100km In Two Days – A Race To The Stones 2019

Every run this year I have thought of as training for Race To The Stones. Every injury has been a hurdle to cross on the way to Race To The Stones, and every shoe purchase has been a disaster on the journey to get to The Race To The Stones.

However, on 13th and 14th July it happened and I lived to tell the tale.

We drove down the night before and parked Carrie’s bike in the field near the start. We noted that the inflatables were inflated, the toilets on standby and the Threshold crew listening intently to the pointing and gesturing people at the front of the tent.

Carrying on our journey we got caught out by a junction closure that Google Maps didn’t know about. It was something of a shock to find that not all information is always available on Google.

We arrived at our B&B, The Inn With The Well in Ogbourne St George. It was a lovely little place with excellent local gin and beer from Ramsbury distillery and brewery. We enjoyed it so much that we popped into the distillery shop to get our own supply on the way home.

The following morning we were up too early for B&B breakfast but our hostess had made up a bag of interesting things to munch.

We nipped down the the finish area, parked the car and jumped aboard the bus. A surprisingly empty bus – hmmm. Does everyone else know something that I don’t? It seems that they probably do. This bus leaves at 7 and it takes around an hour and a half to get to the start (we actually took a little longer due to the aforementioned road closure). The right bus for us would have been the 06:30. It looks like the 7 o clock bus is really just to sweep up any latecomers.

I arrived at the start not long before 9 and was surprised to see that there were people still there. The stewards bustled me out of the coach and flung me toward the start.

The briefing finished and we were released upon the Ridgeway.

At the beginning of a run there is usually the release of a lot of pent up energy and people go tearing off along the route at great speed.

At the Race To The Stones, certainly in this last wave there was just a steady walk up the hill and everyone settling in to their own pace.

Much I was tempted to start running I thought I should go with the wisdom of the crowd and follow along.

At the far side of the field were a couple of volunteers to point the way. One was wearing a ‘Bad Boy Running’ tee-shirt. I gave the traditional ‘do badder’ greeting and he returned it. Most excellent!

Once we entered the trees the track became quite narrow and there was no real choice but to move at the pace of everyone else. This seemed a little bit frustrating but I figured it would help me conserve my energy and my legs.

It’s a rather odd experience just strolling through the countryside with a bunch of strangers. They all have their little groups and are chatting away. It feels almost like we are on some kind of social club picnic.

This feeling is very much reinforced when I get to pit stop one and encounter lots of stalls containing many foods. People were sitting about, chatting, eating and drinking. It all seemed very relaxed.

An ultra will be many different things to different people but I am fast learning here that in this part of the field it is an all day mobile picnic. It’s a laid back, sociable experience but with a lot of scenery, endurance, cows, joy and pain built into that.

I grabbed some fruit, crisps orange juice and a Freddo (hurrah for Freddo) bar and set off again along the trail

It widened out a little here so I started taking advantage of the downhills to do a little running. It felt really good and I was tempted to just keep going but several pretty fearsome hills put a stop to any of that sort of nonsense.

This section of the course was probably my favourite. There were trees and lovely peaty soil underfoot. Even though it required intense concentration to avoid tripping on tree roots it was an absolute delight to run upon.

I arrived at pit stop two after about 20 kilometres still feeling fresh and strong. My wife Carrie was there to greet me and we sat out in the sunshine as I munched through more water melon, tuna sandwiches and motivational bananas (the bananas had cheery slogans written upon their skins – absolute genius).

Carrie seemed to be enjoying her cycling journey so far, as she wrestled with the logistics of meeting up with me, while herself trying to avoid cycling on the Ridgeway (Carrie reckoned that with all those runners on the path that she and her bike might cause a bit of an obstruction). Unfortunately because she chose to be so thoughtful it did condemn her to some remarkable (she did remark upon them) hills as she made the climb up onto the ridge.

The next pit stop was at 33 kilometres and I had encountered a problem. Every time I tried to run I felt a sharp stabbing pain in my right calf. This was more than a little frustrating. I had been shovelling down anything remotely electrolyty to try and stave off the cramps but here they were were in bright technicolour jabbing away at my leg and severely cramping my style. I felt good, I felt that I wanted to run but the merest skip sent me into spasms of pain. This, as you can imagine soured my mood a little.

I met someone else who seemed to be suffering as she walked down the hill trying to move without her feet touching the ground. Bright perceptive chap that I am, I immediately arrived at the conclusion that blisters were the evil demon at work here. I had a bunch of blister plasters in my backpack and so went over to offer assistance. She explained patiently that it was actually her quads that were causing problems and so blister plasters may not be the thing. I must keep this in mind for if I ever harbour any hopes of going into the medical profession. It may not be my area of expertise.

Pit stop 4 did lift me up a little as it was only 7 kilometres away from the halfway stage. Just one more stage to go and I wouldn’t be just Jim in a Save The Rhino shirt. I would be Jim who had covered 50km on foot in a Save The Rhino shirt.

An exciting thought.

So exciting that I tried to run again.

Ow! Ow! Ow!

Back to the long walk. Tramp, tramp tramp tramp. The path went ever onwards and my painful calf wouldn’t allow me to take any advantage of the wonderful downhill slopes.

I finally reached the monument and knew then that basecamp was within reach. Ignoring the pain I broke into a trot once more and reached basecamp for reggae hour and so danced joyfully over the timing mat, high fiving a delightfully crazed loon called Nigel who was doing his MC bit on the mic.

I stood there for a minute or two just breathing in the moment. I felt suffused with a wave of stillness and abiding joy. I had covered 50km on foot. It felt absolutely brilliant.

And they were playing reggae for me (obviously it must have been for me) – how cool is that?

Carrie was sitting by the food tent tucking into a pizza that she had purchased from one of the vendors. She also possessed beer and kindly offered me some.

I thought about buying some myself but looked at the queue and figured it could wait for now.

I removed my shoes and experienced several sackfuls of sheer bliss. I felt that I could almost see the pain seeping out of me and wafting away in clouds of angry red hurt, leaving behind some very relaxed and mildly throbbing feet, slowly dissolving into a pool of mush.

Carrie and I lay around for a while, enjoying the music and the sun, but unfortunately at 7pm she needed to leave. It was a 2 and a half hour cycle back to the B&B and she reckoned her chances of survival on the roads may be slightly increased if she got back before dark.

We said our goodbyes and I ambled into the food tent to shovel in some calories and inhale several cupfuls of coffee.

I got chatting to a few folks in the food tent and found that quite a large number of them were running through. I tried to picture myself in the same position of sitting down to have my evening meal and then heading off out into the dark to run another 50km. My poor little brain did a couple of anguished backflips as it tried to wrestle with that scenario.

I was allocated tent number 112 in green wave so collected drop bag plus an inflatable mattress thing and made myself at home in little green dome.

After unpacking I went to try out the shower and was pleasantly surprised to discover they had hot water. Out here on a field in the middle of nowhere I hadn’t really expected such dizzying heights of luxury as hot water. It was most welcome.

The beer queue had shrunk down a little so I grabbed a pint and wondered down to the timing mats to watch some of the people still coming in.

There were so many emotional moments but none more so than that of the sight impaired person coming in with their helper. She wept with joy and hugged everyone upon reaching the finish. Huge waves of deliriously delighted emotion and elation.

Settling down to sleep in the tent I realised just how little sound insulation you have in one of these things. The noises changed throughout the night from chatting and laughing, to rustling and shuffling, to farting and snoring (mostly from the woman in the tent next to me – an endurance runner but also an endurance farter – how is it possible to manufacture that much wind?)

The next noise was much more baffling. There was a buzzing noise from a tent close by. A buzzing noise? What on earth could it be? I decided it must be a toothbrush – yes definitely – yes absolutely – couldn’t be anything else.

I reckon I got about 3 hours sleep but still felt pretty good when I got up. Breakfast done, portaloo visit complete it’s time to go again.

This was a very low key start. It’s open early morning and you just wander across it when you’re ready, and start moving.

I walked for a while to loosen up and then broke into a gentle run. My legs felt stiff and tired but the calf pain had gone.

Hurrah!

This is going to be a good day.

The first pit stopped arrived quickly. I didn’t really need anything yet but forced myself to eat and drink and then move on.

This was all feeling so much more natural now. The path was less crowded so I could move at my own pace and was enjoying just being out on the trail and moving through the landscape.

Next pit stop arrived and yet again I didn’t want much but forced myself to eat and grab some powders to sprinkle into the orange juice. Getting all electrolyted up hadn’t worked yesterday in staving off the muscle cramps but not knowing what else to try I figured I would just keep shovelling them into my gob and hoping for the best.

The second half was much tougher running terrain than the first. So many rutted paths, it was often quite painful as the ruts pushed you on to the sides of your feet. I tried side shuffling, skipping or a sort of bobbling motion but I achieved nothing more than looking quite deranged.

The worst is saved until last. There is only 5 kilometres to go and you are fairly sure that you’ll coast it in. Then you hit rutted chalk tracks that make the previous terrain seem like bouncy turf. The side ridges of the rut are several inches high and every footfall bends your feet back into positions that feet just shouldn’t go. I can actually see the finish now but running is almost impossible on this stuff. Eventually it smooths out onto a tarmac road (OK, a post apocalypse tarmac road but still…). We climb up the hill and I suddenly start to see lots of people coming past me down that same hill. Have they all finished and are going home?

At the top of the hill I find out what is happening as we are sent into a field to run around a couple of stones and then we ourselves go down the hill to loop another field before we can aim at the finish line.

Then the moment arrives. I fight my way out of the field and there is a tarmac road to my left. At the far end of this road I can just see the inflatable finish arch.

I stagger along and gradually manage to increase speed. There is a mad sort of clanging noise in my head increasing in volume as I near the finish. It’s like fireworks going off in my head while a brass band battles a highway road crew to see who can raise the most hullaballoo. The excitement has gone beyond palpable to a shaking intensity that has immersed my entire being.

I get to the finish line and punch the air with excitement. I set off yesterday with no idea whether I could do this. Now I have. I am a chap who has moved along 100km on foot. I feel absolutely wonderful.

I gather my medal and t shirt and we head back to the B&B for rest and beers.

I’ve now signed up to do 100km in one go for next year.

See you all there.

Several other people have been telling their Race To The Stones 2019 stories:

Aaron Kidd – In For The Long Run

Liz Dexter – Adventures in reading, running and working from home

Ridgeway Runner – Race To The Stones 2019