Classic Quitter - my first DNF

This year's Classic Quarter - a race I'd completed twice before - was one I'd trained hard for. In fact the last six months I've trained harder and more consistently than ever before. I did speed work, hill reps, tempo runs. I ran every section of the course. I also, crucially, lost weight. This really seemed to have an effect on the kind of pace I could run and I was suddenly making huge gains.

So when race day came around the last thing I expected to do was DNF.

Worse still I wasn't expecting to quit so easily. I've never even considered quitting a race before but the end to this one came remarkably quick and is something I've been regretting ever since.

Ever since I rang my wife and said "I'm done" and she came to collect me from the side of the road in Penzance I've been in a right old grump. But the truth is I knew this was a possibility; I'd got myself so convinced that this year not only could I complete this run I could set a fast time that when things started to go wrong I didn't really have a plan B. In fact the night before I'd said to myself that I'd go out with my most optimistic goal in mind and if I blew up at least I could say I'd tried. Well that's exactly what happened.

The thing is though I didn't run out of energy or get injured, I got cramp. And boy did I get cramp. From mile 16 I was getting little warning shots in my calves. By half way I was adjusting my stride to relieve occasionally cramped calves and stepping up onto high rocks or steps was as likely as not to deliver a nice pain in my hamstrings.

When I hit the flat along Mounts Bay things really deteriorated until I was pretty much unable to run at all without cramping up severely. And that's how it ended; at mile 29, fed up and hamstrung - literally - not willing to walk the next 15 miles just to get a finishers medal I sat down in the sun and called home.

So many runners stopped and asked if they could help, offering salt and electrolytes (I'd been taking salt pills to no avail and had gratefully accepted some electrolyte several miles back from another runner). Some I knew, like Loyd, tried to encourage me to keep it going. Another friend Paul even offered to walk with me a while but I was having none of it; I was done.

Maybe this is just the price I have to pay for racing an ultra rather than just running it. Maybe aiming high means you have to be prepared to fail in spectacular fashion and maybe its just as well to drop rather than risk serious injury when the race isn't going your way.

But for me, next time I think about dropping I'll be looking back at this week and remembering how crappy I felt. Next time I'll crawl to the finish if I have to.

Classic Quarter 2015

The Endurance Life Classic Quarter was my first Ultra, was in fact the first race that made me aware there even was such a thing, having known a friend who'd completed it. I ran it solo for the first time in 2013.

This year, with Lakeland 50 in my sights as my main goal I sat down and wrote out a training plan to get me there and decided I would race a 50k about 6 weeks out to try and get some semblance of start line self discipline, since usually all my sense goes out the window and I shoot off too fast, mooch around the check points and get all caught up in what everyone else is doing. This time, with a few few races under my belt, I wanted to get things right. So a tune up race would be called for. Pretty soon I realised that 6 weeks out was the Classic Quarter, of course this is no 50k - in fact its 44 miles, almost as far as Lakeland though with a lot less ascent. Close enough I reasoned, I'm in. After all, if I don't feel 100% I could always stop after 50k right? Right? Yeah right

My mate and long time climbing partner Gareth and I had a few weekends earmarked for a trip to Skye with a view to climbing the Cuillin ridge, but with a couple of dates rained off and only one chance left Gareth announced he wanted to sack it off and join me on the Classic Quarter. This was a first for Gareth who had previously not raced further than half marathon distance; great, should be fun. Hang on, shit, what if he beats me? Suddenly my relaxed approach to the whole thing was out the window. Can't let Gareth win, can't let Gareth win. Not that I'm competitive or anything but a bit of friendly rivalry can't do any harm.

Also running this year would be Simon, my friend and running buddy from down here. Simon always makes out that me winning is a foregone conclusion but he's a dark horse and recently having moved to a village off the beaten track his run commutes were adding up to a daunting number of weekly miles; I had my suspicions he would do a good job this year.

Over the first half of this year I'd gradually got over Achilles Tendonitis, or rather I'd found a way to manage it and still keep on running which is essentially the same thing really isn't it? The miles were adding up and things seemed to be going well until a month out I came down with the flu. Not the "man" variety, the laid up in bed, shaking like a shitting dog, can't do anything for a whole week variety. Damn, I hadn't been illl like this for years. After two weeks I was pulling through but the family holiday to France offered limited running opportunities and by the time I got home it was time for tapering! I'd had enough enforced tapering but a long run the week before wasn't likely to help and would quite possibly hinder me so I sat tight and hoped I'd done enough.

The start line of the Endurance Life Classic Quarter 2015 (c) Gareth Hayfield

Race day arrived, as did the three amigos and we made our way to the Lizard for the off. There seemed to be a lot more people at the start line this year - a fact confirmed by the results - about 270 lined up this year. Soon we were away, or rather we weren't, bottled up at the first narrow point it took a while for things to thin out and normal service to resume. Add to this my plan to run as steady even a pace as possible and I found myself being overtaken on the uphills and then stuck behind people who were not quite so happy to leg it on the steep descents as I am. Still the first few miles flew by, I didn't see Gareth after the start, Simon however was close by until somewhere near Mullion where he pulled away from me. Aha, I'll reel him in later, he's gone out too quick thinks I. How wrong I was.

I've been pretty happy with my nutrition on long runs for some time now and generally eat regularly from the outset - every half an hour, alternating between Torq gels and Baker boy flapjacks. The latter were a real find since they are tasty, individually wrapped and just the right number of calories. Better still, they're CHEAP. Given your average gel being about £1.50 and an eneergy bar a similar price running 20 miles or more can become a very expensive business. A five pack of baker boys flapjacks is £1.50 though, so this signfiicantly reduces the overhead. So far they haven't failed me...but this time around I'd shopped late in the week only to find that Tesco's were out of stock! Horrified I scanned the aisles for something similar, eventually deciding on Tesco's own range of very similar looking fayre. It wasn't until I bit into one a few miles into the race that I realised that looks can be deceiving; this was not the moist, buttery offering I am used to, more a super sweet dried out husk of a thing that clagged up my mouth and refused to be swallowed. Oh well, I'd have to put up with them they were all I had. This, combined with the increasing heat of the day meant I was taking in more water than I was used to, but I didn't see that as a problem early on.

The race continued through the first checkpoint - I came through Gunwalloe at 9 miles in 1:49, pretty much exactly on target pace for this section. The next miles out to Porthleven flew by and I chatted for a while with another runner who turned out to be local and a climber. I stopped to get more water in Porthleven - back in 2013 I ran out of water between checkpoints after running past a water stop and I was ken not to repeat that experience again. We ran around the harbour and out onto what I knew would be a tough section. Still I was on pace - ahead really - and feeling good, but as the hills arrived I forced myself to hold back a bit. I let the group I was with pull away and settled back into running my own race. Sure enough as the hills around Rinsey passed by I dropped down about 30 seconds per mile on average but this was all part of the plan. Provided I kept a steady pace up to half way I knew I would be faster on the flat section around Mounts bay and needed to keep something in reserve for that.

After a long stretch down from Rinsey and along the back of Praa Sands we arrived at the compulsory bag check. This was the first time I had encountered a mid race bag check and was expecting it to be a logistical nightmare. As I arrived I recognised Steve Wyatt and shouted out congratulations for his recent Enduroman victory. Steve kindly offered to refill my bottles while my kit was checked by a marshall managing to simultaneously check four of us at once. Consequently we were in and out in a couple of minutes.

The next section up to the halfway point is always harder than it should be - there are no really big hills but it undulates and so feels more runnable than it is. I felt quite tired as I approached Perranuthnoe and worse, I was developing a nasty bloated feeling stomach. It actually got so bad I skipped eating for an hour and decided at that point to try and just eat gels as I'd brought a few extra with me. Not wanting to stop I just filled up and ran through the check point and got up to Marazion in no time it seemed. This was where I needed to make some capital of the flat runnable section but it turned out my legs had other ideas. I just didn't seem to have any go and whenever I pushed the pace I could feel the beginnings of cramp building in my calfs. Instead of opening up and running strong I was reduced to a shuffle. Rather than stop and recover a bit I forged on at this reduced pace as I had it in mind that I needed to run this whole sectoin. In hindsight a walking break or two might well have got me back on track.

Mounts bay is interminably long and almost all on tarmac or concrete, following Penzance is Newlyn and I welcomed the hill out of town as finally I could allow myself a walk. Another mile or so lead me to Mousehole and the formidable regennis hill. Once done though I was back on the trail though to be honest I was in a bit of a low. I knew I wasn't going as well as I could do and I still had the hardest setion to come. Still it was a relief to finally arrive in Lamorna. Again a quick refill and off, scrambling up the rocks out of the harbour the reality struck - this was going to be a slog.

Last year at the Plague my quads gave out pretty badly about 40 miles in and I found running downhill a real problem but even in the final miles I was still able to climb reasonably well. So it was puzzling to find I could barely get any strength to get up the steep hills in this last stage. At several points I was having to stop and let the lactic acid ache subside before I could continue. I clocked some very slow miles at this point but then, out of the blue, I picked up. Around St Loy I started to feel a little better and found I could move more easily, even up hill. This is one of the funny things about long distance event likes this, suffering is rarely a linear descent; I was pulling out of the trough and cresting a wave of new found energy.

I arrived at Porthcurno in exactly 9 hours. With 5 tough miles to go I knew I would never reach my goal of getting in under 10 hours but I also knew I would finish, no matter what and at this point even if I walked I'd get to the finish faster than in 2013. Still I decided to give it my best shot and set out from Porthcurno with a mouthful of jelly babies and a mission head on. It had also occurred to me that I still hadn't seen Simon, he was clearly having a better race than me.

I was determined to enjoy this day, even through the lows so it was particularly satisfying to feel good in those last 5 miles. I crossed the line tired but happy in 10 hours 17 minutes, seeing my family straight away who took great pleasure in telling me Simon "finished ages ago". He stormed in in 9 hours 47 minutes. Having come DFL (dead fucking last) in 2013 he had set a nearly 4 hour PB! Gareth had also weathered his first ultra extremely well finishing in 10:39.

Smiles all round we headed off. Gareth and I were happy to hobble into Dominoes with Hannah and the kids before collapsing at home with a beer or  two. Simon on the other hand was off out having forgotten his girlfriends birthday was on the same day as the race!

Endurance Life South Devon Ultra

The alarm went off at 4am, or rather it didn't; I was awake and got to it just before its insistent tone ripped through the dark night. My attempts at an early night had failed miserably; initially through not getting to sleep in the first place and later as my youngest arrived in our bed post nightmare. Her presence kept me awake until it was time to get up. After a quick breakfast I was off, into a surprisingly calm night, heading for Beesands in Devon.

The preceding week had seen the South West racked with some of the worst storms of the winter, leading to widespread flooding and general disruption. The met office suggested that Saturday would be no better. All week the Facebook gossip had questioned whether the Endurance Life South Devon leg of the Coastal Trail Series would, could or even should go ahead. Many, myself included, wondered whether it was right to risk overloading an already stretched emergency services by placing several hundred runners on the coast path. Updates from Endurance Life were somewhat well spaced and this gave everyone, especially those travelling from further afield, plenty of time to worry about what to do. Eventually though, it seemed the event was on.

Simon had already told me he wasn't coming. His training hadn't been going too well; on a good day he would struggle to complete the distance but with 70mph winds forecast there was, as far as he was concerned, no chance. Struggling to decide whether the whole thing was foolhardy or merely adventurous I eventually stopped procrastinating and committed to give it a go.

I made good time and arrived early, got registered and said hello to a few familiar faces. During the race briefing we heard of the route changes; no loop out East around Slapton Ley, instead we would return to the start after 20 miles and, for those of us running the Ultra, head out again to follow the half marathon course. Before long we were briefed and ready to go, shivering in the early morning chill we lined up and waited for the off.

At last it came and we headed off up across a couple of fields before joining the coast path. For the first few miles the lay of the land saved us from the full force of the wind. On reaching the car park at Start point we were diverted to the right as the organisers had deemed the traverse of the rocks around the headland too risky in the current conditions. Dropping down a long, fairly technical rocky path we got our first taste of things to come; the wind roared up the valley buffeting and blasting us and letting us know exactly what we were in for.

Our first taste of the storm

Turning right as we reached the sea the wind was at least at a slight angle but no less fierce. The next 8 miles or so were incredible; the beauty of this stretch of coastline was enhanced by the fierce weather. With a huge sea to our left and dark threatening clouds ahead we ploughed on, I kept my head down and concentrated on maintaining a reasonable pace but it felt like running through treacle. Never-the-less I was just about keeping up with the loose group of runners ahead and seemed to be doing OK. A few squally showers of rain and hail added to the experience and in places the sea spray was whipped up and thrown in our faces as we struggled along. I almost choked to death a couple of times; first from inhaling a hailstone then soon after, and somewhat more seriously when the wind drove a sizeable chunk of flapjack into my windpipe leaving me coughing and spluttering for a few moments before I could continue.

Dramatic Devonshire coastline with added weather for good measure

It was a relief to get to the Estuary and turn North and, more importantly, out of the wind. There followed a pretty wooded path with views across the water to Salcombe and, shock horror, the sun had come out! We soon reached the first "dib-in" check point. I had plenty of water and all the food I needed so carried straight on, up a long path, walking and munching on a potato I felt a world away from the maelstrom of the coast a few minutes back. It wasn't to last however, at the top of the hill we dropped down again onto the coast path and retraced our steps for a few miles. This was a hard few miles for me, we had fast marathoners passing from behind, the rest approaching upfront and somehow the wind that was in our faces on the way out seemed not quite to be behind us on the way back. Nearly being blown off the path into gorse bushes while trying to make room for other runners was taxing and I was feeling far too tired given I was only 13 miles in.

Sunny Salcombe from across the Estuary

As is often the case though, things soon started to look up, we abandoned the coast path and headed inland, the sun popped out again briefly and I stopped to get some photos before entering a sheltered pathway up to a road section that brought us into East Prawle.  It also brought us another violent hailstorm that stung my face and legs but it was over soon enough. Another check-in followed and more fields and muddy pathways too; some of this I recognised from the year before when I had run the half.

Dark skies approaching

I had good fun running these next few familiar miles and before long I was dropping down to the start, another check point and the unavoidable acknowledgement that the second lap, including those wind swept cliffs, was imminent.

One of the great things about running these long races is the interactions with other competitors. Often the same faces are passed and pass you many times throughout the course of the day and one of those was Ferg, of Mud Crew fame. We kept each other company on and off for the rest of the run and it was good to have someone to chat with along the way.

Having felt so good at the end of the first lap I felt awful for the first miles of lap two; things did not exactly improve once I reached the coast - the wind, if anything, have become stronger and I was in no condition to manage more than a slow, painful slog. That said, once I accepted any chance of maintaining a decent pace was fruitless I was able to just get down to getting through it as best as I could. Again, once we turned inland, despite feeling quite tired by this point, things improved.

A bit breezy, spume covers the "path" - actually ankle deep water

The final miles were slowly ground down with a stretch of road back to East Prawle and a second visit to the checkpoint we now had no more than 5 miles, along terrain we now knew from the first lap. The last long hill before the run down to the finish nearly did for me, the first cramps of the day threatening to strike in my calves just as I reached the "one mile to go" sign (a cruel joke on lap one this was a great relief second time around). Managing a better pace on the downhill to the finish I passed a couple of other runners and was soon crossing the final fields to the finish line, with a huge smile on my face.

One mile to go - bloody good job!

Job done, I gobbled down a pasty, grabbed a cup of tea, shook hands with Ferg and made my way back to the car, battered but not beaten, and glad to have decided to take the foolhardy course and run the 2014 Endurance Life Ultra.

Finished!

The Endurance Life Classic Quarter 2013

At the finish line of the Classic Quarter last year, having run as a team of four, I started to think that maybe I could complete it as one of a pair with enough training.  By August two of our team, Simon and I, had run the twenty mile red route at the Roseland August Trail.  This begged the question: if we can run twenty miles now, where's the challenge in running twenty two next year?  And so a it was decided, we would run the 44 mile Classic Quarter solo in 2013.

Mark, Gareth, Simon and I, Lizard, June 2012

Fast forward ten months and Simon and I found ourselves on our way South to the Lizard.

The previous week had been hot and sunny and the forecast was for more of the same.  However, by the time we arrived at the Lizard the sky to the south was dark and punctuated by increasingly frequent flashes of lightning.

Arriving in the car park the queues for registration and the toilets were both quite short; I made a decision to head to the loos first which turned out to be a mistake since, by the time I returned from the toilets, the rain had started and the queue to register stretched right to the back of the car park. By the time we assembled down the hill at the start line everyone was soaked and shivering.  The storm raced off ahead of us though and as we started the rain stopped.  The count down chorus was followed by anti-climax with all but the front runners forced to a walk as we funnelled onto the cliff path.

Cold, wet and raring to go!

Simon sporting typical summer atire

The first two miles were a stop start affair with plenty of bottle-necks; this no doubt helped a good few of us avoid an over-enthusiastic dash to the first check point and gave everyone a chance to ease into their pace gently.

Chasing the storm.  Eerie light at the start of Classic Quarter

We're off! Runners snaking over the hills just North of Lizard

Running down to Kynance Cove

At Kynance we gingerly crossed the pebble beach before starting the first big uphill slog of the day.  From here the going was fairly easy and I made a good pace along the rolling hills to Mullion.  

Arriving at Mullion Cove

I got to Gunwalloe and the first check point in under two hours and it was a big lift to see so many people waiting around (mostly here for the relays I guess) and cheering us on. Forcing down a gel and some flapjack I set off again towards Porthleven.  I had a few aches and pains in the first couple of hours and my back had made itself known a few times but, as the third hour wore on, these early niggles faded away and I ran on comfortably.  

Porthleven came and went, and as we left the houses behind the rain began again.  The course from here to Praa Sands has some spicy hills and by now the passage of those ahead combined with the sudden onset of wet weather had churned up the path into a claggy mess.

Muddy trails, Tremeane

Switchbacks through the undergrowth, Trewavas

At last I came to check point two and on arriving met my wife, Hannah and eldest daughter Bronwen who were generously giving up their day to be my support team. Its amazing the lift you get from seeing a familiar smiling face. I was also surprised to see my friend and climbing partner Jeremy, a Classic Quarter veteran, had popped down to cheer me on and offer some advice.  

Leaving Perranuthnoe

Still smiling, halfway in

After a change of socks and t-shirt I headed off, bound for Marazion and a long, flat section of the course.  Stiffness had set in during my brief stop and it took a good half mile to get myself going again.  By now the rain was long gone and the day was heating up.  Arriving at Marazion I took the opportunity to stop for an ice cream, dunked my buff in the river and wandered onto the new cycle path above the beach.  

At Penzance sea front

Throughout this flat section I alternated running fifteen minutes and walking five until finally arriving at the sea front in Penzance. Here I met Hannah and Bronwen again, who ran alongside me for a while before leaving me to continue along the road into Newlyn and then Mousehole and the infamous Raginnis Hill. At the top of this massive hill I regained the coast path finally, by now exhausted and really feeling the heat. The route from Mousehole to Lamorna was, to be honest, brutally hard with plenty of steep climbs and rocky sections.  Added to this I had underestimated the effects of the heat on my water consumption and consequently ran out two miles short of the check point. 

Looking back down Raginnis hill.  Its steeper than it looks

I arrived in Lamorna at the same time as my team - apparently my directions from Newlyn to Lamorna had been woefully inadequate and Hannah had gone round the houses trying to find her way.  After rehydrating I grudgingly left my resting place on the harbour wall and set off. The route from Lamorna to Porthcurno is generally believed to be the hardest section of the course, and the huge hills in and out of St Loy and Penberth certainly took their toll.  Everyone was looking pretty beaten up by now but it was great to see how we all looked out for each other as we passed others or were overtaken ourselves.

Bloody steps!  St Loy

Porthcurno was in full holiday swing and the temptation to walk onto the busy white sands and dive into that perfect turquoise sea was hard to resist. As I walked up the path towards the Minnack I looked up and saw Bronwen beaming down at me from above; she ran down and held my hand as I climbed the steps to the car park where Hannah was waiting with food and encouragement. 

Porthcurno in full holiday swing

Five miles to go. A lunchtime run, nothing more.  I was lucky to latch on to a couple of motivated souls who pulled me with them for a while, though after we got to Porthgwarra I just couldn't quite keep up and found myself alone again. Walking more than running I finally arrived at Nanjizal Beach, the best beach in Cornwall, and I knew I had a mile and a half to go.  I had twenty minutes to go to get in under twelve hours.  With such a short distance to travel there was no sense holding back and I surprised myself with a final spurt to the finish line, coming home in 11 hours 55 minutes.

Nanjizal, best beach in Cornwall

Simon made it in an hour or so later, having suffered knee problems since the halfway point and swearing he would never again run so far.  For me, I'm not so sure.  Not for a while maybe, but I wouldn't say never. 

Stumbling over the finish line

Simon finishes in perfect evening light

Endurance Life Coastal Trail Series - South Devon

The South Devon leg of the Endurance Life Coastal Trail Series is, according to their website, where it all began.  It is for me too, since last year this was the first time I had entered a race.  I ran the 10k, actually 7.4 miles, and it was hard; but not too hard apparently since I felt compelled to enter increasingly longer races throughout the year.  Of course "race" is a misnomer since I never have any illusions about winning, but its good to have something to aim for.

Anyway this year I was running the 1/2 marathon.

After many weeks of heavy rain the news came that the car parking would be limited at Beesands and we were forced to park at Torcross, about a mile away.  This, combined with some poor route-finding on the way, meant we were running late.  Luckily everyone else was in the same boat and the start was delayed to accommodate us.

As with Dorset in December, there was no mass start and we filed across the line in twos and threes, dibbing our timer chips as we set off.  Stupidly I shot out like a startled pigeon and, unable to learn from lessons past, I was paying for my early pace by the end of the second mile.

The early part of the course was actually not too bad; a couple of long climbs separated by an inconvenient dash across a pebble beach and a fast open descent past the lighthouse at Start Point. After this the path winds up and down along the coast for a mile or so until our detour - landslides had necessitated a course change. Turning inland we ran deceptively easily along the side of a valley until being presented with a monster of a hill.  From here it got really muddy, I fell once rounding a corner on the side of the hill and watched another runner impressively go head over heels and continue almost without breaking stride!

Fields soon gave way to some fairly technical rock hopping as we returned to the coast path.  After another mile or so we turned inland again, climbed steeply and arrived at a checkpoint, and the turnaround.

By now we were about eight miles in and I had recovered from my earlier enthusiasm and felt into my stride.  The next few miles we partly retraced our steps before hitting the road for a little while.  As we turned back onto the trail I realised I recognised where we were from last year's 10k; this allowed me to increase my pace a little, confident I wasn't going to blow it before the end. As it was I still had some left for a little sprint finish which goes to show I wasn't trying hard enough!

Another well organised event from Endurance Life in the bag, there was little more to do than head to the pub for a quick pint and get on our way. On the way back to the car we followed the lead of some other runners and spent a few minutes up to our waists in the seas soaking our aching feet and washing the Devon mud from our legs.  

As we changed at the car, several marathon runners were still plodding past in various states of distress; maybe next year?

Endurance Life Coastal Trail Series - Dorset

Half marathon start - © Gareth Hayfield

On a cold, crisp Saturday morning in December close to a thousand people gathered in the car park at Lulworth Cove for the Dorset leg of the Endurance Life Coastal Trail Series.  With four races to choose from, ranging from 10k to ultra distance there is something for everyone, provided hills, mud and hard running are what you are looking for.

Endurance Life as usual had everything well organised; registration was quick and simple; complimentary CLIF bar and free t-shirt in hand we headed off to change.

We were signed up for the half marathon, which it turns out was the popular race of the day as over 400 participants lined up at the start.  Endurance Life can’t count too well and so our Half Marathon was in fact to be held on a 15 mile route. 

Late as always I was stood by the car getting ready as we heard the countdown, luckily the queue to cross the line was such that we had plenty of time.  No standard start possible with this many people, each runner dipped their timing chip as they crossed the start.

The course started as it meant to go on – with a hill.  Fast walking was the order of  the day, this hill was just about run-able but with so many people in front of us walking was easier and a good warm up for the fun to come.

There followed an undulating path along some of the most beautiful coastline this country has to offer, passing the famous landmark of Durdle Door along the way.  After three miles the course turned inland, passing the first checkpoint.  Here we were treated to rolling hills leading gradually back to the start.  Passing back through the village we headed east into the Lulworth firing range. 

As it turns out the first few hills were just a warm up; now the main challenges of the course began.  A five hundred foot slog up the first serious climb with a thigh-busting descent back down was compensated by incredible views to Lulworth Castle from the summit.  This pattern was repeated until we found ourselves at Tyneham village, evacuated during the war, the residents never allowed to return after the land was requisitioned by the MOD.  I tried to run the gradual hill out of the village to checkpoint two but by now fatigue was starting to kick in and soon I was walking again.  At the checkpoint I stopped to top up my water and helped myself to some jelly babies on offer.

My Garmin told me we had come twelve and a half miles, so just under three to go.  We had seen the leaders returning along the way they had come and I had assumed that we would reverse our tracks, and therefore all of the hills, on the way home. Thankfully the course remained on top of the ridge line after the first hill, which was a great relief.  As fifteen miles approached though, there was still no sign of the finish.  Telling myself not to worry, just keep running, I concentrated on closing the gap on the runner in front of me.  Eventually we dropped into Lulworth.  With only a few hundred yards to go I tried to sprint up the hill before my legs rebelled and I was forced to return to a slow shuffle across the line.  My Garmin read 16.2 miles. 

All in all a great day out was had on a wonderful course.  If you fancy a challenge, I’d recommend you give an Endurance Life event a try sometime, you might just surprise yourself. The next leg is in Angelsey which is a bit far for me but I’ll be back in February for the South Devon Half Marathon.