Back At It - 100 Miles

After running the North Downs Way 100 back in 2019 I have to say that I wasn’t really of a mind to return to the 100 mile distance. I would love to say that the NDW100 was fun, fun, fun all the way but a little gander at the video I made of the experience would prove that to be a crock of BS. It was very tough and my finish time of just over 26 hours served to prove that point. 100 miles, I concluded, was rather an insane distance to attempt to run in one go and figured that I’d probably be ‘one and done.’

Well, the funny thing about time and the human brain is that, on the one hand, we are prone to forget all the little details of an experience and event and tend to look back on things with rose-tinted specs, and secondly, endurance events and challenges of any ilk have a natty way of just nestling right into the little cracks in your brain where they sit and ferment and give rise to ideas. “Hmm….. what if I did the South Downs Way 100? It would be nice to ‘complete the set,’ wouldn’t it? It’s meant to be more runnable so it’ll probably be a lot faster and more fun, right?” The second one starts asking questions like these fate is already set.

It still wasn’t certain I was going to do the South Downs Way until the very last minute, for a couple of reasons. First of all, I had relatively recently run the Two Oceans Marathon in Cape Town, putting in a really solid sub-5 hour performance that I was still buzzing off, and so was on a bit of a recovery drive from that, and secondly, I had needed to submit my passport for renewal. If, I told myself, my new passport came back quickly - a far-fetched idea, or so I thought at the time - then I would take it as a sign and enter the race, especially as Sarah, my coach, had advised me that being a Centurion-coached athlete I was essentially guaranteed a spot. I did not expect the UK passport office to knock it out of the park in quite the spectacular way they did and so when my passport came back to me in less than 3 weeks - kudos the UK, not something we get to say very often - it was official: me and the South Downs Way 100 were about to get acquainted!

I went into this 100 miler feeling a lot more confident than I did back in 2019, when the furthest I had run at that point was 85km. Since then I have done the North Downs Way 100, completed the Comrades Marathon, circumnavigated the UTMB route, had a crack at the Cape Wrath Ultra and done the Two Oceans Marathon. Basically, I have done a lot of running over the past few years and so felt that I had a long distance event in my legs and the mental fortitude to be able to get the job done. Besides, the South Downs Way is “much more runnable and faster” than the North Downs Way and so I figured I had this. I knew I was fit enough and so it was more going to come down to whether I was mentally gritty enough on the day.

Planning & Kit

The North Downs Way was a whole new experience and so going into the South Downs Way 100 I did at least have some inkling of what to expect from a 100 mile race, including what worked for me and what didn’t. Having a crew - in 2019 my parents ended up fulfilling this role pretty much by accident - does make a difference, as they can ensure that you have the various bits and bobs that you need at various points along the route, in addition to being on hand to go and fetch some item, whether it be equipment or nutrition, that might make sense on the day. Mum was unfortunately unable to join this year on account of a pre-booked commitment but dad was up for it, as was my sister, Amanda, who also said she’d be down to do some pacing, having commented that it seemed like it would be “fun” when I mentioned having seen other runners with their pacers at the NDW100. She was also going to bring down my two nieces for the weekend so we had the makings of a fun family weekend, one where Uncle Chris does a crazy thing by running from Winchester to Eastbourne in a ‘wunna.’

Documents were prepared, detailing the various crew points and what kit etc they would have with them, whilst I planned out my race by banking on an average pace of about 8km per hour, working out the time I expected to be at each key location. This included a nutrition plan, essentially telling me how much carbohydrate, salt and fluids I should aim to consume per hour, and was printed and laminated so that I could carry it and refer to it throughout the race. This did actually make a difference especially during those parts of the race when my brain just wasn’t operating optimally.

Nutrition has always been my stumbling block and specifically ensuring that I consume enough energy to sustain a consistent effort. Sarah and I also concluded that in previous races, such as the 82km ultra in Al Ula, where I hit the wall at about 60km, I hadn’t consumed enough salt. As such, salt tablets were purchased and electrolyte top-up incorporated into my overall plan. As in previous events, the foundation of my nutrition plan was to fuel mainly using Tailwind - the aid stations were supplying it but I intended to top that supply up - and Hi5 gels, which worked for me at both the Comrades and Two Oceans marathons. As such, what seemed like a metric ton of both Tailwind and gels were ordered online and delivered back home in the UK, from where I’d pick them up before heading to Winchester for the race.

Last year, when I headed to Scotland for the Cape Wrath Ultra, the UK experienced unseasonably wet conditions. This year it transpired that the weather was going to try something completely different as a heatwave was instead predicted. “Hmm….this could play to my strengths,” I thought, although I also know how punishing lengthy periods of time out in hot, sunny weather can be and so was quietly hoping for there to, preferably, be some degree of cloud cover on the day, especially as the South Downs Way route was not known for being very ‘under cover.’ In typical UK fashion, the forecast seemed to flip-flop between “very hot” to “mild” over the days leading up to race weekend, with thunderstorms even predicted at some point during the race. In the end what we got was a classic “scorcher,” which played the key role in how many runners’ race panned out.

Two bits of additional kit that I purchased very last minute, and was incredibly glad to have done so, were a pair of SunGod Ultras, a rather 80’s looking wall of UV-blocking eyewear that did a great job of covering and protecting much of the upper half of my face during the day, and a desert cap, the one with the flappy sides and bit at the back that covers your neck. I was fortunate enough to be able to get both literally the day before the race and am convinced that they played a significant part in me avoiding full-blown sun-stroke.

Winchester - Ye Olde England

Dad and I headed down to Winchester a couple of days before the race as I wanted to avoid any undue last minute rushing and be able to relax a little beforehand, in addition to getting to explore Winchester a little. I booked a stunning little AirBNB in Twyford, a charming village on the outskirts of Winchester, arriving Thursday evening. On Friday we headed into Winchester itself and spent the best part of the day in tourist mode, starting with a hearty breakfast at the Ivy, for a touch of class, before exploring the main sites of the city, from The Great Hall to Winchester Cathedral and the statue of King Alfred the Great. Given how important carb-loading is before a big endurance race plenty of time was carved out for the essential task of eating well, and dad and I left the city feeling culturally and gastronomically sated.

A short drive from our AirBNB was Matterley Bowl, the site of the start line and where we were to register, picking up my race number (514), complete with some additional lilac spots, which I was informed denoted me as a Centurion runner - no pressure there then! There was a demonstration of just how hot and dry conditions were as we drove down the farm track towards the bowl, chalky dust instantly kicked up into the air by the cars in front, rendering the air almost foggy. It did make me chuckle when I saw one car heading out with it’s roof down and it’s occupants looking very much dusted and somewhat like they’d just spent a rather debauched weekend in Vegas partaking in a little too much naughty salt!

I was also given my GPS tracker for the race, which was taped onto my race pack, before dad and I headed back to wait for Amanda and the kids to arrive, and finalise things for the next morning. As far as settings for a race start went, Matterley Bowl was stunning: a truly English countryside vista if ever there was one, with freshly cut rolled bales of hay, a couple of tractors in view and all closed in by a sweeping bank of rich green grassland.

RACE DAY

Needless to say, it’s impossible to get anything approaching a “decent night’s sleep” immediately before a big race so when the alarm went off at 4am I was already awake. Having set out all of my gear the night before, all I really needed to do was shower, 3B and BodyGlide myself up, tape my feet up - in hindsight, I should have taped up more of my feet but it actually takes way longer to do than you think and so I just ran out of time - and then EAT! Amanda kindly drove me down to the start and we arrived literally 5 minutes before the start horn went off, so cut it a little close. However, the upside was that it curtailed any last minute nerves and the stress that ensues from hearing the kind of chat that you hear before something like an exam: “how was your training?” “Oh, I didn’t really train!” Before they then go and smash it out of the park. It’s weird how we do that as humans, isn’t it?!

Once again, I opted to take along a camera, this time actually packing both my GoPro and my trusty Insta360 OneX2, which has proven to be the perfect camera for running events like this as it not only fits perfectly into my race pack side pocket, but captures literally everything meaning I can just pick and choose the shots after the event. I have also mastered the skill of deploying the camera on the run, packing it back without having to break stride. Getting to look back on my NDW100 experience courtesy of the footage I filmed was not only a fun momento of the event, and allowed others to ‘come along for the ride’ but also served a more useful role of being great race-review material. It is inevitable with a loooooong race such as a 100 miler that little details, and sometimes whole sections, of the experience just get forgotten or misremembered. Having a camera on hand means that there is a record of the ups and downs, which makes dissecting the race and learning lessons from it so much easier. Plus, it also records for posterity some of the comic parts, such as me ‘seeing’ an ostrich in a field, only to realise moments later that it was, in fact, “just a path.”

The going was great for the first couple of hours and I was actually about 45 minutes ahead of schedule as I reached the first aid station. I wasn’t even feeling like I was pushing it too hard and so this buoyed me as I considered the prospect of posting an even faster time than the 22 hours I had predicted… But, the hot conditions that had settled over Southern England had different ideas.

My first concern was that despite being mindful to keep fluids going in and taking salt tabs every hour, which coincided with drinking about 500mls of fluid, I didn’t need a piss until about the 25km mark (QECP) and even then it was pretty concentrated, which didn’t feel right! How was I not better hydrated?! My salt intake was pretty high and I didn’t feel like I could drink any more fluids without risking a huge fluid filled stomach and vomiting! I called Sarah (my coach) at this point to discuss the situation and she said I would need to adjust the salt intake according to the conditions and how I was feeling, so more if any dizziness, tingly skin, headaches etc. My big concern was renal failure - I definitely did NOT want to risk that! If I’d have really thought things through though I’d have realised that the issue wasn’t so much fluids but more HEAT. I needed to actively cool myself down, something that I must have actually known at a sub-conscious level as I’d messaged my crew to ask them to try and pick up some ice. The eventual race winner, who had a blinder of a race, enacted a very effective active cooling strategy, stuffing his race sleeves with ice at crew stops and dunking his head in water at every possible opportunity.

The climbs and descents very quickly revealed themselves to be pretty steep as well! Most were on good paths but some were very uneven, hard and challenging on the legs, especially the quads and knees. Hmm… those poles were starting to look more desirable, although I’d opted to leave them with my crew, so would not be getting access to them until the halfway point.

It got progressively hotter as the day wore on and despite doing what I could to cool myself at the aid stations and keeping fluid and salt and energy going in I soon baked! One of the issues was the fact that the South Downs Way does not really have any cover and so we were exposed to the full glare of the sun, coupled with the fact that it is chalky terrain, meaning the sun reflected off the ground and back up at us, much like it does on water. So, cooked from both angles: great for a rotisserie chicken but not so much for a ultra-runner!

There was a cafe just before the Cocking aid station at the 35 mile (56km) mark, which felt as though it coincided with the peak of the mid afternoon heat and was a very welcome respite. I took advantage of having my ApplePay on me as I ordered a slushie and ice lolly! Bliss! Also, just to get some shade. As much as it was tempting to spend more time in that refreshingly cool refuge, I knew that I needed to haul ass and get moving. That’s the thing with long ultras: there will be plenty of points where the thought, “hmm…I could just take it easy here and walk, or even stop for a bit” becomes like a siren call in your head. Resisting the temptation to given in to these thoughts is one of the biggest challenges when it comes to ultra-running.

As I left the Houghton Farm aid station (45 miles/ 72km) I opted to pop in the old ear buds and fire up some tunes, with The Mysterines setting an upbeat mood as I headed towards the Arun River crossing. I was feeling pretty pumped I must say and confess that I was definitely engaging in some furious air drumming as I ran along, needless to say looking like a proper head case to anyone running behind me at that point. This mood was short-lived though.

As I was scaling the next big hill (now, forever christened Chunder Hill) my stomach just decided out of seemingly nowhere to invert and there was nothing I could do but ride the vomit comet, feeling my fuel gauge go from “something” down to “absolutely nothing.” Crap! Not a good development, especially as I knew from previous experience how hard it is to claw it back and keep going after bringing everything up like that. Wow! This race, or more to the point, the conditions, really were kicking my butt!

I mostly walked the next 15km or so (might have been less?! Brain wasn’t really working), as it coincided with the hottest part of the day and I felt like I had NOTHING in the tank at all - I was back feeling like I did at 60km in Al Ula in Saudi Arabia. Like a wisp of a man mustering everything I had just to resist the temptation to curl up on the grass and just stop! I found myself looking at sheep sitting under a big tree with some intense envy! I really began to doubt myself at this point and couldn’t have said whether I was going to be able to finish or not. That’s how utterly shite I was feeling. By the time I was approaching the actual halfway point I was moving on pure fumes and had Amanda joined me at Kithurst Hill (the official halfway point) then she’d have been less my pacer and more my chaperoning carer just trying to coax me to the Washington aid station. When spectators congratulated me on a “great effort,” it was as much as I could do to just wispily mutter “thanks.” There was another cafe (same branding as the one before, at Cocking - some kind of Cycle Club) on the route and so after filling up with water I ordered another slushie, which I sipped on for the next few kilometres. Anything to just keep the fluids, electrolytes and energy trickling in.

On the way to Washington - by now I was about 2 hours behind schedule, so my race plan had been completely torn up and now it was about gritting this out - there was a small crew point at Kithurst where a very very nice lady took my empty slushie cup and then another lady sprayed my face with cold water and popped some ice on my neck. Clearly seeing how f****d I looked she kindly guided me to her and her team’s car, encouraged me to sit down, gave me some Coco Cola, Gaviscon tablets, mini cheddars (for the salt) and then a bit of sausage roll, “for the salt and fats.” I nibbled away at that before I started to feel a bit more human and got underway again. What heroes! I reckon thanks to that team and their kindness I made it down to the Washington aid station without collapsing and it set me on the path to recovery for the next part of the race. She also gave me a couple more Gaviscon tablets in case I needed them later, which I did the following morning, when I started to get that all too familiar feeling of nausea encroaching. Thankfully after chowing them down I was able to avoid another chunder episode.

The Kithurst Hill Heroes

I made it to Washington aid station feeling utterly spent! I was fully of the mind that I was probably beaten and that I’d be calling it a day at this point. “Well” I thought. “It was a long shot and I hadn’t really trained specifically for it - even though I had really; I was definitely race fit - and 100 miles is an insane distance to try and run, and……” So many reasons and justifications I was giving myself to just make it all stop. “If I stop now then at least I can spend the next day with my nieces and it’ll save Amanda having to pace. But then again, won’t she be disappointed that she’s come all this way to pace me and so if I stop now it’ll have been a waste of time for her.” What an absolute bunch of mind-fuckery at play! As Sarah correctly said though, all it meant was that my stretch goal was no longer in play, so the objective was now simply to finish and to do so before the 30-hour cutoff. That’s the nature of these endurance events: you make plans and then adapt as the situation, conditions etc change. It’s a great metaphor for life in general: sometimes shit just gets in the way of best-laid plans. What was I going to do? Get pissed off at the weather?! 😆 Of course not - that’s just the way shit panned out: the race coincided with one of the hottest days of the entire year so far. What to do?!

So, as it turned out, an hour (and a bit) of rest, a couple of bottles of Lucozade Sport and a small bowl of pasta was what I sorely needed! I also tended to my quite sizeable heel blisters, draining them much to the disgust of Amanda, before applying a dressing to each and taping over them, which whilst it did not dissipate the discomfort did at least cushion them a bit. Blister care is something that I learnt from the Cape Wrath Ultra and thanks to that race I had a decent blister kit on hand.

A change of T-shirt and socks helped dissipate my overall feeling of ickiness and I also swapped out my hat for my normal cap, retiring the desert hat, in addition to donning my more normal pair of sunnies for the final couple of hours of sun. The Ultras had served me very well today! A good purchase indeed! I had initially intended to change out my shoes, swapping the Hoka Speedgoats for my trusty Salomons but as soon as I put them on I knew it was going to be a mistake as they seemed to press right in the spot near the heels that the big blisters had been. Best stick with the Hokas! Amanda did a great job charging my various devices, although the batteries on everything were holding up pretty well - hurrah for modern battery technology.

I opted to take my poles with me for the second part of the race, although had a total mind failure when it came to recalling how to attach the quiver, with the assistance of one of the volunteers and then a couple of other runners forthcoming, which was a tad embarrassing. The irony is that I didn’t actually end up using them at all, as I think I was mindful of what Sarah had said about the danger with poles is that it takes up your hands and so you’re less inclined to eat and drink as much.

I definitely felt well enough come the end of the hour to press on and agreed with Amanda that she’d pace me until the next crew point, which was about 20km away, and then I’d make a decision about whether to continue or not. I think, however, we both felt a bit intimidated by the distance as Amanda had not run anywhere close to that kind of distance before, the hill climbs were certainly meaty to say the least and the concern was that far from pacing me she would end up holding me back. This became apparent as we started up the very first hill and Amanda started dropping back already. The decision was therefore made collectively that it would be best if she headed back to Washington and got dad to circle back for her, whilst I pressed on and met them at the Devil’s Dyke crew point. This turned out to be a good call as I actually felt quite good and picked up the pace significantly once the climb levelled off and it opened up. As such I found myself sailing past runners and their pacers who had earlier passed me when I was in husk mode, something I don’t think would have been possible if we were limited to a pace Amanda could sustain. She is fit and active but endurance races like this, especially trail races, are very unique beasts and so it was a tall ask in the first place to expect her to step in with no actual trail experience. If she’s keen to have another go in the future then it would be a pleasure to have her along and I’d try and ensure we got some proper training in together beforehand.

The going did get tougher after the next aid station, and I also found myself eventually having to engage the head torch, something I’d been putting off until the very last minute both to conserve battery power and also because acknowledging that it is now nighttime represents quite a big shift in mental space during a race like this. The next couple of hours served up some big, relentless climbs and traverses across some wide, open fields as the route headed towards Devils Dyke. Mercifully, Centurion’s expert route marking once again made navigating simple enough, although some of the wide open sections did see the markers spaced quite a distance apart. At one point I saw a flashing red light off in the distance and concluded that it must be some kind of beacon on a gate. Weirdly though it took a lot longer to get to it than I had expected, the reason revealing itself to be that it was actually the back of a runner’s head-lamp! Lol! I told her how I’d mistakenly thought she was a static beacon and had felt myself going slowly crazy as I tried to get to it! Ah, what ultras will do to the mind!

As I reached Devil’s Dyke there were a group of people standing by the road, which made me think they were just waiting to pace runners and so I nearly continued on down toward the aid station. I’m glad I actually took a beat though and asked if that was in fact the crew spot as it transpired that crew had to park up along the road there whilst the actual aid station was the next stop WAY WAY DOWN the hill, which would have made returning to meet dad, Amanda and the girls a slog that I would NOT have been prepared to make. I called them and found them just down the road. Unfortunately they hadn’t managed to pick up any more of the Lucozade Sport drink that I feel had done such wonders in restoring me at Washington, so that was a bit of a disappointment as I’d actually been really looking forward to chugging down a couple of bottles. One item I’d asked them to get earlier in the day and that was duly made available at Washington was some cooling muscle spray. Aah, bliss! I remember how nice it felt to have my legs sprayed during the Comrades marathon and considering I did NOT dare take any pain killers on account of the whole “hydrated/ not” concern I took the bottle with me and sprayed my legs and shoulders several times more over the next several hours.

I did eat some rice pudding at this crew point, although by now my nutrition “plan” had gone well out the window. I actually don’t seem to be able to tolerate Tailwind and/ or gels for any more than about 60km as I then just find myself getting really sick of them, and as it turns out, actually sick. As such, my intended plan of either 500mls of topped up Tailwind or 500mls of the aid station Tailwind and two gels per hour did NOT last. Amanda had given me some Dextra energy tabs, which were quite good as I was able to just suck on them, but they weren’t going to sustain me. As such, I did my best to sip at the fluids I had then nibble on some real food at the aid stations, including getting on board with the hot, sugary tea. Once I’d said “yes” to the tea I knew it was definitely the “night-time” portion of the race for reals. This was also going to be the last point at which I saw my crew until the end, although Amanda ultimately decided to head back to Norfolk that night so I didn’t get to run across the line with my nieces, which was a shame.

Housedean Farm was the main aid station of the overnight portion of the race, sitting at the 77 miles (123km) mark. They’d set it up in a large farm building, so it was well sheltered, and I joined the circle of weary runners taking time to drink some sugary tea and enjoy the “treat” of cheesy beans that the volunteers had knocked up for us. Still, feeling my eyelids being super heavy I made a tactical decision to find a space further inside the shed, propped my feet up, set my alarm for 15 mins, covered my eyes and tried for a power nap. I’m used to this tactic from night shifts and I know that even if one doesn’t properly ‘sleep’ just the very act of resting one’s brain for a short period can be incredibly rejuvenating. You have to be disciplined though.

As I was leaving this aid station it felt chilly (probably because I’d stopped for a period of time) and so I donned my race sleeves and wore my buff as a neck cover. However, these lasted about 15mins before I went back to just a T-shirt. It turns out it was still a pretty warm night. Much of the next few hours are not especially clear it has to be said, as I just put my head down and soldiered on, knowing that dawn was going to be breaking before too long. I do recall getting to a bridge and then a railway station (Southease), over which we had to cross by a bridge, before arriving at the YHA aid station. There was then another steep climb. At some point I was convinced I saw an ostrich in a field (I could also see the White Horse - a famous landmark, not another hallucination - on a distant hillside) but then realised it wasn’t in fact an ostrich but just a path junction at a specific angle - delusions had set in.

The sunrise was phenomenal, with incredible views out across the downs to the sea and so much birdsong! It was beautiful and getting to experience the countryside and the crystal clear views across rolling countryside to the north and the English Channel to the south made putting myself through the last 24 hours worth it. It was exciting to get to the penultimate aid station at Alfriston (92 miles/ 147km) and then the Jevington (96 miles/ 154km) one had the bonus of fresh strawberries - yum! That was a wonderful little pick me up as I headed out for the final stretch up to the trigger point and then - hurrah - the final, narrow, steep, overgrown descent into Eastbourne and the final few kilometres through town, past the hospital and what then felt like a much longer run than I recall from the video to the sports ground. Yes! I’d done it! Another 100 miler in the bag and dad was on hand to cheer me in as I hit the track and found a final sprint in my legs.

What an epic odyssey this 100 miler had turned out to be. Not the race that I had planned, despite it looking like it was going to go better than expected early on, and it just proves that it is important to be adaptable and ready to adjust to prevailing conditions, constantly assessing and recalibrating as live data (both internal and external) comes in. A metaphor for life in general really.

With another Centurion Running 100 mile belt buckle in my possession I snapped a few finish-line photos, including with Race Director and Centurion owner, James Elson, who I am sure every runner feels like both hugging and throttling in equal measure during an epic event like this. The work that goes into planning, organizing and then successfully staging a race like this is staggering and I know the volunteers and race staff, including James, put in significantly longer hours than any of us runners do, so I am incredibly grateful to them. They really do stage some of the very best races in the UK.

Finish Time = 26 hours, 39 minutes, 15 seconds

108th overall (out of 192 finishers & 339 starters)

91st male (out of 156 males to finish)

A huge thank you to…

Centurion Running - for putting on such well organised and superbly staged races.

Sarah Cameron - Centurion Running coach extraordinaire. Without Sarah’s expert advice & coaching, and unwavering faith in my ability to get races like this done, I may well have been among those who DNF’d this one.

Mum & Dad - my chief crew members & cheerleaders.

Amanda, Laila & Amelia - thanks for turning out for the day & lending support.

The Kithurst Hill Heroes - I have no idea what their names are but they may well have saved my race through their assistance & care. Races like this rely so much on the kindness of strangers, so thank you once again.

Post Race

From Eastbourne, dad and I headed back to Brighton and our AirBNB for the next two days. A delightfully welcome bath - I did nod off at one point, which was a bit dangerous - and a couple of hours of sleep later I felt human enough to head out with dad to stroll the Brighton beachfront, taking in the weirdness of the pier, before finding a superb Indian restaurant for a truly delicious dinner. After essentially sustaining myself on mostly gels, Tailwind, Coca Cola and sugary tea for the last 30 hours, getting some proper food on board was wonderful! Back to the house and I conked out, sleeping soundly until the next morning, my legs actually feeling quite good all things considered.

Looking back on the race, once again, I think nutrition wasn’t my strong suit - I seem to struggle with gels and Tailwind (anything too sweet really) beyond about 50-60km as my stomach starts to reject them, and think that in hindsight I should have used the 1000mg salt tabs dissolved in water for electrolyte replacement rather than popping the capsules and drinking plain water. I also wish I’d realised the vital importance of actively cooling myself early on and really pushed harder for my crew to get ice, which I could have stuffed down the race sleeves I had with me and/ or wrapped it in a buff to carry. Cooling it seems was definitely the key to having a great race on a day like that and I do wonder what kind of race I might have had were I to have had in place an effective cooling strategy(?)

I ended up carrying WAY TOO MUCH stuff with me in my pack, including a lot of nutrition that I just did NOT use, such as most of the Tailwind individual serving packets I had and two sachets of baby food that I transported from Devil’s Dyke to the finish like some mental Tesco delivery man who’d lost his van. One item that my crew did get for me and that I opted to carry from Washington onwards was a can of cooling muscle spray, which I applied to my legs and shoulders at each stop, and that really did help keep my legs moving well and without any real discomfort. I chose not to take any painkillers - I just didn’t feel comfortable given my hydration status - and so the spray really helped. I’d definitely include this in any future drop bags for big races.

As far as crewing goes, it really is nice having a dedicated group of friends or family on hand to be a familiar face at various points and ensure you have what you need. There is also a real art to doing it really well, as you essentially become the running equivalent of a film-director. As for pacing, although the experiment with having a pacer on this race failed early on, I am not sure I’d necessarily do that well with one. I am a bit of a lone wolf during events like this and tend to get lost in my own head. I think if I were to have a pacer with me then they’d probably need to be comfortable with me not saying a whole lot for lengthy stretches of the race. Having said this, maybe I’d surprise myself and become a chatty motor-mouth?! Maybe I’ll get to test this out at the next one. God! Look at that….. I said NEXT ONE. There’s no helping me!