Batman Owns the Night

It's six o'clock on a Friday afternoon. I've just finished work (I'm a Customer Champion for Sportpursuit. Yeah that's right, my job title is champion) and am rushing around the office trying to get all my things sorted. Sort out one last customer, fill up my water bladder and install. Check one last product return, go to the bathroom and slather Vaseline on my thighs. Check that order I was looking after has shipped, back to the bathroom and tape my nipples down. Odd juxtapositions happening here it would seem.

It takes longer than expected then I'm rushing to the station to catch the train. I've put waterproof rain trousers over my tights so as to not frighten any children on the train down. Problem is, they're waterproof. And it's really hot out. So it looks like I'm set for a sweaty journey. Oh well.

I pick up a pot of muesli for dinner and wolf it down at the station. The journey is spent packing and repacking my bag. I'm carrying an awful lot of gear. In the bag there are twenty five gels, eight nut bars (plus one large nut job packing them into the bag), two five hundred millilitre bottles on my chest straps, aforementioned one and a half litre bladder filled with Powerade, a first aid kit with lots of additional plasters, clothes for a cold night, clothes for a hot day, two pizza swirlies (if you don't know what they are look that shizz up!) and two scotch eggs.

At quarter past eight I arrive. To Eastbourne. This is the beginning of the South Downs Way. That's a hundred mile walk along the south coast of England. I'm about to attempt some of it. I've no idea how far I'll get but the plan is to just go until I feel like stopping. I've given a friend detailed time frames and distances and told him that I'll send him a message every four hours to let him know I'm okay and exactly where I am. I've optimistically given him time frames all the way along the hundred miles but I know I'm not going to get anywhere near that far. But it's best to aim high. So I text him and tell him I'm on my way.

Eastbourne.

Unceremoniously I set off running from the station. I know it's a bit of a run through the township before I'll make it to the trail but that's okay. It hits me pretty quick how heavy this pack is. It must be at least eight or nine kilograms. Almost straight away there is an uphill and it gets heavier again. That's the thing about unsupported running. You've got to carry everything. At least in a race situation there are checkpoints where you can top up drinks and get a bit of food. So I resign myself to feeling a fair bit fatter as a scotch egg wobbles it's way around my back pocket. I get a few odd looks from people at the beginning of their night out drinking.

Eastbourne beach.

It's not long before I get to the trail. I look along the road at where the trail starts ahead of me and all I can see is a hill with a gradient of maybe twenty percent. Hmm. I'd heard it's hilly along here but I thought I'd get warmed up into it. By the time I get there, though I notice that the SDW sign is actually pointing off to the right away from the steep hill. I still have to climb it, don't get me wrong. It's just I don't have to climb it in a straight up fashion.

That hill at the end? Yeah. Cool. Okay, umm, really?

The first thing I do when I'm on the South Downs Way proper is start walking. Off to a great start. But the good thing about tonight is I've got as long as I want to do this. There's absolutely no time pressures. There's absolutely no distance pressure. There's just me. And the trail.

So it's quite nice to just go for a walk up a hill. Almost instantly there are amazing views and they get better the higher I climb. This is why I love trail running. You can see so many amazing sights in the space of only one run.

Almost straight away I become very hot. The temperature has dropped a little and is even less on the open land but I've put a base layer on in preparation for the night time even though that is still a couple of hours away. I briefly contemplate taking it off again but decide that's too much hassle and decide to just sweat it out for the first couple of hours instead.

And so it begins...

As I'm not on a time scale I take a few moments every ten minutes or so to just turn around and look back on the views. I can see why people say this is so nice around here. At one point I turn around and there is a girl waiting at the top of the hill on a mountain board for me to get out of her way. She's still I bit further up so it takes me a few minutes to reach her and pass. She doesn't acknowledge me at all. I guess I'm not cool enough trudging past in my tights and weird gaiter things on my shoes. She just gets on the board and snakes her way down the hill.

Mountain boarder.

I push on ahead. It's not long before I get lost for the first time. The signpost pointed me up towards the road. But there is no track up here. I run over to said road and the signposts there don't reference the SDW. Check the map. Turn around. Further over there is an obvious track and signage. Head back and keep on.

After a while I notice the sun is starting to set. It's mildly daunting but that's what I've come here for so there's nothing for it but to keep going. It's fairly slow going as the hills are quite undulating around this point. They're also quite steep. But I just keep going at my casual and slow pace. Start as you mean to continue.

Soon after I come up to the cliffs of Beachy Head. This area is known as the suicide capital of Britain and one of the top sites for such activity in the world. It feels odd knowing this fact as the pathway goes directly along next to the edge of these cliffs. It just feels a bit surreal after hearing about the notoriety of the place so I go up to the edge to take a look. I can see why people choose here. It's just a normal field until the cliff edge where there is a ninety degree angle and the bright white cliffs just drop down to the ocean a very long way below.

View down from the cliffs.

I'm scared of heights so decide to step back. I'd be rubbish at killing myself here. As I turn around I see a walker out with his dog and realise this must look quite strange. A lone man running along the cliff edge the wrong way from civilisation as the light fades. He doesn't look at me much so I assume he's not one of the local Samaritan patrols. That's a good thing. I can imagine that would be a pretty odd conversation. Him trying to talk me down from the cliff and me trying to explain I'm just heading off for an ALL NIGHT RUN. Not terribly believable.

It's all a bit much...

But true all the same.

So I plod on along the cliffs. Up a hill. Down the other side. This seems to be the way it's going to be for a while. I resign myself to a pretty uneven pace but that's okay. I like my hill running any way so this suits me just fine.

At this point I look to my right to notice the sunset. The sun is a huge ball of flame taking up a third of the sky. I'm quite shocked. I think this may be the most impressive sunset I've ever seen. I just can't believe how huge it is. I stop to take a few photos but annoyingly the sun just looks tiny in all of them.

Soon after I see a lighthouse in the distance. Again, this looks pretty impressive sitting at the edge of the cliff looking out over the ocean. I slowly make my way up to it and notice as I arrive there are people sitting up the top eating their dinner. It seems this is actually a bed and breakfast. A few of them look down at me a bit puzzled. I follow the path around the lighthouse and disappear into the distance.

It's a long downhill section here which is quite nice although it is getting harder to see where to land each foot. At the bottom is the Birling Gap car park with a toilet so I decide to use it and get ready for the night. Plus it's unlikely I'll get the chance to use another real one for quite some time so I take the final opportunity to be civilised before going bush. I get the head torch out and put it in my side pocket. It's not quite dark enough but getting close.

Off up another hill and through a small group of houses. There are some people milling about and they again give me a funny look. I put my head torch on and go past them. Once I'm through the gate and away from the houses I turn it on. It's still in the odd phase where it's dark enough that I need to see but not quite dark enough that the torch throws out enough light. I turn it back off.

Continue on for another twenty minutes up and down hills occasionally trying out the torch then turning it back off and I come storming down a steep-ish descent. I lose my footing a couple of times and decide that it's now time to definitely turn it back on for good. I wait until I'm at the bottom of the hill so that I can still use my arms to flail and balance the downhill. This sounds haphazard, I know, but is the best way to keep yourself upright downhill on an uneven surface.

Once at the bottom I take a moment. I turn the torch back on. I look up the hill in front. I'm now reduced to a small circle of vision with the fading daylight in the peripheral. I resign myself to this for the next few hours. I take the first step up the hill.

It carries on like this for a few kilometres until the light has completely faded and I am down to just the small circle of vision. It doesn't bother me, for now, as I'm going across big open fields although it does become tricky to see where the path is along these sections as people have obviously made their own way across the fields so the path is not as discernible.

Thus begins the night.

The temperature has dropped again so that I now feel fine with the base layer on and pull the sleeves down. I make my way back down to sea level over quite a long sloping descent and I feel okay. I check the time and I'm going quite slowly. Normally at the beginning of a run I'll be at least a couple of kilometres ahead of schedule. Not so much today. I guess I hadn't really planned for the hills being as undulating as they have been. Two hours in and I've covered fourteen kilometres. That's about right on target or a couple of kilometres ahead although I always prefer to have extra time in the bank. No matter though, I remind myself that there are no time constraints tonight.

It's just about going for a run.

At this point the path diverts inland alongside a snaking river. I look to my left and see through the fence a huge amount of things reflecting back at me. It gives me a fright. What the hell is that? Then I laugh. It's some sheep in the next field. That's all. And they're terrified of me and bolt away.

Then I'm suddenly blinded by another light. It jars and I've no idea what is going on. I look across the field and in the distance there is a bright green laser. It's pointed at me and following me along. This is only slightly creepy. There's not much I can do though, I guess, so I carry on.

Soon after this I start to see signs for the Exceat visitor centre. I see the lights in the distance. I'm heading toward it and I don't want to. I suddenly feel very weird approaching humans in this fashion. I can imagine someone seeing me and becoming very suspicious. So I make my way up to the visitor centre cautiously and move past it. No one comes out. No one sees me at all. I breath a sigh of relief and head back into the darkness. I briefly wonder whether this means I've gone feral after only a couple of hours night running...

I cross a road then find myself swallowed up by a forest. It's a downhill section with steps and there is a tree fallen over the path. I pick my way tentatively around it then stop again. I suddenly realise that I am on my own in the middle of a forest in the middle of the night. Sudden irrational fears pop up. I start to wonder about serial killers and such like. My heart leaps into my throat. I put those thoughts aside then think about the fact that there could be any number of wild animals out here trying to catch me. This is a bit more realistic. This is a bit more scary.

I guess until now I'd just avoided thinking about these things at all. They're normal fears in this situation for a city dweller and the point is that I'm putting myself in this situation on purpose to face a fear and overcome it. I remind myself of this fact and that this was part of the challenge. I wanted to practise night running and understand how well I cope with hours on my own through deserted areas at night. Well, I'm definitely getting that.

I acknowledge these fears and suddenly they don't become so frightening.

It's not long until I come out onto a dirt road and I'm happy for the brief respite from wilderness. It gets a bit longer and I realise I am going through a village. This is Litlington it would seem.

I get the same irrational uncomfortable feeling at the thought that someone might see me here and wonder what is going on or challenge me. Then I remind myself that there are other runners stupid enough to do this sort of thing so they have probably seen this once or twice before. I guess.

I pass a pub that is still open. At first I think it is just a house then notice quite a lot of light on and quite a few people up at the bar. It looks like a really lovely little pub. I'd kind of like to go in if just briefly just to talk to another human, reaffirm my sanity and tell someone what I've already been through.

I don't. Obviously.
Because that would be crazy.

I carry on up the road instead then a few minutes later notice that I haven't seen any SDW signs for a few hundred metres. Check the map and find that, yup, I've gone off course. So I backtrack, not wanting to go past the pub again. I don't want to have to pass the chance that the punters might look out and jeer. It's approaching and the map looks like I not only have to pass it but also turn down and go past the side of it.

Luckily I don't. The path turns off just before the pub down a little alley past the fenced back yard of the pub. There's fairy lights there. It still kind of looks inviting despite my weird fear of it. It would be so easy to just call it a day here and ask if they've got any rooms then make my way back tomorrow. Should I just do that? Should I?

I don't. I carry on.

Almost straight away I'm in a field. It's flat so I get a bit of pace up. The I stop dead. There is a sea of glinting. But this time they're not moving like the sheep. I panic. What the hell is going on? What are these things? Then I take another step forward and see one of them move. Another step forward and I realise I'm in a field of cows. Relief sweeps over me but it's premature. I'm...in...a field...of cows. On my own. In the middle of the night. They're probably not very happy to see me.

I slowly take another couple of steps forward. No one else is moving. I have no idea where the path is but I have a pretty clear idea that this field is very evenly populated by a couple of hundred cows blacked out like ninjas. Will they charge me? They're probably used to people walking through the fields in the day time. But what will their reaction be at this time of night? They're all sat down on their haunches so maybe won't want to move.

I look to either side and realise that I can't even go around them as they're spread right out to the edges of the field. So I take a deep breath and take my first step through the middle of them. The ones nearest startle, get up and move away. Good. They're scared. Not angry. That's the better option. I slowly move deeper and deeper into their territory.

This is bizarre.

This is surreal.

Slowly they all either watch me cautiously or get up and move away. There's not much I can do about this. I have no control over this situation. I'd like to go around them but I can't. Then one gets up and snorts. It's not running away. I move away from it. Slowly does it. It's still snorting. It takes a step towards me. This isn't good. Don't come towards me, cow. Please. It does. It takes a few steps running towards me so I take a few quick steps further away and startle another group off to the side. They thankfully run away and I move past them out of the way of the angry one who then stops chasing. Phew. Just a warning.

I slowly pick my way through the field until I'm nearly clear of them. I want to relax but know I can't until I find the stile and get myself over it. I regain the path and move towards it. There's a bridge. On the other side is the final cow. She has a calf. She doesn't look like she wants to moves. Or likes me being here. I decide not to risk it, leave the path again and give her a wide berth around the thankfully dried up creek.

After I pass her I make a break for the stile I can vaguely see in the distance. I approach, reach it and get myself over. I stop. I take a moment to regather myself. That wasn't something I'd planned for. That wasn't even something I'd thought about. Why the hell did I not think about the fact there was going to be livestock?

After I regain myself I push on. I cross the bridge to the other side of the river. Away from the cows. Turn down a dirt lane. Shortly after, another turn onto a paved road. At the end of the road I see street lights. As I get closer I hear people talking. Laughing. Then I see them getting to their cars at the end of the road. I turn the head torch off so it doesn't look so weird and burst out into civilisation. This is Alfriston it would appear.

The people don't even look at me. No one blinks. It's as if they see this all the time. Random men popping out in full running gear into the town at about midnight. For some reason this time I don't mind seeing people. I don't know why at all.

I head further up the road and there's a good twenty minutes spent going through this town. Everything is dead and after the closing pub there is no one about. As I head up the long hill road it slowly becomes less and less populated until it becomes a farm track again.

It's now just before midnight, the second time I'd told my friend I'd send him a message. As I'm walking uphill anyway I take this opportunity to do so and tell him that I'm doing okay but my legs are a bit sore and I'm not entirely sure how much further I'll go but I'm enjoying myself. If a little on edge.

Did I really write that? Enjoying? Myself? What? As crazy as this has been so far I...I guess I am still having fun. I guess. I remember to write the name of the closest town and distance I'd covered too. Just in case.

Thus begins a five kilometre uphill slog. It's almost completely straight and just seems to go forever. I start to feel fatigue kicking in. It's getting a bit late and uphill sections are draining in the daytime. And this one just doesn't want to stop. I take a break and sit down on the side of the field for a couple of minutes.

Eventually I carry on. It's still long and still gradually up. I take a wrong turn and add a couple of hundred metres on. That's okay. I don't mind.It's not a race remember? It doesn't matter how slow I go and how many wrong turns I take.

I go back and head back up the hill the right way. I had decided that I was to have a piece of solid food every four hours and a break. It's past four hours but I decide I'd like to take the break at the top of the hill. There is a vague tall silhouette in the distance and I decide to use that landmark as my break point.

I've no idea what it is but it's tall. It looks like it's only a few hundred metres away. Unfortunately it's actually just really tall so stays a few hundred metres away for a couple of kilometres. Eventually I reach it, crest the hill and realise it's pylon humming away.

What a dumb landmark to pick to relax by.

I plod on a bit longer. I get the pizza swirly out of my bag and take an extended walk with it. The first mouthful is impossible as my mouth is so dry that I have to swish it down with water. I'm not going to lie. That wasn't pleasant. The rest of it isn't much better. It takes about twenty minutes of walking to get that bad boy down. It feels like an achievement when I'm done though. I've conquered the swirly. Beat that.

Then I stop dead in my tracks. There is a very dark and very human shape ahead of me. I'm freaking out instantly. What is this person doing here without a torch?  What's going on? I'm scared. I approach it cautiously moving my torch beam around to get a better look. I get closer and realise it is a tree. The shadows are playing tricks on me. It's not a murderer.

I don't want to stop here anyway as there's a car and real people talking nearby and I'm obviously still wary of other people. So I go downhill a bit then finally decide on a spot. The hill has taken it out of me completely. I'm shattered and I start to wobble all over the place. I just suddenly feel really tired. So I sit down on the top of this hill for a few minutes and just stare out across the south downs. I feel at peace but I feel done. I consider trying to sleep. But I realise that can't happen yet as I don't think I'm quite tired enough that I'll actually be able to.

I'm just a bit delirious.

I check my map and realise that the area I'm looking down on is Southease. This is the first 'checkpoint' that I've set myself for this journey so I'm pretty pleased to be here. Down that hill somewhere is also where the first water tap is so I can refill. It's nearly thirty four kilometres in and I'm pleased. Unfortunately I'm still wobbling about even just sitting here and not really thinking very straight. I don't really understand what is happening anymore.

I've gone incredibly slow so making this into anything substantial is out. I mentally give up at this point. I just want to stop. I've been on edge for a few hours in the night. I'm physically wobbling. I don't really understand anything anymore. My legs are shot. I'm tired and I just want to go home. Unfortunately that's not an option, though.

So eventually I wobble down the hill and make my way to the tap. The instructions and map I have saved have fairly clear directions but do say that the path has a new over-bridge that skips the tap so to be vigilant. I'm not completely convinced of my ability to do this right now.

I reach the fork in the path to the bridge and there to the right is the old path going straight. I decide to go over the bridge and double back to the tap. Once on the other side I come around the side of a YHA looking sort of place. Instead of following the path I take the opposite path. The tap should be right here somewhere. I go right around the YHA. Nothing. I get out my map and spend the next ten minutes going back and forth until I finally find this confounded tap. Finally. It really feels like an achievement filling up here. A real achievement of navigation. Or maybe I'm just tired.

I then make my way to Southease rail station. I look up when the first train leaves from here. Eight thirty. It's currently one thirty. So I'll be damned if I'm going to sit here for that long waiting for a train no matter how appealing it is to quit now.

I must carry on. I must.

So I climb the stairs of the footbridge over the station. I get to the other side and there is a gate. It's closed. It's confusing. I look at it for about thirty seconds unsure how to comprehend what's going on. Or what to do. I can't open it. Eventually I click to the fact that I can just jump it. So I do. It hurts a bit hauling my wobbly self over but I get there in the end.

Back onto the road and I'm away. Suddenly there are a number of signs about hazardous materials and gates with no entry signs. Suddenly there is a huge amount of something in the air also. I've no idea what it is. I can't tell if it's dust, dew or a mixture but there is something in the air around here and it taste funny to breath.

I can see it in the beam of my torch. Little flecks reflecting all through the air. The air is polluted with it. Whatever it is. It's all I can see. There's not much I can do though. I don't even bother to panic. I wonder if I'm seeing things or if this is actually real. I'm pretty sure it is. Real, that is. Pretty sure.

I cross a man-made looking canal. I realise that this is what must be putting all the dusty dew in the air as there are torrents of silvery water glistening underneath me. I've still no idea what the hell it is but press on all the same. I put my jacket on here as it's suddenly got a lot colder.

I'm soon back onto another five kilometre uphill section. This is going to be hard. I know it. The last one was bad enough. Now there is another one. But there's nothing for it unless I want to go back through the mist and freeze at the rail station. And I don't.

Up. Hill. Go up. A hill. Hill go up. I go with it. Up hill. Uphill.

I'm muttering to myself with no idea what's going on. I get weaker as I go up. Then I go through a gate and there is a rare flat section so I start a run. Then I come up against a structure. What the hell is that? Suddenly I realise it's a tent. Right in the middle of the pathway. These people haven't even bothered to go off into the field.

I realise it's probably because they weren't expecting anyone to pass through. So as I run up to their tent in the middle of the night I realise that they are probably pretty freaked out right now as it's nearly three in the morning. They probably think I'm a murderer. Those same irrational thoughts I've been having all night. So I pass by as quickly as I can and hope they haven't woken up.

Soon after I'm back into a walk. I last another ten minutes or so then notice that the side of this field is slightly sloped. It looks inviting. I take the bottle out of my left front holder and I lie on my side. I rest my head on my arm. I close my eyes. I try to sleep for a bit. I don't. My mind is still racing. I tell it to stop. I breath deeply. I relax. For ten minutes I'm resting.

I then get a message from my brother in New Zealand with a link about Ultra training. I get up and start walking again. I send him a message back telling him what I'm doing. Then all of a sudden I double over. Not in pain. There is just a massive giggle trying to escape from inside me and I let it out.

This is just all so surreal. Here I am. In the middle of a field. Trying to get ten minutes sleep lying on wet grass. At three in the morning. Sending messages to my brother on the other side of the world. I've avoided other humans and been running for seven hours. I've been chased by cows. And lasers. I had a pizza swirly for dinner. You can't make this up. It's just too ridiculous. I just can't stop laughing and it just reminds me I'm alive and I'm human. It's a pretty good moment right now. Which is good after the horrible feelings I've had the past couple of hours.

So I trudge on. I get to the top of this hill. I come up to another camp site although this is a bit more formal as there are several campervans here. I cross the car park and behind one van that has its light on and there are people inside talking. I'm not sure if they're a bit freaked out by me so I'm keen to get moving. Unfortunately I can't find the exit. I check my map. It's round the other side. So I go to the front of their van and check again. If they weren't worried before they probably are now. Then I look up and see the exit and move away so they can go back to sleep.

I carry on for a few more kilometres and a few more wrong turns. This navigating in the dark thing isn't easy that's for sure. I take another sit down break, again overlooking the downs. I check the map and realise I'm near Falmer. The next 'checkpoint'. I'm pleased. It's about forty three kilometres now and I'm still feeling pretty wobbly. A little better. But still pretty wobbly. Falmer has another rail station. I check and the first train from here is at five thirty. It's coming up to four by the time I get to the road crossing where I can either go and wait or carry on.

This time around I feel good. Somehow. I'm getting a second wind so it's easy to decide to carry on. After all, I can always turn and come back here if I like in a bit. It's less daunting now and I feel like there is less pressure and importantly less danger with the dark zone nearly over. So I press on up the next hill and even find the next water tap. Bonus. I don't really need to fill up but do anyway just in case.

Then I'm off for the next leg of the journey. It's starting to get lighter and after twenty minutes or so of going up I turn the torch off and put it in my side pocket. It;s a huge relief making it out the other side of the night and my mental state picks up considerably. I feel less tension and less stress. I can do this. I did this. I've just proved to myself that I can manage a night section completely solo. I feel like I've really made an achievement here tonight. It spurs me on.

It's past four now so I realise that I need to force myself to eat something again. After the swirly earlier I'm not to keen to attempt that again and the thought of a scotch egg right now make me retch. But I need to keep my strength up. I'm a growing boy after all. So I get it out. I open it. I take a tentative bite...and it's amazing. After dreading it for a while I wolf it down incredibly quickly and it lifts my spirits even more. It's so bizarre that in these situations a thing as simple as an unexpected delight at a scotch egg can be a mood game changer. Nice.

Up the third five kilometre incline I  go. This one doesn't feel as bad. I feel like I've almost hit my stride and am going well. I manage to make my way up this one without too much hassle. There are a lot of sections with long grass hanging over the track. Unfortunately they're also wet so my legs and shoes get drenched. It's not too bad though. I've had worse and at least I've made it through the night fairly dry.

At the top of the hill I stop for a toilet break and I'm pretty shattered. I realise I'm fifty kilometres in and I'm pleased. But it's been possibly one of the most exhausting fifties I've done yet. Which makes it all the better.

After a pretty hard fifty kilometres.

Over the next rise I hear a cow screaming. I laugh at how upset it's getting. Then I freeze. It's coming from the direction I'm going. I carry on down the path and then I can see it. Staring at me from afar. It doesn't look happy at all. Not again. A few more steps towards it. It takes a few to me. I double back up the ridge to a higher line around the far edge of this field. I pass a walker with his dog. It's the first human I've seen in hours so I say hello and good morning.

I'm getting closer to the angry cow now. It looks at me then lets out a big moo and charges a few steps. I scarper the other way and it stops. Thankfully. I breath and relax once I'm past it. Then I look ahead and see an entire field of them spread out. Bugger. I also see a number of calves. Double bugger. The first cow must have been their outpost. I notice to my left a low fence. I make a mental note to run back here if I'm chased and jump the fence. I hope I won't need it.

The field is about a hundred metres across and half a kilometre long. I'm reminded of a game we played as children called 'Bull Rush'. Basically you just have to run through the opposing team to get to the other side of the field. It doesn't feel like it going to be fun doing it in real life. I'm a bit worried after how agitated the first one was. I'm also fifty three kilometres in and not that speedy anymore.

I look to see if I can get into the next field and it's not possible. Nor is it possible to go through the path on this one as there are some big cows in the way. There are a few trees off to the left so I slowly walk up to and around them. I come out the other side feeling pleased that I've got round the first stage of cos. I'm stating to think of this like a game of Frogger. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

Then I look ahead. Then is a cow about four metres away. It's staring at me challengingly. I guess I can't keep going around this way as it's also right on the fence line. I ease off back towards the middle of the field. It takes a step forward. I ease further away, it takes a few more steps forward. There is a bit of a gap so I run a few metres back to the middle and far enough away that it stops chasing.

There is now a group ahead of me with a couple of calves. I obviously need to stay away from them so ease off this time to the right being careful not to get too close to that group. One deems that I have and starts to move towards me. I see a gap between the two groups and sprint a bit. Eventually I manage to pick my way through to the other side of the field.

I win at Frogger.
I win at Bull Rush.

Over the stile and there is a cycle race going on. I say hello to a spectator, cross the road and carry on. At the top I turn around and notice the sunrise. It's nearly as amazing as the sunset was. I'm pretty pleased to have got to this point and I take a moment to bask in it and relax after the pretty dodgy escape I've just made.

Sunrise.

I plod downhill for a few more kilometres. I feel okay but pretty beat. I get to the bottom of the hill and am at the turning point to go up to Hassocks station and catch the train home or carry on. It's at this point that I reevaluate my goals. I've spent six moths this year focusing on racing and going as fast as possible. And that has culminated in a DNF at 'The Wall'. The 'A' race for the year.

I had wanted to come back from this as soon as possible and do at least a seventy mile run tonight. But I know that I would only be doing it to prove to myself I can. I wouldn't enjoy it. I'm way behind schedule to do it in a feasible time. I still haven't recovered properly from the hundred kilometres I did finish of 'The Wall' three weeks ago as I only took a week off then did a hundred kilometre week including a fifty kilometre last weekend. No wonder I'm going slowly. This is the second Ultra in as many weeks. I'd just be doing it out of stubbornness.

I'm both literally and metaphorically at a crossroads. I realise that the one track mentality of having to go as fast and as far as I can is what caused me to DNF in the first place. I realise that I've lost a bit of the reason why I do this and lost the fun in running for the sake of running with my perseverance to the goal.

I take a moment to take a good hard look at myself. I'm so broken right now that it is all laid bare and I can't fool myself any more. I finally face the defeat three weeks ago. I've been determined not to let it get me down by bullishly pushing on. Now I turn around, face it, and embrace it. This is the only way I will be able to move on and avoid the same mistake again.

So I shift the goalposts.  I've done two Ultras in two weekends. I'm content with that. I'm content with my efforts today. I decide that next weekend maybe I'll make it three. But I'm taking this month off from racing. I'm going to take the time to remember what I enjoy about this. I turn right and head to the train station. There's no need to push on out of stubbornness.

So I don't. And I'm okay with that.

Jack and Jill windmill near the finish.

The end result was sixty kilometres in a really slow but eye opening ten hours along the South Downs Way. The next weekend I did the same distance but over two hours quicker. I guess that's what hills and night delirium will do to you...