compeed to provide a little protection and I winced in pain as I eased my battered foot back into my shoe.

The night was beginning to draw in now and it was soon time for the planned change of shirt and adding of a base layer.

Housedean Farm was the next stop where we were met by the most brilliant aid station crew.  They really were looking after people here in a brilliant and super efficient way.  Emotions are running high after 77 miles, just the right combination of words of comfort, steel and encouragement struck just the right chord.  I was lifted once more.  Thanks guys, you were amazing.

The feared night time section was now just around the corner.  I wasn't sure whether I would see my crew again now until the end.  I had given strict instructions for them to rest after such a long day trailing around after me, not that they paid any attention!

As the night drew in the mist descended and visibility dropped to only a few feet.  Headtorches simply reflected their beams back like the lights of a car in fog.  I was worried that progress would become painfully slow or worse, I would take a wrong turn.  The temperature had dropped away and I stuck on my waterproof to keep the increasing wind at bay.

By now I had buddied up with my new pal Ron from Northern Ireland a veteran of 20 ultras (doing the SDW100 as part of a stag weekend!?) and we resolved to get this thing done together.  We chatted through the night and I was glad of the company.  We fed off each other during the toughest part of the race and worked as a team so as not to make any navigational mistakes.  Running had now pretty much turned into a quick march due to the visibility, the hills and fatigue. Getting lost now would be devastating.

I couldnt believe it when Bobby and Rachel were at Bo-Peep stood on the top of a cold moor in the fog at almost 11 pm.  They gave us a lovely welcome.  Now that is what you call proper support!  Ron was amazed by their commitment and when asked by Rach if he wanted anything he just responded with 'a hug' so I duly obliged!

The last two aid stations came and went in a flurry of sugary tea and soup. The volunteers here truly are legends giving up their own time to nurse the remaining zombies home in the middle of the night.  Some people we passed were really starting to struggle now but my own discomfort had pretty much plateaued, I could smell that finish line now.

Two big hills to climb and we were then up by the trig point above Eastbourne.  You could almost reach out and touch the lights of the running track blazing into the night and calling us home.  A couple of hardy volunteers were camped up there to guide us the right way down a never ending bone crunching descent down a flint chute before being deposited onto the streets of Eastbourne.

I am afraid that running had long since ceased and all I could lift myself to do was maintain a quick march the last couple of flat miles home under the street lights of Eastbourne.  I was passed by quite a few people here, most had been lifted to run it home on the flat accompanied by words of encouragement from their pacer.  I was jealous of their pacers, I didn't even have Ron anymore.  He had drifted behind as I tried to keep up the marching pace.  It is my only regret that I lacked the will to lift myself to run again for the last couple of miles.

After what seemed like an eternity I was rounding the bend onto the athletics track.  I heard Rachel shout for me and the others there clapped.  I was glad to be able to run those last 400 metres round the track finishing wearily in 21hrs and 43 minutes.

It was done.

I felt strangely numb as I was handed my buckle.  I think I left my emotion along with everything else out there on the trail.

Scary eyes! - A 176,000 yard stare

So that's it, all over.  Well done for reading this far.  So much happens on a long ultra, yet your brain isn't working very well by the end.  It is hard to remember it all.

I can't quite believe I ran 100 miles. I still don't know how I feel about it other than it feels big.  My body has never taking this much punishment but I am recovering well now that the pain has subsided enough to sleep properly.

Buckles are awarded at 100 mile races rather than medals to acknowledge their roots in old horseback trail events in the US 

100 mile events are brutal and could not be achieved by mere mortals without the assistance of so many volunteers who deliver care, compassion and encouragement in truckloads all in their own time.  Thankyou so much for making this possible, the Centurion Running community is very special.

Equally huge thanks to Rachel and Bobby, you did everything I could have asked for and more.

Finally, a huge well done to everyone with the courage to stand on that start line to take on this or any other 100 miler.  Whether you finished in 17hrs or DNF'd after 20 miles, every one of you are an inspiration and I doff my running cap to you all.