The End!

I did it. 53.5 miles in 18 hours and 48 minutes. Finishing just before 3am exhausted. Elated. Everything put on the line to reach Winchester. It started at 8am on Saturday morning with a few tears unsure if this was really the right thing to do, facing what I knew would be a tough trial both mentally and physically. Hoping that I could do myself justice. 

As always Threshold events make it easy. Well run, managed safely and great support throughout. Although this year with a few changes it wasn’t quite as it has been and I spent several hours just dying for a cheese sandwich. Even better I had my wife Keeley as extra support. Carefully worked out stops (so we thought) and a boot full of all the goodies I may need and knew they wouldn’t have at pitstops this year (except cheese sandwiches!) 

Race to the King is arguably the easiest of the original threshold series - less hills, shorter than Stones, but the tricky terrain of the South Downs Way means it is still very much a challenge. Lots of chalky flint stones under foot meant that even with my blister powder and taped feet I’m left with a lovely blood blister on the sole of my right foot meaning recovery is still in progress. It’s definitely beautiful. Some stunning scenery and beautiful fields. Sadly no photos of this to share with you (you’ll find out why in a moment) - apparently 2000 people entered one of the 3 events on offer. Straight through like myself. Two day campers and those just doing the one day option. Which meant plenty of company and it’s those moments of snatched conversations with strangers which make ultras so much fun. 

My run/walk technique worked well even around the hills. The longest gap of the day was the 10 miles to the first pitstop which ended up being slightly less as they had had to move the start to Goodwood race course. This pitstop was super busy I grabbed a pack of nuts and didn’t stop. Knowing I’d arranged to see keeley before pitstop 2. But both of us realising we’d accidentally put her next to pitstop 2! The weather was perfect none of the searing heat of the previous weekend. Light drizzle in places. But no torrential rain that had left the ground sodden, slippy and muddy. 

Pitstop 2 was really where things took a turn. Unfortunately I discovered that once again for the big occasion I would have my period to contend with, the joys of peri-menopause, that said my body was put through such strain it never became the issue it could have been. Leaving me as fast as it arrived! After seeing Keeley and having some food I happily texted a few friends to let them know how I was doing. Put my phone back in the pocket of my pack. 30 minutes later I reached for my phone to take a photo of the stunning view that was in front of me to be met with a screen saying “hello what language would you like” - my iphone had completely reset. I was in full on panic mode. No means to contact anyone. No way for Keeley to track me on find my friends. Disaster. The next hour is a blur as I tried to keep going but also fix my phone. Suffice to say I couldn’t get it back to normal so had to get it working as best I could. Thankfully Keeley sent me a text so I could reply (no contacts, no clue of her phone number) explaining what’s happened. I tried to phone but it wouldn’t work! The plan to try and restore from back up at basecamp which was the next stop. After arranging this I turned the phone off and tried to refocus. 

Basecamp was only 23 miles. Bad news for those hoping for a double marathon weekend. Keeley was there. I couldn’t focus on anything but my phone. It’s against the rules to not have a working phone. Never mind my own safety at night. This meant I didn’t even look at the hot food on offer, I didn’t sit. I didn’t do anything other than mess with my bloody phone. Which didn’t work. It meant we agreed Keeley would take it back to our hotel and hope they had wifi which would enable a restore from backup so I had something. She would just come to somewhere on route at some point before darkness to return it to me. But that meant any of our other planned meeting points were now out of the window. I felt pretty upset. The tears and anxiety were there on the edge. But there was nothing to do other than set off for the second part of the race. 

The next few hours were amazing. I just had myself. My focus on one foot in front of the other. The views that I could only commit to memory. My mind when I’m running switches off. It’s the only time I can turn the noise off in my head. Simply working out pacing, when and what I should eat next. How far to the next pitstop. I had time to reflect on why it is that pushing myself to extremes is something i am apparently good at, believing that I can do it. But in daily life I struggle to even get out of bed. The rain came during those hours. My blister started to be noticeable on the downhill sections. But I kept going. I was making great time too. Surprised at my ability to push through. 30 miles came and went. I was also working out where I may see Keeley especially as it was just starting to get dark. Although I had begun to realise I’d be okay and almost wished I could get a message to her saying “I don’t need my phone”. Then after leaving a pitstop with the chap on the bike putting out the glow sticks for us to follow, at the top of a hill in the drizzle there she was! 

My phone was safely restored and working. I had some food and watermelon. We talked about if I should see her again and decided actually she should just return to the hotel and see me at the finish. I expected that to be between 2 and 3am. 

This was my 5th ultra and I’ve now done a few which take me into the night, so I know that it becomes a very different race. After nearly falling flat on my arse and sliding down the entire Old Winchester Hill due to the mud I knew it was going to get slower. You’re tired. Hitting 40 miles at 9.45 felt like I should be finishing before 2am but my blister, the chafing and the growing nausea in my stomach all took it’s toll. For the first time in an ultra I found myself sitting at some of the pitstops. Great advice from my virtual support Whiffers meant I had some soup as my stomach could handle this. I’d also taken a packet of miso soup when I last saw Keeley and this was a godsend at the last pitstop where I felt super sick. The salty warmth giving me a boost to make those final miles. It becomes so tough. Your brain struggles to focus, you’re just longing for the finish. People around you are the same. Lots of conversations with medics about whether they can continue. One lady running with her shoes undone as her feet had swelled so much. I say running. But in the dark you’re walking. I had a trot when I could on the roads. But realised it was energy sapping so stuck to trying to get a good walking pace. But for me that’s ultra running. So shoot me if you don’t like that! 


And then suddenly there’s only 5k to go and 2 miles, 1 mile. The finish line. I achieved all I wanted to. Finishing. Smiling. Faster than RTTT. But spent. Keeley cut me out of my compression sleeves, my feet broken but my spirit not so. One thing I was sure of, which I’d decided during those hours without my phone, was that this was my last ultra that took me into the night. It’s not something I need to do again. Nothing to prove and it’s such a price. Literally running to empty. I’ve withdrawn from the Canterbury Trails in August and should I do an ultra again it will be a straightforward 30 miler or a two day affair. But even those, right now, don’t appeal. 

I am still in recovery. The sick feeling took a few days to pass despite a giant breakfast the next day. My mental strength may take a bit longer but I am proud of what I achieved and it’s helped me reassess Tower and feel proud of that too. This experience definitely reinforced that you can’t always change the beginning but you can write your own ending!