It has been over six weeks since the race now, and I am still trying to process what happened that Saturday... frankly, I am a little worried that my words will not do it justice!
On May 22nd, I ran the North Downs Way 50. NDW50 is a 50 mile point to point race along the North Downs Way, from Farnham in Surrey to Knockholt Pound in Kent. It has a total elevation gain of 1800 meters and the cut off time is 13 hours.
With a handful of shorter ultras bagged in 2020 and the curiosity & hunger to try something even bigger, I signed up as soon as the entries opened in August and started my training in early January, giving me 20 weeks to prepare both my body and mind for the task at hand.
178 hours worth of training runs later...
Keep calm
I was a mess in the weeks leading up to the race. I was feeling too many feelings. One minute I was SILLY excited; the next I was SUPER nervous. I really struggled to eat during this time, blaming the constant rollercoaster of excitement and nervousness — it literally made my stomach churn at the thought of food!
Not being able to eat is pretty alien to me; I love food. I knew I had to get some calories in, in order to have enough energy for Race Day, so I forced myself to eat throughout. Not a pleasant experience, but needs must.
I was planning to get plenty of sleep in the week prior to the race and especially the night before the night before, as chances were that I would not sleep sound the actual night before. I slept like a log from Thursday to Friday, good quality of sleep too, as I woke up feeling very refreshed. Yay!
Friday was spent eating lots of food and drinking lots of water. I ate every two hours. Luckily, I was hungry, so no force feeding was needed. I was relying on my three favourite foods to get me through: porridge, pasta and pizza. Alongside plenty of snacks!
I had taken a day off work that Friday, and spent it trying to calm my nerves by watching documentaries of some of the people who inspire me the most — Courtney Dauwalter & Lucy Bartholomew to name a few, and I also watched the recap movie from the stage race I did in October last year, the Golden Trail Championships.
Come 8pm, I had packed my race pack and bags with dry clothes for after, and was as ready as one could be. I crawled into bed and started counting sheep...
Race Day
I woke up at 3am and could not go back to sleep. I was too excited and my heart was pounding in my chest. No big deal having gone to bed early. My alarm was due to wake me up at 3.55am, so the following 55 minutes were spent going over my race strategy, fully deciding on which shoes to wear, exactly which aid stations to stop at and which to skip, and preparing my mind to dig deep.
Come 5am, I had demolished a bowl of porridge and was headed for the car, only to turn around a few minutes later, as I realised I had forgotten my waterproof running jacket at home! My superstar boyfriend was once again being very supportive of yet another of my ideas of running really far, and was willingly driving me to the venue at silly o’clock. The weather forecast said rain and it was a part of the mandatory kit to bring a waterproof running jacket, so back home we went to get it.
Lucky number 241
I arrived at Farnham Leisure Centre just before 6am, where I bumped into Andy, a friend and fellow runner, who was there to take on the 50 miles as well. We were pretty much all race ready, as our bibs had been sent to us in the post the week before and the race brief was done virtually via video a few days earlier, all in order to adhere to the current government guidelines. We were at the leisure centre to collect a tracker, allowing friends and family to virtually follow us throughout the day, as no spectators were allowed at the start line or anywhere on course.
We had been asked to start between 5.30am and 8am depending on our predicted finish times. The faster runners were to start earlier to avoid bottlenecks and queues at aid stations out on the course. I had opted for a start time of 6.30am, and so had Andy, so we walked the 5 minutes to the start line together.
We paused by the trailhead sign to have our photos taken by the race photographer, before having our temperatures taken and being waved on. No fanfare and no ceremony. We jogged across the starting mat and our 13-hour countdown had begun.
North Downs Way, Farnham
Ahead of us were 81 kilometres of beautiful, and somewhat muddy, trails and an epic adventure. The weather just perfect. It was cool without being cold and whilst it tried to rain on multiple occasions, nothing ever really came but a light drizzle here and there. With Andy being the faster runner, we only ran together for a couple of minutes before I told him to plod on.
My strategy was to get to the halfway mark with relatively fresh legs and then push from there. I started eating very early on, thinking that could only be to my advantage in case my stomach would start rejecting solid foods further down the line. It is normally pretty sturdy, and able to easily digest sandwiches and the like during long runs, but you just never know.
Having recced the route vigorously, I knew where every turn was. Every climb. Every downhill. Every aid station. It proved to help me a lot as I could predict where to run hard and when to slow down. And how far I had to go until my next cup of Pepsi! Yep, I am a Pepsi girl... not even embarrassed.
From about 20 miles in, I was looking for pain. I was expecting my legs to feel heavy, for something to hurt. I frequently checked in with my body, almost searching for something to not quite feel right. Nothing. Everything felt great. I felt great. I wanted to hurt, and hurt I would, but I had to be patient.
Approaching Newlands Corner, 23 km in
Every moment contains only one thing - the potential to keep going.
It is no secret that endurance runners thrive in pain. We are all a bunch of masochists. When we hurt, the outside world becomes bounded and excluded, and we descend into a chasm of ourselves. I believe we gravitate toward these painful activities, such as running 50 miles or further, because they provide us with opportunities for knowledge.
There is something deep and metaphorical about the idea of running through pain, as if the endurance of discomfort contains meaning beyond angry nerve endings. Pain forces us to confront disruptive, awful, and what often leads to inspiring realities of the world around us. The pain cave is a place where we get to ask ourselves how much we in fact are willing to give for the goals we are chasing.
Your mind is the athlete
I ran the majority of the miles in solitude — a state I really thrive in. I enjoyed the occasional chat with people I either overtook or were overtaken by, but there were long periods with no one else in sight. I believe loneliness is one of the best qualities in this sport, as it strengthens our incentives to motivate ourselves. No one else can make you run far, make you legs continue to tick over, but you. In saying that, the company of a pacer and crew would be welcome for distances exceeding 100 kilometres!
I was struggling with solid foods from pretty early on, so I relied on gels, Pepsi, liquorice, and crisps, which I chewed and then washed down with water. I felt nauseous at various stages, but nothing ever came back up, which was good!
Mile 38 was pretty special. Not only did I get to see Jules at Caterham aid station, I had never gone further than 37 miles before, so every step from here onwards would be a new distance PB! I was really quite emotional heading towards both Jules and the mountain of food & snacks laid out on the table, so much that I had to stop and get myself together, as I was struggling to breathe! I was in and out quickly, no time to waste. Water topped up, a little snack collected, and off I was.
Surrounded by wild garlic and still smiling,
despite being 65 km deep
Legs got heavy around mile 40, and what hurt the most was running the flatter parts. Climbing meant power hiking to preserve energy, those sections were relatively straight forward, and on the downhills I had gravity to power me on, as well as my love for the thrill of the speed you are able to pick up whilst running down a hill. I am much more of a downhiller than a climber.
More is in you
Botley Hill. The last aid station, at kilometre 69. Never have I seen an aid station spread so nice! There was everything from roast potatoes, to arancinis, and scotch eggs. Absolutely delicious! I was still struggling with solid foods, but forced one of each of those down the grocery hole, as I still had 7 miles to go. Fuel was needed to keep the engine going.
My legs now had over 44 miles in them and were starting to get really heavy, and I had to dig a little deeper in order to make them continue to turn over. I estimated that I had roughly 90 minutes left on the trails. I was doing my best to enjoy every second.
3 miles before the watch reached 50, the course went through what seemed like endless fields. Once one field was completed, another was just around the corner. They were flat and boring and my legs and feet were now hurting. Not to the point where I could go no further, but I kept slowing down to a walk to lessen the impact.
49,9... 50!
Turning around the last corner, I saw there was a little incline up to the finish line. I let out a little sigh and plodded on. Shortly thereafter, I crossed it in a time of 10 hours, 20 minutes and 47 seconds. I was handed my medal, had a photo taken by the event photographer, and met by Jon and Paul.
Jon was volunteering and not allowed to hug me due to Centurion’s strict COVID restrictions, but I got a big hug from Paul, before Jon sorted me out with what came to be my 6th cup of Pepsi of the day. Both the hug and the carbonated beverage were very welcome!
Hello Knockholt Pound
I found Brett shortly after, and we went back to the car where I spent 15 minutes trying to change into dry clothes. Getting long compression socks off after having worn them for over 12 hours was not easy. During the ride back home I cried three times, as I started to realise what I had just done. I had so many messages from family, friends and even strangers! It was really emotional to read everyone’s words of encouragement and praise.
My mum had been dot stalking me all day, which was really cute! She was super proud and made me feel like my accomplishment was even bigger than what I gave myself credit for.
Once showered, Brett and I ordered KFC. I had only ever had KFC once before, so I am not sure where this sudden craving for fried chicken came from. I did however struggle to eat, as the roof of my mouth was incredibly painful!
Post event blues
It has taken me 6 weeks to write this blog post. I was very keen to start scribbling down the journey pretty much straight away, but I struggled to process what had happened. I spent nearly 6 months training for this race and all of a sudden it was over. It is like when you spend hours in the kitchen, making lasagna. It then takes 10 minutes to eat it.
My biggest achievement to date
Now, the question is — what should my next challenge be? Is the next step simply to go further, or do I work on improving my 50 miler time? Do I break 10 hours?
Watch this space...
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