History on Repeat 

Rodrigo Freeman takes on ancient gods, modern roads and a can of Mythos to answer the call of Pheidippides.

September 2018. My friend Martin and I had finished Spartathlon the day before. After a long, boozy lunch with the mayor of Sparta, we found ourselves wedged onto a coach, immobile in Athens’ traffic, legs seized into painful knots. Martin twisted sideways in his seat and groaned.

“If we run double Sparta next year,” I said, “we won’t need this bus. We’ll just run back to Athens and find the nearest bar for a Mythos.”

“Fuck off,” came the reply.

The idea, however, refused to die.

The Authentic Phidippides Run is now in its tenth year and follows the legendary journey of Phidippides, the Athenian messenger who, in 490 BC, ran from Athens to Sparta to request military assistance against the invading Persians. King Leonidas and the Spartans were willing, but bound by religious law: their army could not march until the full moon. Phidippides ran all the way back to Athens with the crushing news that help would be delayed. Outnumbered but resolute, the Athenians fought anyway—and won the Battle of Marathon.

Fast-forward to November 2019. Martin and I stood on the Acropolis at the start line of the Authentic Phidippides Run, about to take on the hardest and longest athletic challenge of our lives. Ninety hours later we returned, exhausted but victorious, alongside our new Belgian friend, Ludo. It took only a few celebratory beers for me to decide I wanted to relive the experience.

Martin, me and Ludo

Part of the attraction is the history—although even in Greece there is debate over the exact route Phidippides took. But what truly captured me was the spirit of the race: the volunteers. Despite language barriers, their admiration and respect for the runners is unmistakable and deeply moving.

The pandemic cancelled the 2020 edition, and I had to wait until 2021 to return. With more experience, I finished in 85 hours 40 minutes—a five-hour personal best and sixth place overall. Unsurprisingly, I was back again in 2022. The Phidippides experience is addictive; once you’ve tasted it, you’re rarely satisfied with just one.

The race begins at the foot of the Acropolis and follows the coast to the Corinth Canal before cutting through the Greek countryside to Sparta—and then all the way back again. Along the way, runners climb Mount Artemisio twice and cover 304 relentless miles. It’s a route that blends beauty with brutality.

Day 1 in 2022 with Didier

Late one night in 2022, somewhere near Corinth on the return leg, I had covered roughly 250 miles without a second of sleep. I was still lying third man, but my mind was slipping. I couldn’t remember why I was running—or what I was doing there at all. I desperately needed to shut my eyes. Two twenty-minute naps at indoor checkpoints proved just enough; when the sun rose, the sleep demons vanished.

Power Nap

Eventually, Athens came back into view. At the finish line, then race director Mr Diamantis was waiting. A quick glance at my watch confirmed it: 78 hours and 56 minutes. A staggering personal best. I hugged him, overwhelmed, and thanked him—and his army of volunteers—for yet another unforgettable event.

Over the years, the route has changed very little, mostly due to temporary roadworks. Spartathlon veterans will recognise much of it, though Spartathlon climbs Mount Parthenio while Phidippides takes on Artemisio. Navigation is marked with painted symbols, ribbons, and reflective signs, though most runners now rely on the GPX file provided by the organisers. After so many participations, I could probably run it with my eyes shut.

One unavoidable hazard is stray dogs. If you’re sleepy, they’ll wake you up fast. My preferred technique is to throw my arms in the air, make myself look as big as possible, and shout—like a bear. Trust me, most dogs retreat quickly. Occasionally, you’ll meet a friendly one that decides to run alongside you for a few kilometres.

After my 2022 performance, 2023 started brilliantly with a Brazilian six-day record in Policoro, Italy. Then disaster struck. A freak swimming accident in May left me with two severely herniated discs in my neck, compressing my spinal cord. Surgery was a real possibility. I was forbidden to run and told recovery could take up to two years.

To make matters worse, the organisers announced that the Authentic Phidippides Run would no longer continue due to a lack of volunteers. I remember feeling utterly deflated. It felt like the end of an era—not just the race, but perhaps my ultra-running career altogether.

Months passed. I could only walk. During one hospital visit, I asked the surgeon if I could increase my walking mileage, maybe even try race walking, as long as I stayed on smooth asphalt. He agreed. Nearly a year after my diagnosis, I returned for another MRI. To everyone’s surprise, both discs had healed completely and the surgeon gave me the green light to run again. Then the final piece of great news arrived a few days later: Phidippides was back on, scheduled for November. I hadn’t run a single step in eleven months—but I knew immediately. I would do everything possible to stand on that starting line once again.

I can’t fully describe how happy I was just to make it to the starting line in November. Still, I won’t pretend I wasn’t apprehensive. I hadn’t run that sort of distance for some time, and the question lingered: would it be too much for my spine?

I’ll spare you most of the race details, but by Sunday afternoon I was reaching the Kineta checkpoint, with roughly 58 kilometres left to the finish. Tateno from Japan and I—who had been running together since leaving Sparta nearly 200 kilometres earlier—decided we needed a reset: a twenty-minute nap and something substantial to eat.

When we left the checkpoint, we found a rhythm almost immediately, along with a steadily diminishing desire to walk. I dared to ask Tateno how he felt, though it was obvious we were both riding a wave of endorphins. Walking had become uncomfortable; running felt easier, even on the climbs. My good friend Jean-Louis Vidal describes this sensation as “finding your moped.” And once you find the moped, it’s intoxicating—like a drug.

The final 20 kilometres is usually the section I hate most: a busy motorway, thick with pollution, a dusty hard shoulder littered with rubbish. This time, I reminded myself that I shouldn’t even have been there at all—and that I should savour the moment, whatever the route looked like. Our pace was electric. Suddenly, there were only eight kilometres to go. I suggested a brief stop to buy a can of Mythos beer to drink on the way to the finish.

Reborn as an Ultrarunner with Tateno

Soon enough, we crossed the line together in just over 90 hours, where the new race director, Alkis, handed us more Mythos. I was back from the abyss. I felt reborn as an ultrarunner.

You won’t be surprised to read that in 2025 I made it back to the start line once again — for the fifth time. 2025 had been one of my strongest as an ultrarunner. I’d conquered the iconic JOGLE, not on the road but via a much longer, unsupported trail version, carrying a tent and sleeping bag and sourcing fuel on route through May and June. By late November, I found myself in Athens once more, standing on the start line of my favourite race on the planet and wondering whether I could recapture the form of 2022 — this time with the added pressure of knowing that, for the first time, my wife would be waiting at the finish line.

Trail Jogle - Land's End 2025

Over the years, Greece has thrown everything at me: scorching heat, freezing cold, thunderstorms, light rain, and strong winds — sometimes all in the same race. Day one of 2025 delivered the heat, with temperatures climbing to 29°C. After training through an English winter, it felt particularly cruel. To make matters worse, my calves began cramping badly in the afternoon. I’d raced the 250-mile Lon Las Cymru just five weeks earlier and worried I hadn’t fully recovered. Then I noticed something else — white salt stains all over my shorts. I was clearly losing more salt than I was replacing.

At the next checkpoint, I asked for a bag of salt — and that’s exactly what I was handed. I started pinching it into my mouth and washing it down with water, and bingo. Within an hour the cramps vanished and I was running freely again. That first night passed smoothly: no sleep demons, no urge to walk, and food going down perfectly. Cooler conditions on day two only helped, and I eventually reached the statue of King Leonidas in Sparta in 36 hours and 50 minutes, greeted by the welcome sight of freshly baked pizza.

Still feeling strong and undecided about sleep, I marched out of Sparta and into the long 10km climb back to the motorway for night number two. About 20 miles later, the hallucinations arrived. The white line on the hard shoulder transformed into a kind of fish tank in my exhausted mind, tiny fish swimming along, trapped at my feet. I reached a checkpoint soon after and decided it was time — twenty minutes with my head down. It worked. The imaginary aquarium vanished.

When the sun rose again, I felt properly awake and began running strongly toward Nestani, the point that marks nearly 200 miles of the race and the gateway to the climb over Mount Artemisio.

By the time I started climbing Artemisio, I knew the race had entered a decisive phase. I passed a Japanese runner to move into third place on the men’s podium. There was no appetite for conversation—just a brief hello before I focused back on the climb. With nearly 100 miles still to go, my only job now was simple in theory and brutal in practice: defend that position.

Beautiful Greek countryside

Day three unfolded almost smoothly by ultrarunning standards. I was moving at a respectable pace, eating and drinking well, and even managed a precious 20-minute power nap in Ancient Nemea. There was still no sign of the runner in fourth. The third night began kindly too—no sleep demons, no creeping dread. I even allowed myself a small indulgence on the way to Corinth: a chicken gyros and a can of lager. At the time, it felt perfectly reasonable.

Sometime around two in the morning, the hallucinations returned. Despite another power nap, my mind betrayed me. Giant figures appeared everywhere, looming and distorted, and this time it wasn’t amusing or abstract—it was unpleasant. I longed for daylight, for my circadian rhythm to reset and give me a fighting chance. Relief came with roughly a marathon left to run, when a kind volunteer bought me a black coffee from a petrol station. I washed it down with a piece of Greek patisserie and felt, finally, human again.

Leaving the checkpoint, I made the mistake—or perhaps the necessary move—of checking the tracker on my phone. The Japanese runner was now miles behind, but a Greek athlete had appeared alarmingly close behind me. Two miles. In an ultrarunning race, that’s nothing.

If that guy wants my podium, he’ll have to fight for it, I thought. My wife is waiting for me at the finish. I’ll give everything I have.

I increased the pace. To my surprise, my body responded well, but I knew this effort was unsustainable for a full marathon—or so I told myself. Every twenty minutes I checked the tracker. The gap didn’t change. Frustration built with every glance. I flew through small checkpoints, grabbing bottles of Coke without stopping. When some Greek friends drove past and asked me to stop for a photo, I refused. Instead, I stripped my pack of anything non-essential—power banks, cables, spare jackets—and threw them into their car.

“I’ll see you at the finish,” I said.

At the halfway point of the final marathon, the pace was still absurd. The gap behind remained stubbornly small. Then I noticed something else: I was closing in on second place. Pawel from Poland. Suddenly, everything was in play. I could finish second, hold on to third, or collapse into fourth. The margins were razor thin.

The final half marathon opened with a grim motorway section. By now, I was running almost entirely on emotion. A few miles later came a two-mile climb—one I always walk. Not this time. I calculated quickly: if I ran the climb, I could secure the podium and maybe even reel in Pawel. When I reached the top, the Greek runner felt like history, but Pawel was still close on the tracker.

What followed was a wild descent toward Athens. Red lights blurred past as I ran through intersections at an insane pace, legs carrying nearly 500 kilometres of accumulated punishment. At the final crossing, I saw my wife waiting, holding my flag. We crossed the finish line together.

Third place man. A personal best: 78 hours and 24 minutes—just ten minutes behind Pawel. Exhaustion gave way to something purer. Joy. Later, studying the race data, I discovered I’d run the final marathon faster than anyone else: 4 hours and 33 minutes.

Pure Joy!

No surprises, then, that I’ve already signed up for 2026. My wife is coming back too—no pressure. The tenth edition of the Authentic Pheidippides Run will include a twist: past finishers can extend the challenge by running the Battle of Marathon upon arrival in Athens, pushing the total distance to an extraordinary 525.8 kilometres.

Am I up for it?

Absolutely.

 

Cervical Disc Herniation, Learning To Race-Walk And My Return To Ultrarunning

It is January 2023, when I develop an insignificant pain from the left side of my neck to the tip of my shoulder; it feels as if a string is being pulled from each end. I treat myself to a massage and the therapist finds the muscles in the area tight, but following the treatment I feel as good as new. A month later the pain returns, so I re-visit the therapist. In a bid to prevent the pain recurring again, I start weekly visits to the local pool, to include some front crawl swimming to my exercise schedule.

By March I'm in Italy competing in a 6-day running event, which goes really well and I don't experience any pain whatsoever with my neck or shoulder, but by the following day that same dull pain returned.

Back in UK I booked an appointment with a physio to get another opinion, and he suggested taping up the area with kinesiology tape for two days to 'give the muscles some extra support' and allow them a chance to relax. To my surprise it worked and within two days the dull pain had gone.  

Later in April, I was running the 250-miles Thames Ring event, which apart from a bad first afternoon with stomach problems, I managed to turn it around and complete with a personal record for the course. A few weeks later, when I visited the pool for a light swim, I decided it would a good idea to swim breaststroke, to see if it would open my back and perhaps shake off the niggling shoulder pain. After a few laps doing front crawl I decided to do 100 metres breaststroke and whilst lifting my head out of the water to take a breath, I felt a sudden shockwave travel from my neck all the way down to my legs. The sensation was weird but not painful, so I repeated the movement a few times; naively thinking I was helping by 'releasing' whatever was trapped. When I walked back to my car, I noticed pin and needles in my left arm and that my left leg felt really weird, as if the messages my brain were sending it were delayed. The next day I tried to run and it didn't feel right, my left leg felt weird, and from time to time my leg would collapse. 

Not sure what to do I decided to try the local chiropractor. I explained the history and she said that my left side was indeed tight, but that after four sessions with her I would be back doing my usual running. Brilliant I thought! At this stage the pins and needles sensation was on and off, and the leg collapse would cause me issues a few times a day.  

After two sessions with the chiropractor, I spoke to my wife who reminded me that I was covered under her health insurance policy, and urged me to phone their dedicated team for neck and back problems. Initially I was reluctant to call as the chiropractor had assured me there weren’t any major problems and that I'd back to 100% in another two sessions. However my wife reminded me I had nothing to lose by seeking another opinion, so I phoned her health insurance and explained the history to another Physiotherapist. To my shock, they expressed concern that I had possibly herniated discs in my neck, so they would book me in with an orthopaedic surgeon as soon as a matter of urgency.  I was warned that if I were to lose control of my bowels, or experience any numbness in my genital area, that I should go straight to emergency, as she as confident that the hernias could be affecting my spinal cord. 

Within days of that call I was with the surgeon viewing the results of my MRI. The doctor confirmed I had two large herniated discs in my neck, along with spinal cord compression. Initially his aim was to avoid surgery, but he confirmed that it would take 18 - 24 months to heal naturally. When I received this news I felt numb and overwhelmed at my prospects. I left his office without asking many questions, only knowing that we would talk by phone once a month to check if my symptoms were getting worse, that I wasn't allowed to run at all, but I could walk my dog. I walked to the train station and I cried my eyes out. Eventually I rang my wife, and then called my manager to advise him that I should probably see the work doctor before I was allowed back at work (I drive trains for a living). I was completely depressed for the next few weeks, and to make matters worse the work doctor didn't want me near a train until I was better. Which potentially meant 18 -24 months away from work as well – so not only was I unable to do the thing I loved, but I was also worried about our finances.

 

Nasty Herniations 

Over the next 3 months I did some reading into my condition, and from what I read, a nutritious diet and quality sleep would aid my recovery.  The only thing I could maintain control of was the quality of food going in my body and the sleep I was getting. Summer went by and my symptoms slowly disappeared, so the surgeon booked another MRI but warned me that herniated discs recover very slowly despite the symptoms disappearing. To my disappointment the next MRI showed no reduction to the size of the herniated discs.  Up to this point I had been leisurely walking the dog for an hour a day, but I checked with the surgeon to see if I could do longer walks and increase the speed, and he said that it was fine, but to stay on easy terrain like roads and avoid the coastal paths. Luckily, the work doctor also allowed me to start a phased return to work, which gave a sense of normality back to my life and alleviated some of my worry around financial pressure.

Around this time I started a new type of fitness journey - I began researching race-walking techniques online, buying a few books, and messaging friends that race-walk for advice. During September, I noticed a massive improvement in my walking speed and that my one-hour walks were getting longer, and apart from the odd looks and laughs I was getting from the locals I really loved the experience. I started reading the 'Back Mechanic' by Dr Stuart McGill, who describes walking fast as ‘balm for the spine’, which was music to my ears but at the same time I was still worried that I could potentially be derailing my recovery by doing too much, which might lead to an operation - something I wanted to avoid all costs. The operation, called a Fusion, where the discs are removed and a plate is then screwed to your vertebrae next to your spinal cord!

 The 'Back Mechanic' is an amazing book - it explains how the spine works and how to look after it, with advice on posture and suggested exercises including lots about walking. If you are one of many suffering from back pain, then I cannot recommend the Back Mechanic enough! But even if you are not suffering from back problems I would recommend this book to help you avoid any problems in the future.  I read the book 3 times and was really keen to speak to Dr McGill, however he is retired and rarely takes on any consultancy work. However, when searching through his website backfitpro.com, I did find a list of specialists who had trained with him, and that is when I came across Joel Proskewitz who had worked with Dr McGill for over a decade and taught his courses all over the world. It didn't take long before I was writing to Joel's PA to see if he could help me out in any way, shape or form. I received a call from Joel to book an appointment but before that could happen he wanted to see my recent MRI images. During the appointment Joel explained my MRI scan in detail, something the surgeon perhaps didn't have the time to do, he also explained why my herniation was dangerous. He said in a way I had been a lucky, as some surgeons would have operated straight away. We went through all my daily activities and thankfully he confirmed that nothing I was doing would make the herniation worse or derail my recovery. Joel was super professional and he didn't waste one second of our appointment. Although he could not offer a fast track to my recovery, the conversation made me hopeful for the future.

For the remainder of the year I continued speed walking, increasing everything gradually- the dog was happy, and the locals continued to be entertained by my new hobby of ‘mincing’. By the time we went on a family holiday in December to Disneyland in Florida I was covering about 80km (50miles) per week and had improved my half marathon time to 2h44 on an undulating course. I had also walked two marathons, with my best time being 5h42, which made me start to wonder if I could perhaps compete as a walker in 2024. In Florida I was the official bag holder whilst my family visited the rides, as I decided I will never ride a roller-coaster again for the fear of injury.

As we started 2024, I counted down the days until my MRI in March.  Sadly, that January, I saw that the organisers confirmed my favourite race, the 490km Authentic Phiddipides, would no longer exist due to difficulty in finding enough volunteers for such a long course. I remember going to bed really depressed, it really was the end of an era for me, and I fell asleep remembering all the beautiful experiences during my three participations.   Around that time, my friend, Mijaela got in touch to see if I was keen to take part in a 24-hours race in her hometown of Russe, Bulgaria in April, with options of 6 and 12 hours. Well of course I wanted to but I also had to wait for the MRI results and surgeon’s advice in March, and I was aware that I was still far off the 18 – 24 months recovery time. 

In the meantime I carried on learning to race-walk and March quickly arrived. As I drove to see the specialist, I reminded myself to lower my expectations this time to avoid another bout of depression, and that I was doing so great with race-walking, that I had waited 10 months and could wait more! Walking in to the surgeon's office, my hands were really sweaty and my heart was pounding, he had his back to me and was taking a picture of his computer screens with his phone. He turned in his chair wearing the biggest smile and exclaimed: 'How did you do it? I am sending this picture to my surgeon friends, I have never seen it happen before'. In the last few months I had got quite good at understanding the MRI images of my neck, and I could see that two images were identical, but that in one of the images my discs looked great. 

Dumbfounded, I asked him how much it had improved by, and when I needed another MRI. 'That's it, it is all gone, you're free, and you don't need another MRI'.  I couldn’t believe it and asked whether I could start running again, and about taking part in the Russe 24 hour race in 6 weeks. After I explained what it involved he told me that a walking race would not be a problem for my neck, but that he wasn't sure why anyone would want walk in circles for a whole day! As for running, I could go ahead but build it up slowly.  When I got in the car I cried again, tears of joy this time. I never expected that, I would have been happy with 50% improvement. My wife was away in New Zealand at the time so I sent her a message with the great news and also told my brother and sister back in Brazil, followed by an email to Joel in London to book a follow up appointment.

 

Whoop whoop! Discs have healed!

I continued race-walking and in the following weeks travelled to London to see Joel. We spent an hour discussing everything that had been going on, my future plans around walking and returning to running, and then another hour at his gym selecting a few exercises to help me with my spine health and endurance. Joel also gave me the thumbs up to walk in Russe, and progressively return to ultra-running.  I spent the night at a friend's house celebrating with a few beers, and the next morning made my way to Paddington to catch my train back to Cornwall, on my way there I got two messages from friends within a short space saying the Pheidipides was back on with a new organisation in charge, who decided that the race was too good to let go of and that they planned to have one in November 2024. I hadn't run a step in 11 months but I decided there and then that I would do everything I could to be at the starting line again. 

At the end of April I arrived in Bulgaria, super excited to race again, but this time as a walker. The vibe was superb in Russe, with an army of enthusiastic volunteers and a great looking track, perfect for walking. There were 30 of us doing the 24, but I was the only walker, which was a bit weird at first but I soon got accustomed to the constant overtaking.  My race was going really well, I reached marathon in around 5h50 then double marathon in less than 12 hours. I started wondering if I could walk 100 miles in 24 hours but by about 19 hours my hips become too sore to walk efficiently so I had no choice but to walk at a pedestrian speed for the rest of the race - in the end finishing just shy of 154km and coming top 10, and beating many runners. I was grateful to Mihaela for the hospitality and for inviting me to her home town, as well as to race director Viro, for accepting my late entry. I remember being half asleep in the back of a taxi to the hotel and feeling really happy inside. I returned to the UK wondering how to start running again and then signed up for the Gloucester 24 hours, which would take place at the end of August. 

 

Waiting to start my first walking race!

In May, I settled for running 1 day and walking 1 day with a day off per week. By June I was running 2 days and walking 1 day and by July, 3 runs followed by 1 day walking. We travelled to Spain in August for a family holiday, where I started race preparations, running twice a day but I erring on the side of caution and dropping the mileage. I was excited again coming to Gloucester, which marked my return as an ultra-runner and it was great to catch up with some of my friends there. Looking back, Gloucester went pretty stress free although I did worry (for no reason) that something bad was going to happen to my spine. I managed to stay on the track for the whole race and covered 107 miles in total. However, I was rusty and I didn't feel confident enough to tackle the over 300 miles in Greece later that year just yet, so I decided to enter the North Coast 110 miles early in Oct, a race I knew well and could really test me.   In preparation for the North Coast I dusted off my trail shoes and started to split my running sessions between road and trail, as well as some walking sessions.

 

Gloucester 24

Soon enough we were off on the north coast of Devon, early on a Friday morning with the beautiful winter sunshine that followed us all weekend. It was late on the first night when I started to feel crappy, mainly my stomach felt unsettled and my legs wouldn’t cooperate. I could have walked pretty fast on the trails but the downside is that once you start walking it becomes difficult to run again. 

I arrived at the check point in Coombe Martin and decided I needed to sleep a little for a reset (I didn't fancy walking the remainder 40 miles) and lay down for 30 minutes on a mat in the village hall, followed by a warm meal. I packed my bag with enough food and drink to last until the next checkpoint and it didn't take too long before I started to enjoy the race again. Eventually the sun came up and I was running well and slowly passing the people that left me behind during the night; the last 10 miles felt pretty remarkable even passing the people on the 50km race. I was greeted by the Justin Nicolas at the finish line who congratulated me on my finish and my return to trail racing. Immediately I felt the confidence to travel to Greece, all my fears had disappeared and I really wanted to be there. Besides the challenge of running 490km I was also desperate to see the small core of volunteers that have helped me in my last three participations. 

 

Beautiful North Coast of Devon

The Authentic Phiddipides Run 2024 (or Double Sparta as I like to call it)

 

If you got this far into this post, you will be happy to know that I spare you from all the details about what went on during my 2024 participation in Greece (more details from this race can be read on my previous participation blogs of 2019 and 2022). What I can tell you is that I saw my favourite volunteers on the way to Sparta and on the return to Athens, and that they were as wonderful as always and they demanded I come back in 2025.

 

On our way to Corinth

Arriving at the Kinetas check point (roughly 58 km left to the finish) on a Sunday afternoon, myself and Tateno from Japan (we had been running together since we left Sparta, nearly 200km), decided we needed a little reset - a 20 minutes nap and something substantial to eat. 

As we left the check point, we found a nice rhythm and a diminishing desire to walk. I dared to ask Tateno how he felt, but it was obvious we were both high on endorphins by now. It kind of became uncomfortable to walk and running felt somehow easier, even on the uphill. My good friend Jean Louis Vidal describes this sensation 'as finding your moped' and once you find the moped it is wonderful, like a drug!

The last 20km of the race is the section I usually hate, running on a busy motorway with pollution and a dusty hard shoulder full of rubbish. I reminded myself that I shouldn't even be taking part and that I should savour the moment whatever the route looked like. Our pace was electric and it didn't take long before we had only 8 km left that, so I suggested we made a quick stop to buy a can of Mythos beer and drink it on our way to the finishing line. We were joined by Vasiliki and her dog Smudge (they had escorted me again two years ago) and soon enough we crossed the line together in 90 hours and were handed more Mythos by the race director, Alkis. 

 

Cold Mythos in hand!

That was a wonderful moment for me for sure. And I was so grateful to share that with Tateno too, we were in total sync for 245km, which is pretty difficult over those distances, but I will remember those last 50km forever. I met Tateno in 2022 at the 3 Peaks race here in the UK and recommended he added the Phidipides to his ‘bucket list’ - I would never imagine that two years later we would be finishing it together. Thanks again Tateno!

This marks the end of my season, a season I didn't think would exist, but one I'm really proud of. I just want to thank all my friends and family who supported me during this time. Shit happens all the time but I am happy I managed to turn it around and learn lots in the process. 

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and an injury free 2025 season!

Other info:

For anyone interested in improving their spine health, or who is suffering with back problems, please read The Back Mechanic- Stuart McGill. 

If you want to take back fitness to another level I recommend the title 'Ultimate Back Fitness and Performance' also by Stuart McGill. I recommend this to any trainer and therapist too. 

If you are suffering with disc problems and no one has managed to help you yet, or worse, you are thinking of having surgery, then Joel Proskewitz is amazing. He can also help you prepare for surgery and take the right steps to recover from surgery. Joel also runs The SpineXchange, ‘a community of fellow spine patients dedicated to achieve spine health and recovery objectives’.

If you are interested in learning how to improve your walking I recommend 'The Complete Guide to Competitive Walking' by Dave McGovern.

Anyone looking for a 24 hour track event in 2025, check out the Danube 24 in Russe, Bulgaria. I really enjoyed my participation there this year. Nice food, great looking track, awesome volunteers and portaloos by the trackside.

 

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!