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.