The Wall

Race number.

Here I am. It's time. After six months of planning I'm now here on the start line of The Wall. I'm about to attempt to run from carlisle to Newcastle. That's one hundred and eleven kilometres. This is going to hurt.

I'll let you guess what these are for.

Kit check the night before...for the hundredth time.

Standing next to me are Graham and Jo, two of the Runners World forumites that I met up with last night for dinner. There were about thirty or so of us and a lot of terrified faces. There were conversations about expected times and mandatory kit but mostly just wondering whether or not we were going to be able to get around at all. I'm not certain myself. I'll be honest.

Myself, Claire from Runners World and her partner.

We chat nervously about the day and how we just want to get going. I'm surprised by the sheer amount of people out today. There are several hundred runners being herded into the starting pen. Most races of this distance are under three hundred but there looks to be more like four or five here. At least that means there will be people to talk to...

The race organiser gets on the loudspeaker talks us through the usuals. Mandatory kit. Check. Safety. Check. Mentality. Check...I think.

Terrified.

And then we're off. A surge of excited elation waves over me. I cross under the start line then under the portcullis that is the entrance to Carlise Castle. Or in this case a most definite exit from the castle. I can't stop thinking...it's here. It's happening. I've started the longest run of my life. I'm going to be on my feet for God only knows how many hours. A big stupid grin comes over my face. 

People are making nervous jokes all around as we are forced into our first walk in the bottle neck trying to get through the castle entrance. We get through and then head off down to the river Eden and start along next to that. All around me are runners. There's so many you have to watch very carefully for each step to avoid colliding and taking a tumble. We wouldn't want that this early on.

Carlisle Castle.

I keep Graham and Jo in my sights. I've no idea of what they're aiming for time wise and I'm normally quite a loner in races preferring not to stick with people too long so that I can keep my own pace and speed up or slow down as I see fit. But I guess today it's the nerves and the fact that there are some people I've met before the race' that I stay with their pace roughly for a while. The odd word passes but mostly I'm in my own head space. It's great to have the company all the same and know that I'm not in this crazy thing alone. As we plod along we see a couple of other guys from the dinner last night pass by and give a nod.

After two or three kilometres it starts to thin out and we are able to slow down a bit. The nerves ease off and we remember what we are undertaking and that we need to slow down. A light rain starts and I'm pleased at my clothing choice. I was going back and forth in my head on whether to put a jacket on at the start as it's apparently going to rain all day but decided on just a base layer and shirt. Now that we are going I've warmed up a bit and a jacket would definitely be too much. Good thinking, Batman.

We're mostly running on road so far so the pace is quite high. As we approach our first slight incline Jo mentions she is going to stop to adjust her jacket and pack. I need the bathroom so head to the closest bush and just as I'm doing so I hear Graham say to her that once she's done he'd like to start running eight minute miles. I work in kilometres but either way I know that is way too fast for me even in a marathon let alone a distance this size so as I finish and see them still adjusting packs I make the decision to carry on alone and start pacing myself. I point in the direction to let them know I'm going but I don't think either of them see. I'm not too bothered though as I expect they'll be passing me again within half an hour or so, so just make a mental note to keep a eye out and have a chat when they fly past.

Suddenly, though, I find myself running just in front of a loud American woman surrounded by a gaggle of northern men asking her questions. She's quite casually saying she's done hundred mile races and expects to be done today in fourteen hours or so.

I use a tier system when setting my goals for a race. The first today is a sixteen hour finish which I know I'll never achieve but is my dream time. The second is eighteen to twenty hours which is where I realistically expect to be and the third goal is anything over that which would be disappointing but still a finish. So when I hear this woman boasting about how quickly she's going to run I start to panic that I'm still going way too fast. I mentally go through my body, though, and everything still seems to be in check. So I keep the pace as it is for now. She eventually disappears into the distance with her Hoka ultra-running shoes and loud voice and I'm guiltily pleased for the peace and quiet.

I settle into my rhythm. The roads pass by very quickly. The scenery is not that great but I knew this wasn't going to be a very attractive race. I feel content. The nerves are gone and I just put my head down for an hour or two and get the easy miles in.

After a few more kilometres we get our first glimpse of Hadrian's Wall. It's A crumbled old section of a room and I get a thrill remembering a photo someone put up online a few months ago of this area. It spurs me on and I reach out to touch it. Just to say I've been here. We carry on alongside the wall for a while and I'm mostly just pleased to finally be off roads for a while and back on trail which I prefer so much more. Soon after we past our first old roman fort and I'm just hit by the history in this part of the country. These things have been here for nearly two thousand years in places and it's quite awe inspiring.

First sight of Hadrian's Wall.

But I don't have time to sightsee so I take a quick picture on the move then wrap my phone back up in the plastic bag to keep the rain out and keep going. At this point I meet up with another runner who rather than passing back and forth ends up staying next to me. After a minute or two of looking like we're together for now we start chatting. He's new to ultra running and is pretty terrified of this. We talk about times and he's expecting a sixteen hour finish as well. He looks like he's struggling already so I'm not too sure he'll manage this but then I'm not too sure I am either so who knows? We talk about the training we've done and he's pretty amazed at the fact that there is a marathon up Scafell Pike. I tell him that compared to that race the terrain here is surprisingly easy. After five or ten minutes we start actually talking about sticking together. We're going for a similar time so why not? We're new friends. BFF's as it were. We'll take photos together. Laugh together. We make sure to remain polite and offer each other the chance to go ahead if the other starts flagging all the same. This is Britain after all. We can't forget our manners. 

Ten minutes later I'm sad to say I do desert him. He stops to put a jacket on and I carry on telling him I'll see him when he catches me back up. So much for the camaraderie. My bad. Oh well, I carry on back in my own rhythm and setting my own pace. Straight after there is a drinks station and I grab a quick cup of water. The marshal is saying that I can take it with me which confuses me. Why would I want to do that? Then I'll have to carry the cup for ages until I find a bin. I stay there and give him back the rubbish instead.

Roman fort.

I keep going my fast pace and grab a 9Bar from my bag. My nutrition strategy is fairly straightforward on this race. I've got ten gels and five bars for the first half. I've got the same for the second half. It's way more than I should need but I figure that if I force myself to have one gel per hour and a cereal bar in between at points then I'll keep myself energised and stave off the inevitable crash. My one and a half litre bladder is filled with Powerade and I've the same at halfway to refill. I imagine I'm going to want water at halfway so the Powerade there, is in bottles so I can choose to take them instead and have water in the bladder. The bars at halfway are a choice of seed bars and sugary ones that I can take depending on how sick of sugar I am at that point. Which is likely to be a lot. 

I know I'm going to crash and burn. I'm mentally preparing myself for this eventuality. It's not a matter of 'if'. It's 'when'. So I'm going to keep forcing food and drink in and hope it doesn't hit until the end. It's working so far. But I'm barely through this and there is a looong way to go.

I come up to Lanercost, the first proper pit stop. There is a massive tent set up with solid food, water troughs with taps, toilets and a lot of runners milling about and chatting. I touch in my timing chip, grab a couple of cups of water and leave. I don't even look in the tent. My strategy in all races is to be as self sufficient as possible so as to cut down on time spent in check points. Today will be no different.

As I'm going through the makeshift car park behind the pit stop there is a marshal telling a woman she has to move her car as she's clearly paid no attention and parked in the middle of the running route. I dodge her car and go through a gate. Unfortunately I look down and there is a mangled dead rabbit who's been flung here by a passing car. It's a shock to the system as I'm not expecting it. Oh well, move on. Another runner comes up beside me to comment on the unfortunate fate of the rabbit as he's passing me. I imagine there will be quite a few people commenting on it by the end of the day. Any excuse for a chat.

Round a few corners and then it's a very long stretch on a very straight road. Several kilometres this goes on for and it's all gradual uphill. It's okay though. I don't mind. I'm still finding the terrain on this run to be quite easy and this is no different. My strategy had been to walk all uphill sections but it just seems like there aren't enough that are bad enough to walk so I've been just forcing myself to take a rest at points and walk a bit. 

The sun has come out now.I'm starting to worry about the fact I've still got a base layer on. I thought it was supposed to rain? I mean, I shouldn't complain, it's obviously easier in this weather but now I'm a bit over dressed. Do I stop and take it off? Or do I just leave it in anticipation of the next shower? I opt for the latter as it's easier than stopping.

After few more kilometres I slow on an uphill section. There are some pretty fit looking runners next to me doing the same and then out of nowhere someone comes up behind us still running. I look at him like a mad man and watch, waiting for him to slow down but he doesn't. I turn to the guys next to me and say that he's crazy. They agree and laugh. Then I start to wonder if he might be one of the two day people? We must be getting close to the halfway point by now. The two day runners will be finishing for the day there so will be quicker. But they did start an hour later so have a fair bit of ground to catch up on. I put it down to this guy being one of them and that's why he's going so fast. I can be competitive sometimes but there is no way in hell I'm chasing that guy up the hill. No way.

The two or three of us walking together start chatting and talking about how we're each doing. One guy starts telling us about where we are and seems to know the route, saying we're not too far from halfway now. I'm happy to hear it. Once we get to the top we start to creakily find our rhythm again and it's back to running on my own.
 

More long straights ensue. I should be taking then easy but I know that I'm near halfway and there are proper toilets there so instead I speed up to get there quicker. It's annoying but I'd rather keep some creature comforts if I can. So I push. I run. Harder than I should but oh well. It's now all time in the bank for when I blow up near the end. 

At this point we reach an uphill section and I start chatting to a guy who tells me he's done the Lakeland 100 a couple of times. It's the first person I've met here today who's actually done this sort of thing before. He's aiming for a fifteen hour finish and I start to worry that I should be well behind him rather than beside him. He's panicking a bit and wanting to make sure he still has some energy in the tank to run the last few miles and that panics me as he's got a lot more experience than I do so if he's panicking then I should be panicking. He takes a walk and yet I still continue on. I still feel strong. A quick mental check of my body...everything is a green light. Time in the bank. It's all just time in the bank for the explosion later.

I ask a spectator how far I am. He says ten or fifteen minutes. Damn. I'd hoped to be closer than that. Oh, well, best keep going. Just one more big hill to climb and I'm there. So I keep on. I keep pushing. We reach a road and are directed over a stile to just make sure our legs are still there and there is a finishing straight. I run in...and head straight for the toilets.

Halfway.

I'm in there and get out my phone to send my family a message to say how I'm doing. I check the time. Six and a half hours. Fifty one kilometres. I'm amazed at how well I'm doing and suddenly it all just hits me. The magnitude of this journey. I'm sat there in a hot and hellishly smelly portaloo and I just start to well up. The juxtaposition of these two things doesn't escape me. I had been aiming to be here in eight hours at best. It's just all a bit much.

I go over to the baggage area and find my drop bag. I sit down next to it and fill up my Powerade, swap the gels and bars and suddenly realise that one of them has exploded. They're all sticky. I feel angry and want to complain. Then I calm myself down and realise that runners shouldn't put things like this on an outside pocket. And besides, there's no point in complaining. That's just a waste of time. So I pack my bag back up and stand up. The guy I was chatting to earlier who's done this sort of thing before has arrived and laughs at me trying to get up and swearing because of my sore legs. He asks if I'm alright. I tell him I am, we have a laugh and I head out. 

I go and exchange the token I've been given for a cup of soup and a roll. It's not really what I feel like but I figure at this point solid food is probably a good idea. Rather than sit around and chat, though, I decide to take it with me. I tag my timing chip out and start walking down the road. It's not too easy to eat, drink soup and walk at the same time I suddenly find out. I get a few funny looks from people wondering why I didn't just sit down with this but I want to keep going so I don't care if they think I'm an idiot. Although I must concede that it's pretty surreal having soup and a roll after running over fifty kilometres and only being half way there.

Once I'm finished with that I put the rubbish in my back pocket and face the massive hill that has just presented itself to me. I've heard horror stories about this hill. It's supposed to be really hard. I've not been too worried about it though. If anything I've been hoping for some hills as they are what I enjoy about races. Up until now it's been easy so bring on the challenge. If anything it might slow me down which clearly needs to happen. It's all for the best. That's what I tell myself anyway.

The hill  out of Vindolanda.

So I take a nice long walk up the road. At the top of it there are some marshals directing us up the hill. It's steep and there is no discernible path but it's only a short section. The marshals tell me it's a tricky one. I tell them I'm fine with it after Scafell. It's the length of the day that's worrying me.They agree it's not much in comparison and we have a laugh as I head off. Five minutes later I'm at the top and quite chuffed with myself as I'd not found it too hard.

I look behind me and there is a great view of an old roman ruin and just the surrounding area. I turn back around and there is the pillar that I remember from the posters about this race. It feels like quite an achievement as I move past it. It also leads on to a nice relatively flat section along the ridge and I suddenly just feel content.  I just feel good and that all is well in the world. In my little piece of it. Right this moment.

As always when I think things such as this I am brought back to reality pretty quickly and today is no different. I hear a rustling in my bag and it starts to annoy me. After a couple of minutes I stop and adjust the pack. It seems to be the head torch I've just put in the back pocket that's in a plastic bag so I grab it out and shove it in the main compartment. I get going again. So does the noise. I stop again and adjust it again. Set off again. Rustle again. It's really starting to piss me off and in increasing increments until I finally figure out it was actually a 9Bar I'd put in the side pocket. The side pocket that I know can't have rustly things in it. Because it will rustle. The one I then put a 9Bar in and forgot about. Silly me.

Soon after I get a text from Jess saying she's happy I'm doing so well and that she is tracking me on her phone. I decide to give her a call. It's not like I haven't got the time for a chat as I'll be out here all day. I ask her how her day is going and whether she's managed to get herself unpacked at the bed and breakfast and we make general chit chat about how I'm feeling too. As we do I look out over a really beautiful lake and am suddenly hit again by that feeling of peace with everything. The water is completely flat and it just seems so serene. The phone cuts out. I don't bother trying to call back as the reception out here is not exactly amazing. And I've still got a bit of running to do.

Again we hit another very long stretch of straight road. This time it's all fairly steadily downhill. It makes for good time although I do notice my pace is slowly but surely getting slower. Par for the course really. I had intended for this to happen as it does in any race and I know I always go out too hard at the beginning to give myself a bit of time. So I don't feel too pressured at the later stages to keep the pace up. My nutrition is still going fairly well at this point and I'm still managing to eat and drink a fair bit although my stomach is starting to feel a bit sick of it all. As expected.

At one point we go off the road briefly and cruise over some fields. At the end of each field is a marshal helping runners over the makeshift stiles they've set up to get over the walls surrounding the fields. There are quite a lot of groans from quite a lot of runners going over these. I still feel pretty good at this point and yell out to one of the marshals he definitely got the best job standing out here in the sunshine. He lets out a big belly laugh and tells me it wasn't so fun when it was raining earlier.

Not long after this we reach a short straight through a deserted town. I see a workman up a ladder working on a power pole. Something doesn't seem right. He's not moving. It seems a bit odd. Then as I get closer I realise he has straw coming out of his face. I worry I'm starting to hallucinate from lack of energy, then it hits me that it's a scarecrow. I breath out, only partially relieved. Then I look across the road and there is another one. Then another. One is just a head staring menacingly up at me from the ground. Another is seemingly a drunk on the side of the road. Then there is Prince William and Kate Middleton. I'm really starting to freak out at this and notice there is a runner up ahead who's taken a walk. I catch him up just so that there is someone else with me to check I'm not seeing things. He doesn't seem that bothered. I'm still quite creeped out. But maybe it's an English thing. To desert a town and leave freaky scarecrows out...

Weird scarecrow...

At this point I'm starting to feel extremely shattered and like I'm about to collapse. I start to doubt myself. I do my best to put the thoughts out of my mind and focus on talking to my new friend. I tell myself it's going to be okay I just need to take a bit of a break. That's all. A bit of a break.

Directly after there is a hill so I stick with the new friend I've made and we chat about the day. We're deep enough into this thing now. Around eighty kilometres in. We're both out of our depth and chat as if we are old friends. It's at these points where you're so knackered you don't worry about politeness or the fact you've never met the person you're talking to. You're just happy for the company. A couple of other guys join us. They look a bit fresher than my new friend but still pretty buggered. We do the hill together then at the top get a yell from some people a little further back. We've skipped a stile by mistake. We don't want to go back. We all hesitate. Then I tell them to wait, get my map out and tell then we're still going the right way just on the wrong side of the fence. 

So we decide to carry on and just look for somewhere to get over the fence. Then one of the guys points out that either side of our path is a wire. They're not sure if it's electric. I point at the one to our right and say that it is. The one on the left isn't. You can tell from the rubber around the wire. Then I see rubber on the left one. The one we need to get over. Damn. We still carry on as there is the edge of the field coming up and we figure we can hopefully jump it there. 

We then get to the end of the electric fence. There's an opening. It sort of looks okay but there is a wayward piece of wire poking out still in our way to the fence. The others look wary. I tell them to wait. I go up to the fence, getting stung by nettles and brambles. If this wayward wire is electrified it's not in the best position. Don't worry I say. I'll test it I say. I use the back of my hand and bang the wire. Nothing. I do it again just to be sure and leave my hand in contact for half a second. Ten thousand volts course through my body and I'm thrown back into the brambles and nettles. I walk back to the guys, laugh and tell them we should find another opening.

A little bit further along we do. We still have to walk through a hundred metres of nettles but personally I don't mind it as much. It's still much nicer than the electricity.

After spending a while walking I feel fresh again and decide to get running again. After a while we burst out of the forest onto wide hills with great views of the countryside and a quite steep downhill section. I pick up my speed again feeling strong after my extended walk. I knew it would be okay. At the end of the downhill sections we come out on a long stretch of dead flat path next to a train track. I'm going quite fast. I'm feeling quite strong. I check the time and I'm still ridiculously far ahead of time. I start thinking to myself about the sixteen hour goal and the fact that it looks like it is now actually achievable.

I imagine telling people about my day. Explaining that I had gone out hard expecting to slow down and collapse. I imagine telling people about my victory ahead and that I had expected to have a crash and then just...didn't. These thoughts of doing well spur me on. At the last checkpoint my Dad had sent me a message saying that I was amazing him and that he was proud. He's done so many intense races much harder and more inspiring than this so it really makes me feel good knowing that he thinks I'm doing well. I think of the fact that I have Jess waiting for me on the finish line who thinks I'm an idiot for doing this but can't believe I'm actually managing to fly by. 

It feels like I am living out a dream.

Six months ago I had finally left the acting profession after twelve years of not quite getting there. I'd been working in a horrible call centre that I detested, working night shift and spending the rest of my time going out with mates and just wishing I could work on the stage rather than working in a call centre. Things in my life had come to a bit of a standstill. So I quit the job and started working in sports. I left acting and moved onto my other passion. Six months ago I hadn't gone for a run in three months except to the bus after work.

Today, I am in the middle of achieving something six months ago I never thought could actually be possible. I've changed my life completely and today, right this moment, is one of the happiest moments I have ever experienced. I have butterflies right now. I feel like I'm dancing on a cloud as the countryside passes me by. 

I am happy.

I am content.

I pass the eighty five kilometre mark. The double marathon. It feels like quite a massive milestone. Only a bit over a half marathon to go. I message Jess to tell her I should be there in not too long and that it looks like I'm going sub sixteen. I start to lose a bit of energy so start to take some walk breaks. It's fine. I'm still on top of the world and I'm still way ahead of time. 

I meet a very bubbly and chatty runner who tells me he did the Marathon des Sables this year. This is known as the hardest foot race in the world and I'm really excited as he's the first person I've ever met who has ever done it. He tells me a bit about it and we run together for a few minutes before he moves on ahead.

I carry on with a run walk strategy for the next five kilometres. Ninety passes by at a fork in the road. I take a walk after this fork. There is a brief dirt road through what looks like a village of holiday homes. All of a sudden I just feel rubbish. I feel the crash beginning to happen. I'm running out of energy. I try to stomach a bite of 9Bar and I just can't do it. A couple of guys in a team come up behind me singing at the top of their lungs. It angers me. I'm in that sudden mood where even a butterfly would anger you. How did I get here so quickly? Not long ago I was on top of the world...

The guys pass me and comment that I look rough. One offers me a dextrose. I've no idea what that is so he tells me that it's a tablet and will make me feel right as rain in a couple of minutes. I take it, feeling guilty at my momentary anger at their singing. 'It's not me!' I scream in my head. 'It's too many gels and too much sugar!' I mentally apologise. They carry on past me and there is a makeshift water table from the locals. The other of the pair pours out a cup for me. I thank him and muster as genuine a grin as I can manage, trying to convey my real thanks to them both.

I plod on and am still feeling the crash. Walking makes me queasy. Running isn't much better. I have my last gel. The sugar should help pick me up. I just need to give it a couple of minutes. It doesn't help. I wait until there is a small clearing in the track and sit down on the grass. Several people come past me and ask if I'm okay. I thank them and say I am. That I just need five minutes. I can't decide whether to vomit or not. Then I really start to feel incredibly sick in a sudden wave. I realise that the tablet must just be sugar. Oh god. I want to vomit.

I don't. After a few minutes I get up and push on. Just around the corner is a water station. I ask if they have a toilet. Mostly because I just want to sit down. They don't but I ask to use their deck chair and they say I can. I sit there for a few minutes feeling very rough. Eventually I ask one of the marshals if I can fill up my water bladder. I feel like I've overdosed on sugar. My stomach is queasy. 

Everything feels quite surreal. 

Everything feels far too intense. 

He says it's fine and actually fills my water up for me. I almost get emotional at his kindness and I realise that something is not right with me now. I'm scared of what's coming so decide to not let it hit yet. I decide to push on and battle through it. I thank the marshals and creakily move off. Straight away my whole body is crippled with a surge of shivering. It comes out of nowhere as the day has actually been quite hot. I don't understand what is going on or why I've shivered but it passes quickly. I pull down the sleeves of my base layer and pull up it's hood. I figure I'd best keep running to avoid the cold.

So I do just that. The pace slows down. I'm walking a lot more but do keep running wherever I can muster it up. I stop eating as I can't stomach anything. I wobble down the road for another five kilometres. I pass a local outdoor gathering of teenagers having a bonfire. For some reason I find the children intimidating. I'm incredibly fragile at this point and can't handle their stares very well. I hobble past them very very slowly. I'm now quite cold so I put my jacket on.

We arrive at a sudden turning across a river. It's going across a pebbled riverbed and reminds me of the mountain runs I've done earlier in the year and why I love trail running. It picks me up ever so slightly for a minute. Unfortunately it's short lived and I'm back to feeling terrible very soon after. Marathon des Sables man finds me again at this point and runs along beside me. I desperately want to chat to him to take my mind off it but I can't muster the words. He's still there beside me two minutes later so clearly wants to keep chatting as we've been leapfrogging each other for quite some time now. Eventually I manage to ask how he's feeling. He says he's fine. After a thirty second silence I just say in a very low tone that yeah, I'm feeling really ropey. About a minute later he moves off ahead, clearly thinking from my tone of voice I just want to be left alone. I don't and mentally wish him back but just don't have the strength to form the words.

Two minutes later I stop and collapse onto the side of the road. Ninety eight kilometres. There is supposed to be a pit stop here. Where is the fucking pit stop! They promised one at the last water point about this far away. I should have reached it by now and maybe I'd be alright if I had.

I need it! I need it now!

I sit there again for five minutes and just try to get my head around things. It doesn't work and I'm shivering uncontrollably so I get up and carry on. Over the next kilometre I slowly walk with the occasional shuffle. 

Ninety nine kilometres. My knees start to buckle and my feet feel like they're on fire so I drop to the side of the road again for five minutes. I get up for five minutes and walk. Ninety nine point five. I collapse again. I get up again. Ninety nine point seven five and I collapse once more. A runner passes me and I very nearly shout at him to send a medic back from the pit stop that I now know is only around the corner. But I decide that I can't do that. I clearly can't finish this race but I will crawl my way to the hundred kilomtre pit stop. I owe at least that to myself. Then I will collapse and drop out with dignity. I can't even muster the strength to ask the passing runners anyway. My body is shivering all over. I desperately need to vomit. I desperately just want to cry. But I can't be bothered as all my energy is going into shivering. Eventually I hobble the last hundred metres to the pit stop and drop to the floor. 

The medic tries to tell me I'll be okay. 'You're nearly there' she says. The guy next to me with a space blanket wrapped around him vomiting into a rubbish bin gives me a visual reminder of what the next step for me is if I leave the tent running again. The ambulance arrives with him and I don't know if I'm fully ready to drop out. The Lakeland 100 guy has just arrived and offers me his baselayer while he's getting ready. I say...I say 'No it's okay. There is no point. My race is...over'. He carries on to finish the race and I wish him well then get up and walk to the toilet. My body nearly doubles over with a shiver and I know that I can't continue even with warm clothes as the hypothermia is in my bones now. I then walk to the ambulance and get a ride to the finish line. The next day I'm crippled with agonising cramps just to add to the hurt.

I nearly burst into tears when I see Jess waiting for me and runners coming in. I start to doubt my motives. Could I have carried on? Was I too hasty in dropping out? Should I have waited for the next ambulance? Should I have had less gels early on? Should I have gone slower?

I hand in my timing chip and wlk up to try to get my bags. A young guy comes up to me with a big grin on his face and goes to put a medal around my neck. I look at him and tell himthat I actually arrived here in that...and point to the ambulance. The poor guy doesn't know what to say then eventually tells me I can still have one. I tell him I didn't earn it and walk past the commemorative shirt that I also didn't earn then collect my bag. I feel bad being miserable but there is going to be a hard point like this. We all have lows in life and this moment is one of mine. It's what I do with it that will define me.

It's now two weeks on and looking back I have learned some valuable lessons. Would I go back and change things? No. I am positive I did everything I could. I could definitely have finished if I'd taken it easier. But a twenty hour finish would have been a pyrrhic victory. I made a decision early on that I was going to put my heart and soul into this race and I did. I gave it everything I could and left it all out there on the trail. If I hadn't done that I never would have experienced the amazing high I felt plodding along beside that ugly train track and feeling like I was achieving more than I had believed I ever could. And I did. I ran a hundred kilometres in fourteen and a half hours. And that was worth the pain at the end. Every second of it.

I couldn't have managed this all without the support of people behind me. My brother Tom for his unwavering faith in me and advice, my brother Nik for keeping me motivated, my Dad for giving me a boost through the race and of course Jess who has put up with all my crap all this year.

And me? I'll be back next year. With a vengeance. I've spent this time forcing myself to look at this positively and take away the good things from it. I wrote a short message online about this and the outpouring of support really showed me what amazing people I have around me. And this will make me stronger. I will come back fighting. I will learn from this.

My Grandma once told me to shoot for the stars and I'll get to the moon. And that is exactly what I did.

Blisters and bruises from the strapping tape.

Cuts from the brambles when I was electrocuted.

The Dreaded Double Marathon

So yesterday I ran the Kent Roadrunner marathon. After I got home I had a bath to ease the muscles a bit then did some pretty painful work on the foam roller. If you don't know what that is, it is, as you may have guessed a cylindrical tube of foam. You roll your muscles over it to ease out knots and pains. It's incredibly effective. It's also incredibly painful. I followed it up with some less painful yoga. I then relaxed for the evening.

Today I get up and I am aware that it is a necessary part of my training that I now run another marathon. I'm still in a lot of pain. My left medial quadricep is in a lot of pain I guess due to the nature of road running being something that I didn't train for at all therefore causing some muscles to be impacted differently than they have become accustomed to with my normal long distance slow training. The speed I was going at yesterday also meant that I was slipping around in my shoes a lot more so I've got some pretty nasty blisters. Today is going to be fun.

I take the time to have my breakfast and slowly move through the same foam roller and yoga routine. I like training days like this on the weekend as it doesn't feel like there is a time pressure and it feels like I can focus a bit more on doing the recovery work more effectively. Because God knows today I'm going to need it. Before I know it it's time to go.

I leave the house, lock up, press play on my tracker and music and take the tentative first few steps. Unfortunately I live on a hill so the first three or four hundred metres are a relatively steep downhill section. As I move down these I notice two things. Firstly, my quads are screaming at me. What the hell are you doing? They posit the notion into my mind that this is a rather insane thing I am attempting to do. In my sadomasochistic chagrin I inwardly enjoy this feeling that I am pushing the boundaries.

The second thing I notice is that my pace is starkly different to the one I started off with yesterday. Yesterday my first kilometre was run in four minutes twenty two seconds. Today feels about half that. But I'm okay with that. Today I am going to take my time and just enjoy a casual run. Well, that's the plan anyway. We'll see what actually happens.

I go the normal route through and across the main road and am then hit by the familiar Leesons Hill. It's approximately a hundred metre climb over a couple of kilometres. So not too hard but feels a bit daunting today on pretty munted legs.

I approach it with muted trepidation. The incline goes up. I hit it. It doesn't hit back...yet. I feel okay. Is this a false sense of security? I'm unsure but it feels good so hey, I'll take it. I get to the top and I'm still okay. It's surprising. I'll still take it.

On up to the edge of Scadbury reserve and I'm back into the wilderness. I breath a sigh of relief. I've missed this. I look around. There are leaves of varying shades of green and trunks of various barks. Shadows elusively bounce around the floor and I chase them. I am relaxed. I am back in safety. I don't want to go back to the road again. I want to stay here plodding through the forest.

Scabury reserve.

It's a familiar path as it is my local route. I normally come up here and do five kilometre laps but today I skirt the sides. Today I am going exploring.

When deciding to take this challenge I figured it was best not to train normally today. For one, I mentally don't think I could handle laps again after the seventeen yesterday. For two, I mentally don't think I could complete a full marathon here today knowing that I could stop short and go home a few laps early. Today, it's as much a mental game as it is physical.

So I come out the other side of the reserve and I'm still on the route I use when I run or cycle to work coming up to Chislehurst. I've done a bit of looking and from what I can tell the Green Chain walk, which is part of the eighty mile Capital Ring encircling the beast known as London, has an offshoot that happens to come down to here somewhere.

As I approach the main road through, though, I realise that by taking this route I will have to go through and over all the hills I normally do on my way to work. Going this way it's fine as they're big but undulate downward. Coming home later they are going to be agony. Not to mention they are on road. Which is exactly what I wanted to avoid today. I panic a little. Should I turn around and just do laps? Should I stick to my comfort zone and just stay in this area?

No. 

I carry on and tell myself to deal with it. You are doing an out and back route and that is final. I tell myself this. More out of stubbornness to stick to the plan than anything else. I just hope I can keep it up.

After all that less than two minutes later across Chislehurst common I see the first sign of the Green Chain Walk. I get a little kick from this. I'm pleased I kept going. I get down to the bottom of this part of the hill and I'm taken across the road and down a garden path. I'm taken away from familiarity and I like it. It feels good.

At the end of this narrow path between two properties I explode out onto a lovely little park area that's just had a big burst of sun.  I'm spurred on even more and enjoy going around the side of this and into the wood over the back of it. My legs are starting to warm up again and don't feel quite as rusty. I feel better overall and I feel like I will be able to do this. It feels...good.

I sweep under the cover of the woods and the signage says straight. It's a pretty narrow and disused looking path but I go down it anyway as that's the way the sign said to go. It very quickly becomes even more disused looking before coming out onto a wide path. I think I'm lost. Already? That was pretty quick. I make a snap decision to head right down this path as I'm pretty sure the one I'm supposed to be on roughly follows the road and that's off to the right. I come out on an intersection of various paths then off in the distance round the corner see a sign. So I was lost. Oh well. It was only a slight diversion so it's fine.  I just might need to watch where I'm going a little more. It's not like I'm in a race for a change, though, so who cares if I get lost?

The path opens out onto another nice and sunny field. It's really warming to see after so many months of training in cold horrible snow. For once I don't have a base layer on and it doesn't feel like that's going to be a problem at all today. My sunburn, however, I'm not quite so sure. I guess I'll have to see about that later.

Through some more paths then into some proper woods. Marvel Woods this is called. How apt. It's the sort of woods where the trees are sparse but the canopy covers entirely and creates a shady roof. Leaves litter the floor and it's nice to be in the shade again.

There's a fairly long downhill ahead. I can see it. And now I can feel it. It feels okay now but I'm struck by the fact that there have been a few downhills so far and they are going to be fairly tricky to be coming up at the end of the day. Tough cookies, I guess. What will be will be.

I come toward the bottom edge of the woods and see a car park. It looks like it might be opening onto something interesting. I get closer. And closer. I realise that it is not, in fact, a car park but a graveyard with a fence between it and me.

I'm reminded of my old route through south London that used to take in a few graveyards and I'm reminded by how peaceful they are. At the time I was living in a horrible area with riots, a hospital and police station not far away and a fire station over the road. It was never-ending shouting and sirens so when I would go running, the graveyards I'd go through we're such a stark contrast as the few people who are there are generally respectful. Perhaps I'm morbid or perhaps I just enjoyed the paradox of a place that is meant to be sad bringing happiness and a sense of life. I guess it depends on how you want to look at it...

As I was looking at the graveyard I hadn't noticed the big sign for the walk. It seems I've now hit the main circular section of the Capital Ring as there are signs going off both ways from here. Last year I did a race that took in a fifty kilometre section of this route. So my choice is whether to turn left and have a slightly better idea of where I am and know the route a bit. Or to turn right and go into the unknown.

I go right. I'm exploring, right?

What goes up must come down and vice versa. Therefore I'm now faced by an uphill that looks like it isn't going to end for a while. I'm okay with that. It's all part of it. Although I probably won't be thinking that in a couple of hours when it gets tough I imagine. 

The woods continue for a while and it's quite nice being shaded from the sun. This weekend is the first that the sun has properly come out and unfortunately I got burned at the race yesterday. So today the sun is great. Today, I just want to bask in it to rejuvenate my vitamin D starved body... but I have to try to stay in the shade. Typical. 

The woods go on for a bit longer and the ground levels out a little bit more and becomes more undulating. There are pine needles and such like flying around everywhere and I'm reminded that I probably should have brought my gaiters as I have to stop to clear the crud out of my shoes. It's a nice little chance to sit down for a minute so I shouldn't complain.

I get going again and off to my right is a makeshift BMX track with the local kids screaming at each other. After this I burst out onto a massive sport field. There is a game of soccer going on over the other side and I notice that the sign is pointing directly through the middle of the fields between the two sets of goalposts. They seem to have really thought this route out quite well, avoiding any problems with traffic, soccer or anything else for that matter. It's useful as the last thing I really feel like doing is navigating on a day like today. The running is enough of a struggle.

Across the field and around the back of an incredibly posh looking school leads me back to my route home during the week. I wonder whether or not I should maybe come this more scenic way on other days when I'm coming home then remember the fact that I currently get home at nine without adding detours onto the route. As pretty as it may be, I also want to have some sleep and dinner at ten thirty is late enough as it is.

Off the known track nearly as quick as I was on it and down an overgrown alleyway. It's a bit scuzzy as all the alleys so far have been then I come up to Sidcup Road which is more of a main line and cars are going quite fast. Just as I'm starting to gear myself up for a road crossing the alley opens out on my left to a very thin field between the private land and the road that has bright yellow flowers stretching as far as I can see. It's so unexpected and is always so nice to see something like this. Between a dirty alleyway and a motorway there is this really lovely field. I smile. It reminds me that there is always good to be found amongst the crap. It reminds me not to judge a book by it's cover and know that even when things are looking bad, something nice could be just round the corner. 

Find the beauty in the dissonance.

Then I tell myself to stop daydreaming and get running again. At this point I text Jess to tell her that she can give me a call on her lunch break if she likes. I know that later it will really pick me up mentally so I hope she will but imagine she won't have time. 

Over the road with no incident thankfully. Less than a minute later there is a rail bridge with some quite steep steps to get up and over. Deep breath and I run up them and down the other side just knowing that if I can run these on the way back I'm going to be a happy man indeed. I also know that I won't be. Running the stairs that is. Or a very happy man, for that matter either. Over another pretty tricky road and then a long slow uphill, the sun opens out and off to my left there are some fields with horses in them and a great view of London off in the distance. 

Again I'm reminded of my old route in south London with views similar. I love it as the juxtaposition of tranquil horses grazing in the sun is tempered by the foreboding dissonance of the hulk that is central London. I also love the fact that I'm here and not there. As much as I enjoyed it when I was working and living over there; I did my time. Several years of that fast pace and I'm quite happy out here closer to nature and keeping my slower pace.

I check my phone and it's about ten kilometres in the bag so I decide now is a good time to have my first gel. Need to keep the energy up. So I do so and carry on plodding, come up to an intersection and am led up another hill. I notice that the houses here look quite old and are set out like an old village. Then it clicks that I am actually in an old mediaeval village as Eltham Palace is somewhere here and these are the old outhouses. I look around to try to see it but to no luck. It's a shame as I always get a thrill from seeing the old palaces. Being from New Zealand I've not grown up with the rich history that a place like Britain has so I always marvel when I'm faced with something that is hundreds of years old. 

But I've not got time to stop today. I come out onto some green looking streets then eventually back to a main road to which I am directed to go down. It's nice to have a little downhill after such a long time and not have to focus on where I'm going. Round a big roundabout then further down the opposing road the sign says to cross. Again I note how well signposted this walk is. I start daydreaming as I'm heading along but after a while realise I haven't seen a sign in a while. I also notice that I've spent longer than normal on a main road and I start to wonder if I'm lost. 

No. I can't be. Can I? I decide to carry on and if there isn't a sign after a couple of hundred metres then I'll stop. There isn't a sign so I do stop. I get my phone out and can see on the map where I am. But the problem is I haven't mapped out where I'm supposed to be. So I've no idea whether I might even still be going the right way. Bugger. 

I try looking up the walk online. No luck. I can't find very detailed information about it at all. I wonder about asking someone if they know where it is. I remember other times I've tried this. I remember that it doesn't work. I remember that usually when people see a runner coming towards them, who has caught their eye, they are quick to avert their own gaze. They mentally seem to shrink and start hoping you'll just go past. 'Please don't talk to me. Please don't talk to me. Please don't talk to me' the mantra goes over and over in their minds...then you do talk to them. Immediately they look at your crotch. Without fail. 'Why is this man in tights talking to me? It's indecent! I don't know where to look. I don't know whether or not to acknowledge his near-nakedness. This is not a situation I've trained myself for. I must get out of it as quickly as I can!' You ask directions. Before you've even finished the question they are halfway through saying they don't know. You give up. Even the times when they get over the paranoia enough to think the question over they never know. No one ever knows where you can go walking just for leisure. Why would they want to do that?

So after toying with that idea I decide to retrace my steps and hope to find the sign I must have missed. I get all the way back to the crossing then realise I was actually just supposed to cross here then double back on the roundabout. So the path had only come down this road to take me to the road crossing. I now curse how safely signposted this walk is. But...no matter. It wasn't the nicest detour but it's still extra time running I guess. Which is what I need today. I mentally add an extra kilometre onto the distance I need to go before turning back to accommodate this extra curricular activity and make sure I will still complete the marathon.

I'm back on wooded roads. Then a park. There are a number of different paths through this park. I start to worry I'm going to get lost again after I've only just regained my way. At each intersection of paths I just go straight and thankfully at the other side I see a sign telling me I'm going the right way. Onto a bridge over a busy motorway again and I'm now into the edge of what looks to be a proper forest. 

The path widens into what is obviously a well used route for a while and the cover overhead gets thicker. The atmosphere feels a bit more remote and I feel happier. My pace at this point is starting to slow and I'm starting to feel more tired. I check my distance and see that I'm at about seventeen kilometres. I realise that I'm actually starting to flag and fade. My pace is barely trudging along and my legs feel heavy. I suddenly get the feeling that I want to just stop and give up. 

I just want to stop. 

And give up.

I don't. I tell myself to keep going. I will myself to keep going. And it sort of works. I tell myself that I'm not far from halfway where I can treat myself to a gel. A picnic of sorts. Even a sit down, maybe. Maybe. If I'm a good boy. 

I then start to think that I obviously need some energy now if this sort of fatigue is hitting me. If this was a race I would be grabbing straight for the gels. But it's not. And I can't really be bothered. So I don't. Right now I'd rather just keep going. It's not smart but I set myself the goal of only going another three or so kilometres and then I'll let myself have a gel. Then it won't be far until halfway. Is this smart? I don't know but it's what I'm doing all the same. 

I see a man up ahead walking two small dogs. They're off the lead and start running towards me. I'm not a dog person but I'm fairly used to this being a runner. It happens a bit. Normally they'll run alongside a little bit or jump up at me a couple of times then the owner will call them and they go away. 

This time that's not the case however. These two dogs jump at me, yapping away. I slow, as I always do. I give them a chance to let their excitement out and I try to dodge around them. They jump up again at me. The owner says the stock standard response that they won't hurt me. I think my stock standard thought that I don't care about platitudes as they are disturbing me. I don't want my pace dictated by someone else's dogs. I want my pace dictated by my legs, lungs and heart. I want to escape today into my own world in the forest. I don't want to be brought back to reality by some annoying dogs.

So I pick the pace back up. They keep following and chasing and get in front of me again, meaning I have to slow again. I dodge them once more and they do it again. The owner is now yelling from a hundred metres away that they're fine. I shout at him that they should be on a lead. I never shout. I'm generally pretty tolerant of the idiots that I find out on my excursions. But today I'm not really in the mood to be teaching a Jack Russell what interval training is.

So I just run off and decide to ignore them if they keep at me. Thankfully they don't and I'm back on my way. I'm relieved. Then straight after I panic that I'm near my turning point and am going to have to go back past them again. Only if that happens then they'll be even more enthusiastic and the owner is not going to like me after yelling at him. This is a lose-lose situation. I start to really dislike this man. Letting his dogs ruin potentially the most tranquil part of my day. 

There is now up ahead a little bit of low hanging foliage with a big puddle of mud in the middle, tree roots sticking out all over the show and no way around it. Possibly the closest thing to technical trail that I'm going to find today and my favourite kind of running. I put the dogs out of my mind and focus on trying to get through this section without getting my shoes soaked or tripping over. There, there. That's better now isn't it? Stop worrying about those dogs and remember that you're doing something that you really enjoy.

Soon after I pop back out onto a main road. I'm hit in equal parts by the sun catching my burn from yesterday and the fact that I'm back into the hustle and bustle of main roads and people. I turn right and follow this road up half a kilometre or so, checking all the time for signs. I don't want to get lost again. Then comes a right turn along the side of a small park and I think I'm about to head back off the roads. The path cuts across the park which takes me through a fence to the top of a dead end road. 

I pause at the junction. I'm not sure that I should go down the dead end road. I can't tell if I should stay on the inside of the fence skirting this small grassed area. I stand there and I look in front. I look left. Right. Behind. I know that I just need to try to figure out what to do here. Which way to go. I know what the problem is. But I can't figure out how to solve it. I start to get scared. I know this is a really simple task. I just need to think through the options and decide on the most feasible one to keep me following the path I'm trying to. 

But I can't.

My brain has lost the ability to make simple connections in logic. It's not science. It's just deciding where to go. Panic sweeps over me. I should have had that gel a couple of kilometres back. I've starved myself of the necessary glucose to function correctly. 

I just want to stop. 

And give up.

Without knowing what is going on my legs start to move through the gap in the fence and for some reason as soon as I pass through it my senses partially come back to me. I can't use logic anymore for directions for some reason. I accept it. I pull my phone out of my bag to check how far I've come. I'm at about twenty and a half kilometres. I already knew that with the detour I need to go to twenty two kilometres before I turn around. I remember not being sure on the maths but I also know mathematics is not going to be something I'm easily capable of right now so I don't question this figure. I decide to just go forward and see what happens. At worst I'll go for the last stretch on road. Maybe this is a good thing. Maybe it means I'll be a bit quicker. 

Either way, the decision is made and I'm sticking to it. I carry on, looking out for signs and see none. I give up and decide not to care. The sun beats on my face. I still don't care. I'm moving ever so slightly faster due to the flat road and I just want to get to the turning point. I go round a few roads then at an intersection turn left as that takes me to some trees. 

What I didn't realise is that it would also takes me downhill on fairly steep slope. I do a double take. I'm so close to the end! I can't hammer my quads with a sharp descent then take a break staring at a big uphill! I'll never want to start again! I ask myself to remember that this is an option I won't have on my big race in a few weeks and I ask myself to go down the slope. 

It hurts but I get there. At the bottom there is a council estate with a small patch of grass out front. I take a perch. I pause my tracking app. I take a sip of water. I have a gel. I get out a horrible bland protein bar that makes me retch just to look at it. I open the wrapper and I take a bite. It tastes as horrible as I remember the last one being. I want to give up and throw it out but it's not a choice. I need the sustenance. So I spend ten minutes slowly dissolving the thing in my mouth enough that I can swallow it without too much taste. I make a mental note to stop buying these terrible things and just get some muesli bars next time. There's no point having things specifically for sports if you can't eat them whilst doing sports, is there?

I probably look pretty weird right now. I'm sat on the side of a council estate in tights having a picnic and the sun is cooking my crispy little forehead. I realise that I'm sat out in the open. There is another patch of grass about five metres away that has a tree shading it. Why didn't I sit there? It looks like an oasis in a desert right now. I need to go there for this little break. But I can't be bothered. It's like torture. I bet even the bland bar would taste better if I was in the shade.

I swallow the last tasteless bite and bitterly stare at the shaded area. It's a good thing. I now tell myself it's a good thing. Otherwise I'd just stay here and wouldn't want to go back. As it is my head is starting to resemble a ball of bacon in the sun so I get up, press play and take a couple of tentative steps up the hill. It hurts but that's all part of it I guess. At least my brain feels like it might want to work again. That's definitely going to be a help.

I make my way slowly back to the dead end, through the park, up the main road, slap some sunscreen on that I'm really glad I brought and should probably be using more often than once then I'm back into the sanctity of the forest. I notice that I can relax a bit as I've got some fuel in, I have three gels left so won't get to that delirious point again and I've taken so bloody long I won't have to worry about those confounded dogs again. I get back to the muddy bit and enjoy it that bit more.

I approach an intersection of paths in the forest and from a group of people a lone woman emerges to say something to me. I stop my music, ask her what she said and she's after directions. Oh, how the tables have turned. She wants to know how to get to the cafe. Her friend jumps in to say of course I won't know where it is as I'm running. I confirm her friend is correct. I say I have no idea as I'm from Bromley, wonder if I've actually crossed into another county or not, that it's quite a while back the way I've come from before there is anything and that I didn't see a cafe. 

I run off and wonder if maybe I did see one but in my frazzled state didn't register it. It's possible. But there's not much I can do about it now. 

Back through the woods and my mood is still picking up as I realise that after not being 100% definite I could do this today I realise that I have got past half way. That means the only way to get home is by completing the marathon. That makes me happy. I'm going to achieve something pretty massive today. Monumental for me. Not for everyone. But for me. And right now that's all that matters. Two marathons in two days. The dreaded double. The daunting double. The doable double. The soon-to-be-done double.

I come out of the forest and back onto the big unmarked park, narrowly avoid a small child stopping directly in front of me, her head the height of my knee. Lucky dodge, that, and back onto the path. I tell myself to watch where I'm going and stop thinking about how great I'm supposedly doing. It would be a pyrrhic victory if I took out a small child in my achievement. Would sort of spoil the fun. For both of us.

It's not long before I'm back at the point I got lost. I think about how stupid I am seeing the sign the second time around and how glaringly obvious it is. Back through the wooded street and up the path to the gate of the castle. Coming from this direction I can see it there and it does look lovely. I think that I should maybe one day come here with Jess. Then I think that she will be suspicious I'll make her run and will just point blank refuse. Then I think it will be funny to try anyway to see if she will run here. I round the bend, the palace is out of sight, I decide she would definitely not run here, then I'm back onto the long straight through the field with the view. 

As it's a slight incline and I've actually been pacing fairly well I decide to start interspersing my running with some walking. There is no shame in doing this for an Ultra runner. It's just part of what you have to do. And I'm new to the game so I need to learn to tell myself to do it more often anyway. It's good training to take a walk break. That's what I'm telling myself anyway. I stop for a photo. It unfortunately doesn't come out so well but hey, what can I realistically expect at this point?

This is why you shouldn't run two marathons.

It's back to downhill on the other side of the fields so I can't use the uphill excuse anymore. I creak into a slow jog and decide that I am just going to see how I feel on on hills and how I feel at each point in general. I'll take a walk as and when. And I won't feel bad about it. I realise that it is nearly time for Jess to be on lunch and I start to get excited that she might call. I've never texted her to say she can call so maybe she will. It would make me feel lots better. But I only said she could. I didn't want to make her feel like she had to. She'll be busy and won't want to. I put it back out of my head.

Three minutes later I'm back at the sports field and I decide I'll run up to the edge of it then walk the whole thing. I've only being taking little thirty second walks so far and have been feeling like stopping straight after getting going again and figure that I should just take a decent walk here. So I do. I check my Endomondo tracking and I'm thirty two kilometres in. As I'm walking anyway I may as well have a gel now, shouldn't I? I was planning one around here anyway, then another at thirty five and the final one at thirty nine. 

At the other side of the field I stay true to my word to start running again but it starts to climb pretty quickly after. As I've just had a decent walk break I actually feel okay to keep going. For a bit. I realise pretty quickly that I'm coming up to that long but slow uphill I was worried about earlier as I thud down to the turning at the graveyard. As soon as I reach the sign I start back into a walk up the hill. I'm not even going to try. 

And so it goes. For a while, anyway, I carry on with the walk and run routine. I then go for a stretch that I think will be a kilometre to Chislehurst and tell myself that if I can get there without stopping then I can walk that whole hill. Through another familiar park I came through earlier and I know I'm near. I check my phone to see where I'm at and see if I can have another gel. I can. I've also got a text from Jess to say she has been out in the sun for lunch and won't be calling. I don't know why but it knocks me. I guess I had been really hopeful and expecting it to be a big morale boost even though I knew she wasn't aware of any of that and would probably not want to disturb me. I tell myself to just ask next time. It makes a lot more sense.

I come out onto the main road through Chislehurst and realise there is no cover from the sun so tell myself I'll have to slog it out up the hill to Scadbury reserve. The closer I get the more I feel my head burn. This isn't good. Why am I doing this to my poor little bald noggin? 

Into the reserve, under the trees and I'm safe again. I slow to my long earned walk and boost myself again with the fact that I'm nearly home and running through a part of this reserve that I really enjoy.

Walk.

Run.

Walk.

Run.

Walk. Run. Walk. Walk.

I come out the other side and I'm back at Leesons Hill. It feels much nicer at this end coming down it and surprisingly my knees feel okay so I don't have to hold back too much. I don't know if I should be worried about the inevitable backlash later but I guess I'll need to worry about that then. 

I come up the final hill towards home and click to the fact that I am going to be half a kilometre short of a marathon. You've got to be kidding me. After everything I've done today I'm now going to be faced with the decision whether to go in the door or carry on past the house for two hundred and fifty metres then come back. I approach the final block that is also the steepest up the hill and I tell myself that if I do my normal sprint finish up this block then I can call it a day. 

I just want to stop. 

And give up.

I up the pace instead.

I up it some more. 

For thirty seconds I am sprinting at the damned hill.

Strangely I feel good about this.

I round the corner. It is a very short downhill twenty metres that I always use to catch my breath and I am outside the front door. It's with a massive struggle that I force myself to carry on. But I do it. I head further up the road. I'm watching the distance calculator, though. 

Forty one point eight kilometres. 

Point nine. 

Point nine five. 

I breath again and turn around. I coast home.

I feel like a fucking champion.

I open the door and I collapse. I weep a little bit. I lie on the floor and send a message to my brothers, dad and Jess telling them what I've managed and that I couldn't have done it without the support and belief they've all given me. I'm saddened at not being able to share this crippled moment lying on the floor with any one of them. I feel embarrassed even though no one is around. I tell myself it's all okay. That I've just done something that six months ago I could never hoped to have achieved. 

Eventually I get up, sort myself out something to eat, a recovery shake, a bath and slowly the world goes back to normal.