Race to the King – Saturday 24th June 2017, The South Downs Way
Distance – 53.5 miles
Time – 13 hrs 53 minutes 44 seconds

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After months of preparation with running buddy Julie, it was finally time for Race to the King, starting in Slindon near Arundel and finishing on the steps of Winchester Cathedral. The route promised every kind of challenge but some amazing views. We were as ready as we could be.

The start line of the Race to the King was in a field at the end of a country lane and it was a bit of a wet start to the day. We got a little bit of shelter in the race marquee and of course posed for start line photo. Then it was the usual pre-race ritual of queuing for the portaloos, deciding how to many layers of clothing were required and pondering whether suncream would be necessary (despite the fact it was raining). It didn’t all go according to plan – my Garmin wouldn’t even turn on, never mind find a satellite, and my phone did the same. Thankfully, Julie’s technology worked fine, so we have photos from on the route and a strava record of our run!

For a lot of the early part of the race, we didn’t need to worry about getting lost or navigating the route. There were plenty of other runners taking part and everyone was in good spirits and happy to chat. The first part had some narrow sections and we were regularly running in single file, with no opportunities to overtake (if we’d wanted to). At the narrowest points we slowed to a walk, which probably helped to conserve energy, even if it felt a little bit frustrating at the time. At one point, we passed several groups of Sea Scouts on expeditions, all coming the opposite way along the trail and carrying loads of kit. It was a tight squeeze!

There were lots of hills, but the hardest climbs were most definitely between miles 15 and 24. Each climb seemed to get steeper and the downs were almost as much of a challenge as the ups, if not more so, and a couple of times, I had to resort to sliding down on my backside. I just couldn’t work out how else to get down! And, of course, when you get to the top of the steepest hills, desperately trying to catch your breath and not collapse into a heap, you will always find the race photographers, waiting to capture the agony. But this time, we managed to smile.

Somewhere in that challenging section before pit stops 2 and 3, I hit the deck. We were running through a woodland and the surface under foot was a little bit uneven. I was tired and still reeling from the endless ups, trying not to think about how tired I felt and how much further there was to go. I knew the next pit stop wasn’t too far away and it couldn’t come soon enough. And then splat, full on face plant, covering myself in dust and a bit of mud too.

Fortunately, I wasn’t hurt and just wanted to get back up and keep running before anyone noticed. I managed the first part, but not the second – it was actually quite reassuring (if a little embarrassing) that other runners stopped to check if I was ok.

The mid-point refuelling station actually came about 24 miles into the route. There were all sorts of food on offer, including cake, but it was the cup of tea that did the trick for me. The secret of ultra marathon running is regular fuelling, trying not to reach a point where you run out of energy. The frequent pit stops, and the extra support from Bryn and Millie, meant we didn’t have to carry too much food and water. I can’t really remember what I ate on race day, but it almost worked to keep me going. I think I ate a bread roll and I also remember trying something peanut-butter based that wasn’t as appealing as it sounded at the time. A handful of Rowntree’s Randoms at pit stop 7 was much appreciated though.

There were some fantastic views on the route and some truly scenic locations – Julie and I sang our way through Queen Elizabeth Woods and paused for breath (and to take in our surroundings) from the top of Butser Hill. There was an Iron Hill Fort at the top of Old Winchester Hill and I’m sure we could see the sea at one point. We ran through picturesque little villages and got lost in the moment.

Julie was carrying a little plastic bag of inspirational quotes, written for her by friends and family, and it really came into it’s own as we reached the last 10 miles of the race. We were getting tired, so tired we stopped for a sit down and a cup of tea at one of the pit stops towards the end.

We paused, refuelled and just sat for a bit – not something you can really do in a city marathon – but perfectly acceptable in the final stages of an ultra. We knew we would finish, we didn’t care about how long it would take us to get to the end; for a few minutes, we just wanted to sit quietly, drink a brew and tape up a few war wounds.

But we didn’t stop completely, we weren’t done yet.

With the light fading, it was time to add extra layers and some lights and draw on our inner warriors – 10 miles to go, then 7 miles, then 5 miles and then just 3.1 miles to go (it’s only a parkrun from here). It was definitely getting tougher but we knew the end was coming soon – we could see the lights from Winchester getting closer.

I was definitely running on empty, with barely enough energy to get the jelly beans from the bag in my pocket to my mouth. We left the trail and emerged onto country lanes, one more big downhill to go. It felt like we were running faster than ever before on that downhill (we really weren’t) but soon we were crossing over the motorway and emerging into civilisation. We were joined on that last mile by a runner we had met earlier on the route, inspired by our lights just ahead to keep going and then catch us up.

We zigzagged our way way around the outside of the Cathedral to find our way to the finish line – it seemed like everyone kept telling us there was just one more turn to go! Eventually, that was true, which came as an amazing relief, as I really didn’t think I could run any further; my legs were getting wobblier with every step and having to go down a few steps to the finish line was actually a big challenge – I looked down but fortunately didn’t fall!

And then we were done. We crossed the finish line and got our medals. I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to empty at the end of the race as I was at just after 10pm on the 24th June 2017. I just about made it round in to the Cathedral cafe and slumped into a chair. Incredible fatigue mixed with incredible pride – we had done it and I celebrated with two satsumas and another cup of tea!

And that was Race to the King – the most incredible race experience of my running career; it was exhausting, exhilarating, ridiculous and rewarding all at the same time.