The last year 6 months of running has been targeted towards this race and a finish on the steps of Winchester Cathedral. Originally as a distraction to Covid (thanks Simon Pegg for the inspiration) but then from a new love of trail running and getting mildly muddy like a kid.
My training has gone well and bar a slight groin strain a few weeks back (post Chiltern Ultra) meaning I dropped mileage a little; I have been comfortably topping 200-300km a month for the last 3- 4 months and I'm in good shape (especially after adding a little swimming to mix things up). After my pre-race taper my watch even gave me a slight thrill when it suggested I was in "peak" fitness - better than the "unproductive" it had the cheek of telling me shortly after I'd finished a half marathon length training run - I was close to slamming it into the wall after that useful feedback.
I traveled down to the race the night before (late changes from the organisers for the start location meant I had to change my trains, hotel and left me desperately scrambling for a taxi at the last minute). Thankfully the train was painless and beautiful journey (first train to London for months!) but the last section puts you face to face with the slightly ominous South Downs Way stretching into the distance - the hilly start just north of Arundel.
After arriving in a wet Chichester I settled into my slightly gloomy room off the back of the friendly George and Dragon pub and checked/rechecked my bag for all the bits and pieces I needed for a day out on the trails. The England vs Scotland game was on TV for entertainment to give me a lift - it didn't. And so came a restless night in a strange room in a place I didn't know waiting for a taxi I wasn't sure would necessarily arrive - it was almost pointless paying for a room considering I barely slept - should have just pitched up on the start line.
After my ever so sad hotel issue Covid inspired 'continental' breakfast I called the taxi firm and was instantly overjoyed to hear they were on their way - almost elated I wasn't going to have to jog the 6 miles to the start line before running 54 miles to Winchester.
The 'Threshold Trail' series gang put on quite a welcome with a very professional set up at Goodwood racecourse, music baring, controlled wave start, etc. I was in awe of it all instantly. Spending our hard earn pennies well.
As an 8:30am wave starter it meant I was pretty much one of the last out and had to keep myself busy for a while limbering up like I knew what I was doing when really I just wanted to get going. I'm not a great stretcher and prefer to warm up en route.
Once off, I spent a frustrating couple of hours inching my way past the 2-day entrants (largely walkers and sane runners) who could form traffic jams in tighter parts of the route but everyone was friendly and it was probably a good thing to be slowed down when you're buzzing to go.
The route is largely trail with some road sections and a fair degree of elevation. It's not the lake district or anything but it's a good test for newbies like myself. I found a rhythm which worked, walking large hills, relaxing on the downhills and I made fluid progress.
The pit stops were amazing little villages full of snacks which I barely touched (not wanting to confuse my stomach but in hindsight it meant I probably didn't get my money's worth!) but it broke up the journey giving more substantial targets rather than counting down miles (or km's as is my preference). The third pit-stop was 'basecamp' where a good portion of entrants would stop for the day in a jovial mood and enjoy a meal, sleep in a tent, party away with the DJ and the mega marquee with socially distanced tables. It was difficult running through the site and very soon afterwards there were less people on the tracks and everyone looked less enthusiastic, more serious, more tired. What made it harder was this 'half way' point was only 22 miles in of the 54 (for those not so sharp at maths - it isn't half way). It hit me hard the realisation that I still had to run the longest distance I'd ever ran before, and I'd just ran 22 miles before starting it.
At 30 miles I was surprisingly doing fine. Pace was good, I felt ok, energy not bad. I was definitely sharper than when I ran the Chiltern Ultra and the brain fog kicked in but then 'Butser Hill' happened. After a long downhill section this very exposed hill stood in front of me with a stream of ant-like people moving slowly up it. My heart sank but I crept up looking at my feet not wanting to see the slow progress I was making. Upon reaching the top a very welcome pit-stop awaited but it was soon after this that things deteriorated.
I latched onto a pack of runners moving at a comfortable pace (I even smiled for a bit enjoying the flow) and then I felt twangs up my calves, quickly followed by my hamstrings. Shooting pain, tightening up. I slowed to a stunted, robotic walk not able to bend my legs as the group disappeared into the distance. I was dejected - I've played football games in this pain and have had to come off - it's cramp, but cramp with 20+ miles to run. I stood, rubbed my legs hoping for a miracle. A spectator asked if I was ok to which I responded, 'yeah, just cramp' ("just" he says as he cringes against the stabbing pain). She asked if I had salt tablets and I responded that I had, knowing I'd put 4 in my bag as a trial (I only carried 4 because I was worried that I didn't want to be trying new things on a race day). I popped a pill and walked on as runners passed me checking I was ok. I wasn't but I would persevere for a bit at least.
Who knew? Salt tablets - miracle cure.
Researching post race, I clearly sweat a lot (too much info?) and therefore even though I was going through electrolyte like no tomorrow, I needed to supplement more.
My walk became a faster walk, and then it became a jog and although I never really was 'fluid' again (at this point my lack of endurance leg strength started to show), I regained some movement. I rationed my salt pills until the twangs arrived and tried to stomach salty snacks (so dry!).
I was frustrated by the times I was posting with most km's 2 minutes slower than I was hoping but I was getting there and I had a really enjoyable stretch with a few veteran ultra runners where we swapped positions keeping the pace going. With only 10 miles to go, I knew I'd make it, it was now a matter of when. "Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up." (Dean Karnazes).
I wanted to beat a somewhat arbitrary 9 hours - sadly, that had gone a while back with slow pit stops, cramp and general deterioration. My 'silver' target was between 9 and 9:45 hours and that was disappearing quickly.
I checked my phone, it had some good battery so I started some tunes (my 'Kids' playlist - the one based on films they like where they dance around the living room like crazy people). I was lifted instantly - my hill walk became empowered and energy levels peaked - my eyes welled up a bit thinking of them being there at the finish. All of a sudden with maybe 4 miles to go, a fast (comparatively) km on a downhill section came from nowhere. I was flying and passed a few people at pace - everyone is wonderful at these things; they willed me on with little supportive comments as I passed.
It was somewhat short lived though as with a mile to go I cramped up again within sight of the cathedral. I really did not want to walk the final bit especially with the kids there. Two guys re-passed me as I desperately drank the last of my electrolyte for something to buzz me into action and they gave me a quick sorry looking glance. And then as quickly as the cramp came my legs were working again, I passed the two guys again at pace with one saying "Go on my son - that's that way" and saw the kids from a distance off - it was the final lift I needed before the run past the crowd and down the steps to the finish. Awesome feeling - won't forget that for a while.
I can honestly say I was psychologically done with running when I cramped up. I was angry with myself for thinking it though. My go to place was give up and I'm annoyed with myself for it but I've learnt from it. I found out things I didn't know which is expected - I've already worked out the next steps to improve (salt and strength!). And I've learnt that when you think you're done, you're not.
I finished 64th (out of 896 non-stoppers) when I was 34th at basecamp and because of that drop down the rankings I was disappointed - it's a marginal 'bronze' against my own personal goals with 9hrs 45 mins and 04 seconds.
Two days later and I feel proud - it's almost ridiculous to be disappointed at something that a year ago wasn't even a goal and 18 months ago wasn't even a hobby on my radar.
2 marathons done in a day - madness.
