We set off at 8am on Saturday along the Thames, 100km to go. We’d crossed railway lines and gone under the motorway. We climbed over countless stiles and gone up and down some big hills. We’d scrambled through mud and avoided the wildlife. We’d counted up to half way and then counted down again to the end. We’d been sustained by tuna mayo sandwiches, baby food pouches, satsumas and pick & mix. We’d survived and avoided almost all potential disasters. (You can read the long version here).

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Now, in the early hours of Sunday, we began the last stage from Plumpton. After a beautiful sunny day (but definitely much too warm for me), the promised rain arrived almost exactly as predicted at 12.15am, pounding down on the roof of the final checkpoint as we refuelled one last time.

This, we knew, was going to hurt. It was time for the big climb, up and over Ditchling Beacon (the highest point in East Sussex) to our final destination at Brighton Racecourse -13km to go.

Big deep breaths, raincoats zipped up, let’s do this. We are warriors.

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I can’t remember much about the up, other than the sound of the rain. But it wasn’t much fun down the other side either; slippery grass, rocks and lots of puddles. Tiredness and self-preservation were winning now – neither of us wanted to fall. We just wanted to finish.

So it was one careful step in front of another.

Could we see the lights of Brighton now?

Over the A27 – thankfully a ramp not stairs to get us across.

This is the final section. We are so close.

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The footpath seems never-ending. The lights of Brighton getting further away. There are no indications at all that we are getting any closer.

We’ve run out of energy for conversation, but every few minutes manage a quick check-in – “you ok?”, “yep”, “you ok?”, “yep”. Back to focusing on one foot in front of the other; our footsteps in unison, a drumbeat in the quiet, rain-filled air.

The kilometre markers seem to have disappeared – it seems a long time since we hit the “one parkrun to go” mark at 95km.

Are we so tired that we’ve walked off the path and gone the wrong way? No, we can see an arrow and a green glowstick just ahead. Is that another participant we can see in the distance? Yes, that’s a good sign, isn’t it?

And then we see the 98km marker. Progress finally confirmed. In our tiredness, we’d obviously missed the markers at 96km and 97km.

Just 2km to go – an uplift in our mood and an almost imperceptible increase in our pace – no energy left to run but we were walking as fast as we could.

Now, there was progress! Were those the lights of the race course in the distance? Julie spotted some stables – was that a clue? Were we really nearly there now.

A big road to cross – not much traffic at almost 3am.

And then we were at the entrance to the racecourse – we could see the finish. A sigh of genuine and tangible relief as we saw 99km on the fence post.

Just 1km to go.

We are walking on the grass at the side of the course, curving round the track.

Lights up ahead guiding us closer to an eerily quiet finish area.

We are so close now. We just want to get it done.

Now we can see movement; there are people in the finish area; Jon and Bryn cheering us on through those last 50 metres – back to being endless again.

And then we were there. Medals, slightly warm fizz, celebration hugs, photos by the sign.

We’d actually done it. 100k from London to Brighton.

Can we stop now?

Yes, we can stop. We’re done.

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50 for 50 #43: 50 posts for my 50th birthday to be posted before I’m 51.

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PS – If you’re inspired by our efforts, donate to your favourite charity or you can sponsor Julie here – she is fundraising for Stamma (an organisation working to create a better world for people who stammer). She’s raised over £600 so far.