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