Grand Union Canal Race 2016

I remember for a very long time being told by so many this is the "best" ultra race on the UK calendar. In fairness many will still make this bold statement. Regardless of the validity of this statement it grabbed my attention and so I entered the race. This story, however, does not begin in 2016. It begins in 2014 with a DNS. I was under trained and ill prepared. Even I'm not foolish enough to try and blag 145 miles. Instead I supported a friend and ran the past 45 miles with him. Many reading this will see 45 miles as inconceivable, but having run further and subsequently finishing the GUCR, I can safely say the difference in the two distances is massive. If you can eat one slice of pizza you don't suddenly assert that you can eat three large pizza's... well not without vomiting, maybe passing out and possibly ending up in hospital. By this virtue very similar to the difference between running 45 and 145 miles.

Having been part of my friends experience I understood the buzz around this race and the desire of so many to complete it. During 2014 I shared many highs and lows with runners. There was a huge camaraderie and sense of a united front trying to slay a beast. 145 miles seemed impossible and in so being drew many to try. Those that fell urged others towards the finish. The course for the most part is also beautiful and develops an aura of a world separated from ordinary life. In 2014 I remember being delighted and very proud when my friend finished, but also very envious. This race was firmly logged on my bucket list.

So it came to be that 2015 I would try the Centurion Grandslam. I got close, but to no avail. Now under the watchful eyes of Edwina Sutton I changed my approach to running, not my love, just my approach. I was to be purposeful in my training and consistent. In entering the ballot for GUCR I hoped by virtue of having a crew that I would secure a place, but in my mind I readied myself for making other plans. Following the draw the results went live at about 1am. I was in and I could not resist a message to my crew. They were equally delighted. My focus now increased further and specific training was now in total dedication to running a flat 145 miles.

Week in and week out I stuck to plan. My love hate relationship with sugar meant my weight was not falling off, but everything else was going great. So the race got closer and plans became real. I was hitting personal checkpoints in my training and then BAM! I get a message from my crew. 2 out of 4 could not help out. No animosity as it was for health reasons and I would never want someone to jeopardise their health on my behalf. I was worried that i would not be able to source alternative crew. Bloody hell what it did next was energise everything. I became aware just how much people believe in me and supported me. So many who would have helped but were out  of the country. It did not stop me rapidly sourcing crew.

My best friend Sam Robson pretty much dropped everything and at the risk of a disgruntled wife he sought her approval (Thanks Jen), was then on my car insurance and on the crew. Bryan Webster and my wife Zoe were already planned to be supporting at certain junctions of the race. I really needed one more person... in stepped David Barker. Now this is a man who ran A100 in under 16hours and then went and helped at the Reading Aid station. On this day he would be finishing work and then leaving Kent at 3am to get to the race start. He would then support until 4am and then look after his children whilst his wife went to her own race (thank you Sarah.)

So with a revised but in no way compromised crew I was ready for race weekend. Conditions looked favourable if potentially a little hot, but heck I was going to be running over 2 days, anything could happen. So on the Friday i packed my gear and got on a train to Birmingham. I could not get as way as early as i would have liked. It became a little bit of a rush to the premier inn and then registration. There was a buzz around town and i recognised a few runners all displaying the nervous energy. As i approached the Premier Inn i bumped in Tom Garrod. He was in fine form and clearly ready for the race. I always love catching up with Tom, he is an absolutely inspiration to anyone over coming adversity. The registration is without a doubt the most understated registration i have ever experienced. I collected my Hoodie, T-Shirt and canal key and my name was ticked. That was it i was registered and good to go. I made a vow that i would not put on the Hoodie or the T-Shirt until i completed this race. It felt like i had not earned them yet. I took the decision to head back to the Premier Inn, rather than join the crowd. I caught up with a couple of runners and then proceeded to bed. A quick chat with my running coach, a review of kit and a panic of whether i had anything and then lights out.

The alarm went and blurry eyed i woke up. It was 4:45am and the start of a very long period of time awake. My mind was clear and the training was done. Everything i could do to prepare had been done and could no longer improve my chances of completing this race. A call from Sam to check i was awake and the dawn of what i was about to undertake was washing over me in droves. I gathered my kit and covered my feet in anti-chafing powder, before getting dressed. Now i should at this point note that the powder is brilliant stuff, but slip and it may look like the aftermath of a party hosted by a Rock and Roll band. For future reference i will apply this stuff to my feet in the bath, in order to reduce such aftermath. So once again probably like a party hosted by a Rock and Roll band.

This is not what it looks like.

Willing, ready and hopefully able i headed downstairs. Sam was patiently waiting for me and then the gloom of the rain was visible. Seriously all signs had pointed to no rain and already it was chucking it down. Forecasts were for this to progressively clear as the morning progressed. I put it to the back of my mind and decided that what would be would be. Nothing was going to stop me from crossing that finish line. I dont think i have ever been so determined to complete a challenge. If it was going to rain then so be it. The iron being, as this report will show, not long into the race i would have killed for it to rain just a little bit.  

At the start line i was relieved to know that David had arrived and he and Sam would now be together to assist as my crew. The start was awash with nervous energy. I caught up with Rodrigo Freeman and Mark Haynes. Both were well prepared and ready to get going. After the race announcements, cautions and advisory's we were released upon the canal. Truth be told it was all very anti-climatic. Imagine the 100 metre start line of an olympic final, everyone crouched low in their blocks, the gun goes off and all bar one runner of eight stands up and begins a casual walk. Magnify these proportions to 150 runners and this was in effect how the start would have translated to an outsider. Inside though i was running to a plan. It was a case of slow and steady and leave enough running for the final 45 miles. Oh sure i will just take it steady for 100 miles and then run the last 45 miles. Bloody hell what was i thinking. Who considers this a normal way to spend a weekend. Well truth be told i saw nothing about this weekend as normal, but i did see this opportunity as a blessing, a peaceful one and something i would grab with both hands, until i reached Little Venice. i trudged along with Mark Haynes and watched Rodrigo disappear into the distance. 

Super excited to get going.

There i am "whizzing" by.

The rain was a distant memory and rapidly the world was heating up. I say world as nothing beyond the canal and the rhythmic pounding of my feet seemed to exist. I was becoming encapsulated by the melody i was creating on the tow path. I was losing any concern for the stresses of my daily life. I was focused, i was calm, i felt positively in control. I arrived at my first meeting point right on schedule. 10.7 miles completed in a little over 2 hours. I was feeling good as i took supplies from my crew. All was going smoothly, yes it was heating up, but everything was in working order. It seemed on the surface like it was going to be a lovely day of running. I even had the chance to laugh off an error when i realised my crew had passed me the spare bread i forgot to tell them about. Yum sandwiches with no filling. Well at least i made some ducks happy. Cruising in to mile 18.1 at 9:32am i was 4 minutes ahead of schedule and not feeling too bad. By this point it was hot though. I could sense the danger that the heat was going to be a problem. As i trundled away from my crew i was feeling warm and the naive optimism of "what could possibly go wrong" was being replaced by "you fucking idiot, its 145 miles of course it was going to be brutal." In any event i decided the best course of action was to ignore myself. 

Collecting my bread with no filling.

I had an opportunity to run a little with Ashley Hurd. He was keen to complete the race. I left him around mile 15 where he was supported by his wife. I did not see him after that and was sorry to hear he DNF'd. At about mile 18 i saw Phil Bradburn and would frequently see him along the course. Time was drifting a little for me. Nothing to panic about at this point. I was well under the cuts offs and not too far shy of my A race pace plan. With that said i was feeling increasingly worse. The heat was bloody appalling. I was left with indigestion and a sense that my body was slowly imploding. I was drinking regularly, but some how could not quench the first. I wanted to eat and project everything from my stomach in equal measure. Both options held little appeal and i was slowing as a result. A furiously hot day with the sun bouncing off the tow path causing increased intensity. At mile 30 i looked like shit, I felt like shit and my ever honest crew told me i was looking great.... lying bastards. I still had loads of running in my legs, but i could not muster the energy. I was not prepared to contemplate a DNF, but it felt like the body was failing my mind. At mile 34 on the verge of frying my body i saw a safe haven, a utopian vision of tranquility. I could not have asked for it to be better placed to save my race. Now truth be told it was a break in the hedge that created a space completely enclosed. Beautiful shade and a swing hanging from a tree. I was in no mood for a swing, but i did force some calories in and sit down and close my eyes for 10 minutes. Maybe i could cool down, hit reset and get moving. Well reset is about right. My body temperature dropped and as i stood up had a massive head rush. I felt nauseous, but was keen to get moving. One step... two step... and we were playing anything but "round and round the garden." I toppled to my knees and vomited violently into the canal. I have since been informed that a number or runners passed me and assumed i would be DNF'ing. The little voice in my head decided that i 'only' had 110 miles left to race so i may as well press on to the finish. 

A beautifully scenic route

Hot and feeling like utter trash.

The next phase of the race was spent trying to ignore the heat and watching other runners also rationing their water. I seemed to struggle to compute a simple bloody lock on the canal tap. Thankfully a Canal Boat resident took pity on a sweaty salt ridden runner and showed me what i was doing run. He was very friendly and i think resisted patting me on the head and telling me it would be ok. I filled my water bottle and set back off. Approaching Braunston Locks i was anticipating seeing my crew. I knew they were due to appear and probably would just be relieved to see that i wasnt dead. It transpired to be a downhill stretch to my crew and at 44 miles there was my crew with fresh coffee. I sat down and took in the view. I was not feeling great, but was revising my targets. This race was about achieving and showing myself that the seemingly impossible could be done and reassuring myself that the only boundaries that apply to me as a runner are the ones i set myself. I was down, but far from out. I was over a 100 minutes down on my planned pace. Apparently vomiting in a canal and sitting on the side of a canal wondering what the fuck is going on takes up a lot of time. I knew i had stopped too much with my crew. I was wasting time, but i needed to get myself focused and this was the only way of keeping me in the race. On the plus side the stretch down to my crew saw the first of many running friends appear, Nick was full of encouragement. I am sincerely always touched by the running community and their happiness to give up time and support. 

My crew worked tirelessly from start to finish.

After a bloody good cup of coffee, thanks David, i felt a lot of better and was determined to get into a rhythm. I may have felt shit up until now, but i was NOT going to get myself timed out. 

"Could murder a cuppa."

Feeling like trash, but a cracking cup of coffee worked wonders.

Now in this race whilst the cut offs are very generous the cut offs up until CP4 force you to keep a reasonable pace. I was finally in a good place. By this i mean i was resigned to feeling like crap and was able to turn my brain off to this. I ran safely and for decent periods of time. I was struck by the surprising beauty of the course. It was proving to be a very scenic route and the heat was reducing and my pace increasing. I was happy i could make it through the cut off at CP4 with plenty of time. I was trading places with a few runners. Glyn Raymen reminded me we needed to get a bloody move on or we would be timed out. Shit.... really... you mean i fell asleep in a bush, vomited in a canal and demonstrated my ineptitude to open a basic lock... all to get timed out. Bollocks to that. I picked up the pace. This was a liberating moment. I reminded myself no matter how bad i was feeling i could and would still run. I ran a few good miles, but Glyn and other runners were still panicking. I then asked them what time they thought the cut off was. "7pm" was the response i got. For those unfamiliar with the race the cut off was 7:30pm. The relief in that moment is hard to describe. I had grinded to this point and would come in to the checkpoint with plenty of time to spare. I saw my crew briefly, clambered over the lock at Buckby Top Lock and jogged down the steps. I was ok and fast realising that Mountain Dew was settling my stomach. Yep so the influx of the caffeinated ghost buster coloured bottled substance began. I continued the run to CP4 and came through there at 6:55pm. I was 35 minutes under the cut off and could now relax into the race. 

There are not many races i can think of where 53 miles and 13 hours in i can comment that it was time to relax into the race. With that said i was relaxing and feeling in control. I had planned to arrive at mile 53 by 4:54pm. So yes i was 2 hours down, but heck i was in the fight and this fight was not going to be won by knockout. It was going all the way to the 12th round and i was going to need to win this fight on points. From this point you approach Blisworth Tunnel. It was a very pleasant evening and still light, although the sun was fading fast. Climbing up the hill i took a comfort break and in the process discovered a dropped digital camera. This was handed off to my crew and i believe successfully returned to its owner. It is worth noting that this section has a suprising bit of incline, but it doesnt last long and is definitely runnable. Do not be deceived into thinking you have to walk the hill.

The inspiring Tom Garrod in top form.

Finding some rhythm in the heat.

I was feeling ok, tired and fatigued from the heat of the day, but generally in good spirits. My next mental goal was Navigation Bridge. It felt like it would never appear and whilst not exactly half way it felt to me like this was my midway checkpoint. About 4 miles out i found myself running with Ian Shelley and Jay Close. I was very grateful as a couple of silly navigational errors could have caused me undue distress. They kept me on the straight and narrow and as we came up to the top the hill i stopped for a quick coffee. I then pressed on into the darkness and the descent down the road. Navigation Bridge was looming. In my haste i crossed a road and plodded down a hill. Something didn't seem right and after about 400 metres i checked my map and could only assume i should have turned left at the crossing. I saw a flash of light that appeared to be trying to attract my attention. I retraced my steps and at the junction i could see nobody. Maybe i had made the flash of light up and then there it was again, but slightly further down the road. I ran down after it, hoping that i would not becoming like that crazy dog chasing the ice cream van. As it was within about 50 metres of the runner i heard "thank fuck for that." It was Ian Shelley expressing relief. It turns out he had seen me drop down the hill and was worried i would not realise. We chatted for a bit and then he pointed me to the point in the village where you access the canal. I pressed on and it was apparent that Ian sadly was approaching the end of his race. I am for ever grateful that he appeared to instill his last amount of energy into motivating me to get to Little Venice. For this who will run the race remember to turn left at the cross roads and when you head down the hill you cross the road and there is a gate that lets you back on to the canal. 

Running along the canal, in the dark, i was reflecting on what i was trying to do. I was knackered and nearly 18 hours into my race. Then from the darkness appeared the well lit bridge. I heard my name, well i thought it was my name. Oh that's pleasant i thought and then it became a scream and a cheer and a whoop and a holler. Finally i had made it and there was my crew, my friend Anne and her partner and my wife. Anne appeared drunk on the energy of watching all these running loons coming through for several hours. Zoe was genuinely concerned for me. I was cold and exhausted. I went to the car and slept for 10 minutes. BIG MISTAKE! i strongly advise anyone undertaking this race to resist sleeping in the night. I got bloody cold, bloody quick. I was not making sound judgements and failed to make a sensible decision to put on running tights. Yes i added layers, but the quickest act would have been to wear running tights. After a limited effort to eat something i took a few hugs  and some swigs of Mountain Dew and pressed on. I now had running support with me and only 85 miles to go. Sounds so simple when written on paper. 

At this point in the race my crew excelled. I could not have done this without them and my sincere thanks to them all. Bryan Webster joined us at about mile 80. It was good to see another friendly face. When i received no sarcastic banter i knew i must look like shit. Photographs and crew accounts would safely verify that i looked like garbage. David left us at this point to get himself home, huge thanks to David for nursing me through 80 miles. 

Yep looking brilliant.

We pressed on to mile 85 and what was CP 6. I could not keep my eyes open and i could barely put one leg in front of the other. I decided i needed another nap. Naomi Newton-Fisher was at this checkpoint. I was so tired i could barely must a hello, so apologies if i was in any way rude. I bolted for the car and reclined the seat. The plan was 15 minutes and then really make progress. With this plan in place Zoe came with me to have a power nap, in truth i think she was more worried that i may swallow my tongue. After somewhere between 5 and 10 minutes i sat bolt up right and was ready to crack on. I knew that if i didn't get moving it was game over. I caught Bryan on the hop, but he responded admirably and chased after me along the tow path. For the next few miles things were going ok, but i really needed a shit. Yep the glamour of ultras is the reason i got into these things. Any way after a couple of failed bush visits i decided it was pointless trying and just pressed on.

The sun was up now and we were in for another hot day. Oh good, i enjoyed this so much the day before. As if to test my legs, or take the piss Bryan and i approach a swan along the canal path. It was blocking our route and there was no alternative way to pass. So i picked up the pace and jumped pass the swan. The swan swore and hissed and darted its head towards me. Thankfully the swan missed and now it was Bryan's turn to get past. So he lined up and ran past.. and.... nothing... nope nothing. The swan gave him no notice. So remember people Swans are evil and pray on the weak. 

Beware of the killer Psycho Swan.

Pressing on Bryan and i arrived at the 100 mile mark in around 27 hours. I got to use an actual toilet and felt significantly relieved. The joy was captured in a photo taken by Bryan. As we left the checkpoint Bryan and i discussed the fact that despite how bad i had been feeling i had still gone through the 100 mile mark in 27 hours. This moment and the rising of the sun gave me a sense of renewed vigour. I still had running left in my legs and felt able to press on. I reviewed the race to this point and realised there had been some seriously low moments, but i had overcome each and everyone. I was feeling better than i had felt at mile 30 and i was growing into the race. I had loved every moment of the race. Yes the near disasters were not pleasant in the moment, but the challenge of the race was why i entered. I did not go to Birmingham for an easy and unfulfilling experience.

Yes a poo can be this rewarding.

So running along the canal on the Sunday it did not get as hot as the Saturday, but it was a beautiful day and i was enjoying my running. I was struggling to eat anything and probably pissing my crew off as i rejected all things i had requested. I believe at one point Bryan suggested to Zoe that she just reheat the last set of noodles as i would not bloody eat them any way. I can't say i blame him as well as it transpired he was right. I am not sure at what point it occurred but Sam and Bryan swapped out pacing duties. I was tired, but running with a smile and growing in confidence that i would get the finish. I was bettering my revised target times and sustaining pace. At about mile 110 i felt like i was in a Rocky movie as various running friends appeared to offer their support. Paul Radford was out and in good spirit. In addition Phil Gatsky appeared. I had first met Phil when i swept Thames Path 100 and bullied him to leave the mile 91 aid station. It was a welcome period of support and i believe i ran the next 5/6 miles straight with no walking break. With power of others around me and my further consumption of Mountain Dew i was feeling good. Phil ran with us for about 9/10 miles and it was a huge element of support. 

Beginning to feel better and get back in the game.

My crew working super hard!

The clock continued to click and it was apparent that i was going to be out running into a second night. Once i accepted this the rest of day was great. At Springwell lock i knew there was just 25 miles to go. Yep only a marathon to go. If it were not for the 125 miles in my legs then this would be a doddled. I pressed on and Bryan jumped back in as a pacer. My body felt tired but ok. This was with exception of my feet. Every step made my feet feel like they were being dipped in lava. I am sure i was walking barefoot on hot coals. I could not run, i could barely walk, but i wanted to get to the finish. We had considered whether Zoe would run with me or not. At this point it would be anything but running. 

Only a marathon to go. NB: I am not sponsored by Mountain Dew.

As Bryan and i progressed along the tow path i started chanting "ow fuck, ow fuck, ow fuck fuck." For whatever reason this worked. Provided i continued to repeat the chant i was able to continue running pace. We ran past some highly diverse cultures. This included a barge bar and a man in a whacky top hat... oh the temptation to have a pint, but i would have passed out in the canal. Everyone was happy and engaged and even as the sun was setting the moods were lifting. I was on the look out for the famous left turn and the sign to Paddington. Honestly as i was chugging down more Mountain Dew i convinced myself that someone had moved the left hand turn. It was not there and i was convinced we must have missed it. Of course we had not and eventually the left turn appeared and so did more swans. These were more friendly than the previous swans and we passed without issue. Sadly this last section was littered with rubbish... sigh.. come on people.

The relief at the sight of the left hand turn. I promise i am not sponsored by Mountain Dew.

At CP9 I briefly caught up with many runners i knew, both who were running and those who were crewing. I sat down briefly to compose myself. I took on some fluid and some more Mountain Dew (i may have been glowing green at this point.) I wanted the race to be done and so got up and pressed on. We decided Bryan would continue to run with me rather than switch Sam back in. Bryan and i were in momentum and he was now zoning out my swearing and recognised that my body was telling me to sleep when it should keep running. Bryan appropriately forced me to keep moving. He rewarded me with limited rest breaks at appropriate times, but in general there was little break. We caught up runners and for the first time in hours we were overtaking people. This felt good and aided the miles being ticked off.

A well earned rest break. Can you spot a theme in what kept me going.

The sun was setting but our pace was improving. I could not believe the miles were ticking away so well. Then before i knew it we were at mile 139. Bloody hell 6 miles to go. We had sustained such a pace that we were there 30-45minutes faster than anticipated. I took on some more Mountain Dew and Zoe confirmed that she was going to run the last 10km with me. I was overwhelmed by this gesture. 

A moment with my wife that i will treasure forever.

My wife and i have shared some of the most incredible memories in life that no one else will ever share with me. We have shared a marriage proposal in Spain, entering into a marriage, Zoe has walked in the last 9 miles of SDW100 with me, she has given me two wonderful children and here we were about to share the most amazing moments of this race. I couldn't  have wished for a better partner to finish this race with. Don't let this blog present our marriage as perfect, we argue, fight and disagree, but Zoe is my hero and the love of my life. I am who i am because of her and she inspires me to be a better parent and generally better person. I guess in that way we are a lot like the GUCR race. It is not always easy and there can be a lot swearing, but ultimately the journey is without a doubt worth the challenges. I prepared myself to walk in the final 6 miles. I knew Zoe had been training and was becoming capable as a runner, but my feet hurt. I held her hand and as we walked into the darkness i knew in that moment it was only about me and her. Yes there was a huge wealth of support and people i could not have achieved this race without and social media was bursting with encouragement, but in that very moment it was only about Zoe and i. The world was quiet and we pressed on. Zoe shared with me that she had been training up to  10km distance to run this last leg in. Oh come one Zoe with the emotional blackmail. Now i had to bloody run. So on we ran, and it was wonderful. We entered into banter and counted the miles down. I calculated that we could walk it in about 2 hours. Zoe's response was to tell me that we could or we could run and be finished in 70 minutes. Zoe was absolutely right and we ran. I entered into a facebook countdown. Zoe had found the Bryan balance of supporting me, whilst also ensuring i did not stop running. Mark Haynes had obviously found a second wind and passed me with about 3 miles to go. Zoe and i pressed on and the last 2 miles seemed to go on forever. I could have sworn that Little Venice would never appear. In that moment i did not want it to. I wanted this experience and the moment with the love of my life to last forever, it was a wonderful feeling. Then in the distance there was a flicker of a light. The light was dismissed by Zoe, but i became like a kid at Christmas... "Its a light a light... i can see the finish." It felt to me like a lighthouse shining its beacon. I could see the finish and knew the home straight was in my grasp. This whole journey had lasted for over 41 hours and in truth the real journey started months prior. I was happy, i was grateful and i was proud. As i crossed the line i felt so drained. Suddenly i had no more energy. There were other runners also sat, all looking broken, but all in their own state of reflective euphoria. 

We left the finish after i received my doorstop medal. I could barely stand with it around my neck. Nonetheless we got up. After many hugs and congratulations it was time to get a taxi. I had contemplated walking the mile and a bit to the hotel. Thankfully both Zoe and Bryan exercised common sense and informed me they would like to be at the hotel in the next hour. We got to the hotel and as i was signing in nearly fell asleep on the reception desk. Thankfully there were lifts, the rooms were large and the bed comfortable. I flopped on the bed, fell into the shower and then back onto the bed. I was tired, but elated. I went to check my phone and respond to some comments. My phone went crazy with beeping and updates. I was falling asleep whilst holding my phone. I was shattered, but peaceful and was experiencing a sense of fulfillment. I had achieved a bucket list race with wonderful memories and vomiting in the canal seemed a life time ago.

In reflection this was such a good race. The diversity of cultures that i experienced on the canal was like no other i have experienced. It was so much fun and everyone was friendly and interacting. On the whole the race was beautiful, genuinely beautiful with diverse scenery. I loved the different sites, although no site tops that of the flashing finishing beacon and the bloody big medal. I can put in a better performance and i am sure i could go quicker (i will be back,) but no finish will have the magic of this first finish. GUCR 2016 was magical.

GUCR is beautiful.

Very tired crew member.

A medal worthy of the experience.

Autumn 100

As someone who blogs regularly about races it was a first for me not to write a blog after North Downs Way 100. Why didn’t I? In part because i DNF’d, but more specifically because i had nothing new to say on the subject. I was on for the Centurion Running Grandslam, the day had been relentlessly hot, I stumbled in the dark, turned my anke and DNF’d at 76 miles. Yes there is more substance to the day than that, but in essence that was my race. The DNF was the right call for me, but could it have been avoided? Totally! So rather than write a blog to justify the DNF and how i would learn from it, I wanted to actually reflect, get strong and then comment with substance.

So after NDW i looked closely at my running right through from training to racing. The stress points for me and my family, but further what was i doing wrong? You might consider the fact that I had already finished two 100 hundred milers this year an indication that I wasn’t really doing anything wrong but i knew better than this. I have always gone into races feeling ok or like can scrape through. Stubbornness can get you a long way... A really long way, but for me it was starting to taint my joy of running and in turn my motivation. It was time to try something new and for me that was a running coach.

Firstly let me be clear that I have always been highly sceptical of running coaches. On the way to South Downs Way 100 I had that very conversation with Bryan Webster about how expensive they are and not being sure i could justify the cost. I could not really see what they could input into my running that I could not offer myself. It seemed someone else was going to tell me to run. Well yes i could do that. Granted that is a slightly simplistic summary of my initial thoughts on coaching, but it gives you the idea. After NDW I was a little dejected, but more out of frustration with myself. I had not run enough in the build up to that race. It really was that simple. When push came to shove i was not strong enough. I decided to speak to a few people who I know that have used or use coaches and those who have not and would never. I had a pretty balanced analysis of the option.

Just before North Downs Way 100 I took the decision after speaking to a good friend of mine, Nici Griffin, to have an initial call with Edwina Sutton. I had been following Nici’s running journey and despite her own complaing ;) I was impressed with the support and plans that Eddie would create for her. I was really impressed with Eddie when I spoke to her, but still slightly undecided before NDW. I spoke with her again after the race and I was convinced.

After 5 minutes into my post NDW conversation with Eddie I was sold on the benefit of coaching and that this was something I should definitely try. Eddie was fab and reassured me that really it was just consistency that was the key. She was sympathetic about my DNF, but accepted my own acknowledgement and ownership of this without trying to massage my ego (dont have Eddie as your coach if you want your Ego massaging.) I felt reassured by Eddie and unpressurised: more importantly i felt motivated. There was still part of me that queried whether the novelty of coaching would be a fad, with that said it was something I had not tried before and i figured would be worth a shot.

Fast forward 8 weeks from the conversation and i find myself on the phone to Eddie the night before Autumn 100. This time I am talking to her well and truly as my running coahc. My training up until this point has been consistent for the 8 weeks. I had noted progress in myself and my attitude towards running. Further i felt more able to mentally dial into a run. I had a good understanding of what my comfortable pace felt like and what the messages from my brain were really telling me. It had been stressed to me by Eddie throughout that consistency is key. I have trained with that attitude and even with a 2 week holiday in Florida i had managed to run and more less to a plan during that time. I can confidently say that over 8 weeks i ran the most consistently i have ever run and put some really good sessions together. I had also had some really positive strength sessions and on the whole was feeling stronger. So there i was talking to Eddie about the goals for the race and how best to achieve them. I have to say i love Eddie for this. From a family perspective she is about a year or two on from me and so has a very real understanding of the demands of family life and the balance to be found. My wife i think has also noticed the difference as well. It means my training is realistic, challenging, progressive and consistent. I am no longer sitting on the sofa saying “i should have run” and then spending hours procrastinating over how far I will run later or the following day. The added bonus of Eddie as a coach is I can’t message her and say i haven’t trained without a good reason. You can picture the scene of me texting her and trying to come up with a good excuse, knowing that she has not long had her third child and is still training. I think I would rather make sure I got my run in.

So during my conversation with Eddie I was absolutely ready for the race and excited. I had no excuses (apart from jet lag) and felt able to give this race a good crack. In Eddie’s words the plan for this race were “to finish with a big cheesey grin.” In addition i was to eat 500 calories at every aid station and constantly ask myself how i was feeling and adapt wherever required. We agreed that pace was irrelavent and i was absolutelly not to look at pace on my watch. I confess to being one of those historically that can get consumed by minutes per mile. This one would be a challenge but i was prepared to go with it. The final point was all too crucial and that was to remember we do this for fun and enjoy it. I was touched by Eddie informing me that she had been looking into trying to come and run with me for a bit. She couldn’t make the logistics work, but with a young baby i fully appreciate even the consideration. I pointed Eddie in the direction of the Racedrone app that I woudl be using and mentally added her to my list of stalkers for the race.

With a start time of 10am this race has the perfect location for me. I was able to stay at my sister and brother in laws with the family. I got a good night sleep and on the morning of the race my wife drove me over to the start. Registration was its usual smooth Centurion process. Over the years the number or runners I know has grown massively and by the time I had my race number my wife had asked me if i knew every single runner in the room. Of course i didn’t but there times when it feels like this. After dropping of my bag I bid the wife farewell and started mentally preparing for the race. I had agreed to speak to a guy from Radio Five and where a GO Pro for Audio recording. His day had obviously started worse than mine as her forgot the GO Pro’s. In truth I was a little relieved as less worrying about swearing now. I had a chat with him about why I run these types of races and it had the added bonus of getting me even more excited about the race. I really love the 100 mile races and the adrenaline in the atmosphere. I made my way to the start and caught up with friends. Some were going for the Grandslam, others were going for super fast times, whilst others were aiming for their first 100 mile finish. The thing we all had in common was an enjoyment of getting to experience this together. The weather for the race was pretty much perfect. No forecast for rain and the ambient temperature was very pleasant for running in a t-shirt.

So I lined up at the start and knew i would see everyone again at least once. The beauty of this race and something that i think makes it very special is the fact it is four out and backs. This means you get to see the front runners coming back and also encourage runners that you may be ahead of. It was nearly time for the off and I had inadvertently found myself near the start of the race. As good as my training has been I am not yet a front runner. So after a catch up with Sam Robson I stood ready to get going knowing that this would be the only time David Barker would be behind me during the race. I spoke with Sam Clack from Radio Five again and happily agreed to chat to him later. I could see he was being absorbed by the atmosphere of the race and at this moment everyone in Goring was part of the affair. James Elson gave his speach and confirmed who the Race Directors were for this weekend. James had recently confirmed he would be running. There was some speculation as to whether he would be racing for the win or to experience his event. I maintained my view that if he was running he would have to be running to the best of his ability and thus going for the win.

The countdown to the start took place 10...9....8.....................3...2...1 and just like that a flurry of runnners were departing Goring for the very first time. I was absorbed in the atmosphere. Two or three runners said hello and I confess to needing a minute to remind myself of who they were. Paul shortly after introduced himself and we chatted for a bit. Friend old and new this was going to be a very special race. I could that the day was going to be great. Plodding along i felt my leg were moving well and I was in a good rythmn. Running alongside the canal it brought back memories of Thames Path 100 and how much more prepared i felt today. There was a brief moment where I felt it was a shame that it was not for the Grandslam, but I knew i needed to run this race for me. I looked ahead of me a few miles in to see Bryan Webster. I have known Bryan for a few years now and would consider him a good friend. He is normally much faster than me, but I thought it would be fun to share 20 to 30 minutes together, whilst I was feeling good. Of course he would dart off into the distance and finish 5 to 6 hours ahead of me. I think it is fair to say what happened over the rest of the race suprised us both.

Perfect morning on the Thames Path

 Running through the first Aid station and onto the end of the first half of spur 1 the time seemed to be passing really quickly. Bryan and I were running well. We both stuck to our plans and occassionally he would disapppear and then I would catch him up. As I hit about mile 10 the lead runners came blaring past in the other direction. They all looked really comfortable, some in their own world and others giving a cursory “well done” or “keep it up.” This was all except for one, a certain James Elson. In about 8th at this point he screamed “looking great Dan, awesome effort.” He looked ridiculously comfortable, was chasing the win in his own race and yet still found that moment to briefly become engrossed in my race and not his. This is why i love Ultra Running and the Centurion Family. Soon after this I could see a mass of runnners and it suggested to me that the Aid station could not be far. Sure enough there was the Aid station and with a quick grab and run i left armed with food (remembering Eddie’s instruction of 500 calories) and a sense that i was in control. At this point Phil Hall was just ahead of me and seemed to be in a good run/walk strategy of his own. The running conditions were good, i was in a rhythm and had covered this part in a little over 2 hours. A real highlight as to why I was not looking at pace. Previously if i had been on this pace i would have slowed down and convinced myself it was too fast. In truth previously it would have been, but today it felt comfortable so i went with it. I was falling into a run for 15-20 minutes and then walk for 5. This gave me enough time to feel I had a break and also feel like I had a good chunk of running covered. The strategy was certainly eating into the distance.

Bryan had run ahead about 10 minutes before i hit the checkpoint and i assumed that he was long gone. It was to my surprise that i saw him again at about mile 14. He was approaching the road crossing and just ahead of him I saw Ashley Hurd dart across the road. I half expected the screach of tyres, the pause of Suunto’s and Garmin’s everywhere as we scraped him off the road. Thankfully it must have been my perspective as he had made it across the road fine and was running into the distance. Bryan and I started running again. After about another mile we chatted about training and plans. I noted I was just out to enjoy it and see what happened. We were both feeling good and Bryan acknowledged that i was obviously stronger than at NDW. I really felt it. Yes my legs could tell that at this point I had run 16 or so miles, but I felt like it was a sustainable pace that i could keep going for a good while yet and so I plodded on. I decided this was not a race where i was chasing times so i would take some pictures and send some tweets. It was turning into a bloody beautiful day. At about mile 20 Bryan was a little ahead of me. It seemed my run/walk strategy was working well and I was holding pace with him. This was at least 10 miles further than i would ever have imagined being in contact with Bryan. He was running with Ashley and so i plodded on. Eventually i overtook Phill Hall and gave him some encouraging abuse that i believe included a mild threat of violence if he DNF’d. As we approached a gate that would bring us back on to the bridge into Goring I was back running with Bryan. As surprised as i was he continued with a conversation we had left off about 40 minutes prior and we plodded into Goring together. It was about 4hrs 25 minutes into the race. To put this into context my previous PB for a marathon was 4hrs 35minutes. I definitely felt ok though. I had to run through a mental check to make sure i was not doing anything stupid. I text Zoe to confirm i was ok. I could tell she was a little worried that i was running too fast and that i would be blowing up later in the race. Bryan and i set off on the second leg on the ridgeway. With the woops and cheers of Natasha and Jon Fielden in my ears was feeling confident, but a little apprehensive of the hills that would be awaiting us. “Sod it” i thought. Its all part of the fun and i have nothing to lose.

Bryan had left just before me with the comment “catch me up.” There was no sarcasm in this comment, i think he genuinely expected that I would catch him up. As i left Goring Allan Rumbles and Chris Mills were in flow of conversation to which i heard “ask him go on” and “no i will ask him at the end”. I simply replied “whatever the question the answers yes.” As i ran off i heard Allan say “i should bloody hope so.” Both clearly on the wind up, but these moments of humour all add to the enjoyment of the day. So on to my first experience of the Ridgeway. It was not long before i was back running wiith Bryan. We made good time and were overtaking runners. I started to realise that a big difference between my running now and before is that i was running on some uphills. Those that know me well will know that i am not normally a fan of hills. Normally Bryan would shoot of into the sunset and this time on one occassion when i broke into a walk on a hill i heard Bryan say “thank fuck for that.” It was clear this was affective mutual support as we pulled each other along the Ridgeway at an efficient pace. Moving through the Aid stations we continued to run together, pull away from each other and soon run together again. Entering into the Aid station that would later be the 46 mile aid station i saw Graham Carter. We had a catch up and then just behind was Phil Hall. Another mild threat of violence if he DNF’d and on i carried. Not long after this James Elson came haring down the Ridgeway. Clearly he was in the lead and moving well. Armed ready with congratulations and encouragement i had no chance to furnish any of it as the shouts of “Legend, LEGEND, LEGEND!” Left James’ lips. I am sure as well that he meant it and that he lavished all other runners with the same encouragement; That or he was high on GU. Nevertheless it left me on a high and i powered along the route.


Bryan and i were running together again. We came past Richard Stewart down one of the hills. Bryan asked him how long until the aid station? The response was 5 minutes. Well i am sorry Rich but even James Elson would not have made it to that Aid Station in 5 minutes . In fact sod that he would not have made it there in 10 minutes. So it was 20 MINUTES later we arrived at the aid station. We got to the turning point... eventually ;) and made our way back to Goring as the light began to fade. Still feeling like there was running in the legs i was happy that as i moved through mile 40 the race was still enjoyable. I kept to the agreed plan i had made with Eddie and kept reassessing where i was at and ensuring i enjoyed myself. I found this section of the Ridgeway the toughest section of the race. Not because of the climb, but the twist and turns in the paths and the narrow trails. Even with that though i was feeling good and pushing forward.


By the time Bryan and i entered mile 46 it was dark and i was hungry. Bryan had been joking about getting a cheese and jam wrap. He had been, safe to say, a little perplexed at the choice of combination on the way out. So on the way back he jokingly asked for one from Graham Carter. As with all Centurion Crew Graham dutifullly obliged whilst also making me a jam wrap. I am still not clear to this day whether Bryan felt obliged to eat the Cheese and Jam wrap. I was grateful for my jam wrap. I find it a real struggle to eat bread whilst running, but wraps seemed to be going down a treat. Bryan and i ushered each other out of the aid station. Necking a couple of cups of coke on i went. I had a quick chat with Sam Clack from Radio 5 as he ran along with me through the church yard. I probably spouted a load of tripe to his questions, but he was clearly engrossed in the magic of the Centurion Race Weekend. We chatted for a few minutes in the dark. Sam thanked me and left me to get back to Goring. After some banta from Bryan about being a celebrity, he then piped up with a really pertinent question about Sam... “Did he have a torch?” my response was something along the line of “I aint going back to help him.” Thankfully i saw Sam later so i know he didnt trip on a gravestone.

Beautiful sunset

Approaching Goring i looked at my watch and realised the time still started with a 9. I turned to Bryan to converse on my surprise at the time. Training had obviously gone well, but given my 50 mile PB to date was 10hrs 45, at TP100 i had left the 50 mile point after over 13 hours, SDW 100 afer about 12 and NDW in around 13hours. So here i was approaching Goring as the elapsed time ticked just over 10hours. I phoned home to have a quick chat with the wife. The comment “what the bloody hell are you doing” was met with the reassurance that i felt fine and was not sprinting off. Given my year to date i could see why my wife had been concerned. Allan Rumbles was at Goring and why my back had turned ‘kindly’ brought me a plate of baked beans. As i sat prepping for the second trip on the Ridgeway i was very polite about the beans.... Ok no i wasn’t, but i was only rude to myself. I fucking hate beans... sorry Allan the plate of beans left behind were mine. With that said what was to come made the beans look delightful. I was ready to kill Bryan for the McDonalds that Jonny had left for him. Burger and Fries (BIG TICK), but then we entred “shit shake gate.” I am not sure if it had curdled or whether Jonny just pranked Bryan and wanted him to drink... well a cup of shit. The shake was very much not appetising and Bryan decided against the drink. So off we set back out on to the Ridgeway. I really enjoyed this section. It was hillier than any of the other spurs, but the terrain was very runnable and Bryan and i were working to an estimated time that we had said to Allan we would be back at Goring. The undulating terrain enjoyed its own mind games as we kept thinking about the fact we were going to be running back up those fricking hills.
The weather remained cool although the wind started to pick up. The aid stations out on this section were all out in the open and i was keen to get to the turnaround point and back off the Ridgeway. The final hill climb on the way back seemed to go on forever. I am left with little choice but to mention very little of that section as i think Bryan and i just called the climb evey expletive under the sun. Still we got to the final section of descent. Earlier in the day we had seen David Barker here and i remember thinking that it would be nice to get to run down. So Bryan and i picked up the pace and ran back into Goring. So 75 miles done in just over 16hours. As i got my bag and started to prep for the final spur i glanced to my right and realised it David Barker talking to me. What do you mean you are bloody finished. An epic run had seen him home in under 16 hours and even more impressive was James’ sub 15 hour run. Spurred on by their achievements i got myself ready to start the final spur. Bryan left Goring with Allan pacing him. I was given the instruction of “catch us up.” Sounds easy, but with 75 miles in your legs those three little words make for an interesting challenge. One that on this occasion would allude me.

On the final leg i was tired. I mean really tired. The jet lag was biting and biting hard. I could barely keep my eyes open. I honestly had not started this race with a goal target in mind, but severall comments on twitter had made sub 24 a real possibility. I felt this fading away fast as i struggled to stay awake. Plus i had forgotten how hilly this section of the Thames Path is. Even the trees may have blushed at some of my language. Anyway its a short stretch to the first aid station. As i arrived to the detour point on the path i made my way to the aid stations. Allan and Bryan were leaving. I was still within touching distance, but knew i was slowing. My legs felt ok, but i was really tired. So i necked a coffee and a couple of glasses of coke and powered out of the hall. I had to reassess what i was going to get out of this race. I needed to work out how i was going to continue enjoying this last section and finish in a manner that i was happy with. So i pushed on and in the darkness Sam Robson came flying past. I have known Sam for 15 years and so even in the darkness was able to discern it was him. Sam was going strong and was probably as surprised as i was that i was 80 odd miles into the race already. The next 8.5 miles of the race were the toughest. I knew this section and what was to come, but kept slowing to a cruel. I would have spells of clarity, feel awake and be able to power on at a good pace. Suddenly the fatigue would hit and i would be all over the place. I sat against a bulding and closed my eyes for two minutes. I rested against a tree for two minutes and on three occasions i rested my head on a gate for a minute. Yes all this time would really help me feel wide awake (sense the sarcasm). Then i would have a lucid period and question what the fuck i was doing. I mean all i really did in this spell was waste probably 15 to 20 minutes on the route to Reading. Worst still my mind warped back to Goring where i could visualise the bottle of Mountain Dew and can of Red Bull in my bag. How the bloody hell had i rushed out and left them behind. It gets better though as when i unpacked my bag a few days after the event i realised i had pro plus still in my pack. So the mind was knackered and i had forgotten about or left behind all my caffeine options. Bryan and Allan soon came past me. I was about 5 or 10 minutes out from the Aid station and so not that far behind at this point. The bridge i had been waiting for appeared and this meant the Aid Station was a matter of two minutes away. Sure enough there it was and success i had not fallen asleep and dropped into the canal. I took the decision at this point to have a 20 minute power nap. I could have drunk a heap of caffeine and hoped it sustained me, but i wanted to be enjoying this race and so chose a sleep. Overall sleep/jet lag i think had impacted on my race by around 45 minutes.

I set an Alarm and also expressed my intentions to David Barker(yes the same David who had finished the race in under 16 hours and was not helping at Reading.) so i knew he would wake me if my phone failed to. Just like those moments at home when you hit snooze and then the alarm speeds time up and goes off just seconds later. Well thats how it felt. I stood up and felt a bit more awake. I was still drowsy, but not to the level of passing out. I grabbed some food and a few cups of coke and departed down the stairs. The cheers as i left Reading was just what i needed. I bounded down the steps... ok i walked down them... and back onto the Thames Path and the last stretch home. I passed Phil Hall on my way back to Goring. Phil looked strong and i felt confident that with Jon Fielden pacing him i knew Phil would be finishing this race. So i plodded on. The race had got in my head a little and i slowed unnecessarily. It took me about the next hour to really pull my head back. It was my wife encouraging me to push on that snapped me out of it. I knew i had lost over an hour now through jet lag and being a bit of a fool. 24 hours was probably gone now, but Zoe was right press on and see what happens. For the first time in a while i ran and got back into a walk/run combo. My brain had not woken soon enough at Reading or i would have realised then that sub 24 was still a realistic goal. With that said the time was not the primary focus of this race. The timing element really sunk home. I was doing everything i had been advised to do and was still feeling like i had running left in my legs. My training had obviously proved more beneficial than i appreciated. I was supposed to be focused on adapting, enjoying and conquering. So i considerd where i was, checked my watch and revised my plan to sub 25hours.


On my way to my revised target i had run a little with Martin Bushell. He had ruled out 24 hours for himself but pressed on into the difference after a nice conversation about holidays and Disney. I later found out that Martin got unnervingly close to sub 24. Running through the fields the sun was back up and i was nearing the end. I knew i would be finishing and that helped ease things back. Then diving in front of me like a slightly strange photo bomber was Paul Ali. It was great to see him and he turned and ran with me for a little while. The catch up was a great distraction from the task at hand. Paul reminded me that no running was a waste, even if it was only 15 seconds. So i started running from a tree to a tree and then walking the same. This really improved my pace and sense of enjoying the finale of the race and my races for the year in general.

Birds of prey hovering

As i was approaching the end a few people had passed me. I could see them in the distance and decided i would try to reel them in. I was still loving the race and the journey i had been on during this adventure. Sure i knew i was going to have “what ifs?” floating around my head after the race, but i had to consider everyone in context. I had kept to race plan and the actions i had agreed with Eddie. I was adapting and enjoying. I had run faster to this point than i sincerely thought i was ever capable of and for the first 75 miles kept pace with a good friend of mine who had this year become a far quicker more competent runner than i. Best of all that 75 miles had been some of the most fun i have had on the trails. With all that in mind nothing about this race was going to be a failure regardless of time.

There of course comes the catch. 25 hours was now in my head. I wanted a time starting with 24. This became my new motivation and on i went. Then it happened i started to recognise the pathway and knew i was approaching the last mile of the race. Dog walkers were cheering and other runners were encouraging me as i passed them. I had one parting obscenity for the climbs and then glanced at my watch..... 6 minutes to go! I saw the distinct overhanging tree that my brain had mentally logged as the start of the trail on the way out. Conversely this meant i was about to hit pavement. So i ran and promised myself i would not stop until the finish. Then i saw the bridge in the distance... 4 minutes to go. So i picked up the pace again. I could feel i had a sprint in me, but time it wrong and i would be blowing up before the finish line. I could hear my little boy in my mind. Before he starts running he will always shout “booster feet on.” So i picked my moment and “booster feet on.” I started to sprint and sprint hard... 2 minutes left. I veered right at the bridge and pegged it. I could see my sun in the distance on his uncle’s shoulders. Normally i would stop and take him to the finish, but... 1 minute left. I legged it past them and turned through the door and stopped my watch. YES! I did it. Well according to my watch i had. I was relieved when Natasha Fielden and Gemma Greenwood confirmed that i had finished the A100 in 24hours 59 minutes and 40 seconds.



After the finish i was so tired, but elated. A massive hug with Nici and then my family and i was done. At the end of the race Nici and Natasha both shared that there had been some conversations about me running. Nothing negative but just a realisation that i was choosing to run only 48 hours after landing from Florida. I was running despite no longer contending for the Grandslam. Bryan had earlier said to me that he possibly would not have run. It crossed my mind after NDW100 not to run this race, but i felt i needed the finish and i wanted to see where i was now at going into winter training. The race gave me back more than i could ever have anticipated. I am not talking about the Centurion organisation and the brilliance of their volunteers, as that goes without saying. This race somehow has been a huge factor in changing my thinking in relation to running. Before i would look at other people’s finishing times and think that their pace was just unattainable and only gifted runners could achieve such times. During this race i felt strong and i felt capable. I realised that this was off the back of 8 weeks of consistent training. I was then left wondering what i can achieve with a consistent few months of training. I now saw the quality times of the fastest runners as something to work towards rather than be frightened of. No more glass ceiling in my mind of what i (or anyone) could achieve.

I spoke with James Elson at the end and he completely got why i felt the need to run and the outcomes justified that. So my finishing time was 2 hours 8 minutes off my 100 miler PB. It was also 2hrs 46min faster than any 100 miler i had done this year.

Nope not tired... Not one bit

So my Race calendar was concluded for the year. I didn’t quite make the Centurion Grandslam. 376 miles out of 400 was my final total. Its easy to lose sight of the achievements made. This year i have set a PB and completed 3 out of 4 100 milers. I am now being trained by Eddie Sutton and am inspired to see what we can achieve by May next year. I attribute substantial amounts of my progress to Eddie’s plans. I have a coach who cares about my running and my enjoys seeing me improve. Being the best you can be is her mantra and i truly believe this. With her help i am finding the balance of family and dedicated training. So next I will be running GUCR in 2016 and revisiting the Centurion Grandslam in 2017. With consistency to my training who knows what will happen at these races? But, maybe... just maybe........

Not a bad years haul

South Downs Way 100 - Grandslam Part 2.

So I survived the Thames Path 100. It's important to open up with this statement as I was worried after that race that my ankle was in bits. It's becoming very apparent that to complete the Grandslam there is a lot of self management required. The body needs to hold up as well as the mind. With this vehemently at the forefront if my mind I attended physio and got an exercise progranme for my ankle and had massage sessions to sort out my ankles. The issues appeared to flow all the way up into my hamstrings so I'm glad I appear to have got this addressed. I have followed instruction and increased my stretching and foam rolling. I feel this has paid of well. My legs feel less stiff and the ankles more stable. I'd put the effort in. I had not done any long runs between Thames Path 100 and South Downs Way 100, but it's only a 6 week window and I was keen to make recovery the priority.

Of all four races this year the South Downs Way was the one I was looking forward to. I love the route and everything about it.byte fact it finishes only 5 minutes away from the in laws is an added bonus. With the knowledge that I am comfortable with the route my excitement and anticipation escalated to an all time high. Never before have I been so excited and so on edge for a race day to arrive. The other runners and crews all seemed to be feeling the same sense of anticipation and the swell of excitement could be felt across social media. My Twitter feedback and Facebook all consumed by talks of kit, weather, pace plans, weather, nutrition, weather and then as it all settled down a few more conversations about the weather.

This year I had a host of friends running the route. My running family seems to be growing faster than the Brady Bunch and to this end it was probably inevitable that I would in some capacity know a chunk of the runners. This just made the build up all the more exciting and l knew from past experiences this was going to be like a travelling festival from checkpoint to checkpoint. With several friends running their first 100 miler in one way or another this weekend was going to be a big adventure full of joy, heartache and maybe a tiny bit of swearing.

The plan for the weekend was to stay in a local holiday in just down the road from the start line. Bryan Webster (@UltraDHC) and I were sharing a twin room and had planned to meet in Eastbourne and get the train to the start. A plan that would work well and keep the weekend relatively stress free. This plan was made even simpler when the wonderful Bev Navesey started offering her wonderful assistance. It was a true example of what is so wonderful about this community. Bev basically offered to pick Bryan and myself up from our hotel room on race morning. Fantastic no walking or taxi required. Then she offered to pick us up from train station and take us to registration and then to our hotel and then do the morning collection for registration... even better. Then she realised we were getting the train from Eastbourne and suggested we shorten out journey and she would pick us up from Lewes. Honestly the woman is a bloody legend. She had just single handedly catered to every remaining need Bryan and I had. The only thing left for her to do would be to offer to run the 100 miles. Bev fell very silent at this point... guess you can’t have it all.

So it was all sorted. Bryan and I met in Eastbourne and with my children waving us goodbye at the train station (Finley had wanted to see us get on “Thomas”) we were off to Lewes. Both of us were excited for the upcoming race, but equally disappointed in ourselves that we hadn’t bought an extra Subway. We arrived to Lewes and waited for Bev and Steve to arrive. We loaded all our kit and drove back to Bev and Steve’s. Steve had forgotten his running shoes, a piece of kit he seemed to think would be essential for the weekend. We passed the time to Winchester with general chatter and learning lots of hidden gems about Paul Navesey. Take it from me people don’t piss the boy off he could kill Chuck Norris. Bryan was slightly fearful that his twitter banter may now lead to a premature death. Apart from this though the journey was easy and before we really knew it we were at out hotel. Bev dropped us off to settle in and was to return later to ensure we were ready for an evening check in. I really am grateful when I can arrive for a race early and relax. The stress of having to rush around is not conducive to a positive start to a race. We were able to ensure kit bags were packed and race kit laid out. Then we watched some trash on TV. These including the quiz show “The Chase.” Bryan observantly pointed out that the Quiz Pro looked like a “fat James Adams.” So after broadcasting this to twitter we were off to check in.

At check in it was the start of a weekend of catching up with friends and absorbing the race atmosphere. So many excited faces all coming of the back of a taper and carb load made for an excitable atmosphere. Chatting to Mark, Phil, Tony, Gary, and several others it was great to be part of the gathering momentum towards a start. The registration was as seem less as ever, although Bryan did prick himself on a safety pin from within the pot (Health and safety report Nici?). A quick hello with Graham Carter (@GrahamCarterGC) and it was clear he was like a little boy at Christmas who had just heard bells and assumed Santa was on the roof. He looked ready and I had every confidence that Graham would be making it to Eastbourne. So with registration done Bryan manage to blag us a lift from Stew in what can only be described as a bloody fast car. It saved Bev one journey and we were very grateful to our smooth transition from destination to destination. After some food at the massively over price hotel restaurant and a chat with Bryan and Mark it was time for bed. The day had gone to plan and after a foam roll session (physio’s advice) and a final kit check it was time for bed. Bryan and I had succeeded in being in bed before 10pm and I was awake about 5 minutes before the 4:30am alarm. The other 7 alarms were not needed and it was race day. All the excitement and preparation had built to this day. The recovery from TP100 and the training before all of it was now focused on part 2 of the Grandslam. It would soon be time to run to Eastbourne and keep myself in this Grandslam challenge. I had taped my ankles, but it was an unknown how my Achilles would hold up.  The only way to find out would be to start running.

At the start I had the opportunity to catch up with some more runners, including Sam Robson (@stupid_drummer) and Fi McNellis. Fi is basically a bubbly ball of enthusiastic joy. Seeing her lifted the spirits and a brief catch up with Nici and James and I was feeling ready. Sam looked determined in the morning and I felt confident he may just be on for a good race. My mind switched from other people’s races and I lined up at the start with Ashley (@irunsalt), Graham Carter and Bryan Webster. The briefing was given and we were off. All with our own game plans and feeling ready. A lap of the sports field was the traditional start to this race. As we made our way round the morning dew was glistening and everybody could be seen to be holding themselves back like excitable puppies. As we exited the field it was time for a final goodbye to many people who I would not see until the following day in Eastbourne. Exiting the field I felt like we were leaving through the entrance to a secret garden. For the next 30 hours the South Downs somehow belonged to us and every moment and memory would forever be etched into the landscape, somehow rendering us all in some small part immortal.

I love this race and the environment generated within it. Somehow such races encapsulate everything that is good about the human spirit. We run for hours on end to be greeted by people equally happy in their space and mind to be topping up water bottles and catering to every runner like a VIP. I have served on both sides of the table and I can assure you that both are enjoyable and go for the soul.

During the first leg I was instantly into a rhythm and feeling good about myself and the day that lay ahead. It was relatively cool with a nice bit of cloud over and all was seeming right with the world. I was using Race Drone for the day (separate review to follow). This would use my phone’s GPS and plot my position on a map every 15 minutes. This gave Zoe the assurances that she required to know that I was alive and progressing from checkpoint to checkpoint. Not needing to phone anybody to provide updates meant I could focus on my race and nothing more than that. During the first leg I ran for a bit with Bryan Webster and Ashley Hurd. I was comfortable with the pace, but figured it was certainly a matter of time before Bryan would disappear into the distant. Everyone was hitting their stride and the field was beginning to spread out. I had set myself the weekend game plan of jogging the flats, running the downhills and walking the uphills. If there was a downhill I would run the entire stretch of it, but would hike the uphills. This way there would be regular breaks, but a constant focus on making effective progress.

After about 7 or 8 miles Bryan and Ashley disappeared off into the distant. I knew that Bryan would do this but had not anticipated Ashley steaming off. I think he runs about my pace and so it was a surprise, but this was his race to run and I had my own agenda that was not going to be swayed by that of others. Pretty much from this point in I would spend the rest of the day interacting with various people and a core group of people who I would leapfrog all the way to Eastbourne. The day was beginning to heat up. In my head I had figured given it was mid-morning the day would not get much hotter. Of course this was the distortion of having been awake since 4:30am. In reality it was only about 7:30am and the heat that was soon to set upon us could not have been envisaged. The humidity was soon to take a vice like grip on the competitors and for much play a significant factor in curtailing their race prematurely. Anyway for now I plodded on in bliss and ignorance.

Arriving at the first check point everything felt good. The only issue was that my Rock Tape had come loose on the sides of my legs. No bother as the support element was around my ankles. I figured it was probably human error that had led to the tape coming loose, but regardless it needed dealing with. A quick enquiry with the Aid Station revealed there were no scissors there, but they did have a massive knife. So picture the scene… I am passed a large knife and crouch over a small mound of turf and proceed to rip through the loose tape with the knife. To anyone coming round the bend it probably looked like I was setting about early amputation of my lower limbs. I can assure this was not the case and I felt really good. Natasha Fielden (aid station extraordinaire) suggested I was “very Bear Gryhlls.” Now flattery will get you everywhere, but at present I am very aware my physique means I probably looked more like Ray Mears. So bounding out of the aid station, knife safely returned to its owners, and on a mission I was munching my first of many picnics. Watermelon at this point in the day was bloody amazing and went down an absolute treat. Other foods were less easy, but I knew it was important to get as many calories in as I could.

 

With the day heating up and some good running already in the legs I was feeling positive and it seemed very quickly it was time to descend off the downs and into the second checkpoint, QECP, and the mark of 22 miles into the race. I had stopped a little before this to rearrange my bag and ensure that I had access to my music. It was a happy moment when I realised I had sorted the settings so I could use the earphones to pause the music. It meant I would not have to keep reaching into my bag when I didn’t want to listen to music, or conversely when I wanted to turn it on for a 5 minute blast. My bag was performing well and I was much happier having condensed my kit into the more streamlined 5lt Slab, instead of my usual 12lt. It was lighter and sat higher up on my back. All in all I was very happy and had very little to complain about. So with this in mind I let the legs do all the work and with the grip of gravity we plummeted in unbridled fashion down the hill and into QECP. We passed a wealth of walkers. It was more like a sea of walkers cascading up the hill. I can only liken it to some scene out of Lord of the Rings where the Armies are marching as Frodo weaves discreetly between them. Our group of some 260 runners were dwarfed by this army of hikers, but hey we were faster and looked like we were having more fun. So after the sprint down the hill it was a short jaunt through woodland and down into the checkpoint where I was greeted by Natasha Fielden. No you have not scanned back to the top of the article. Natasha was tasked with jumping from checkpoint to checkpoint. She filled my soft flasks and after a quick chat I grabbed my second picnic and marched out of the aid station stuffing my face. The heat of the day had risen at this point and the humidity, more concerning, did not appear as if it was going to have a cap on it today. We were in for a sweltering one and may be something that simply had to be endured.

The next Aid Station would see the runners pass through the marathon distance. It was a good feeling and I was feeling like I had taken little energy out of my legs and so far was holding on to my game plan. Runner’s amnesia sets in a little here and detail to the next aid station is a little blurred. I know that the running was good and I was feeling strong. Passing through this checkpoint with minimal fuss was key and on I marched to Cocking. I ran with a few runners on this stretch and it is possibly one of my favourite stretches of the trail. There were some excellent running conditions with well-maintained trails and for a large part it was downhill. This meant with my game plan in mind I spent the majority of the last three miles, approaching the checkpoint, running and running well. I chatted to a lady who was also attempting the Grandslam (how many of us nutters are out there?) and had gone a little over 24hrs at Thames Path and was pushing for 24 hours today. I was right on the cusp of the 24hour timescales, but felt it could be achievable, if the conditions stayed as they were. The catch to this being that it was now bloody hot. Come on light rain, cloud cover… something, but no! Beaming sunshine and a ramped up humidity with a high pollen count. Oh well these things are set to try us. So running up through the field I passed the support crews who were basking in the sunshine. They did not seem to share my desire for some light rain. The Aid station was welcome and I felt a strong need to start drinking my Pepsi/water combination in my soft flask. I doused my cap in water and scoffed some melon and pineapple (food of the running gods today.) Marching out of the Aid Station I ate some mini scotch eggs and reached the first part of a long drawn out climb. I stopped at the gate and did some proper stretching. I loosened out my hamstring, calves, glutes and quads. It felt great and really gave some increased mobility back to my legs. I quickly caught up with some runners who had passed me whilst I was stretching. One gentleman thought about dropping, but was on form now having let his mate run on at a faster pace. He seemed much happier now he was following the important mantra of “run your own race.” I am delighted that I would see him intermittently throughout the race and in Eastbourne. I had told him that my aim was to get to Clayton Windmills as for me this symbolised the point of the race where it felt like I was running home and on familiar soil.

With my head down I marched up the climbs and pressed on to the next aid station in what were now very warm conditions. So as I entered mile 42 I could see a lot of stricken bodies. Some looked like they were really going to struggle to get moving again, whilst others looked like they were about to rise to their feet and reject the Aid Station with all their might. As I had finished grabbing food I saw Ashley Hurd. He looked in a pretty bad way and as if he may be on the brink of dropping. Knowing that Ashley was one of the remaining 34 Grandslam runners I encouraged him to get moving and put some miles in his legs. As I moved along the paths I walked an uphill and Ashley came running past. He seemed to have a little mojo back, but I was concerned in this heat that he was choosing to run the hills. About 10 minutes later I saw Ashley duck into a hedge and I then did not see him for the remainder of the stretch, I did not think anything of it as I began to find my stride and opened up some good running. Shortly before entering into mile 50 I ran with a girl who I think said her name was Gemma. I can’t be sure as she talked so fast that we rattled through more topics than I think my wife and I have covered in 4 years of marriage ;) Mind you only in the world of Ultras could a lady go from chatting about nothing in particular to the frequency of her urination and need to poo. In the sunshine this conversation just made me smile. We talked about running and the support of our partners. Both of us were hoping to be into 50 miles by around 11 hours. This gave plenty of time for a finish. I eased off as we came down the descents onto the river. As we opened gates and headed towards the bridge Gemma powered on. I was happy with my pace and confident I would get to 50 miles in 11 hours.  The sunshine and glorious atmosphere had spirits high, but the heat was taking its toll on the body. Running past cars that were support crews for runners it was nice to get some cheers and as tempting as the offer of a cold beer was I continued to press on.

Coming into mile 50 there was some glorious motivational signs. I didn’t hang around at this aid station for long. Getting there in around 11 hours meant I had plenty of time to get to the finish. This was a solid objective, but the temperature was still seeming to rise despite it being 5pm. So onwards I marched to mile 54 and the promise of a hot meal.  

At the 54 mile mark there is a less than delightful diversion off of the SDW trail. I say less than delightful only because any diversion away from your end goal is undesirable. The humour and effort of aid stations crew never ceases to impress and so as I approached the aid station I was dutifully directed to turn left by none other than Elvis. I was a little disappointed that he didn’t have blue suede shoes on, but you can’t have everything. Then as sure as night follows day I saw Karen Webber sat cheering the runners in. She was in fine spirits and with the boost of a hug I asked after the new addition to the family. As a proud aunt Karen beamed from ear to ear. The conversation took place without my feet ceasing to approach the aid station. Inside I made the necessary visit to the toilets. Held up by only one cubicle functioning I took the opportunity to stretch and again this seemed to help a lot. As I was getting my stuff ready to head back out Ash and Graham arrived into the aid station. I chatted to them a bit. It seemed that Ash was struggling and a further motivational “man up” was delivered, but in truth Ash looked like his mind was lurching back towards his heavily pregnant wife at home and getting his running shoes off. Graham on the other hand looked in great form and positive spirits. He was prepping for the second half and the serious test of his ability to finish. Looking at him it was clear he was going to finish. I think you can often tell at around half way if someone is likely to finish or not. Today Graham was clearly on a mission. So after a brief discussion of the others who we knew running today, it became a list of survivors and seemingly fallen comrades, I pushed on. I advised the guys to get moving soon and that I was sure I would see them soon.

I pressed on out of the aid station. It was a little cooler than before, but the humidity remained and it was clear that challenge was unlikely to subside right through to the finish. Oh well suck it up and get on with the job. A final farewell to the crew and a special nod to Elvis and I was back on the trail. I munched on some food and spoke to my wife. All was well at home and the children were happily getting ready of bed. They were all in Eastbourne and would be there for my finish. I love the solitude and tranquillity of mind that running long distances bring, but I also am greater empowered to do this by the support of my wife and the knowledge that the family are safe and well. Zoe reported back to me that Race Drone was working perfectly. So much so in fact that she regaled me with tales of my own race, “I notice that you keep passing two runners and then they pass you.” The app was proficiently showing her the downhills where I was storming past and the uphills where the gap was then closed. It appeared the app was creating an almost matrix like code that Zoe could interpret and consequently visualise the race. So I pressed on and confirmed I would call again around Alfriston.

With the next aid station being Botolphs I was still making positive progress. Yes I was battling the sleep demons, but otherwise I was in good shape with plenty of running to be had in my legs. Around this point I over took Steve Navesey. He was struggling a little and so had planned to ease back. Now if you have not read his blog then you may be the only person in the country that doesn’t know that Steve got no sleep the night before the race. I believe his words to me went something along the lines of “fuck you Lenny Henry… fuck your good night guarantee.” I was retold the story of Steve sending a chair across the room. So despite fatigue Steve was pressing on and maintaining forward momentum. I pressed on and at this point despite the tiredness I could run and I could adhere to my race plan. This would all change, but not quite yet. Well pretty soon after actually. I entered the Botolphs Aid station where I think I received one of the most enthused welcomes from Sarah Sawyer. Like so many I have spoken to her a bit on social media and so she knew I was running. I grabbed some food for the climb out of Botolphs and marched on. Seeing Bev Navesey walking down the hill she asked how I was. I told her I was fine and that Steve was only a few minutes behind. Now the hill out of Botolphs is the one where I had advised others in my previous blog (surviving the South Downs Way 100) to put on your jacket as the wind can get up. The humidity was so high that I elected to ignore this advice and press on. Up the top of this climb the road stretches out on concrete for an absolute age before re-joining trail. I elected to walk most of this to preserve my legs for later in the race.

The aid stations get that much closer at this point in the race and so before I knew it I was only a couple of miles away from  the aid station. At this point fatigue was hitting me. I just wanted to close my eyes and drift off and wake up in Eastbourne. I was loving the race and the adventure, but a can of red bull would have gone down a treat at this point. Plus I had elected to leave my chocolate covered coffee beans at home. This was a mistake, but I have never suffered with tiredness in this manner before and can only attribute it to the humidity. Arriving at Saddlescombe farm it looked like a graveyard of runners. The draw of the buffet appeared to have engulfed some runners and it was clear that they were not leaving under any circumstances. Less thankfully, but an equal benefit, was that my appetite had faded to nothing and I couldn’t bear the thought of eating. Then I saw it… the most amazing site I had seen for the last few hours… Watermelon and masses of it. I took about 5 pieces and marched up the hill. Knowing I was close to my drop bag it felt futile to stop for too long. The initial climb is annoying out of Saddlescombe, but the rest is pretty steady, but seems to go on forever. Eventually I could see lights off in the distance. I knew from Andrew Baille that the plan was to maintain the tradition we had set at this aid station the previous year. I was far from disappointed. The welcome I got at the top was spectacular. I was greeted with a conga line, but resisted the invitation to join in and ignoring the famous words of Gollum I followed the lights. I followed them down the hill and round the bend, in to the car park and the rave station of Clayton Windmills. Here I was welcome by Andrew and he ensured that all of my needs were catered for. I had my drop bag in my hand before I had even got to a chair. I was sorry to hear that Darren Chilcott had dropped as well. The race seemed to be stripping everything back and leaving nothing to hide behind. I took a couple of bits out of my drop bag and attempted a cup of coffee. At this point I just could not eat anything. I knew this could be bad as I had chocolate covered pretzels in my bag and couldn’t eat them. Now Nici Griffin had a pack of these bad boys off of me at Endure 24 so she knows how good they are and the level of severity not eating them must imply. I forced down some roasted potatoes with salt and pressed on.

From Clayton Windmills things became a struggle and a battle. Now not with my legs, or my feet and in fact most of my body had running left in it. The issue became that I started suffering with acid reflux and I could not shift it. I went through a spell of not eating in order not to suffer the feeling of reflux and then I would get near the red line of my tank and so eat, but then suffer reflux for a couple of miles. This juggling act of no energy vs reflux would continue right until I reached the track in Eastbourne. Nothing I tried to eat would resolve and even the Kendall mint cake that I had collected from my drop bag was not easing the stomach. So I sucked on this for energy and minimised the reflux this way.

The sleep demons really gripped me in this stretch and I was going to need to do something to bring me out of it. I still felt like I could run on and make some progress, but now was feeling like I needed to be sick, but had nothing to expel. I supressed the feeling and pressed on, but this in turn also increased my tiredness. At one point I was sure I saw a runner alongside me, but then nothing. I don’t know if it was just mind drifting out or whether it was a hallucination, but I was grateful for the aid stations arrival. So I plonked myself in a chair, but I could not get any food in me. I requested a coffee and hoped this would help. Steve Navesey arrived about 5 minutes after and looked tired (remember had no sleep the night before… in case you didn’t already know), but he had a pacer and appeared in good spirits. I put my head in my hands and tried to just have a couple of 5 minute power naps. There was a fine balance here of staying long enough to right myself, but not so long I could not stand up. The aid station crew were great and recognised I needed to just sit and close my eyes. A few sips of coffee and yep the acid reflux rose up again. So I decided to get angry with myself. Not a kind of depressive angry, but an anger that would spark an alternative kind of stubborn bastard fire in my belly. I would use this fire to drive me to my feet, switch my mind off from the reflux and ultimately get me to the finish. Now a crew member obviously had a few concerns and escorted me to the turn and then wished me well. I knew getting out of that chair was a defining moment and I vowed not to sit down again until the finish. This little stretch has special memories as it is where I spent my first ever father’s day. It’s accounted in my 2013 SDW100 blog here.  So I pressed on and out towards Southease. At some point along this stretch Steve and his pacer passed me. With the issues I was having my aim was to finish and set myself up for part 3 of the Grandslam. The race today was not a single event for me and was one part of a much greater project. I had to remember this and press on to Southease.

The moment came in which I arrived at Southease and was politely pointed to climb over the bridge. I jokingly said to the crew “oh come on that’s just mean.” They were just about the most apologetic pair, looking horrified at asking runners with over 70 miles in their legs to climb two flights of stairs and then descend them again almost immediately. I quickly thanked them and clarified that I was joking with my previous statement. When you’re tired sometimes the radar for tone and inferences drops out and so I wanted them to be sure I held no grudge towards them. The safety element to crossing at the bridge made perfect sense. I would not want heavily fatigued runners crossing the railway track at the gate. I arrived into Southease and the same old problem of not eating. I shovelled some crisps in my mouth but could manage no more. As I was exiting the aid station Graham Carter arrived looking well and moving ok. I said I would see him in a minute and pressed on. I figured he would probably catch me and so I didn’t want either of us to be held up. I was still tired and practically asleep on my feet, but I knew this stretch like the back of my hand and was fairly confident that at this point I could run in my sleep if I needed to.

I pressed on up Southease feeling like some kind of conquering hero ascending Everest. In reality of probably looked more like a drunken hedgehog climbing a curb. Like with so many ultras though if you keep putting one foot in front of the other the end fast approaches. So half way up the climb out of Southease I was awestruck (not for the first or by far the last time) by the beauty of the downs. Looking out across the route and the magnitude of the task achieved so far. Many people would already be finished and several were still behind me and yet I didn’t mind where I was. The reality remained that in that moment the view was mine and mine alone. I drank in the atmosphere and pressed on. It had become a pattern now that I would continuously swap places with Shawn Timmons and of course at this point Graham was striding up the mountain like the BFG. He had a massive grin on his face and despite the fatigue of 84 miles he was clearly loving it. We got to the top of the climb together and there was something poetic about the fact that one of the first times I ran with Graham was this last stretch through to Eastbourne. Being the gentleman that he is I was instructed to press on. I had running in my legs, but I wanted to be asleep and my stomach was still reminding me that the reflux had not gone. Sucking on Kendal mint cake was now like sucking on pebbles and there was little solution, but to suck it up and press on. So press on I did and I pulled away from Graham. I had the intention of opening up my legs and seeing if I could at least kick on a bit and draw a course PB from the race. I had a lightning bolt moment though and asked myself “why?” What would I really achieve by pressing on? The 24 hour target had now gone. I reflected on this and yes my first aim was sub 24, but I knew at this point in my training I wanted it the same way I want a lap dance from Cheryl Cole…. Never going to happen. So now my race was about the Grandslam and with running still in my legs I wanted an injury free race and fast recovery time. That was the initial thoughts for slowing and taking it steady. I am not sure what the passage of time was for this thought process, but then I glanced over my shoulder and about 400 metres back was Graham still plodding on and hanging on to my pace. I eased off a little and ran with Graham having his company to enjoy a few miles woke me up and made things that bit easier. We chatted about the race and the reasons we run. Both of us share a common love of running and of this route. We pressed on and occasionally stopped/stretched/complained and anything else we needed to do.

Time passed quickly with Graham and pretty soon we were running in to the next aid station. I picked up the pace a little and told Graham to hang with me. He duly obliged and we pressed on into Alfriston. I lost Graham on the descent down the rubble ground, but I was confident he would be catching me again on the ascent. This course layout meant that for the flats we could stick together. So for the first time in about 30 miles I gunned it down the descent. It was exhilarating and I felt great. Knowing the course meant I knew exactly where I was going and the run was care free. I had a little flashback to 2013 when my wife met me at this point and ground out the last 9 miles. The gesture has always stuck with me as that finish catapulted me into my love of ultra running. Here I was now still moving well, but not concerned with time. There was plenty in the bank and so no issues like with Thames Path 100. Short of disasters this should be 2 of 4 races completed. Somehow Alfriston always gets me to feeling like its nearly over. I think it is the dip into the single mileage. I was pondering my love of running and the joy of the freedom, the isolation and the solitude and yet one of the things I was loving most about today was running with friends and knowing others were waiting for me to arrive into aid stations. This race today had the freedom, but also the camaraderie as well.

I entered the village chicane that is Alfriston and dropped into the Aid station. I didn’t stay long as I knew the next climb was just mean. So I used the facilities and had a quick catch up with Graham and then pressed on. Graham was going to have a quick look at a letter from his son, make himself comfortable and press on. I told him not to be too long and to catch me up. There was no doubt that he would do this. So on I went and quickly the climb arrived. So with thoughts of my family I found myself saying one of my little boy’s favourite sayings “let's do this thing.” And up I marched. Sure enough I toiled with the hill and about three quarters up I turned to see the BFG churning up the mountain. We were side by side when we reached the top and pressed on to Jevington. We spoke about race plans and Graham’s slight state of shock that he was almost a finisher of a 100 mile race. I love the stretch between Alfriston and Jevington as it always seems to be over quite quickly and sure enough Graham and I ran down the hill and into the aid station. It was wonderful to be greeted by Sarah and David Barker. The Aid Station was awash with a plethora of treats and goodies. I felt like Charlie with the golden ticket, but alas my stomach was still not happy so I declined, except for the watermelon. I bloody love you water melon. The big hug from Sarah and the upbeat encouragement from David made this one of my favourite aid stations of the day. It is no mean feat to keep such an aid station fully stocked after a large part of the field has passed through. Again I pressed on whilst Graham used the facilities. I gave Zoe a quick call and told her always fine and that I would be there soon. I plodded on to the Jevington climb. Now Graham was obviously motivated and was with me for the start of the climb. We ground the son of a bitch out together. Having Graham there reminded me what I can actually do and so I hung onto his pace right to the top. I made him pause for a picture at the top. This spot is still one of my favourite photographs from any race. It shows how far you have come and at the top of the last climb symbolises the beginning of the end. I wanted to ensure that Graham savoured this experience as much as I was. For a while I had been running in black and white and now things were resuming in colour. We ran on past the trig point and a quick chat with Chris Mills and we were ready to get this thing done.

Descending this narrow pathway we made the decision to walk. Hitting the bottom I asked Graham if he was bothered about his time and he confirmed he wasn’t and with that we agreed to take a stroll in the Sunday afternoon. I liken it to the coffee after a good meal. We were savouring everything that had gone before in order to ensure we could really soak up the achievements at the end. Passing one gentleman, I now know as Tim Vincent, it was clear he was in a lot of pain and holding himself up on walking poles. His determination though was exemplary and many could take note of this. There was no way he would be quitting and this inspiration will stay with me for races to come. The fact so many others were later talking about his run shows how it is not just the front runners who can influence the masses.

Graham and I were now able to enjoy the warming day. There was no pressure to our finish time and we caught up with another runner and enjoyed the stroll, knowing that most drivers passing would have no clue that these bunch of runners looking knackered had run from Winchester. As we crossed the road I advised Graham to savour the moment. This I think is one of the few times I have been more excited about someone else’s finish than my own. So we were only about 50 metres from turning into the Athletics track car park. I was about to see my family and run the track. I spurred Graham on and told him there was no way anyone else was seeing us walking and so we started to run, turning to Graham that was it we shared a smile knowing we had experienced something special over the last 16 miles and I told him not to stop running until he crossed that bloody finish line. We entered the track through the gates. I stopped for my kids but not before shouting “you got this Graham go and get that finish.” Graham pressed on and this moment was all his, the joy of which you can see in his finish line photographs. For me races these days take on a different message. I want to inspire my children and generate memories for them that they can do the impossible. So different from my 2013 race were I opened the taps and sprinted for the end. I stopped took my daughter in my arms and my little boys hand (after a massive hug of course) and he said “we do some running daddy?” I looked him straight in the eyes, smiled and said “come on then son.” We were off jogging the track, the moment just placing icing on the cake. Finley said “we are catching him daddy” referring to any gentleman in front of us. I didn’t think he would appreciate being out run by a three year old and so grasping Finley’s hand we carried on. I looked up to see Graham approaching the final bend I cried out “go get it Graham” and hearing the cheers as he crossed the line will stay with me for ever. Now my moment round the track did not last long enough and so we approached the final straight. I looked at Finley and said “on your marks”, he duly got in the ready position, “get set”, he raised his bum, “GO” and he started running with all his might. There would be a Park sprint special this year, but it wouldn’t be mine. We crossed the line in 28hrs 40 something, but to be honest that was irrelevant. I got to run a special race with special friends and create a memory with my wife and children that will last a life time. My small regret was not getting a photograph of Graham and I together at the end, but once that adrenalin has gone you have to sit down. Special thanks to James, Nici and the Centurion family, to support crews and Aid stations, all who cheered, supported and spent more hours on the course than most runners. You all made this race experience the special experience that it was.

So after crossing the line there were hugs with family. Finley was presented with the buckle and told me “don’t worry daddy we can share it”. Several hugs with other familiar people including Nici, Natasha and Fi exuded the warmth of this running family. This was broken quickly by firm instructions from Nici that I had to bloody finish the Grandslam now. I caught up with James Elson and Drew Sheffield who were also very complimentary about my finish and prospects of completing the Grandslam. This goal is so important to me and I will  happily see you all on the North Downs Way, but over the course of this race (pun intended) it became about so much more. My running is about freedom, a chance for time alone, for peace and quiet, to reflect, but what was apparent when all is said and done… Give me the Freedom to run and I will always run home.