Published: 8th January 2025
Back in 2020, cooped up inside with few freedoms and a whole lot of pent up energy, myself and my good friend Chloe decided to jump with two feet into the world of ultra running and signed up for the Race to the Stones 100km for the following year. We vowed to support each other through the training and we raised money for Great Ormond Street in the process. As there was little else to do, committing to the 100km training plan seemed like an excellent way to fill our weekends and not succumb to the lock-down blues.
Inexperienced in ultra training, we picked a “non-stop runner 100km” training plan, which with hindsight, was a little aggressive. A few weeks after the long runs ramped up in distance, a few niggles crept in. Plantar fasciitis for Chloe, and some ITBS and achilles pain for me. We both re-evaluated the training plan, reigned it in, and got those niggles largely under control.
During the training, we picked a trail marathon to fill one of the long run spots, which I would definitely recommend to anyone starting to find motivation waning for the long runs. We picked the Cheddar Gorge marathon – absolutely stunning, it’s a beautiful part of the country. It’s a two lap race, with a cut off of 3 hours for the first lap. We thought it would be a doddle, but we hugely underestimated the terrain and made it through with 3 minutes to spare… It was an incredibly hot day so a lot of liquid was consumed at the aid stations. Or in Chloe’s case, it was instead sprayed over a poor marshal as he made her laugh with a mouth full of coke. As she ran off giggling like a maniac, and I was left to apologising to the bemused marshal. Later, some concerns for Chloe’s wellbeing in the heat arose when she got inexplicably angry at the swooshing sound our shoes were making against the brittle grass, and then declared that the fence she sat atop whilst climbing over was so comfortable she wished to stay there for the rest of the day. Eventually, we made it to the finish, overall had a lovely time, and I learnt a lesson about the importance of using some form of anti-chafe balm between my bum cheeks when out for more than 6 hours. Vaseline works fine if you’re on a budget, though is a little greasy feeling.
When race day came around, after experiencing those few niggles during training and being advised it was better to rest more and get to the start-line uninjured, neither of us had run further than a marathon before. It felt a little daunting to line up with so many pro’s – side note, we thought it was totally reasonable to extrapolate our long run pace of 6-minutes per km to 100km and boldly declared it would take us 10 hours to finish but allowed ourselves an additional 2 hours for aid stations, putting us in the 12-hour-and-under starting category. The being said, Race to the Stones is an absolutely fantastic event for people new to ultra running. There are no strict cut-off times to adhere to, the course is very well marked and aided, and there is the option to camp halfway and finish over two days if going straight through feels like a terrifying prospect. The first 25km went by with little drama, but after this point it began to get tough. Body parts started to protest a little from here, and still having 75km to go felt horrible. The course also heads up hill for a while from here, which just added to the suffering. Having been there, I now know it does get better, but we were both feeling slightly low at the third aid station at roughly 33km. Fortunately, our friend James was on hand as a volunteer there to boost our spirits.
The next stop was basecamp at half-way and the option to get a hot meal. Chloe was suffering a little at this point, and my knee was protesting (ITBS-related pain rearing it’s ugly head), so we did stop for around an hour here to take stock. We were in no hurry to finish by then, we just wanted to make sure we did finish. In the second half, we were boosted by friends popping up along the way, and had both developed a run-walk strategy that kept our ailments manageable and our spirits relatively high. The only incident I can remember was my underpants inexplicably starting to climb between my bum cheeks with an enthusiasm never before seen by my running pants. Fortunately, I had a spare pair in the car that Alex was meeting us in, and shamelessly changed them at the roadside. I apologise to any passing cars who saw more than they bargained for. Desperate times and all that.
The sun set between the sixth and seventh aid stations (around 80km), but I declared I did not need my head torch in the dark, my eyes would adjust. I fell over about 500m later and got the head torch out. With around 13km to go, I urged Chloe into a run as it was getting rather cold. She was immediately halted by an odd popping sensation and the feeling of liquid draining in her leg (later diagnosed as a bursting cyst) and that put an end to her running for the day. Knowing the next aid station was about 1km away and many friends and family were waiting there, we decided to part ways as I ran (shuffled) on. The final stretch of the race hurt, but knowing the finish isn’t far away is a real boost for the brain and legs. I made it to the finish in around 18 hours, with Chloe coming in shortly after. Our times were distinctly average; the winners had long since gone home, showered and presumably gone to bed, but we were proud to finish and be part of a small group of people who had run further than a marathon in one day.
After getting home, I was looking forward to what I assumed would be the best sleep of my entire life. A warning to anyone also looking forward to that incredible sleep: it doesn’t happen. That night was filled with pain, sweating, groaning, and very little sleeping. The next morning, the stairs were best tackled as a bum shuffle, and salty crisps were the most appetising food to have ever been invented. The ultra running bug had been caught (for me at least), and I haven’t looked back! It’s a funny thing, knowing I can do the hard thing I thought was impossible. It made me think it wasn’t really that hard, if little old, distinctly average me can do it. What else can I do?
Distinctly Average Ultra Runner 