I reached the Petworth aid station, the half way point, with half an hour to spare
After a quick reset and change of shoes and t-shirt, I pushed on to the 40 mile aid station and continued power hiking the uphills and running the flats and downhills (albeit at a slower pace as the miles ticked by)
And then my race fell apart
Struggling with “undercarriage” chafing
Struggling to summon the will to break into a run and defaulting to a power hike
Struggling with the mental maths of aid station distances and cut-offs
When you realise your day is done
When I reached the 47 mile (75k) aid station, I knew I wouldn’t make the cut-off at the 53 mile aid station
So I called time on my second attempt at the Serpent Trail 100k
Positive Reflections
75% of the race distance completed is an improvement of 50% in 2023
After suffering with serious foot blisters at last year’s SDW100, my feet were blister free
Strength and conditioning gym work since SDW100 has improved my physical robustness
The Serpent Trail is a stunning route
Early morning views
Room For Improvement
Insufficient time on feet in training, with long runs of up to 3.5 hours but no further
Weekly running hours / mileage was consistent but should’ve been higher for longer
Inability to maintain a pace that would enable me to stay comfortably within the cut-offs
Lack of willingness to endure and break through the suffering, reflected in the death march for the last 7 miles
It’s time to step away from ultra marathons for a while
I need to reset
To rebuild and get stronger without putting my body through the long, long stuff
After my first DNF at the 2017 North Downs Way 100, I stepped away from ultra marathon running and rebuilt, coming back to complete the 100 mile Grand Slam in 2019
It’s time to step off the ultra marathon merry go round for a while
Dawn had broken, once again revealing the beauty of the South Downs. I’d run almost 80 miles since leaving Winchester at 6:30 on Saturday morning. I was still moving forward, maintaining momentum and hiking the uphills with purpose almost as well as I had been from the start. My mind was set. I was going to get to the finish in Eastbourne. Unfortunately, fate and my feet had other plans.
Rewind
In 2015, I ran the South Downs Way 100 for the first time. It was my debut 100 mile race, I had no crew or pacers, and I got it done with over 1.5 hours to spare. I was delighted.
4 years later, I ran the South Downs Way 100 for the second time. It was my 5th 100 miler, I had my friend Matt Bevan-Yorston pacing me, and I got it done with over 2 hours to spare. It was also the 2nd race in the 2019 Centurion Running Grand Slam of 100 milers, which I completed later that year. I was delighted.
This time around, I ran the South Downs Way 100 off the back of DNFs at the Serpent Trail 100k (2023), Jurassic Coast 105 miler (2024), and the South Downs Way 50 (2025). My training had gone well, and as I’d ground out finishes at The Lap (2023) and the South Downs Way 50 (2022) I knew that I was capable of getting it done again. Once more, I ran without support. I didn’t finish this time. I was frustrated.
Training
After my last 100 mile finish at the Centaur 100 in 2022, when I ran sub-24 hours for a second time in 9 months and set a new 100 mile PB, I’d had a frustrating couple of years dealing with achilles and then plantar issues with my right foot. As a result, I’d reduced my mileage and done limited hill training in order to avoid aggravating these issues. Thankfully, by the end of 2024, these issues had been resolved. My mileage and time on feet for the year to race date was the highest since 2022, with focused training including interval, tempo, and endurance phases and lots of recce runs. I was feeling positive.
Taper
I know that I’m not alone in not enjoying taper. I always hope that the reduction in training volume during taper will leave me feeling physically fresh and invigorated in the lead up to the race. It rarely does. However, I was feeling good mentally, determined to get it done, and relaxed about how long it would take me. After all, it’s only jogging.
Leaving race registration on Friday evening
Time To Race
Having registered the night before, I’d slept reasonably well and drove myself to the start at Matterley Bowl in Winchester. After a porridge pot for breakfast – and catch ups with John Fitzgerald, Stewart Liesnham, Chloe Sellwood, Paul Gilbertson, Kier Dale, Brendan Turner, and Dimi Booth – we were off.
My plan was simple:
Hike the uphills with purpose, not dawdling
Run the downhills
Jog the flats
Finish within the 30 hour cut-off (okay, ideally around 27 hours)
The best laid plans and all that ….
Winchester to QECP
The route has changed since I last ran the race, with 2 loops of Matterley Bowl coveting more miles than previously before you energetic onto the South Downs Way proper. I was consciously running to effort, keeping it manageable and avoiding looking at my watch in the early miles.
Highlights:
Parking the ego and running with a controlled, easy pace
Remembering to eat little and often
Sticking to the plan for the ups, downs and flats
Focusing on the trail around me, quickly dousing any thoughts around how far I still had to go
Taking in the glorious views (the first of many throughout the whole run)
Taking advantage of SDW water tops to wet my cap and buff to cool down
Being a witness to a special kind of PB attempt by Jamie Streatfield
Lowlights:
None
Doing my best to blend in 😉 Photo credit: Pierre Papet
QECP to Washington
It was great to see David Rogers at the aid station, now relocated to the foot of Butser Hill. And once inside, the glory of salted watermelon pieces was revealed. Oh boy, that was sensational on a warm and humid day!
Those views 😍 Photo credit: Robert Jessop
Highlights:
Meeting and running with Deborah Murray, who recognised me from my posts on the Centurion Running Facebook group
The respite from the heat provided when running through the wooded sections
Chatting with Richard Goulder at Cocking aid station and leaving with a Tunnocks teacake to munch on the next climb
Being greeted by Paul Mason at Houghton Farm aid station
Encouragement from other runners and volunteers alike
Maintaining momentum and a steady buffer against the cut-off at each aid station
Running the last couple of miles into Washington with Jaco Swart, who I’ve helped many times as a volunteer
Lowlights:
Feckin’ hills 🤣
Mental mind games beginning, now playing a regular game of “I hear you brain, you want to stop running and walk, but I’m going to keep running”
The bite valve of one of my soft flasks popping off, soaking me in precision hydration while I relocated it (with the help of a runner right behind me who’d spotted it on the ground!)
Quads beginning to feel the “benefit ” of the downhills
The long wait for Houghton Farm aid station after Cocking (2 miles further than expected, but it’s a trail race so who’s counting)
Beginning to feel some undercarriage chafing coming on after 50 miles and deciding (incorrectly) not to stop and sort it out before Washington
Experiencing stomach issues around Harting Down and on the approach to Washington, which thankfully were short lived and did not progress
Breaking into a run on the descent into Washington, keen to get my custard 😋 Photo credit: Jaco Swart (video still)
The Halfway Point
The Washington aid station is indoors, 55 miles in, and provides runners with access to a drop bag and hot food. Both were very welcome. I took the opportunity to reset, spending about 45 minutes here.
Wet wipes to cool and freshen up
Anti-chafing reapplied (too late)
Change of clothes, with a long sleeved base layer and new t-shirt over the top and new socks
Spotting 2 blisters starting to form on my right heel and taping them up
Resetting the stomach with a bowl of pasta with tomato sauce and cheese, followed by 2 custard pots (manna from heaven on these races)
A can of Starbucks double espresso with milk to guard against the night sleepiness
Stocking up on caffeinated gels, food, and 2 small bottles of Irn Bru (that stuff is magic)
Despite losing some of my buffer against the cut-off, this was time well spent. After a quick pep talk from Louise Ayling and a hug from Nina Smith, I left Washington with renewed determination as the darkness began to fall.
Washington to Housedean Farm
Now the fun began. Headtorch on as I started the long climb through the woods and up to Chanctonbury Ring, I was focused and resigned to feeling the effects of chafing for the rest of the race. In the end, other pain distracted me from this discomfort, which didn’t impact me at all after I’d stopped. Strangely.
Running the second half without a pacer was fine. While I admit I missed Matt’s “jokes” and his ability to chivvy me along, I managed okay without both.
Before the race, I’d decided that I’d pack my phone away in my race vest and resist the urge to take photos (I had lots from previous races and route recces), check for messages, and share my thoughts along the way. I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, to see how I’d deal with the inevitable doubts and difficulties that would arise along the way. Bar sending a quick update to my family on WhatsApp when I got to Washington, I did exactly that.
Highlights:
Maintaining an average pace that left me breathing space against the cut-offs
Remembering to keep eating and drinking regularly (Irn Bru, you rock)
Catching up with Ken Hughes at Botolphs aid station
Seeing Lisa Smith-Wallace at Saddlescombe Farm and devouring some eggs and orange jelly (not together)
Purposefully hiking the uphills as strongly as I did in the first half of the race
Continuing to mute the voices of doubt and doom that sporadically filled my mind as the miles passed
Lowlights:
The soles of my feet started to hurt, something I’ve experienced in the second half of previous 100 milers
Fatigue started to grow, as did the desire to do anything but run
Sense of humour failure at Saddlescombe Farm, desperately trying not to be grumpy but really starting to hurt now
I started to bargain with myself, reasoning that it was okay to power hike the flats as long as I kept pushing on the climbs and running the downhills, and kept my average pace in the 16 min/mile range for a buffer on the cut-offs
Passing a runner who’d collapsed on the trail as I made my way down towards Housedean Farm (he was being looked after by his pacer and medics were on the way)
That feckin downhill to Housedean Farm (evil on the quads after 75 miles)
Housedean Farm to Southease
Arriving at Housedean Farm, I was glad to see the friendly face of Graham Baker. We’d first met when I volunteered at the Reading aid station (mile 87.5) on the Autumn 100 in October 2024. As he arrived on the darkness of early morning, he looked shattered, so I offered encouragement and a hug, which he later told me provided him with a boost and helped him on the way to a sub-24 buckle. This time, I was in need of a hug and some encouragement, and this was duly received. One more custard pot consumed and an Irn Bru and snacks top up later, I headed out into the dawn and up the next hill.
Highlights:
Still moving and maintaining a gap on the cut-offs
The amazing sight of the South Downs as the sun rises
Remembering that I chose to do this when it got hard (a lot)
Focusing on my surroundings and being grateful that I’m able to do these things, as one day I won’t be able to and I know I’ll miss it
Continuing discomfort on the soles of my feet from the hard ground distracted me from the chafing
Swanborough Hill, the tipping point for my left foot, just before the infamous yellow brick road 🤷 Photo credit: Padmini Baker
Lowlights:
Really starting to struggle with the uphill climbs, despite maintaining a reasonable pace and effort level
Developing the infamous ultra lean at around 80 miles, finding myself leaning from the waist to the left with a slight forward tilt and attempting several times over the next few miles (without success) to stretch out my back and straighten up
Feeling increasing levels of discomfort on the soles of my feet, which reached new heights when I made my way across the rocky path at the top of Swanborough Hill and to the top of the yellow brick road
Looking down at my feet, as I made my way along the track by Mill Hill towards Southease, seeing what looked like red foam bubbling through the upper, and then realising that it was blood
Gingerly making my way to the Southease aid station, struggling with the lean and in agony with my feet by now
Calling It A Day
And then there was Lesley Lewis, on duty at the train station. My saviour. As I approached, she asked how I was doing. It didn’t take her long to realise that I was in a bad way, especially when I said “I’m done. Look at my shoe…” Lesley then escorted me over the railway bridge and supported me as I hobbled the short distance to the aid station.
My race was over. While I still had time to march it in, there was no way that I should do. It would be a bad idea. I had to see what state my feet were in.
The answer: very not good! Summed up perfectly by fellow runner Rafal Tkaczyk: “I was just coming to the aid station and some guy leaving yelled at me „don’t look at this guy’s foot!”Of course I looked and then looked some more. I just couldn’t stop looking… “
Ouchy left foot 🤢
The Aftermath
The paramedics took me off to the Minor Injuries Unit at Victoria Lewes hospital to get my battered and bloody feet assessed and treated, concerned about the risk of infection.
All bandaged up and waiting for my lift home from the marvellous Ian Robertson 😀
I’ve been off work for the week after the race, with feet elevated and dressings changed twice at my local GP practice. My feet are improving, the skin is healing, and the pain is easing. Walking still isn’t fun and I won’t be back running for a little while, but I have no regrets.
I achieved my goal of testing myself, being with myself, and almost got it done. Time for more reflections and setting actions for the future so I can avoid another blistergate.
2023 was frustrating due to achilles and plantar heel pain issues, which led to a slower than expected finish at The Lap and a voluntary DNF at the halfway aid station in the Serpent Trail 100k
2024 was another difficult year
The year began with a cut-off chasing completion of the South Downs Way 50 (a full 2 hours slower than when I ran it for the first time in 2022)
I’d been cautious in my training for fear of aggravating my foot issues, running fewer miles, and limited hills
As I’d been building towards the Jurassic Extinction Ultra since volunteering at the race in June 2023, I decided to recce as much of the course as I could so that I’d at least know what to expect come race day
I’d managed to recce all bar the first few miles (which turned out to be a mistake) and the last dozen miles
So, to race day
Jurassic Extinction (105 miles), Jun 2024: Timed out at West Lulworth aid station (31 miles)
“Failure is only the opportunity more intelligently to begin again.” – Henry Ford
31 runners set off on a 105 mile journey along the Jurassic Coast
I was one of them
30 miles later, I was no longer in the race
I’d taken too long to reach the 3rd checkpoint and was timed out
And that’s okay
I signed up for the Jurassic Coast Extinction race after an overnight volunteering stint at the 60 mile checkpoint last year
I had planned to be in the shape of my life heading into this race
Yet I wasn’t
Careful management of frustrating and ongoing aches and pains, not enough hill specific training runs, and fitness levels led to my race being a struggle
I wasn’t sure if I was in good enough condition to get it done beforehand
There was only one thing for sure though
I definitely wouldn’t finish if I didn’t start it and give it a go
So I took my place on the start line and hung on in there for as long as I could
It wasn’t enough this time
I’ve already decided that I’ll be coming back and going again
I’m completed my own personal After Action Review to identify lessons learned and take action to improve my chances of success next time
I’m happy that I gave it a go and don’t have to wonder about what might have been
Reflection beats regret any day
And I’m determined to learn from the experience and put it right next time
Done, at West Lulworth
Fast forward to September 2024
I had a place at the Chiltern Wonderland 50 mile race
I chose not to run it as I didn’t feel ready physically or mentally for 50 miles and definitely didn’t want to face another cut-off chasing experience
Instead, I took the train to Haslemere and ran 29 miles back to Emsworth via the Sussex Border Path and had a blast
Training went well for the rest of the year and into 2025
I had run more miles and done some race specific trail running in preparation for my 3rd South Downs Way 50, recceing all bar 6 miles of the course
2025 wasn’t supposed to start like this
South Downs Way 50 (50 miles), Apr 2025: Handed in my race number at Southease aid station (34 miles)
I felt confident that I’d run better than last year and have a more enjoyable day out on the Downs as a result, good preparation for my 3rd South Downs Way 100 on June
From start line excitement to mentally pulling the plug on the way to Southease
I felt strong in the first 10 miles
Flying feet at Devils Dyke (Photo: Pierre Papet)
I hiked the hills with purpose and committed to running the flats and downhills
It was a warm day, and there was (unusually) a headwind
I took a tumble/comedy fall while running the long downhill stretch before the right hand turn to the woods on the way to Housedean Farm, my right calf cramping up in the process
After being helped to my feet by (and a calf massage from) a couple of kind runners, I walked on for a while
And after a hug from Ken Hughes at Housedean Farm, I made my way towards Southease and station up the hill that seems to go on forever
By the time I reached the top and the opportunity for some flat running I’d mentally checked out
I was not enjoying this
It was a beautiful day on the Downs
I reminded myself that these races aren’t always fun and will hurt
I started to run again as I hit the Yellow Brick Road
Then I slowed to a walk
I’d had enough
All kinds of thoughts went through my mind
Push on
You can get this done
But I didn’t want it enough on the day
So I walked it in to Southease aid station, hanging my race number to the volunteers with 20 minutes to spare against the cut-off
I’d left Southease with 15 minutes to spare in 2024 and had finished with 16 minutes to go
I was fitter than last year, so I was confident that I could finish in time again
I didn’t want to put myself through the stress of chasing cut-offs again
So I pulled the plug on my race
With no regrets
When things don’t go as hoped, there’s value in taking time to pause to process what happened, reflect, and reframe
After a 6 day break from running and a complete reset, I headed out for a 6 mile run to test my legs and mind
There are times during many runs, whatever the distance, when negative thoughts appear and doubts emerge
And when we acknowledge these and keep going anyway, we prove to ourselves again and again that we can
We can decide how experiences affect us
We can choose how we respond to discomfort
We can adjust our goals or decide to persevere
I choose to stay on the path to my 3rd South Downs Way 100 in June
I have 8 weeks to build upon this year’s training to get my body and mind ready
I asked Perplexity AI to analyse all of my blog posts since I started them in 2013, as I trained for my debut ultramarathon at the North Downs Way 50:
“Each race, whether a success or a struggle, contributed to your growth as an ultrarunner—shaping a story of perseverance, adaptability, and continuous self-improvement.”
I can do this again
I will do this again
Onwards
First run post SDWnot50, resetting the mind and recommitting to SDW100
I knew I had to run. The 5:20pm cut-off at Southease aid station (mile 34) was looming large. I’d been consistently within 20-25 minutes of the cut-offs at every aid station so far. Now that the bigger hills had arrived, time was slipping away on the climbs, and I’d long ago realised that I was going to have to run the flats and downhills if I was going to finish within the 13 hour cut-off. So I ran. Not fast, but faster than walking. And that was going to be enough today. It would be close though.
My previous race had ended in a DNF
A frustrating time
After my humbling at The Lap in the Lake District last May, when I finished but ended up walking most of the last 30 miles due to a distinct lack of hill training and taking 17 hours to do 47 miles, the fellow up race ended with a voluntary DNF. 50k into the Serpent Trail 100k I was struggling with foot pain as well as the troublesome achilles and decided to call it quits. To regroup, reset, and patiently rebuild.
This I did. My foot pain continued but was manageable and didn’t stop me running. I gradually gained fitness from intervals and slowly increasing training time. I resumed the strength and conditioning workouts that had been, err, forgotten about for a year. I felt increasingly positive. Then I caught Covid in December. And my foot pain worsened. I was pretty sure I had the dreaded plantar fasciitis (or plantar heel pain as they seem to call it now).
When I resumed training at the end of 2023, I felt sluggish and was very carefully monitoring my foot pain during each run. I limited my runs to 5 days a week, with 1-2 strength and conditioning sessions and 1 complete rest day. I committed to daily mobility work and using a voodoo floss band, lacrosse ball, golf ball, spiky ball, and rolling my dodgy foot. And I avoided hills, fearing a repeat of last year when I aggravated my achilles by doing a crash course in hills and too much elevation too soon in the month before The Lap.
Going into the South Downs Way 50, I knew that I’d be calling upon my running fitness and my ability to power hike the uphills from previous races. I also knew that trying to match (or get anywhere close to) my 10h29m 50-mile PB from the SDW50 in 2022 would end in disaster and another DNF. And I couldn’t afford that. I have the Jurassic Coast 100 coming up in June and desperately needed to finish this race to remind myself that I can run these distances.
My virtual pacer
2 days before the race, I decided that I’d bring along a virtual pacer to help me when things got tough. More on that later.
With Zoe, Brendan and the other 400+ starters. And a beard that’s no longer there!
Off we go
I started at the back of the pack, deliberately holding back and power hiking all of the inclines in order to preserve energy for the latter part of the race. I hadn’t run further than 16 miles in training. And most of my training had been on roads.
Ego well and truly parked, I focused on maintaining a comfortable pace and committed to hiking the uphills with purpose and running the flats and downhills. This took away the need to make decisions. As Gary Robbins once said, “Don’t think. Just do.” So I did.
Climbing up to the South Downs Way as the early morning mist slowly cleared
And I loved it for the first 10 miles or so.
Early days, early haze (Photo: Pierre Papet)Living my best life, heading up to Chanctonbury Ring, and descending in the direction of Botolphs
Botolphs to Housedean Farm
A freshly made Marmite sandwich to munch on the climb after the aid station
Seeing Zoe again as I made my way to Devil’s Dyke
Catching up with Simon, volunteering at Saddlescombe Farm
Managing to run when not climbing (or eating)
The deafening cries of my inner voice to “stop and walk” many times, quickly silenced only to resume (and louder)
Kinda enjoying the evil downhill before Housedean Farm
Arriving at Housedean Farm aid station still with 20+ minutes to spare on the cut-off
Man on a mission (Photo: Zoe Norman)Striding up to the Clayton Windmills turn on the South Downs Way (Photo: Kevin Stone)
Housedean Farm to Alfriston
Really beginning to feel the uphill climbs in my legs
Maintaining momentum and moving with purpose
Mostly eating wine gums
Loving/loathing (guess which) all of the false summits
Pushing to maintain that 20-25 minutes cushion on the cut-offs
Constantly doing mental maths, calculating and recalculating how much longer I had to finish within the cut-off and average pace required
Talking to my virtual pacer
Regularly looking at the positive message on the bracelet Brendan’s daughter Eden made for me that he handed me before the start
Resolving to get it done
Witnessing a runner ahead of me being crewed at the top of Star Lane, just before Alfriston aid station
Feeling very frustrated as I’m busting my arse trying to get this done, and he’s benefitting from assistance (against the rules)
Alfriston to Eastbourne (and the finish)
Eden’s good luck charmReminding myself to look up and take in the fantastic views on the South Downs along the wayJevington, no time to stop for a bite to eatLoving the climb out of Jevington, headtorch at the ready Nearly there (Photo: Pierre Papet)
Marching on, running and hiking as before, determined to get this done
Remembering how endless the climb out of Alfriston feels as it goes on and on, the light to fade as the climbing continues
Pushing on
Stopping at Jevington aid station to say hi to James and thank him and the other volunteers, and ask for help with my headtorch as darkness is looming
Heading up the last climb towards the trig point
Continuing the mental maths I’ve been doing all race, constantly recalculating how long I have to get to the next aid station (the finish at this point) and staying on pace
Bracing myself for the descent of the gully of doom just after the trig point
Experiencing the gully descent by headtorch for the first time, something I don’t recommend!
Finally reaching the road and turning right, knowing that the finish is only 2 miles away
Remembering that 2 miles feels a lot, lot further at the end of an ultra
Turning the corner, finally reaching the path that skirts around the hospital and leads to the sports park
Somehow managing to speed up (it’s all relative, right) and overtake two runners before entering the sports park and hitting the track
Accelerating (again, it’s all relative) as I ran the final 400m around the track towards the finish line
Sheer and utterly relief as I approach and then cross the finish line
Emotional
And then it was done. I finished with just over 16 minutes to spare.
Done. And done in!
And, boy oh boy, was that finish special.
Over almost 13 hours I had reminded myself that I can push through discomfort, keep going when the demons are trying to persuade me to give in or slow down, and run these distances.
My overriding feelings upon receiving my medal were relief, gratitude, and sadness.
Relieved to have finished an ultra again.
Grateful to be part of this community.
Sadness that my cousin Sebastian is no longer here to see how much he is loved and the strength he gave me along the way.
Tired and emotional, with Sebastian (Bas) and the medal that he helped me earn
So went the WhatsApp I sent my brother, who’d just completed another Half Ironman race and was urging me on virtually, as I trudged my way through the 11th hour of my circumnavigation of Lake Windermere. There was never a doubt in my mind that I’d finish – after all, the race has a 24 hour cut off and encourages walkers as well as runners to take part – but I most definitely wasn’t relishing it.
Route map, the top third on the reverse
The build up
Following a good training race, the Phoenix Running Track Wars 6 Hour Midnight event 6 weeks before The Lap, my training was less than ideal:
A heavy cough led me to take a week of running as a precaution
It took another 10 days to shift my cough, and runs felt laboured
I managed a couple of decent long runs with plenty of elevation gain
My right achilles then flared up, so I took another week off running
Some mountain bike rides followed, before easy runs resumed
A couple of runs later, I rested my achilles some more as a precaution
6 days before the race, I ran 9 miles with minimal achilles issues
All in all, not the ideal build up to The Lap. However, having been concerned 4 weeks out that I wouldn’t even make the start line due to my achilles issue, I was relieved to make my way up to the Lake District the day before the race.
And boy oh boy, did I smile when the sign for The Lakes appeared on the M6 North on the 325 mile drive on Friday. I could make out the hills in the distance. What a sight.
One of the views from the B&B I stayed in, at High Wray near Ambleside
The goal
I’d decided to run The Lap for a number of reasons, including to:
experience running somewhere new
see why so many runners rave about the Lake District hills
run without the pressure of achieving a time goal, having spent 2021 and 2022 working towards (and achieving) a sub-24 hour 100 mile finish
Ultimately, I had set out to gain new experience and have a running adventure. And I certainly got my wish!
The reality
Race briefing, ready for the 6am start
Although I hadn’t declared a time goal for the race, I still had one in mind. I was hoping I’d be able to finish in 12 – 15 hours, so was expecting to reach the finish before sundown. How wrong I was!
Here’s a summary of my recollections from the race:
Congested start on single-track trails, for the first couple of miles
Early morning mist on Lake Windermere, beautiful and eerie
Lake Windermere at 6am, the cloud inversion leading to low level mist
Gradually climbs through forests, with some downhills to keep the legs turning over early on
One of the early descents, with the mist in the valley a glorious sightClimbing Latterbarrow in the early morning mistThe top of Latterbarrow, the first of many hilltop views to take the breath awayAlmost everyone stopped for a selfie at the top of Latterbarrow
Steady progress in the first 17 miles, enjoying the (occasional) flat trail and the downhills while marvelling at the scenery
Stone walls and sheep aplenty on this route Beginning the climb up Wansfell Pike“Enjoying” the climb up Wansfell Pike Head down, almost at the summit of Wansfell Pike Reaching the summit of Wansfell Pike At the summit of Wansfell Pike, Lake Windermere belowBeginning the descent of Wansfell Pike (I didn’t run down this bit, I’m far too clumsy)A few minutes later, I was feet deep in bogs!
The views from the hilltops around Lake Windermere are majestic, rewarding the climbs
The sun sometimes shines in the Lake District and it was a warm day
My achilles was grumbling on the first few climbs but didn’t trouble me at all from mile 18 (post-race, it’s grumbling again)
After the first 17 miles, with half of the total elevation gain for the full 47 miles, my legs were heavy and my head had gone
Apart from the occasional downhill and flat, I power hiked from mile 18 to the finish
Two slices of freshly cooked pepperoni pizza at the 20-mile aid statoon tasted divine
These trails are much more technical than I expected, with rocks and roots in plentiful supply
Every aid station was well stocked and the volunteers were excellent
Views to relishBrilliantly marked course, I didn’t get lost at allLake Windermere stayed with us all day!Another climb, but what a place to do itOne of the later summits, the views of Lake Windermere never got boring An inquisitive lamb Wonderful On the home stretch (well, almost)
Several of the descents and flat trails were technical, demanding concentration and nimble footwork or careful foot placement
The last downhill through the woods on tired legs was gnarly, clambering down rocks and avoiding roots via headtorch being “interesting “
Approaching the finish line in the dark to cheers and holders from the volunteers was such a relief
Sweet potatoes and chickpea curry wouldn’t have been my first choice of finish line food, but it was delicious
Knackered and happy to have got it done
Lessons learned
Punchy climbs, Wansfell Pike the toughest!The Lap of Lake Windermere, done
What went well?
Nutrition – I managed my food intake better than in recent races, with a combination of real food at the aid stations (salty crisps, bread, pizza, bananas), bars and gels
Hydration – taking a 3rd 500ml soft flask helped me to stay hydrated during a warm day
Kit – despite a warm day and a few unavoidable foot dunking in bogs I had no blisters and minimal chafing (result)
Resilience – although I was struggling with mental demons from mile 18, I dug in and ground out the finish (I haven’t missed you, death march)
What didn’t go well?
Energy – despite improved nutrition management, I was struggling for energy after Wansfell Pike (the first 17 miles took me 5.5 hours)
Nausea – after some of a honey gel got stuck at the back of my throat 21 miles in, several miles of coughing and a bout of vomiting followed (eventually remedied by washing it down with sips of water and a Mountain Fuel gel)
Mindset – as it became clear that I’d be finishing in more than 15 hours and in darkness, I let the negative thoughts take hold and spent several hours questioning my ability as a runner before focusing on enjoying the scenery while I moved forward slowly but purposefully
Training – cough and achilles issues aside, just didn’t train specifically enough for this race, and the lack of hilly long runs in training definitely didn’t help me on the day
What would I do differently?
Energy – pay more attention to my day to day lifestyle and nutrition habits as I’m carrying more weight than at the A100 in 2021 when I felt more energised and running felt easier
Training – prepare better for races with more specificity in running sessions and reintroduce weekly strength and conditioning (bodyweight) workouts, which also set me up so well for the A100 in 2021
Mindset – get back to building in sessions to my training that challenge me physically and mentally in order to help me to endure more for longer and run rather than (as I did a lot here) give in to the pain and drop to a walk
Final thoughts
I’m glad I did The Lap.
I achieved my goal of having a running adventure somewhere new, learning a lot about myself in the process. While I may have struggled, I didn’t give in. Following a couple of dream races in 2021 (A100) and 2022 (Centaur 100), both sub-24 hour 100 milers and new 100 mile PBs, I was due a good old dose of humility!
The Lap was everything I expected – beautiful views, brilliantly marked, and superbly organised.
It also caught me unawares – technical trails the like of which I’ve not run on before in a race, climbs that seem to go on forever, and with a warm sunny day (that was welcome)!
Would I go back?
I highly recommend The Lap.
As a so-called “low level” race, it’s a great introduction to running in the Lake District. I’ve no plans to run it again, there are other places to explore. Never say never though.
During and immediately after the race, after grinding out a finish at The Lap in the dark and definitely questioning my running ability, I had no intention of ever running the Lake District again (“F*** those hills, rocks and roots!”).
What a difference a day makes …
Now, I’m recalling the wonderful people, stunning scenery, and technical trails of the Lake District
Maybe I’ll be back, one day, to explore more of the running to be had in the Lake District (and actually manage to run a bit more next time too!). I’m now pondering a crack at the Grand Tour of Skiddaw, Lakes In A Day, or Lakeland 50.
It’s like the joggers who go round and round and round…
The full moon shines brightly on this cold night. My headtorch shows me the way ahead, sometimes illuminating my breath as it hits the cold air. The route is one where even navigationally challenged runners like me can’t get lost. I’m running without any aural distraction, no music, podcasts or audio books for company to take my mind off the task I’ve challenged myself with this time. There’s no hiding from the inner voices making their presence felt with increasing frequency as the hours and the miles build.
“You can’t keep running like this for the rest of the race. A few more walk breaks will be fine.”
“How much longer can you keep going? Just stop and walk for a bit. “
“Why don’t you just stop at the aid station for a bit to recharge? A few minutes won’t matter. And there’s cake.”
I keep going.
I started this race without a pacing strategy. One thing I had committed to was to keep going for the full 6 hours and to minimise time spent faffing at the aid stations. Of which there is only one. That we pass every 400m.
Yep. I talked myself into running a track race. One that started at midnight (I arrive early and am allowed to get started as it’s bloody freezing outside) and where I have 6 hours to run as many laps as I choose, or can, during that time.
A get out of jail free card is offered to everyone taking part in this Phoenix Running event, the main feature the 24 hour race that began at 8am on Friday morning. The race information on the website and pre-race enail remind me of this:
“You need to complete one lap to qualify for the finishers’ medal “
If I hate it then i can walk away, medal in hand, and it won’t count as a DNF (the frustrating, sometimes welcome buy often feared Did Not Finish).
Only I’m not going to quit.
I signed up for this race to test myself.
Have I become too soft? Have I lost my edge? Can I still push on through difficulty when it gets tough during a race?
My training for The Lap – a hilly 47 mile trail race around Lake Windermere in the Lake District, which I’ll be running in 9 weeks time – having gone well so far and included lots of hard interval, tempo and hill repetition running to challenge my body and mind. But I’ve had podcasts, audiobooks and music to distract me during these sessions.
I chose to spend 6 hours overnight running with a headtorch around a 400m track with nothing but my own thoughts, including the inner bitch (as Goggins refees to the inner voices and doubts which plague so many of us in running, work and all aspects of life). Tonight was going to be a battle of attrition. Me against me. And it was long overdue.
What did I think about as I ran around, and around, and around for hours on end?
Not a lot. I spent most of the time counting. Trying to keep track of the number of laps I’d run and when I would next drop by the aid station to grab an energy top up (mainly chocolate Freddos, jelly sweets and the occasional drink of cola) to consume on the scheduled walking laps which also gave my legs a break from the constant pounding of the pancake flat track.
Having started the race without a specific run/walk strategy, I quickly decided upon one. My first attempt at a run/walk strategy, during the 2019 Thames Path 100, had worked well and left me with sufficient energy to keep running in the later stages so I knew it’d be beneficial here. I had calculated that if I’d need to run 125 laps to reach 50k. This seemed like a good goal to aim for, and I worked out that 8 x 16 laps would get me to 124 laps. I’d already miscalculated, 8 x 16 equals 128!
From experience, I knew that breaking races down into bite size, manageable chunks takes away the overwhelm I’d felt when considering how many miles/hours/hills/laps were left. Tackling the race in 16 lap sections would help.
I was running by effort, at an easy pace I have dialled in through my training, determined to ensure that I didn’t push too hard so that my training for The Lap could resume quickly post-race.
Upon reflection, I overcooked it a bit and underfuelled in the first 32 laps. My run/walk strategy went from run 15/walk 1 for the first quarter of the race to walk 1/run 7, and in the later stages walk 1/run 3.
No matter. When I was on a run phase, I ran. My inner bitch tried to convince me to stop and walk many, many times but I kept telling it to STFU and willed my legs to keep running, despite the slowing of my pace.
I had to prove to myself that I could endure. So I endured.
118 laps and 29.5 miles later, I crossed the timing mats for the final time. I may not have managed 50k, but I had achieved my goal. I had kept moving for the whole 6 hours and won the mental battle of attrition.
And, as a bonus, I topped the Midnight 6 Hour Track Race leaderboard with the highest number of laps run. I had won a race for the first time in my life!
I signed up for this race because I knew it would suck. And it did, but I got through it.
Did I enjoy it? Not exactly. Running around a track in the cold and dark was rewarding, soul crushing, enlightening, and exactly the confidence boost I needed.
As I did the mental maths again the realisation dawned on me that my race plan was unravelling. It would take me over an hour longer than planned to reach the 50 mile point.
Pre-race planning
I’d set myself an ambitious goal of a 22h45m finish, hoping to go under 23 hours for the first time and knock 50 minutes off the 100 mile PB of 23h36m I’d set at the Autumn 100 in October 2021. Seeing my 25 mile target slip away had been frustrating. Now that I would reach the half way point of the race I began to question my ability to achieve a sub 24 hour finish for only the second time.
Maybe I just got lucky going sub 24 at the Autumn 100. Was that just a fluke? Maybe I was kidding myself that I could go faster still this time. I could only see myself slowing down further in the second 50 miles, so surely a PB was now out of the question.
Preparation
After my breakthrough 100 mile performance at the Autumn 100 I’d identified some key contributing factors to my success:
Working with my running coach Matt Bevan
Committing to and being consistent with the training
Maintaining a balanced diet and getting closer to race weight
Spot on race execution
Since then, I’d continued with the first two but well and truly self sabotaged with my diet (now carrying 1/2 – 3/4 stone more than at A100) and my race execution had been poor at the South Downs Way 50 in April (despite achieving a 50 mile PB).
However, I had managed to improve my mental strength and maintain a positive mindset. I didn’t give up when I saw my sub 10 hour goal slipping away and kept grinding, just sneaking under 10.5 hours at SDW50. This would prove to be a valuable experience in the second half of the Centaur.
Since SDW50 a key focus of my weekend long runs had been building my mental strength and ability to cope with the monotony of loop running. To this end, I’d spent several hours confusing local dog walkers and youth footballers practising on a local playing field.
Running around in circles Even more running around in circles
Then, just when I was feeling strong and positive, 4 weeks before race day my right achilles started grumbling. When the grumbling grew louder after a recovery run I listened. I spoke with Matt and we decided a few days rest and some stretches prescribed by a physio would be the best course of action.
A few days later I tried a bike ride and as this didn’t aggravate my achilles I focused on what I could do to maintain fitness. Even if that was cycling!
Managing the achilles issue
Thankfully, I was back running 8 days later. Matt adjusted the plan to reduce the training load as a precaution before we upped the mileage again for a week and then began a 2 week taper.
After being really nervous about the race the weekend before I had a chat with Matt a few days before the race and was buzzing. Having seen the pre-race briefing video shared by Rik Vercoe, the Race Director of Phoenix Running, earlier in the week I was excited about the route. There was actually some elevation and it wasn’t pancake flat, so at least three would be a little variety on each loop.
The pre-race briefing settled my nerves
Race day
My first Phoenix Running event and I love the low key nature before we start
It was fabulous to see Karen Webber (crew extraordinaire in my NDW100 redemption race during my 100 mile Grand Slam in 2019) and Matt Brown from Timing Monkey before the start. There would be a few more greetings exchanged as the race progressed!
The challenge with a looped course is that one mile blends into another. Unlike with point to point, or even out and back races like A100, there are few unique points of reference. Recalling the race a week later it’s become difficult to distinguish one loop from another, so I’ll focus my attention on how I felt, thought and acted throughout the race.
0-20 Miles
My plan for the race was to run for 25 minutes, power hike for 5 minutes, and repeat for as long as possible. As I ran slowly up the main incline in the course during the first lap I soon realised that my plan needed to be changed, and quickly.
I thought it’d be foolish to run the incline, as steadily rising as it was, for 99 more loops so I quickly adjusted my race strategy. I’d power hike this incline and run the rest at an easy pace, one that I’d dialled in during training. And so it continued throughout laps 2-20, albeit with one adjustment. I decided to power hike the short final stretch to the aid station at the end of each loop.
I resolved to do what I could to minimise any slowdown and was determined to keep running where in previous races I’d too easily listened to the voice in my head telling me to “just walk for a bit”.
I’d decided to run wearing my Salomon race vest and carrying two 500ml bottles from the start, along with some food/snacks that I’d been used to in training, with the view to minimising my need to use the aid station (and lose time) each lap. However, as the temperature and humidity rose I soon decided that a short refreshment stop every one/two loops would serve me well and help me to stay on top of my hydration.
Already finding it warm, 7 laps inA toasty 19 laps done and dreaming of anything ice cold
21-40 Miles
Struggling in the heat, and already having made a decision to dial back my effort to conserve energy for later in the day when it (hopefully) cooled down, I had promised myself a walking lap 21. Popping off the course to my car at the end of lap 20 I grabbed a pork pie and a handful of strawberries in a sandwich bag and strode on purposefully, eating as I walked.
As my stomach was feeling a little off already I figured that any time lost now by walking would be recouped later if I could avoid ongoing stomach issue later. This turned out to be a wise move, even if my legs protested when I started running again on lap 22!
Then, as if by magic, the ice lollies appeared. Runners passed by holding ice lollies and with big smiles telling us “They’ve got ice lollies at the aid station!” Boy oh boy, was that welcome. So much so that I asked for another one a couple of laps later, much to Karen’s amusement.
A very, very welcome ice lolly on lap 24
Paul Reader and Zoe Norman both came along to offer support and ended up running a lap with me, which was a real boost. Then Pete Hammond appeared too, which was another boost.
Happy to see another friendly face 📸 Paul Reader
I sent Matt an update. I was flagging but determined. I decided to treat myself to another walking and eating lap once I’d reached 40 loops.
Matt’s motivational reality checkStriking my best Alan Partridge “Ice lolly, I’ve got an ice lolly!” pose (my 2nd one!) 📸 Zoe Norman
Mile 41 – 50
This is where the doubts grew louder. I’d been doing mental maths for hours, trying to work out how long it would now take me to reach half way. And I didn’t like the numbers I was generating, or more accurately the way my pace had dropped from my target and how long it was taking me.
By now I was also starting to struggle to eat the top up pretzels (to help with my salt intake in the heat) and was having to force myself to eat. I knew that I had some treats waiting for me and vowed to get to 50 miles to earn them. It was raining lightly and getting cooler, so I needed to change into a warmer long sleeved top and I’d do that then.
I’ve never had custard during a 100 miler before but boy oh boy was I happy that I’d bought some just in case, along with the trusty rice pudding and M&S Iced N Spiced buns. After a quick change of tops I devoured two custard pots and immediately felt better. A bun was quickly eaten, Irn Bru added to the race vest along with more flapjack and snack bars and the ever reliable jelly snakes, and I was off on my 51st lap.
51 – 75 Miles
I immediately felt better. It’s amazing what a reset and something different to eat can do for your state of mind. And some tunes.
I’d promised myself that once I got to halfway I’d get the earphones out and start listening to some music. Out came the earphones, on went the mix of 80s, 90s and 00s, and occasionally I broke into song. Life was good. Hurty but good.
Counting down the loops helped psychologically, especially once darkness finally descended and the head torch came out at the same time as the waterproof jacket.
Looking tired but forcing a smile for the camera 📸 Karen Webber
Given that this would be only my third 100 miler without the aid of a pacer in the second half (2015 SDW100, my first 100, and 2017 NDW100, my first DNF) managing my own effort would be crucial. I couldn’t reply on someone else to tell me when to run and just do as I was asked (swearing at them internally). It was all on me this time.
Embracing my inner mile 60-75 demons, standard demeanour according to KW 📸 Karen Webber
As if running through the night like a sleep deprived zombie wasn’t enough “fun” for a 100 miler the weather gods arranged for a couple of hours of thunder and lightning very nearby to accompany us. Well it definitely kept me alert!
In previous races I’ve slowed down during the night section as mental and physical fatigue sets in. This time around I truly embraced Gary Robbins’ mantra by telling myself to “Don’t think, just do” when it became time to run again at the same point in each lap. My feet were sore but not blistered, my legs were sore but still worked, and my mind was tired but focused on maintaining movement one lap at a time.
Yes, I wanted to stop running many, many times but I wanted to keep going until I had nothing left more. At least this time, this race, I did.
I kept the calories coming in, little and often, mainly flapjack and jelly snakes by now. The lovely Fiona McNelis, who I met volunteering at the Thames Meander Marathon in 2014, was working the aid station overnight and kept reminding me to eat. The Irn Bru was, as usual, going down a great and helping to her more calories in. Best of all, I felt strong on each lap and by counting down the laps was able tell myself that I “only” had to run this part of the loop another 30, 29, 28, … times. Still a lot, but way better than 70 to go!
And then, with 75 miles completed, there was rice pudding! Oh yes. Food of the gods. Topped up with more jelly snakes, bars and flapjacks and another bottle of Irn Bru, I set off for the final 25 laps.
76 – 100 Miles
And the loops continued. The hiking and running continued in the same parts of the loop as before, and before, and before. I was finding the monotony strangely comforting. The tunes were also helping to distract me from the distance still to go and make me want to move, which is always helpful in the latter stages of a 100 miler.
As I reached the top of the long incline and broke into a run on the downhill stretch for the 76th time I told myself “You only gave to run this bit 24 more times” and “It’s less than 3/4 mile, you can do that”. 23 to go . 22 to go. Oh look, the sun’s starting to make an appearance. 21 to go, 20, 19, … And so it continued.
14 laps to go and focused on finishing in under 24 hours if I could
I can’t begin to explain the feeling when I realised I had single figures of loops left to run. I’d kept recalculating my likely finish time, focusing on proving that the sub 24 hour finish at A100 wasn’t a fluke and getting another one here. The prospect of a new PB had long since left my mind as I was convinced that ship had sailed.
Smelling the finish with 6 laps to go
Then I checked my phone for the final time.
Coach knows best and restored my hope of a new PB with this message
Could I sneak under 23h36m and get a new PB? Really? My tired brain did the mental maths again and I realised that unless I dropped to a walk it was on the cards. In fact, if I kept running as I had been I was likely to beat my current PB by a few minutes.
And if I pushed my pace I could make the gap even larger. After being certain that a PB had slipped from my grasp in the first 50 miles I’d managed to claw back some time and if I missed out on a PB now I’d be kicking myself.
So I pushed on like a man possessed.
Another surprise visitor raised a smile on lap 95 📸 Brendan Turner
Somehow I ran miles 94 – 98 progressively faster. I think Matt was a little excited!
Coaching motivation right there
And then I was running loop 100. I was going to do it. A PB was waiting for me. I pushed and ran as quickly as I could.
As I crossed the timing may for the final time I shouted “Yes!”, stopped my watch (obvs 😂) and turned to Karen to check my time.
23:24:01
A PB by over 12 minutes.
On Father’s Day, and with my late Father for company all the way.
Thanks for keeping me company Dad. We miss you x
I was elated.
Takeaways
I ran a negative split. In a 100 mile race. I’d never have thought that possible. Yet I did it.
Before the race I wasn’t confident of achieving a new PB. I was too heavy. I’d sabotaged myself by not getting serious about my diet.
During the race I had struggled with the heat and my confidence took a knock. I couldn’t see how I could maintain let alone increase my overall pace to claw back lost time.
I never gave up or lost hope though. By focusing on the mile I was in, clichéd as it may be, I kept moving forward and slowly gained momentum. And in 100 milers momentum matters a lot.
“Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.” – Dale Carnegie
I remembered to:
👉 Focus on what I can control 👉 Break it down into small steps 👉 Take one step and then another
So I did exactly that
🏃♂️ I managed to keep moving 🏃♂️ Maintain a steady pace on tired legs 🏃♂️ Chip away at the remaining 50 miles
And ran miles 51-100 faster than miles 0-50
Through resetting, refocusing and consistent action:
🎯 I ran a negative split 🎯 I ended up running a new PB 🎯 I got my first top ten finish
Time to go ultra - #projectultra was just the start 