The Authentic Phidipiddes Run 2022 - From dream to reality...

'Like a tree that grows stronger with more branches and roots, you need to find more and more ways to be inspired' - Yannis Kouros

It didn't take long to decide to return to the Authentic Phidippides Run, having completed the race in 2019. Due to the pandemic, the 6th edition of the race was cancelled in 2020 and I had to wait until 2021 to return; where with a bit more experience, I was very pleased with a 5-hour personal best of 85h40, finishing 6th overall. 

As I said before, I love the route and the history behind this race, and more importantly I love the amazing volunteers who are so good to me every time I race in their beautiful country. It won’t come as a surprise that I decided to participate for a third time in 2022, the Phidippides experience is like a drug, with several runners returning year in year, including the talented Lucasz Sagan who continues to smash his own course record. The last 18 months have been huge for me as an ultra-runner and like a bottle of wine, I feel like I'm improving with age. Suffice to say, I had high hopes of doing well at this year's Phidippides, with my dream being to make it back under the 80 hours mark.

The route follows the footsteps of Phidippides, an Athenian soldier sent to Sparta to request King Leonidas’s support in the fight against the Persian invasion in 490BC. The race starts at the base of the Acropolis and follows lovely coastal roads, then through the Greek countryside to Sparta and back again, climbing Artemesio mountain twice and covering 490km in the process.

Race day arrived and I led a small group of runners from the hotel to the start, a mile away. One of these runners was Didier from France, and we quickly formed a bond having many things in common; he speaks Portuguese with his Portuguese parents, his wife is Brazilian, etc.  It’s 6am at the start line, I say a quick hello to my Greek friends and we are off.  Didier and Francesca who I met the night before form a little team and run together; the first few miles are easy and uneventful; it’s probably my least favourite part of the route.

At around the marathon distance in the area of Megara we had our only diversion of the route due to roadworks and I managed to make the only navigation error during the race missing a small tunnel that crosses a larger motorway. Using my watch map I quickly rectify the mistake and we are back on track within 10 mins.

The sun is out and is lovely on the skin but the strong headwind seems to annoy me and Didier. Francesca has to stop for the call of nature and is now trailing 5min behind. George who completed every single edition of the race is now with us too and as we pass the Corinth canal at around 80km where we stop for quick selfie. The headwind plus sunshine are starting to take their toll and I'm looking forward to a pit stop in Examilia, one of 6 larger check points on the way to Sparta. We were there for about 15min, inhaling a plate of hot pasta and some canned peaches, and a quick sock change.

Corinth Canal with George (AEK)

The night is fast approaching and with the coast left behind the wind has died down a bit and I'm feeling re-energised. The head torch is on and we are enjoying the miles, eating, drinking and chatting away making our way towards the mountain, passing Nemea where I see my race 'mums'. Eventually we pass Lyrkeya where the long mountain climb starts; it is now me, Didier, George, Francesca and another Greek runner. I feel quite sleepy  and trees are taking weird shapes like I'm on an acid trip, so I opt for a couple of caffeine pills which does the trick and make our way to the village of Karia, that sits half way to the top of Artemisio mountain. More climbing and more walking and we finally make our way up the rocky road which is very close to the summit. I tell the others that the descent is much quicker despite it being all dirt tracks.

Nestani checkpoint is at the bottom of the mountain at around 105 miles and I get there in good spirits having covered a third of the race and my hallucinations have also disappeared. After some hot food, Didier, George and I are out of Nestani, leaving Francesca there to sort out her blisters.

It is about 15 easy, flat miles to Tegea, the sun has now come up and my circadian rhythm has woken me up fully. I'm ready for a day's running. Once in Tegea, I opt for sandwiches and a flan. Now, only 30 miles left to Sparta and our halfway point! The flat section is over and it is now a lovely undulating route with beautiful scenery on both sides, despite the road being busy and fast. We are finally at the last 10km into Sparta; Didier is positive he is stopping in Sparta complaining of an issue in his ankle. The downhills are becoming a problem and he is worried of the possible long term impact of attempting to run back. The 3 amigos arrive in Sparta together dodging the traffic in the bustling city centre, in about 37hours11min. I touch the King Leonidas statue for the 5th time and tell myself that this is just as special as all the other times.

The Three Amigos

The famous King Leonidas Statue

        

I'm not that keen to stay in Sparta for long, I rush George to finish his food and after our goodbyes to Didier we are back on the road to Athens.  We cross Francesca on the outskirts of the town; she is now alone but seemed in good spirits. A quick hug and I warn her to keep an eye on the road signs as the town is busy with people and cars on a Friday night.

It is about 10km uphill back to the motorway, so it is mostly power walking for us, we are high-fiving a lot of the runners, running in the opposite direction. Back on the motorway and with every hour covered it gets colder and colder. I'm wearing 3/4 tights, baselayer, top and a waterproof jacket, buff around my neck, beanie, cap and gloves. I'm running lots to keep warm and eventually notice that all the plants next to the road are frozen (apparently it was 0C)! The sky is absolutely stunning, so many stars, so clear. I keep rubbing my arms to get the blood pumping and to be totally honest, I'm getting a bit worried about the temperature. Arriving at an unmanned checkpoint, George spots a roll of bin bags and uses his teeth to cut the arms and neck and make me a gillet. I immediately feel better and cosier, although, the legs are still cool, I keep running well and eventually make it to Alepochori check point, seeing Maria and Lena for some well-earned hot food. George seemed a bit annoyed as I left him a few metres behind and I explained to Lena to translate to him that I'm just worried and trying to keep warm. We shake hands, I tell him that I appreciated his help with the gillet and I leave by myself, using a foil blanket as a skirt to insulate my legs. Plants are still frozen but I am running  strong and feel warmer with my bin bag gillet and space skirt as insulation. Eventually, I'm back in the lower ground, bursting through the Tegea checkpoint and waking up Lointa; Beth is in the kitchen and I'm up for some soup and sandwiches.  Lointa checks the tracker and says I'm 3rd. I can't quite believe it but I did pass a few runners returning from Sparta. Just as I leave, the 4th runner is entering the checkpoint.

This is the point where I decide to put my racing hat on. The 15 miles to Nestani are flat and I ran pretty much all of it with a quick stop at Zevgolatio; where Alkis and his wife have been cooking omelettes that tasted insanely good on top of bread. Now in racing mode, I arrive in good spirits at the bottom of the mountain for more hot food, clean socks and quickly depart before the 4th runner has seen me. The sun is now out again but it still feels cool. It has been over 50 hours of racing and still no sleep.

Power walking up Artemesio feels good and I'm enjoying the views the higher I go. During the decent, the official photographer is following me with the drone, so I'm trying my best to look cool and relaxed, I also stop for a quick selfie with Dimitris, one of the organisers. After a couple of hours descending the mountain, my brain is starting to melt a bit, probably because of the of lack of sleep, so I lie on the floor in the unmanned Lyrkeia checkpoint  for 5 minutes, getting strange looks from a boy sitting on the steps of the mini market across the road.

I keep running but looking back thinking that at any time I will see my opponent.  I eventually reach the “Shepherd’s” checkpoint, who unfortunately wasn’t there this year due to work commitments in Athens. However, Pantelis had a little bowl of spaghetti  for me and the Shepherd’s sister made me a sugary frappe. I press on towards Nemea feeling better, looking forward to seeing my race mums again. Nemea came and went and I'm now starting the third night on my way to Corinth. The road there isn't great; fast and busy with cars and the point where last year I was attacked by a dog. At some point on that road, a car stopped and it was Spyros who came to cheer me on. He offered me a cold can of Mythos and I couldn't refuse, tasted amazing and definitely gave me a lift.

It is always a good time for Mythos!

I'm still running and my body is in good shape but my brain started to go into overdrive as I'm getting close to Examilia - to the extent that I forgot I was in a race, questioning why I was running, where I was running to. Confused, I thought I was going to a party but questioned why I wasn't dressed up for it, which of the kids I should pick up to the take the party and why I didn’t have any beers to take with me... then I'd concentrate and repeat to my myself, you're running Phidippides, get to Examilia and sleep, 4th guy will be struggling too, don't worry, don’t fuck this up and end up not finishing.  I finally got to Examilia had lots of hot food and crashed on the sofa and was covered with a blanket: '20min sleep please, no more and could you wake me up with a coffee?'

I'm out of there with my brain in better shape and no sign of the 4th runner. I figured out from the tracker he is 10km away, a nice margin but nothing safe. I cross the Corinth canal again but no time for selfie this time, I’m  now about 80km from the finish. Back on the coastal roads but it is still pitch black, I'm feeling really sleepy now (no shit Sherlock) and although I’m no longer hallucinating I’m literally sleep running. What worried me, was that I'd wake up 2 meters into the road. Although the road was quiet, there is always the risk of being hit by something. There seemed to be lots of stray dog and their constant barking would give me a little shot of adrenaline and wake me up momentarily,  silver lining hey!? Arriving in Kinetas checkpoint with roughly 60km to go, I again opted for what would be my last 20min sleep and to be woken up with a sugary coffee.

Resetting the brain!

I'm now eager to reach the area of Megara (a mere marathon to go), the sun rose again and I noticed the sea was really choppy which reminded me of Cornwall but luckily the wind was sort of sideways, so I was still running well. A support car drives past me and asks what I need in Megara 'I can eat anything but a black coffee would be great'. Bingo! Black coffee is waiting for me and I have a little sit down to enjoy it, dunking chocolate cookies.

Coffee and cookies

I'm no longer worried about my position, as the margin has increased but it will be tight to go under 80hours, I can't afford slips ups or bad spells. I got through the diversion without a mistake this time and continue to enjoy the views of the choppy sea to my right, eventually arriving at Eleusis with a half marathon left.

As you leave that town, it is absolutely horrid for 4 miles running on the motorway, you can taste the pollution, dead cats and rubbish everywhere, so I do my best to not let it beat me up like it did last year. I maintained focus to achieve my sub80 and soon enough, the horrid section is done!  Now 2 miles up the motorway, not as unpleasant but steep, so I alternate walking 20 steps and running. My emotions are bubbling up, tears stream from my eyes, I feel my destiny is in my own hands.  I made to the top, turn right leaving the motorway behind and now only 10km to the finish. Vasiliki, Smudge (dog) and another volunteer are there, I have a swig of Coke and start running towards the Acropolis. Vasiliki and Smudge follow me, we are running together, the traffic is mad, we are crossing red lights (ok in Greece) and the pace is increasing with 3 miles to go. Illias driving the organiser's car, is now blocking the traffic so I can keep running, total madness and I realise if I push a bit I can do sub79. Why not, I ask myself - you have a chance, so take it! Vasiliki and Smudge are still running with me, it feels very quick but I’m probably running 9 minutes per mile.

Quick right, then left turn and I see the finish line - Mr Diamantis, race director is waiting for me. Quick glance at my watch and the job was done for an unbelievable personal best of 78h56min (return leg of 41hr45min). Diamantis offered me a handshake but I opted for a big hug instead and I take the opportunity to thank him and his army of volunteers yet again for a fantastic event. I then sit underneath the big bull, like I did in 2019 and 2021 sipping a bottle of coke and enjoying the endorphins.

Phew! It is over!

Just chilling!

Lots of other runners have asked me my secret for such an improvement in the last 3 years doing this same race. Well, I can tell you, I'm not any quicker than 3 years ago, in actual fact I'm probably slower. Don't ask me to run an all-out marathon these days, I'd be rubbish! But with consistent training I feel much stronger maintaining lower speeds for several hours. I haven’t done any interval training for 18 months. In my opinion, if you want to race long distances, train slow and leave your ego on the side.

With my buddy Smudge. Don't tell Monty! Sssh

I'm now on the sofa drinking coffee and cuddling my dog looking back at an exceptionally great season completing:

The Arc of Attrition 100 miler - Jan
The Devon C2C 117 miler - May
The 3 Peaks Ultra 430 miler - June
The Peak District 100 miler - July
The Royan 48 Hours covering 312km - Sep
The Authentic Phidippides 304 miler - Nov

Luckily this year I suffered no injuries or setbacks. With so much shit going around the world, ultrarunning offers me a temporary escape from my worries and fears, a chance to disconnect and meditate by putting one foot in front of the other. It is definitely excessive, probably not good for my body but great for the soul. 

Also, very importantly I had the pleasure of running with some amazing people during my adventures this year, listening to each of your stories and battles has inspired me to achieve my own dreams. Thank you! 

I will definitely not race as much next year (to my wife’s delight) but the season is already defined. In 2023 I am taking on the:

 

6-day Racing World Championship in Policoro/Italy - in March

Thames Ring 250 miler – April

Gloucester 48 hours – August

Mark Cockbain’s LonLans 250 miler – October

 

One last thing - huge congratulations to Lucasz Sagan, winning the race once again and to Francesca winning first lady!

Feeling a bit out place with the two superstars!

The amazing volunteers!

 

The Authentic Phidippides Run 2019 - 490k

To set the scene, it is 2018 and it is the following day after Martin and I have finished Spartathlon. We’ve just finished a lovely lunch with the mayor of Sparta, and are now sitting on a coach stuck in busy traffic, trying to get back to our hotel back in Athens. Martin turns to the side to alleviate his cramped legs and moans. I tell him, 'If we ran double Sparta we wouldn't have to sit on this bus, we would run back and find the nearest bar to drink Mythos!’ - Fuck off, was the reply I got.

The Authentic Phidippides Run is now in its fifth year, it follows the journey made by Phidippides, an Athenian soldier, who in 490BC ran from Athens to Sparta to deliver a message, hence why the race is 490km long. This year the race had a record number of entrants with 41 competitors from all over the world.

Fast forward, and it is Friday 15th Nov 2019 and we are both ready to begin the hardest and longest athletic challenge of our lives. Over the last few months we've exchanged thousands of messages planning and dreaming about this race. It was back in May this year, when after running 350 miles from Inverness to Yorkshire in 10 days that, that over a pint of Guinness we agreed that we had what it took to attempt the Authentic Phidippides Run, or double Sparta as we called it.

3, 2, 1 and we were off, it is now real, and each step takes us closer to our dream, we have no crew, and are both entirely reliant on help from the race organisers. I carry all the essentials for this race in my race pack. It is 6am but there are already lots of cars on the roads trying to avoid the capital’s rush hour. The first few miles are uneventful, as we look around at the other competitors trying to gauge who looks like they can finish this beast of a race.

The weather is hotting up as we pass the marathon mark in just over four hours. You now feel you are out of Athens at last, and the coastal roads are beautiful with the gorgeous sea to our left. After another 15 miles my tummy starts to ache and I have a strong desire to vomit, which does then alleviate a bit of the discomfort. This wasn't the dream start I was hoping for, I suggest to Martin to plod on in front of me as I don't want to delay his progress, but he replies, 'You are obviously having a bad patch but let's get to 50 miles together'.

Stunning sea view!

Once at the checkpoint at around 50 miles I find my first drop bag, I have a pot noddle, a snickers bar and tell Martin I'm going to lie down and I insist he goes on ahead alone. I use my backpack as a pillow and snooze for 30min in the shady veranda of the checkpoint.

Topping up

I'm out again on my own and immediately feeling better, running feels good again and my tummy problems are now behind me, the sun is going down and I'm looking forward to the cooler evening. Jean-Louis from France now joins me and we shared a few miles together, I remembered him from last year's Spartathlon, he is an experienced 6-day racer and a very talented long distance runner, he is also 63. He shared a bit of his wisdom with me and explained that in a race this long it is fundamental to stop for naps every few hours to trick your body into thinking it is rested resulting in a better race experience, probably faster overall time instead of death marching like a zombie. I'm a good listener (wife raises eyebrow here), and everything makes more sense, my 30min snooze did me a world of good and I'm running well again…

I'm enjoying the night time running, drinking cups of sugary tea and eating dry toast, the combination of which seems to be creating a comforting layer in my tummy. Every competitor is now covered up head to toe but I love the cool breeze, although I do get told off a few times and told to cover up: 'Don't worry, this is like summer in England, I'm used to it!'.

The sky is stunning, in the middle of the Greek countryside you can really enjoy the view of the stars and satellites moving across, I might even have spotted a shooting star or two. After running well for the last 25 miles I start to naturally fade and at 75 miles checkpoint I have a bowl of soup, some bread and another 30min snooze on a yoga mat in a busy village hall.

My alarm goes off and I'm out again in the pitch black, re-energized and running towards the mountain, which will mark 1/3 of the race, approximately 100 miles in. The roads undulate a lot now and it is definitely cooler, so I’ve put on a layer with long sleeves, gloves and a buff for my bald bonce. Spanish runner, Fernando, catches up with me, and we immediately form a bond, (sorry Martin). Unbeknownst to me though, Martin is now running ahead with Danish runner, Henrik.I feel awake and try practicing my Spanish with Fernando, we are running all the flats and downhills whilst power walking the uphills, life is good. There are hundreds of stray dogs along the route, some of them can be quite vocal but two dogs decide to follow us for what seemed like eternity. We weren't complaining though as they created a nice barrier between us and the other dogs that were not so friendly, and they kept up with us until the start of the mountain section. I really hoped they would find their way back.

For those that have run Spartathlon, the mountain section will be familiar, it is a series of about 6 to 7 hairpin turns on the road, then straight up the steep mountain, which usually takes around 30mins. For the Authentic Phidippides Run this section is quite different, it is essentially the Spartathlon Mountain on steroids. The race director or whoever designed this course obviously took pleasure in making us suffer! I’d say this course would add an extra 2hours to the well-known Spartathlon route. We started the long climb, quickly realising there definitely wouldn’t be any running here, as we tackled hairpin after hairpin, I was still not sure how far we had to go up. Luckily Fernando was a decent walker so it was great to have him as a pacer up there. After over 20hrs of moving, I was hallucinating mildly and seeing all sorts of shapes and forms in the trees alongside the road.

Mountain View with 'lake' aka fog! Simply stunning.

As we climbed, I noticed a slow moving head torch at the very top, it looked like a little star in the sky, and I mentioned to Fernando that that must be end of it. After another hour or so we reached that point and to our despair that wasn't the fucking end of it, that was about 2/3. The road ends near this point and we had reached the rocky off road path, where there was a small checkpoint and where I grabbed a bit of Coke as I was feeling quite sleepy.  After even more climbing, and as we neared the summit, the sun was trying to make its way up from behind the mountain range; it was even colder now I put my jacket on. The view was absolutely gorgeous, and I imagined this massive lake at the bottom of the valley but soon realised it was in fact a thick layer of fog. I felt lucky to be there, and as we descended, Fernando complained about the rocky terrain, his feet are ached however I felt more and more awake and every time I looked behind he was further away. I was now flying down the mountain and even passed another competitor, my plan was to make Nestani, have a big meal and sleep for an hour.

Nestani came and went; I caught up with Jean-Louis and asked where the checkpoint was. In the middle of the village he replied. ‘Oh Fuck!’, I had missed the arrow painted on the ground.  He stressed that I must go back as there was a timing mat to register our passage. Fuck, fuck, fuck! 'It's 1.2km back there Rodrigo'. I tell myself to not get angry, in the great scheme of things this is nothing, don't make a big deal of this I tell myself.

I'm finally back at the checkpoint and Fernando is enjoying his meal. I have some noodles, and cookies and set my yoga mat and blanket out for another sleep. Fernando is keen to stay together so I tell him I will set my alarm and wake him up. I'm out like a light, lying down felt great.

Alarm goes off, I'm up and Martin is in front of me, I'm confused, he couldn't possibly have been to Sparta and is on his way back already could he? He had sent me this message whilst I was sleeping:

'How you doing? Get back to me when you can. I went indoors for a sleep after the mountain, got up and collapsed and they pulled me out, low blood pressure and dizzy after pushing hard all night, gutted but it was the right call. I am at the 170 km cp. Not sure how I am going to get back to Athens yet'.

‘They said I can continue with you, as I'm feeling better’. I'm trying to make sense of everything that has happened, I introduce him to Fernando and after some more food we are out of Nestani on the that last 50 miles before we reach Sparta. Day 2 isn't as hot and I appreciate that, we make good progress to Tegea, the roads are flat so we didn't have many excuses to walk. I'm doing my best switching between English and Spanish. Our next bigger checkpoint in Tegea was great; they had real mattresses on the floor and the best soup we had eaten so far and lovely volunteers. I really enjoyed Greek yogurt with local honey. Martin and I had a lie down for 20min while Fernando sorted out his knackered feet.

We felt rejuvenated after a decent meal and a little rest - 30 miles or so now to Sparta. We are again on undulating roads, each taking turns to lead with the head torch. Fernando faded with each mile, and to be fair every time we walked he made the effort to regroup with us, and we passed a couple of Italians in the process.

We tick off check points, eating a variety of foods like pumpkin soup with mashed potatoes, black olive paste and soft cheese sandwiches, apples, bananas, biscuits and cups of tea. It is now dark again and the race leader passed us on his way back to Athens. I shout 'stay strong, you're looking great' and he runs up the hill giving us a wave followed by the lead car. As we make our way to Sparta we cross other competitors and figure out we are about 12th or so, not that it matters much at that stage.

There were no emotions coming into Sparta, the roads were empty, this is not Spartathlon I, halfway means nothing I tell myself. We got to King Leonidas statue in 39h59, Martin refused to touch it, and I looked up at the great king and tell him I need his strength to make the journey back. We have a photo with the race director and enter the checkpoint. I find some pot noodles and rice pudding from my drop bag. While I'm eating, Fernando is shaking like mad and the volunteers put him in a massage bed and cover him with foil blankets. I tell him to sleep for a bit, stay strong and continue the journey back once he feels better. Facilities weren't amazing for a nap and Martin and I were super keen to get out of Sparta, we knew 10km up the road we would find a lovely and quiet checkpoint with real mattresses.

Sparta at last!

My Spanish ‘affair’ was over and it was just me and my running b’friend Martin once again, we both feel ok but sleepy after a 14-hour shift. The mattress and blanket at the checkpoint on the outskirts of Sparta felt wonderful and for the first time I removed my trainers and slept for two hours. Our host was lovely and even turned the light out for us. We woke up and whilst having some food the volunteer's father offered us some Ouzo he was sipping, we declined and opt for sugary tea. It was around 3am as we left and we agreed to put in another 12-hour shift before our next sleep. As we walked uphill out of Sparta I suggested to Martin that we start running again so we would remind our legs that we were in charge. We both felt strong taking turns in front, passing the same checkpoints, again eating the same pumpkin soup with mashed potatoes, olive paste and cheese sandwiches, we even found the first of many pain-au-chocolat we would consume on our way back. The volunteers were wonderful, looking after us and giving us lots of praise and encouragement, it is impossible to not get your eyes filled with tears at these times. The sun was out again and we ran strong all the way to Tegea, except I experienced a strong pain in the arch of my feet which worried me massively, was that going to be the end of my race? Luckily, the Tegea checkpoint wasn't too far away, and again wonderful soup with rice, greek yogurt with honey awaited us.  I sat down on the mattress, removed my shoes and socks and massaged the troubled foot; it must have worked as we left in good spirits, with full bellies and running well again. Our next goal was to make to Nestani, just before the mountain passage by 3pm for a 2-hour sleep before entering our third night of running.

Tegea had the best soup for sure!

We managed to scare one of the volunteers who was having a nap on the roadside, he didn't know whether we were coming or going and made us both laugh. A few miles later another volunteer started playing Brazilian music on her phone when she saw my flag; I even attempted to samba after nearly 200 miles of movement, Strictly Come Dancing Greek Edition! (Editor’s note: Rod cannot samba at the best of times).

We reached Nestani around 2.30pm and this time I didn’t miss the signs for the checkpoint - we were very pleased to have covered nearly 45 miles since our last sleep in less than 12 hours. That was a great shift but by now we were ready to sleep again. Martin wanted three hours but being a control freak I demanded only two, I wanted to start climbing the mountain whilst it was still daylight. We basically split the break in 15min to eat, 2 hours sleep and another 15min to eat and get ready again. More pot noodles and rice pudding, and I set up my yoga mat with a sleeping bag I found. I removed my shoes, used my backpack as a pillow and used a blanket to raise my feet. I slept very quickly but woke up in only an hour with all the noise, Martin said he couldn't sleep but told me to carry on sleeping. Once the alarm went off I was up and noticed Fernando sleeping nearby, it was lovely to see that he'd made it back as he didn't look great in Sparta.

It was around 5.20pm as we left, we wrapped up as it felt cold outside and it would definitely get colder up in the mountains. We climbed and climbed as it got dark and we couldn't see much, we could only hear the bells of some nearby goats. Towards the summit a pick-up truck had its headlights on full beam and loud Queen songs were being played from the stereo. We realised that it was actually a ‘check point’ and the lights illuminated a pile of food and drink for us. More and more climbing and we made the summit for the second time, but somehow it felt better than the first time round.

We started the descent, running well and found the first of many checkpoints that were unmanned. Basically you'd find a sign with the checkpoint number, the mileage and two sacks tied to a tree or post, one as rubbish bag and the other with drinks and supplies, and if you were lucky there were also a couple of chairs for a rest. We weren't surprised when we caught up with another competitor from Italy, since our bad patches in the first day we felt that our 12hrs shifts and naps were working a treat. His crew were very complementary, topped up our bottles and kindly made us cups of coffee. Once the caffeine wore off I began feeling very sleepy, so we didn't talk much and I closed my eyes for 10 seconds and ran, I kept doing that as the road surface seemed smooth. We had left about 5pm the previous afternoon and it was now past 3 o'clock in the morning. 

At some point that morning we arrived at the checkpoint in ancient Nemea, and met our two race 'mums', it was quiet and they treated us like two sons returning from the war. We had a big meal, I changed into some new underwear and we got ready for our last sleep of the race. As I tucked myself under the blanket I noticed from the corner of my eye that Martin was being rocked from side to side like a baby by the two ladies, he was even making purring-like noises as he drifted off to sleep. What a wonderful view, I had such a big smile on my face as I fell asleep.

One of our race mums in Nemea.

An hour later and as we were leaving, we gave our race ‘mums’ a big hug. As the sun rose, the carriageway we were running on got busier; we passed the Italian who overtook us whilst we slept and a French runner. The hard shoulder was narrow and I didn’t enjoy the experience. I kept shouting at Martin to tuck in, ‘this fucker is going to get clipped by a car and I won’t finish because I will have to look after him’, he ignored me and we didn’t talk much. It was a distraction though and we made good progress to Corinth, we had a big meal there and left the checkpoint fairly quickly forgetting my running hat in the process, only realising a mile or so up the road. The sun was relentless once again and I wore a buff which I’d soaked with cold water to give me relief from the Greek sun. As we passed the Corinth canal again, we were both running strong and passed another Italian who seemed to have gotten lost. It  was at this stage of the race, that everything started to hurt but I refused to walk, I kept going saying the same thing over and over to myself ‘imagine you are going to get sick in the coming months and this is your last race, how much are you prepared to keep running and enduring the pain’. I once read ‘suffering is the pre-requisite to joy’, and at that stage of the race this couldn’t have been truer. We passed Ludo from Belgium and a Japanese runner who was sitting on the side of the road. After 20 miles of good effort we started to fade and sat down at a checkpoint for some food, the Japanese chap didn’t waste any time and passed us, whilst Ludo joined us.

The three of us left together and despite the meal I felt very weak, every bit of running felt like a struggle, a lot of the check points were now closed, instead the organisers would drive up and down past us offering supplies. I was trying to eat everything I could get hold of to try and perk me up. We had made it to the last marathon, but our spirits were low, and the thought of death marching for eight hours or more to Athens didn’t appeal to any of us. As we left I made the conscious decision to lead, I wanted to be in charge of deciding when to walk, probably because I was fucked. It was dark and the roads towards Athens were busy again, so it was great that we were together as team. As the miles went by we seemed to pick ourselves up and the running sections became longer than the walking, we even stopped to buy chocolate milk, ice creams and for me to go on bookings.com and book a hotel for our last two nights in Athens. A memorable moment was when a support car stopped in the middle of this busy road and fed us takeaway Souvlaki and chips. He commented, ‘I feel sorry for you eating soup and croissants for the last few days, you deserve some real food’, it sounded even better in his Greek accent, that was surreal especially as busy trucks kept whizzing past us.

 

Someone is happy to eat chips and souvlaki.

The mood was good again despite Ludo and I having a disagreement about the route. Running in the opposite direction it seemed like a completely different route. Martin wasn’t too keen on getting lost, so he got onto google maps, as he didn’t have any confidence from seeing me and Ludo arguing about the route. As we climbed the busy motorway 7 miles away from the finish I keep trying to reassure Martin that we weren’t lost as he was still trying to use google maps. Then we noticed ahead, an escort car with its hazard lights flashing and the Japanese runner who had passed us earlier was tucked in behind it. I could only assume he got terribly lost and the organisers found him and were now guiding him back. All three of us got a boost that we were on the right path and we followed him as he was running strong.

Out of the motorway and now five miles away from the finish we kept chasing him and his escort vehicle, it was exhilarating, it felt like we had just started the race, any pains and aches disappeared. The pace was incredible, the Japanese didn’t give an inch for miles, but just as we edged closer to the finish he started to walk, we encouraged him to run with us a few times but he was having none of it. We continued running, and as we turned to the left we finally saw the finish line, with that we all held hands and we enjoyed those last few metres coming home joint 7^th, with a time  of 90hrs21min, having covered that 490km from Athens to Sparta and back just like Phidippides did many years ago. What a wonderful and humbling experience but I was so glad to see the finish line. As some of my friends face life changing struggles at the moment, I do not for one minute, take the ability to run for granted. This was a race that makes you feel truly alive, and I was grateful to have made it onto the starting line, and even more grateful now that I had my medal. As modern life gets too complex to understand, ultra-running is a bit of an escape, my reset button. The simple art of putting one foot in front of the other for days on end may not be good for your body but it sure does a world of good for your soul!

Job done!

I would like to say many thanks to the race organisers who put together a magnificent route and race. A million thanks for all the volunteers who tendered to our needs, no volunteers = no race. Also, special thanks to all the other competitors for the camaraderie, especially Jean-Louis, Fernando and Ludo, who I had the pleasure to share many miles with. A massive thanks to Martin Bacon - just over a year ago we dreamed about this race, not sure we had the ability to conquer this. But with a strong desire, careful planning and a lot of guts we finally have our medals. Thanks to everybody who sent me messages of encouragement and luck before and during the race. And last but not least a HUMUNGOUS thank you to my wife and daughters who support me and put up with my obsession for endurance.

 

Finisher's Ceremony.

Time to have my feet up now; I’m not racing again until 31^st Jan next year when I will tackle the Arc of Attrition again here in Cornwall and later in May I will be running the Grand Union Canal race again.

Race Video: https://youtu.be/3Q4qL5cTtak

Spartathlon 2018 Race Report

I arrive in Sparta and kiss the King Leonidas statue; I am exhausted and emotionally drained. I get my phone out of my bag and tearfully ring my wife: ‘Anna, I’ve conquered Sparta! That was so hard, I have nothing else to prove and I will never come back here again’. That was 2016.

Raring to get going!

So what is the Spartathlon? It’s an annual, 246 km race (153 mi) in Greece started in 1983, famously retracing the footsteps of Pheidippides, an Athenian messenger sent to Sparta in 490 BC to seek help against the Persians in the Battle of Marathon. Pheidippides, according to an account by Greek historian Herodotus in The Persian Wars, arrived in Sparta the day after he departed. Herodotus wrote: "On the occasion of which we speak when Pheidippides was sent by the Athenian generals, and, according to his own account, saw Pan on his journey, he reached Sparta on the very next day after quitting the city of Athens." Based on this account, British RAF Wing Commander John Foden MBE and four other RAF officers travelled to Greece in 1982 on an official expedition to test whether it was possible to cover the nearly 250 kilometres in a day and a half. Three runners were successful in completing the distance: John Foden , John Scholtens and John McCarthy. The following year a team of enthusiastic supporters (British, Greek and other nationalities) based at the British Hellenic Chamber of Commerce in Athens and led by Philhellene Michael Callaghan organised the running of the first Open International Spartathlon Race. The event was run under the auspices of SEGAS, the Hellenic Amateur Athletics Association.

The moral from this story is, never believe an ultra-runner at the end of a race.  It is 2018, and I am at the base of the Acropolis and in a few minutes I will attempt once again the long journey to Sparta. The forecast is for a ‘Medicane’ also known as Mediterranean tropical hurricane. The race starts and the weather is perfect, slightly cool with a drizzle, and my guess is that by the time the Medicane reaches Athens the runners would be long gone, in fact I’m already thinking that this may be the kindest Spartathlon to date weather-wise, and if I do well then everybody will remember it as the ‘easiest year’ in the history of the race. How wrong would my prediction prove to be!

I am running with Martin Bacon. I first met Martin on the flight to Athens back in 2016, we got on straightaway, it must have been something to do with our love for running and cold lager. Since then, we have raced together on numerous occasions and been on a few interesting recces too. With a bit more experience than me and a great ultra CV, Martin took me under his wing. He didn’t prescribe me any training, or tell me what to eat or wear in races, but he has been unconsciously working on my psychology and giving me the belief that I can be better than I think I am. Over the past two years I’ve become a bit more ambitious with my goals and have found a new level of confidence, thanks to Martin.

The first few hours as we make our way out of Athens are perfect, with a slight mizzle that doesn’t really get you wet but keeps you cool. Martin and I arrive at the marathon distance in exactly four hours which is just right, and then make it to 50k in 4h37min at which point I switch off my watch, as I want to run by feel and to start introducing some walking, especially going on the uphills. The afternoon felt a bit muggy for me but I couldn’t really complain, my legs were moving ok, no pains or aches and I was drinking and eating well and enjoying the views of the sea. It was sad sight though to see so many burned down houses and trees after the awful fires Greece had suffered this summer.

It wasn’t long before we passed the Corinth Canal and made it to the 50 mile checkpoint. Our goal was to be there in 8h30 but we made it there in 8h15. It was time to have a quick breather and try to eat something more substantial. My teammate’s girlfriend  was there and she got me a bowl of rice which I downed with juice and a little pot of yogurt. We left in less than 10min and decided to walk for a little while to let the food settle. Martin then suggested I should go on my own as he wanted to slow the pace down a little. We got to the next checkpoint together and as he stopped for a call of nature I continued on my own.

Leaving Athens.

Nothing very exciting happened over the next few miles, I ran lots, I walked a little and I ate and drank as I felt the need. I managed to make it to 100k in roughly 10h30. The check point cut offs weren’t worrying me like they did in 2016 as I’d now built a significant buffer.

Not feeling like a shipwreck just yet!

As it started getting dark, the weather started changing dramatically, the wind was picking up, the rain was getting heavy and it was definitely getting colder. Big puddles were forming along the roads and I tried in vain to keep my feet dry. By now I had my jacket and headtorch on. My tummy was also feeling funny and my legs now knew they’d been moving for over 11hrs. Bad patches are a key part of ultrarunning, and you have to be resilient enough to endure them and try to remain positive, knowing that if you just keep putting one leg in front of the other your luck may change.

I was still running ok but my tummy was getting worse, I passed a few checkpoints without eating or drinking with the fear or making things worse; I know I’m good fat burner so the fact I wasn’t eating didn’t worry me. After deciding that enough was enough I made myself to be sick on the side of the road, aren’t we ultrarunners a classy breed? It improved things a little to be honest.

Still feeling great during the early stages of the race.

I started getting really frustrated by the lack of food I fancied eating at the checkpoints. There were little options that appealed, so I was eager to make it to checkpoint 33 at 112km where I had my first drop bag with a baselayer and some Snickers bars. The Snickers were a godsend; I had half a bar with a cup of tea and things definitely improved. I had a few sugary cups of tea in the next few checkpoints and bits of cut up apple and the odd bit of snickers, these were settling nicely in my tummy and my bad patch slowly disappeared . The rain and wind were now relentless, it had been raining for hours, my premonition that it was going to be the ‘easiest’ Spartathlon to date must have had the Greek Gods laughing hard at us. The puddles along the road were now rivers, and the gusty wind would rock you from side to side and you had to make sure you kept moving to stay warm.

I couldn’t make my mind up whether I felt cold or not. All I was wearing was a t-shirt and a waterproof jacket, both of which were soaked through. I got the first hint that I was cold was when I stopped at the next aid station under a road bridge to put my baselayer on, it was such a faff and so frustrating. I removed both my top and jacket and squeezed as much water from them as possible. It must have been hilarious for any onlooker to see me attempt put on my baselayer, with damp skin it just wasn’t going on. An American lady took pity on me and came over to help, amen to that. I downed a cup of soup and carried on.

I started running again, but now I felt too hot despite the rain and wind and all that faffing at the check point, for fuck sake. I made it to the next checkpoint and again more faffing trying to strip the baselayer off. It was definitely more comfortable to feel a bit cold than too hot. I was now making my way to the mountain which marks the 100 mile mark of the race and once I made it to the last big checkpoint before the mountain I had a strong desire for pot noodles, which is odd as I never eat them but that was what my tastebuds begged for. I looked at the food table and nothing really caught my eye or ‘stomach’, and as I’m about to leave I spotted a Japanese runner with a bowl of rice with some sort of sauce. I asked where he got it from and his support crew said it was their own food but kindly offered me some. Yes, please! That proved to be the best food I had during the whole race, it was Japanese rice with a very salty curry sauce that had a slight spice to it. He wished me good luck and said that everybody that had his curry the previous year went on to finish the race.

I felt great and ran down to the village in great spirits, that meal really hit the spot. Have I mentioned it hadn’t stopped raining yet? As you left this village on top of the hill you saw a long line of orange lights from the nearby motorway and I remembered from 2016 that at the end of the orange lights was the mountain base. With curry and rice in my tummy I made good progress through the fairly flat country roads until the bottom of the mountain. Once you make it there it is a very long winding and steep road, hairpin after hairpin, until you make it to the actual mountain base. I started the long winding road walking, and it seemed that the curry-infused energy I had been enjoying was quickly disappearing and I had no desire to run. I walked and walked and tried to ignore the fact that everyone was walking faster than me, but to be honest I was about to make it to the mountain base nearly two hours quicker than in 2016 so I couldn’t really complain. I eventually made it to the mountain base in just under 20hrs which felt pretty special. I sat down and found a turkey and cheese bap which I enjoyed with a cup of soup. I also spent 5min with the physiotherapist which released a bit of the tension on my trapezius. Going up the Parthenio Mountain didn’t feel too bad; it was foggy so you couldn’t really see anything below. Going down the mountain was a bit trickier though as the fog got thicker and it became slippery underfoot, and you had to pay attention and find the little red lights in the distance to make sure you didn’t fall down a ditch.

Now there were less than 2 marathons to go and if things didn’t derail too sharply then I was in for a respectable personal best at Spartathlon. Once you pass the village on the other side of the mountain then there are at least 20 miles that are reasonably flat, this is great as you can run faster but shit as you have no excuse to walk. It was past 5am now and I was looking forward to a bit of daylight. My tummy was ok, my diet now consisted of tea, soup, chocolate wafer biscuits, cut up apple and snickers bars, and I was still running well, with no real complaints. The weather was ever changing, some drizzle, followed by heavy rain, gusting winds, with no sunshine in sight.

Once daylight arrived, I was eager to find anyone that could literally take some weight from my shoulders. To my delight I met David Barker’s crew in the Tegea checkpoint who took my baselayer, gloves and headtorches. Thanks Sarah, Jo and Mark! Once you leave these last few quiet and flat country roads you do a left into a bigger main road and start the last 50k or so of the race.

Just before the last big climb there was a tiny checkpoint and I heard someone talking to me in Portuguese, it was Panagiotis, who is married to a Brazilian lady, who works as a volunteer. The wind was howling and the rain was hitting you from every side. The volunteers were taking shelter under a petrol station canopy. Panagiotis made me some soup and gave some bread to dip in it then sent me on my way to Sparta. You really have to applaud all the volunteers, even more so at this year’s race struggling with the Medicane. The massive hill seems to go on forever and I had flashbacks from 2016 where I pretty much walked the entire thing. I wanted to get up there a bit quicker this time so I started running 20 steps and walked 20 steps, and my legs seemed to enjoy that. I noticed two runners not far away and I was eager to catch them, by then I was running 40 steps and walking 20. Once I overtook them I just ran the rest of the hill, it didn’t take long before I made it to the summit. I knew that there would be more downhill than uphill and having done lots of downhill running in the last few months I was curious to find out how my quads would cope with the downhills this time around.

I could sense my legs re-energising despite the strong winds and the non-stop rain and with a marathon left to go I decided to turn on my GPS watch to check how fast or slow my pace would be after 127 miles on my legs. Martin predicted that I’d be two hours quicker than 2016 and unless something really bad happened his predictions seemed spot on, which made me very happy. And as the miles went by I felt stronger and stronger, I was overtaking runner after runner, running the uphills and literally flying down the downhills. I wasted no time at checkpoints, some of which I didn’t even stop at. Emotions were running high and I looked up at the sky and shouted ‘Fuck you weather’. Martin’s two-hour quicker prediction was being crushed with every mile. I must have overtaken over 30 runners in the last marathon, it was exhilarating, and to add more drama, with 20kms to go I figured out that if I ran a fraction faster than 10km per hour then I’d have a finishing time starting with 30hrs something, which would have been way beyond my expectations. Mission impossible began…I put any negative thoughts to one side and just ran even faster: ‘the fullness of life lies in dreaming and manifesting the impossible dreams’. The opportunity was right in front of me and I would give 110% to make it a reality. I ran hard, I cried, I shouted at the skies, the adrenaline was incredible. The last 11 miles were the fastest I ran in the entire race, totally unreal. These were the splits (8:11, 8:57, 9:09, 10:13, 8:38, 8:33, 8:24; 8:07; 8:08; 8:43; 9:10). That was mind blowing for me. I ran hard into Sparta, got my Brazilian flag from the last checkpoint. Unlike 2016, because of the horrendous weather there were no boys on pushbikes egging me to the finish and in fact only a very few people out on their balconies flying the Greek flag. That didn’t make it any less special though, as I turned right and saw the King Leonidas statue in the distance I relaxed, as tears ran down my cheeks, I waved my flag and enjoyed that special moment.

I kissed the statue in 30h54min, 3h25min faster than 2016, then rang my wife and blubbed like a baby again. I ran my first marathon in New York in 2008 in 4h22 and I had just run 4h21 in the last marathon of a 153 mile race in horrendous weather.

Mission accomplished!

Relief and joy!

What has been the secret of my success for this race? Well, I moved to Cornwall and I now run more hills and downhills than ever before, living on top of a 16% incline hill means every single run has a hill. To be honest I think running downhills hard has been key to my training, my quads were really strong in Sparta. I also thank Martin Bacon for his support; ultrarunning is mostly mental and his wise words have had a very positive effect on me over the last two years.

In more general terms, I use the Maffetone method to train and follow a diet based around the metabolic efficiency concept allowing me to be very good at using body fat to train and race. I try to maintain a healthy work/family/training balance and I love my 8-hour sleep at night. If I can give any advice to wannabe ultrarunners, it is that endurance comes with time, there is no fast track, so just be patient!

My season is over now so I’m looking forward to more time with my girls, less training and definitely a few more beers (in fact I’m drinking one as I write this blog). My next race is not until February, where I will take part in the Arc of Attrition here in Cornwall, a 100-miles of horrible weather along the sometimes hairy Coastal Path!

Many thanks to all the volunteers, race organisers, my Brazilian teammates and family, my adopted British team and support crew and a big thank you to Martin Bacon and of course my girls who put up with my training, absence and grumpy beardy face when I do these races.

Team photo

Special congratulations go out to Ishikawa Yoshihiko winning the race in 22h55 and also to Maraz Zsuzsanna, the first lady in at 27h05. The course record remains at 20h25 set in 1984 by the Greek Running God, otherwise known as Yiannis Kouros: “Like a tree that grows stronger with more branches and roots, you need to find more and more ways to be inspired.”

The Grand Union Canal Race 2018 Race Report

I blame the salesman, all I wanted was a pair of trainers to help me start running and lose the excess weight. At the time I was working full time, going to Uni at night, and my eldest daughter Bella was about to be born, the last thing on my mind entering a race. This was around 2007, and the salesman was Ryan Spencer. Ryan started telling me about his ultra-running and I was blown away when I heard he’d completed the Grand Union Canal race (GUCR). What?  145 miles? Is that even possible?

Anyway, it wasn’t until 2008 that I completed my first 10k race and I fell in love with the sport. I have followed the Grand Union Canal race ever since, and two years ago I was brave enough to have my first go. Unfortunately, a tummy bug hit our house, affecting all of us and it didn’t allow me to complete the GUCR. I ran to 20 miles, then walked and vomited until 50 miles, and then decided that it wouldn’t be safe to carry on. Last year I was back at GUCR as a volunteer, and in 2018 I was lucky enough to get a place again and have the chance to complete what I had started two years ago.

New season…

It is been an exciting new year for me and my girls. I got a new job in Cornwall and life was about to turn upside down. My last race in September 2017 was the Self Transcendence 24hr Track Race, and then October was my end-of-season break, with training resuming in November  with endless trips to Penzance to find somewhere for us to live. I started my job in the New Year and without somewhere suitable for us to live I rented a little AirBnB house in Hayle and then commuted almost every weekend back to Bedfordshire to see my family. I made the most of life as a ‘single man’ on Mon-Fri and ran lots in the evenings.

By the end of March we exchanged on a new property in Newlyn and I was reunited with my family. Work was now a mere 2 miles away and my frequency and mileage increased with running to and from work and by adding little ‘detours’ every day. My new running routes are simply stunning and it is always a pleasure to put my running shoes on. I’m totally in love with Cornwall, if you couldn’t tell!

Suddenly race day had arrived, I felt fit and strong without any injuries and ready to start this beast.

The Race…

It is race morning, I said goodbye to Grumpy Uncle Martin at the hotel and walked to the race start, half a mile away in Gas Street, Birmingham. Then we were off, about 100 of us, most of the first 30 miles were uneventful, with the weather perfect, cool and overcast.  I chatted to my friend Iain quite a bit and made it to 30 miles in 4h57 which was perfect. I mentioned to Iain how much I didn’t enjoy the first 30 miles of any race as I liked the drama and emotions you go through in the later stages. There would be plenty of drama in the many hours to come…I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.

Feeling great arriving at CP2 around 22 miles.

 After leaving the aid station at mile 36, the sun was out and the temperatures began to soar. On the approach to the 50 mile mark I was still feeling ok and making good progress. Steve Snow now caught up with me and we shared the next 3 miles together, that was Steve’s first GUCR and he had the added motivation of running to raise money for Prostate Cancer UK, bearing in mind his dad is currently going through a tough time with treatment. We even made a really quick stop at a canal shop, and with the sunshine now really strong, I treated myself to a Solero and a coke.

We carried on towards The Heart of England checkpoint at mile 53 together and on the approach Steve left me behind as I had started walking too much. By the time I arrived at the CP, Steve had already left. I didn’t feel great; I had some orange squash, a couple of plums, a mandarin and soaked my hat in cold water. I left and I walked and walked for miles, feeling sorry for myself and wishing my luck would turn soon; that is ultra-running for you, full of highs and lows. Every time I started to run the simple action of my t-shirt rubbing on my stomach would cause me huge discomfort and my legs turned to jelly. After 6 or 7 miles of that I forced myself to be sick, it did help a bit but I didn’t feel like eating anything, I simply took little sips of water mixed with salt sticks.

The afternoon sun was starting to take its toll.

Eventually I heard a familiar voice and it was my ultra-runner friend Emily who had caught up with me. I was really pleased to see her and I just wished I could feel better. I explained my problems and she offered me Ginger Beer to help me settle my stomach. A few years back, my mum had passed away a few days before a big race and Emily was great at picking up my mojo to finish that race. Here she was to save me again. The ginger beer worked a treat and I got a little more energy, then she encouraged me to run a little and it worked. Amen to Emily! I owe you a beer or two!!

We continued together to Stoke Bruerne and with the end of the afternoon the temperature dropped. Emily was making a stop to meet her crew and I decide to sit down in the curry house by the canal to have a Coke with lots of ice.  Once I left I met my friends Danielle and Alan, who travelled from Leighton Buzzard to cheer me on, and guess what, they had some ginger beer and a chicken wrap for me! The ultra-running Gods were now on my side! I caught up with Emily again and we ran together with her buddy runner to the checkpoint at mile 70. Mark Haynes was volunteering there and I got a lovely man hug and he made me a lovely sugary cup of tea and I had that with my chicken wrap.

It was a lovely evening and I began to feel stronger and stronger. I was eating the miles now into Wolverton and Milton Keynes and I looking forward to see my buddy runner Martin whom I left in the hotel in Birmingham that morning. I’m not sure Martin was so pleased though, as he was probably wondering what was taking so long to get to him. On my way to the next aid station a lovely man on a barge kindly offered the most delicious peach, and then Mich Hardie who was crewing for Russ supplied me with Coke. After a really good spell all the way through Milton Keynes I started to fade a bit. By then my friends Colin, Amy and Anna from Leighton Buzzard were waiting at the canal to cheer me on, it was lovely to see them and get some well needed hugs. Now it was pitch black and with my headtorch on I made it to the Bletchley aid station, 84 miles in. Glyn was working there; he made me some pasta and a lovely cup of tea and encouraged me with pep talk. Martin had been waiting for me for hours but didn’t seem too grumpy. As we left towards Leighton Buzzard we could see the storm which was about to hit us. We marched towards the Three Locks where my friends Eve and Chris had been waiting with flat Coke, then my guitar teacher Jeff appeared out of nowhere to also cheer me on. You really can’t underestimate the powers of a hug and smile during an ultra. Thanks guys!!!  As we left them it started raining, which very quickly turned into an electrical storm. I put my waterproof jacket on and as we passed Leighton Buzzard my friend Dave was waiting for us under a bridge. Dave wished us luck and asked us to be careful. What a storm that was, constant lightning turned night into day, and the rain turned the towpath into a river, we might as well have jumped in the canal for a swim. To be honest the lightning was scaring the shit out me, I was very worried that I would be hit by one. The rain however felt divine, as I pressed my drenched waterproof jacket all over my body, it provided a welcoming relief from the previous afternoon’s sunshine.

With Colin Bradley in Milton Keynes.

The storm continued and my legs were again on fire. I ran strong all the way to Tring for the 100-mile checkpoint. I arrived there in good spirits in roughly 21h30; Mark Haynes was there again and made me more sugary tea whilst the legendary race director Dick offered me some beans with cheese. The beans went down a treat and Martin and I were soon on our way to London with 45 miles to go. Our next checkpoint at 120 miles, came with the promise of bacon sandwiches waiting for us there.

100 miles done 45 to go.

As we ran it got light quickly, my jacket dried, my headtorch was put away and we kept marching on, with Martin making sure I didn’t walk for too long. We crossed the M25, which is a milestone into this race, meaning that you are now into Greater London and going through Watford. Ryan (the bastard who sold me my first pair of trainers and told me about GUCR back in 2007) was waiting for me with his partner Tanya. They had perfect sticks of watermelon for us that just melted in my mouth. I thanked them and mentioned that my running along canals career was over. Eventually Martin and I arrived at the checkpoint and they had the much anticipated bacon sandwiches!! Unfortunately I could not manage to eat the bread; it would simply not go down my throat. So I ate the bacon and asked for some more beans with cheese.  I could see Martin’s annoyance at me taking too long, but I had to make sure I ate something more substantial. At the CP we had caught up with Paul Ali, who was busy cutting bits off his blistered feet.

Watermelon sticks were out of this world!

We left and it got hotter and hotter….we ran, we walked, we ran, and we walked, but we kept putting one foot in front of the other. I have to admit that Martin encouraged me to run a lot more than I really wanted to. We arrived at the last checkpoint at 133 miles and all I could stomach was some Coke and a mandarin, Duncan was working there and he wished us luck for the final 12 miles. The heat was intense now but I ran more than I expected and time went past quickly with my emotions running high.

With only half a mile to the finish, I spotted a runner in the distance and told Martin let’s catch him and he simply said go for it, you’re the one racing. I upped my pace and went for that last kick, as I got closer I realised it was Steve Snow whom I had shared a few miles with the day before. I felt a bit bad but Steve will forgive me I’m sure, I’m competitive and this was a race after all! Little Venice was within sight! Since hearing about this race in 2007, I had finally crossed the finish line in 33h10min and in 12^th place. Keith Godden put a medal around my neck and congratulated me on my finish.

Job done!

Steve arrived a minute later with Martin just behind him.

Didn’t that first beer tasted amazing after four weeks of no drinking, in fact the first pint didn’t even touch the sides, I enjoyed the second one more and by the third beer I was falling asleep! 

Super thanks to all the volunteers and the race director for your time and an immaculate event. Thanks to all my friends that made the effort to come out to say hello on the course throughout the weekend. Thanks to Iain and Steve for the great company. Super thanks to Emily for rescuing me from that bad patch at mile 60 and special thanks Martin for running the last 62 miles with me, the encouragement and banter were superb. Obviously I couldn’t do any of these races without the support and tolerance of my wife and daughters, so  a big thank you to them for putting up with me.

Some positives from the GUCR, I didn’t suffer from any chaffing whatsoever, which is a first, and my feet were still in great shape after the storm at night.

The month of June is for recovery but I’ll be resuming normal training again in July. My next race is the mighty 153-miler in Greece, the Spartathlon where I will join my Brazilian team mates again. I really can’t wait!

But before I go…

The human body is simply amazing and when we put our minds into doing something it is incredible what we can achieve. But surely you would think that someone with cancer would not be able to run 145-miles, but you would be wrong!!

This weekend, a great friend of mine, Mark Thornberry also raced the GUCR. Mark was diagnosed just over year ago with terminal liver cancer...  Instead of wallowing, Mark has continued running whenever he could, in between treatments and interventions. I have no words to describe how astonishing it was to witness Mark complete the GUCR after 40+ hours of running. What a man, I’m incredibly lucky and honoured to call this brave man my friend; it seems that not every super hero wears a cape!

Fuck you Cancer!

Mark is combining his love for long distance running to help him stay alive and to also raise essential funds for Kings College Hospital, who have been so good to him and his family. Read Mark’s story here and dig deep for this truly worthwhile cause!