Caesar's Camp Endurance Run

"What is it that I say? If you get lost you're a..." Henk leaves a pause and a chorus of several of the veteran runners of this race pipe in with "...a fucking idiot!" I must say this is turning out to be one of the more obtuse approaches to a race briefing that I've seen. But it's good. There's no nonsense about this. I like it. He then informs us that if we are caught littering he has a shiny boot that he thinks will fit quite well in our arses. He goes through a few details about the course. Ten mile laps. Five or ten of the laps depending on which race you've entered. There's a checkpoint approximately five point two miles out and then it's back to the start and finish line. Rinse. Repeat. 

Simple. 

 Henk tells us of the troubles he's had this week from the Ministry of Defense in obtaining the permit to use the land today and that this is the reason this race will never happen again. There is a Hollywood movie still being made around the area along with a dirt bike trial tomorrow morning both of which could have had our race cancelled today if they'd complained too much. Thankfully both were quite good in wanting to allow it to happen but I don't envy Henk having to push all week not knowing if he'd have to cancel the race. He informs us he has a bad taste in his mouth from calling in favours I probably shouldn't write about to get the permit. But he did. And here we are. 

He then asks anyone with a backpack on to move to one side. Around thirty or forty of us move over. I end up standing next to Gemma Carter, who I met recently at the Ayot 50 run with Centurion Running and she leans over and says that she thinks she's in trouble. She knows that Henk does this every year and she's got all the wrong items of kit. I laugh and Henk asks anyone wearing a Garmin to stay put and the rest to move back to the main group. I move back. There are around ten left. He asks anyone wearing compression socks to stay and the rest to rejoin the group. There are four remaining including Gemma. He points her out and says she is off the hook as she's wearing tights and is a woman so she can rejoin the group. That leaves three. He then pronounces them to be 'Prick of the Year'. Laughter ensues and they take a photo together. I don't mention that I'm tracking my run today with an app on my phone and, whilst I've not got compression socks, my tights are a bit small as my legs have grown a bit this year with all the extra running (it's not all the pies I swear). No need to bring extra attention on myself. 

We're given two minutes for a wee and then move back to the start line. I'm stood chatting to someone else who's done the fifty before and is hoping to do an extra lap or so. I tell him that's my plan too. I tell him about my DNF at The Wall and that I'd like to turn that around today. It starts to rain. Perfect timing I say out loud to no one in particular. Then without any ceremony Henk tells us to 'fuck off. I'm sick of looking at you ugly pricks.' And that's it...we're away. Five ten mile laps here we go. 

I purposefully try to force myself near the back of the field. I always go too hard too early in races so today am telling myself from the first step to run my own race, don't worry about the time just keep going. 

I remind myself at this point as well that I've just had the bad news that my brother in New Zealand had to drop from a twelve hour mountain bike race he was hoping to win due to heatstroke a few hours ago. I determine to myself that I'll get through this for him after all the support he's shown me for my running this year. 

There is nervous banter mixed in with relief that we've started from the people around me. I know this is a pretty experienced field and some of the people running today are pretty damn quick. Those that aren't all seem to have quite a lot of experience. As Henk is well known in the ultra running community he doesn't really need to advertise as the race sells itself.

We soon fall into a rhythm and calm down a bit as, after a short straight section, we're thrown pretty quickly into the first uphill section. Less than thirty seconds in and we're walking already. Oh well, start as you mean to go on I guess. 

Still looking a bit fresh...

It soon becomes apparent that the course is going to be quite tough. I normally pore over statisticss of elevation profiles and try to get a mapping file that I can upload and follow to avoid getting lost. Doing those things helps to make life that bit easier on the day but as Henk considers all tactics other than taking a handheld water bottle and running non stop to be 'cheating', in the spirit of the event, whilst nothing except poles and pacers (someone following alongside for company) are banned I figured I'd eschew my normal routine here and just turn up and run. 

I did, however, when getting ready this morning notice the elevation is listed on the website as being quite considerable which scared me slightly. But I'm out here now doing it and there's not a damn thing I can do about it so I'd best just get on with it. This first section takes us up quite a few climbs and fairly quickly we have the first substantial one. Not too hard but just quite a lengthy and steady hill. As we near the top though I look to my right and notice quite a nice view of the area. 

The view

At the end of this section we go over a lip and straight down a fairly steep incline with loose rocks. Everyone around me is going down quite tentatively. My inclination here is to just slam down the hill but it's not really possible without at least annoying people and at most causing an accident. So I refrain. Probably a good idea to save my quads here anyway. 

This soon opens out, we round a fence and then it's more undulations for a while. I note that the terrain on some of the downhills looks to be some sort of clay or mud of a similar nature. I comment to those around that it's nice now but will probably be quite dangerous later on in the night when we're frazzled and the forecast thunderstorm hits. Probably best to think about that later on though. 

The forecast. Not worrying at all.

A couple miles further and we're walking again up a farm road by a fence line. A guy comes up beside me and we go through a gate and start chatting. It's always the same chat to start with. How you feeling? You done this one before? How's your training been? Usually you don't get much further than this and one or other of you pulls away to carry on at their own pace. 

I'm quite a solitary runner so generally don't mind this as don't like to wait for others, or conversely make them wait for me if I'm slowing or need the toilet or any other general faffing. Today though, I plan to do things differently. I've a goal to make sure I'm buddied up for the night section as doing so will make me more likely to get through it and not give up. I basically want to do all the things that could have caused my previous DNF differently. 

Today is my chance to redeem myself. Not to anyone else. Just to me. So trying to buddy up is one step toward that goal. After a couple more miles it appears we're keeping a pretty similar pace which is good. A bit faster than I'd intended but hey that's okay. For now. Conversation moves on to other topics as it does normally. He introduces himself as Nathan and we plod on. 

It's not too long before we reach the first checkpoint and I note that James Elson, who heads up Centurion Running, is here manning the aid station. I say hello and ask how he's doing but Nathan seems keen to just go straight through which suits me fine as I don't need any food and am still fresh so we don't slow and shoot straight through. 

The second half of the course straight away seems more wooded, as opposed to being a fair bit more open before. I quite like the change and it seems to be a bit easier this side as well, with fewer uphills and more down. Can't complain at that really. 

This half is quite uneventful we keep a steady pace and chat away which I'm grateful for as it takes the mind off the hurt in the legs. And the fear that they shouldn't really be hurting this early in. Another hour or so sees us back to the camp. Here we cross the road going down into camp for no reason other than to go up a short but steep hill. Cruel to add this into the course but pretty funny really. Nathan peels off to say hi to his wife, who's along supporting and waiting for him. It's going to be a long day for her as he's in it for the full hundred miles. 

Nathan and I coming into the checkpoint. Not sure what my hand is doing. Image courtesy of Dennis Cartwright

I carry on through to get the barcode on my race number scanned then head over to my tent to grab a few bits of food. For this race I also wanted to try something different with food so have bought a huge packet of small cheese slices to go alongside the bars and gels as that was another thing that got me at The Wall. Food. Nutrition. Fuel. On that race I relied solely on gels and sugar knowing full well I'd have a crash and that I'd have to grit my teeth and push through when it happened but in the end, when it did, I wasn't able to. 

I just spiralled out of control that day. 

Not this one. 

Image courtesy of Dennis Cartwright

I've got savoury food and intend to stop at the checkpoints, which is something else I never do, to eat some real food and avoid sugar if possible. 

So for each lap I have two gels, one 9bar seed bar and three cheese slices in a drop bag. I didn't really need them all on the first lap but didn't want to be caught short so grab them for the second lap and head off. 

Almost as soon as I'm back on the course I can see Nathan up ahead. I consider trying to catch him but decide I think I should go a little bit more conservatively this lap. The last one was two hours, which was about right as my goal is approximately two and a half per lap, but did feel a bit of a push so want to hold back a bit and not drag him behind. 

At the top of the first hill stands Henk, scouting the area. He notices whatever he was looking for and runs down the hill past us shouting out profanities, calling us dickheads and telling us to stop being lazy and run up the hill. I should point out that I gather he is a quite accomplished runner himself so, whilst it's definitely an 'own brand' style of race directorship, he can put his money where his mouth is and do it himself as well. I gather, anyway. I myself have never seen him race. I've just seen him swearing. 

I get chatting to others around me although most tend to come and go. People on this race seem particularly friendly which is nice. One of the best parts about ultra running in the UK is that you can have a good old chinwag with people who you've never met before and the social etiquette you would normally have to follow are left at the start line. It's a bit primal but it's nice to just cut through the crap and get to know people which you certainly can when someone's as the tail end of an ultra as no one can be bothered putting up a front at that point. 

Despite my previous thoughts I soon catch up with Nathan as he's on a toilet break. He shouts out a hello and as he's at the bottom of a hill I slow to a walk to wait for him to catch back up to me. Seems we are still pretty even on pacing and again it's nice to be running with someone as we both note that the field is starting to thin out a bit. It's quite surprising as normally there are quite a few people around when you're a middle of the pack runner. So whilst I'd expected it to definitely thin out later, I hadn't expected it to happen this soon. 

We carry on round again and still keep the same even pace we've had roughly from the start and it's not too long before we see James again. This time we do stop for a moment and I take the chance to congratulate him on finishing the Spartathlon a couple of weeks ago. It's a two hundred and fifty kilometre (give or take) road race from Athens to Greece with a cut off of thirty six hours meaning that some of the best can't even come close so is an incredible achievement. I ask how it felt and he says that 'yeah...yeah it was good to tick that one off.' 

At one point we notice that we've come up on a group of cows and they're blocking the path. After my experience being chased by cows on the South Downs I'm a bit hesitant with them but Nathan runs right up to them clapping and shooing and they all bolt. If only I'd known to do that when I was on my own being chased. If only. 

About three quarters of the rest of the lap back and suddenly I run out of water. I had debated at that last checkpoint whether to fill up but decided against it to save time. One of the problems with using a bladder is not being certain how much is left but I thought the one and a half litres would see me through two laps. To be fair, I'm nearly there now so it's not a major issue at all. 

We push on back to camp and again get through with no major complaints and round off the lap in a little over fours hours so now definitely ahead of time for my schedule. As we've now done two laps together this time as he goes off to see his wife I find out which car is his, tell him which tent is mine and say I'll check to see if he's left or not before I go. At this point I swap the bladder for the soft flasks that I'd prefilled to save time and will use for the rest of the race. I've got one five hundred millilitre bottle filled with water and the other with water and an electrolyte tablet to replace some of the lost salt and other nutrients. Quick toilet break and we're off again. 

Image courtesy of Dennis Cartwright

As we leave the camp again Nathan mentions he's grabbed his head torch. We'd spent the last half a lap debating whether we'd need to grab it for the third lap or not. He's firmly in the no camp. I'm firmly in the just in case camp. So he's grabbed his because of my comments...and I've forgot mine. I curse myself and tell him I will catch up this time and sprint the three hundred metres back to the tent, passing Henk on the way I tell him I'm getting my torch and he tells me no. I give him a confused look and get it anyway. 

It's then another print to catch back up to Nathan and I'm completely out of breath when I do. I muse on the fact I'm regretting my stupid idea to not remember the head torch. But there's no point crying about it now what's done is done and if nothing else it was a laugh. After a couple of miles we come up on a couple of people walking and I recognise that one of them is Dave Urwin, who I know through Facebook forums but haven't actually met before. I remember him writing the other day that his plans was to go balls out and try to win then see what happens. I remembered feeling that way at The Wall and it not going so well so hope that's not the case for Dave today.

It becomes apparent when we reach him and I introduce myself that he's not having the best of times right now and the look on his face isn't such a happy one. He seems to brighten up though at someone he sort of knows and asks us to wait for him to catch us as he moves back into a canter and joins us. 

He tells us he's gone a bit fast for the first lap, doing one hour forty five and keeping pace with Gemma Carter. I nearly spit my water out as I splutter that no wonder he's feeling rough as she's really quick. Fair play though that's a solid effort. Soon after we come across a man in his forties having a moment on the side of the trail. He sees us and gets himself up to join our group and I start chatting to him. He tells me he's actually done quite a lot of races, including getting eighty miles through the brutal Viking Way so is surprised that he's not feeling so good today especially considering his experience. 

I tell him not to feel bad or embarrassed as I also put my heart and soul into these races so can completely understand that it all gets a bit much at times. He seems like a nice guy and it's good for us to have a whole group together. 

We pass a section with some loud noises over the hill and joke about it being an army tank. Dave suggests that there is nothing in the rules to state that we can't ride a tank back into camp and that it might be a good idea to do so in order to call Henk a prick and see how much he likes it. 

Soon after this Dave gets his second wind and heads off out front. Nathan follows soon after and I say to the new chap that I'm fine with letting them go and am just going to take it easy for a bit to conserve energy. He seems happy to stick it out with me for now so we carry on and notice that we're quite near the checkpoint. 

Suddenly he trips. I turn to try to help but he's already righted himself and seems more embarrassed than anything so we carry on. We're now on a downhill and I suddenly feel a bit better so decide to open up a bit being so near the checkpoint. My new friend doesn't follow suit, which is fine although I do feel bad heading off considering he's not having the best of times. 

Shortly after I'm at the checkpoint and grabbing another banana, as I have been at the past couple and my fuelling strategy seems to be going well in that I've barely touched the gels so I'm pleased for that and my stomach feels a lot more settled than it would have otherwise. 

I'm joined by the same runner again and we head off to finish the third lap although he heads off from me not long after. I plod along on my own and slow a bit to keep my own pace going. 

Pretty soon after I take a wrong turn and end up doing an extra five hundred metres past a lake I know I haven't seen before. I ask a fisherman if runners have been going by. He says no and that I need to go round the other side of the lake. I thank him but rather than go round I retrace my steps and am soon back on track. Only half a kilometre but a pretty big wake up call that I need to pay more attention. 

During this lap I meet a new chap called Tom who is doing the hundred mile but tells me he's calling it a day at the next checkpoint. I tell him he should wait until he's there and decide then as it could all change between now and then but I don't think it sinks in and he's pretty adamant. He's done the full hundred here another year so realistically hasn't got anything to prove. He's not brought any water with him so asks for some of mine which I find a bit odd as I couldn't bear the thought of running out and always carry extra. We stay together for a while then I move a bit ahead as he's caught up with someone else and is chatting to him. I soon find that both of them are chasing me as it's now got dark enough to need a head torch on, I've got mine and they've not get theirs so they need to stick with me. 

I end up back at camp in around seven hours. My aim for this was seven and a half by this point so I'm quite happy with that although had hoped to feel a little fresher for the slower pace but I guess it makes sense as there are much more hills than I was expecting. 

I take a bit more time at this checkpoint to refill bottles. I swap the High5 electrolytes over and use the same combination of one bottle of plain water to go with it. I grab some more food just to make sure I have reserves in case I need them but I'm eating them less and less so it's more of a precaution.

Image courtesy of Dennis Cartwright

I decide not to bother with the cheese as they burst on the last lap and made one hell of a mess in the side pocket of my bag as it's spreadable cheese so went everywhere. My natural instinct was to be really pissed off. As I would be if a gel burst for example. But in this case I was dancing with death having them there anyway so I could only laugh it off as a mess well deserved for being stupid enough to put it in there. 

Quick hello to the aid station staff and I'm out again. Almost straight away I'm joint by a guy who is in a similar boat to me and happy to take a precautious slower lap so we fall into the same pace together. He's here with a friend who's doing the hundred but is far ahead and now he's not terribly bothered he's just keen to finish it. We chat for quite a while then suddenly things stop looking familiar. We notice a hut off to the right. We've not passed a hut on any previous laps. 

We're lost. 

We turn around and start retracing our steps and trying to figure out how far we've gone wrong when we see another runner coming through not too far away. Lucky. So we take a random path back up until we see the glow sticks then carry on chatting for a while and joking about what happened and the fact we should have been paying more attention. Then we come round a bend and see the camp. 

The wrong camp. 

We've somehow gone back to the start and ended up on the return route. One of the marshals is there on a bike after having just done a lap making sure glow sticks are all there and jokes that it's only five miles back the way we came to the correct checkpoint. He also lets us in on the fact that the sticks are colour coded. Green on the way out. Red on the way back. We're decidedly on the red track. The wrong one. 

What I need to do at this point.

I sit on the side of the track and put my head in my hands and say in don't know if I can carry on. I look at the lights of the camp ahead and... and...I'll tell the truth here. You know what? A little piece inside of me is jumping for joy. I can call it a day here, give up, and everyone will still be proud of me and understand me not completing even the fifty mile. And then another little piece inside of me dies. 

I ask my new running partner what he wants to do and he says he's going to carry on. I can tell you he's more of a man than me. I get up and we go down the road rather than over the hill to the camp. As if on cue Henk comes running up screaming at us that we're cheats. I shout back what happened but both sides are shouting too loudly to hear each other until we're close enough that I can wave him to let me speak and get across the problem. 

It clicks. He calls us fucking idiots. He turns around and shouts that we can go through the scanner. We go over and tell them not to scan us as we haven't done the lap and need to start again. 

I go into the tent and grab some hot wedges. I see Jeremy Smallwood there and say hello. He's sadly had some separate unforseen circumstances outside the race and had to call it short at thirty miles but seems to be very happy and content with his run so I'm pleased for him that's it's gone well considering he's not had a great week. It's quite good to talk to him and catch up as I'd been following him on the first lap but not had a chance to say hi with quite a few other runners in the way. It definitely boosted my spirits and made me think that if he's happy then I should be too. Not sure of the logic there, but hey, I'll take it. I think...

Jeremy and his wonder shorts earlier in the day.

...but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm offered tea and some soup and accept gratefully. The problem with a looped race is that it's extremely easy to DNF as you can access all your warm clean clothes without any hassle and the aid stations are always so inviting. 

So sitting down right now with warm food is probably not the best idea in order to carry on. I sit there for I don't even know how many minutes, finish the soup and feel a bit better so somehow manage to fill my bottles up and leave again. 

My terribly constructed but now oh so inviting tent.

Nearly instantly I'm torn between regretting the decision and calling myself a hero for pushing through. Eventually the hero side manages to push through but only just. I've got no passion left in me for this race so I take note that I am now entering into my first ever 'death march'. I don't believe in the whole 'die before DNF' mentality as I think there are many reasons where it's acceptable to quit and carrying on would only be a pyrrhic victory. I don't yet know whether what I'm now doing falls into that category. 

As the first mile of walking wears on my mental state rapidly goes south. I start hating myself. I start telling myself it's not worth it and I should have stayed at the checkpoint and not bothered. Basically it's just a spiral. Thus follows possibly the worst time I've ever had running. And I've had some shit ones. 

A mile or so later a front runner laps me. I resign myself to this becoming a regular thing then notice the back of his hat. I shout out 'Paul?' I'm not sure it is him but he turns around and comes up to me asking who I am, covering his head torch. I realise I'm blinding him and do the same and say who I am.

 Paul Ali, the other week, alos went to Greece and with James was one of only seven on the British team to finish Spartathlon. It's great following fast peoples progress but I've been more inspired by Paul's this year as, being a self confessed middle of the pack runner, it gives a bit of hope to the rest of us who may not naturally be able to win or even complete our first race. 

I pick up the pace and run along with him for a few minutes to say hi and congratulate him on his achievement. I also let him know I'm having a rough patch. He then gives me a pretty direct but needed kick up the arse, telling me not to DNF, to just slog it out and remember that I can never take back a DNF. 

It helps boost me that bit more and just running with someone I know is quite a boost. He's quite obviously twice as fast as me so on the next uphill I slow and tell him to go on and not wait for me. 

I go along cheerily again for a bit longer but pretty soon after descend back into the pit. I slow right back down to a walk and stay miserable all the way to the checkpoint. 

Kit back at the tent.

James then sits me down and gives me some soup and a pep talk of his own. He's also a running coach so the little bits of advice he gives are really useful. He just ignores any mention of this being my last lap and that I want to quit. He breaks it down and says I've just got three short runs. An hour and a quarter back to camp and two more of the same for the final lap. Dick Kearn, also at the checkpoint laughs when I tell him he's wrong and it's three long and crappily slow walks. I only half mean it as, by now, I'm positive of a DNF and probably would right now if it weren't for the fact that I called it a day at thirty six of fifty miles on the training Ayot run I did with him so figure I should at least improve on that. Plus also the inconvenience for them of having to then get me back to camp when I don't even need to quit. 

Soon after as I'm walking along I hear another runner coming up behind me and turn around to see Gemma flying along. She's fully in the zone, going so quick I can't say hi as I did with Paul so I just let her go. Probably would have ruined her game plan anyway so must be a good thing as she was going like the terminator. 

About two miles later two other runners come up to find me with my head in my hands sat on a bench, reminiscent of the guy I'd seen earlier in the day. They ask if I'm okay. I say I am just having a bad day running. They offer for me to run with them and clearly want to help me which is really nice and of course does help. So I start trotting along with them, we're on a downhill and it's actually pretty easy going and chatting away. I try to be positive about my situation and look at the bright side as I really don't want to be the negative guy they regret asking to tag along. I'm not sure if it works or not. The woman of the two drops off presumably to go to the toilet. We carry on and he lets me in on his game plan. He's very, very determined to finish this race. It's nice to do a couple of miles with someone although as usual I drop off the back at the end of it and let him carry on. 

Claire soon catches me up and is fully of infectious happy energy and positivity which is great. She's egging me on to just run the last mile in with her and I keep up for a while then sneak off when she's on an uphill as I'm just not feeling up to the pace even though I'm mentally getting such a boost running with her. 

So I plod on. I walk in holding my head up high that I can call it a day here and still say I had the balls to carry on for another lap after that major screw up. Plus I'm now going to be outside the cut offs so don't even have to feel guilty. 

I scan in for the finish, get some soup again and some tea and sit down for a while. Henk comes in swearing about something or other and site down next to me. After a moment he looks at me and says 'Is that it? Are you done?' There's no sarcasm or hint of malice thinking I'm a pussy so that can only mean that I look far far worse than I feel. 

I feel...defeated. 

     I feel that I've humiliated myself. 

          I feel stupid. 

I tell Henk that I'm not yet ready to decide and he says that's okay. Yet another thing that helped lead to my DNF earlier in the year was that there was an ambulance just about to leave. I didn't take the time on that day to think about it. I decided right away, soon after regretting it. 

So today I don't immediately decide. I sit there and everyone who comes in and chats to me does so as if I am out already, simply because I'm sat down and I look like I am. It's a nice chat with a couple of other runners. It's warm. It's cosy in here. There's food. 

Dark, wet and miserable conditions make this tent all the more inviting.

I get up. I walk to the tent and I get some supplies. I fill my water bottles and...and I leave for another lap. Last I saw him, James said he was expecting me and there didn't sound to be any room for manoeuvre. A nice little mental trick of him to help keep me motivated.

Out on the trail again, I straight away regret the decision as it's so cold. It's been dark for several hours. I'm on my own...no buddy for me. Even if I had a buddy, it wouldn't be fair anyway with the mood I'm in.

But I've left the checkpoint. After I go over that first hill again a wave of relief washes over me. I realise that it's going to happen. I'm going to complete this. Likely in last place and not in anything even closely resembling stylishness. But I'm going to finish. 

I call home to Jess to tell her what's happened and can't help myself but it all comes out and I get a bit emotional. Like I said I put my heart and soul into running and sometimes it just comes out. 

I'm on my own again although even though I was terrified of it I actually realise that it's fine and I'm not worried in the slightest. As I'm doing a death march there is no point in me running with people and dragging them down anyway and I am quite happy with my own company. 

Just as I'm thinking this another runner flies by. I realise it's about time for the thirty mile midnight race to get cracking and these must be those guys. I move out of the way for the first one and the second guy comes through yelling for me to move because there's a 'front runner' coming through. I nearly feel like tripping him up for being such a knob announcing his race position as better than me but refrain. God help me if I hadn't. I settle for willing that the first runner win the race.

The point of the thirty mile race is to help give the hundred mile runners who still remain, and the crappy slow ones on the fifty like me, a bit of company. Well, they fly by me so fast I couldn't say but I'm sure they were much friendlier for their third slower laps. The woman who is in last place stops and runs with me for a few minutes which as really nice as she was still running on fresh legs and very friendly. 

After a while she carries on and I happily canter on to the final checkpoint. James doesn't look surprised to see me at all. If he is he's hiding it well. I myself didn't think I'd see him again so it was pretty unexpected from my end that I even made it out on this lap.

I sit down and Dick makes me a hot dog and I swear that microwaved piece of processed meat is the best damn hot dog I've ever tasted. It was so unexpected. It was brilliant. 

I have a bit of a chat, delaying going back out again and asking if James had anything else planned running wise this year and he says he's done for the year with some decent races including a couple of hundred pluses. I nearly choke on the hot dog at the understatement and pointed out that the Spartathlon, plus a win at the Grand Union Canal Race in the same year, could hardly be put down as 'a couple of hundred pluses' and that he could definitely sleep easy in the knowledge of a pretty impressive year. 

He goes inside the tent to see another runner and when he comes out and sees me still sitting there five minutes later tell me to bugger off. He's right, I'm now taking time sitting down that I just don't need to so I leave.

This lap has been much nicer mentally and I've actually enjoyed it considerably. Another couple of miles later I'm caught by another runner and shout to pass if he wants. He says he's fine and I recognises Dave's voice. 

We plod along together and he's really starting to feel it at this point but fair play to the guy he's still going which is a huge achievement in itself as I overheard James say that at least twenty or thirty people had already dropped without even making forty or fifty miles. 

We end up running the rest of the lap together and it's quite interesting as we've been talking to each other on forums but not actually met properly until now at three am in the middle of a forest. It's surprising as well how much we know about each other and goes to show how much people open up about themselves online. 

It's great to chat to him though and it turns out he's a really sound bloke. I comment on the fact he's only got a vest on yet I'm wearing four layers and he puts it down to Geordie blood. If that's the case though I guess my Cantabrian license needs to be revoked.

We run the last bit home and I'm officially told by Nici with a big friendly grin I've earned the wooden spoon. I don't care and am just proud of the fact that I managed to grit it out when most wouldn't and get a finish. Pat Robbins, another Spartathlete who's manning the barcode scanner today, tells me to do another lap or two. I politely decline. I did really want to do that coming into this race but it just seems a bit pointless now.

I go into the tent and Dave is looking pretty weary. I don't know where it comes from but all of a sudden I'm full of encouragement for him. I guess that's some way of giving back for all the encouragement people gave me all through today. He has a group hug with his parents, gives me a thumbs up and heads of for another lap. 

Henk congratulates me and tells me I did well out there. I'm not sure if he's just being nice or actually respects me for slogging it out but either way I take the compliment. And that's it. My race is over. No ceremony. No fuss. Just personal satisfaction. How it should be, methinks.

These bad boys were pretty wet and weary.

***

So was it a pyrrhic victory in the end? No. Not this one. I learned that I can push through this sort of thing and come out the other side. I think I put into action all the fixes for all the tiny little things that caused my DNF at The Wall:

- I ate the right food and didn't shun the aid stations for the easy sugary gels to shave a few seconds off a time that would never be. I had three gels as opposed to twenty and my stomach was perfect through the entire race. 

 - I took breaks. I let myself walk and I let myself know that was okay. I didn't build myself up over the day to going for a certain finish time die trying. 

 - I took the time to measure my decisions with whether or not to quit rather than rush them and conversely found that the ease of the aid station helped rather than hindered me so long as I took my time and didn't stress.

 - I ate some humble pie and took enough layers to avoid hypothermia. 

 - I thought of my brother throughout and told everyone about why I wanted to finish to do him proud. I gave myself a goal outside of the race. The only points a DNF was possible were the ones when I lost sight or that goal from the heart that had nothing to do with running. 

 - I learned not to rely solely on myself. At The Wall I was entirely self sufficient and refused all help that would have got me to the finish line. Today I let everyone's words, encouragement, help and just the fact that all of the above mentioned runners and checkpoint staff are just down right good people fuel me to the end. 

 - When Pat challenged me to do another couple of laps the first thing that went through my head was that I could. Not that I can't. And I really believe that without the problems I'd experienced I would have done so. But two more laps of walking just for the sake of it? That was the pyrrhic point that I chose not to cross.

     

   

After two hours sleep with no sleeping bag this is how I felt catching the train home...