Valdritta: Respect the Mountain

Today we're planning on hiking up a mountain in Italy as we've a couple of days here on holiday. As we leave the hotel the owner gives us a really odd look when we say where we were going; as if she's misunderstood us. English is her third language. She tries to tell us not to go as there is a lot of snow. We tell her we'll be fine and start off on our way to the cable car, a little puzzled...

We step off the crowded first level of the cable car and are glad to be leaving the large groups behind as we begin to head up past the ticket office on the Monte Baldo range of mountains. The car continues up another level to where the ski field sits during winter. 

We however take the small road behind the cable car up towards the rest of the range. We're aiming for Valdritta today, the tallest of the peaks in this range. The road behind the cable car station is cobbled and it's not long before it becomes quiet and peaceful again. We're not the only ones here though as there is a couple ahead. The young man is wandering aimlessly and seems quite relaxed about things however the older lady following behind doesn't look too happy about things. 

As we approach to pass her it's that awkward moment where you look out the corner of your eye at the person you are passing to gauge their expression and decide whether it's a good idea to smile and say hello. It's an ever present risk of rejection when hillwalking. This lady, however, is huffing, puffing and grimacing so I decide not to acknowledge her and try to get us past as soon as is possible. 

She, however, has different ideas and just as we are passing she says, in an aggressive tone, "buongiorno!" We reply in kind then move away quickly, wondering what this woman's problem is. If she hadn't been grimacing at this infernal world that put a mountain in her way we would definitely have said hello. Now she acts as if we're the epitome of rudeness. Oh well, we move on quickly. 

Soon enough, we take a right turn off another road and are soon into the steep hills. The pace is not terribly fast due to this and I remind Jess to keep pushing on her legs with her hands to help take some of the pressure off her quads which should help her energy levels later on. 

The first two kilometres sees us climb three hundred metres. We started out at around six hundred hatred above sea level. We're now at nine hundred. The gradient is pretty steady though so it's not gruelling, just long. There is still a rough road below us, although it's definitely only one you would tackle with a four wheel drive. We do see a motorcyclist head off past us, blowing smog in our face and it's funny to see that for people here it's just normal everyday life to be moving about so high in the mountains. 

We reach a shelter, which is basically just a roof over the road with walls on either side and inside is a candle below a picture of the Virgin Mary. On the other side is an intersection of sorts and we take another right. 

We reach the third kilometre point in about an hour and I begin to wonder a little if we're going to make it in time. We've got a tandem paraglide booked back at the top of the cable car for four o'clock but as it's now eleven I'm not too sure if we'll make it in time so may have to turn back as it's undoubtedly going to be harder going up the top with some snow up there. Oh well, if we turn back we turn back and that's fine. Soon after the motorcyclist goes back the other way again and we wonder what he was up to up there? 

We pass a sign mentioning that this is now the nature reserve of Monte Baldo. The path also plateaus for a while which is quite nice as it means we can move a little quicker than we have been and it's less hard going. A break of sorts. 

I've only got my Inov-8 road shoes on though so it's getting pretty slippery as they are completely smooth with no grip on the bottom at all. The path itself is fine, it's the huge amounts of leaves that are covering then that I'm slipping on. Oh well, it should be fine. 

The scenery here is pretty amazing and we're in a large forest by this point then hear a foul styling down below and see a chamois bounding off into the distance, frightened by our moving about. Then we see another ahead, who stops to stare at us before moving away. Then another. And another. There are loads of then up here and they're jumping pretty speedily down a gradient of around twenty percent so it's pretty cool to see these animals in their habitat leaping gracefully around. It's also surprising as they're pretty fat looking things so you wouldn't expect them to be able to move well but there you have it. 

We're still moving along on the flat and round a corner to see through the tree canopy the mountain range in the background. It's incredibly impressive looming above us and a quick check of the map tells us which one is Valdritta. It's a huge beast a few kilometres away now. It's also covered in snow. Gulp. 

Just after this point we reach a clearing with a large log cabin in it. We have a look around but it's all closed up and muse on what it might be here for. It looks like it might be where people stay on nature camps or school trips. Either way it's pretty interesting to have a look around. Especially when we're now five kilometres into the walk and twelve hundred and fifty metres above sea level. 

We continue on past the cabin and start to get more views through the trees as they slowly start to thin out. We're moving above the tree line now and also starting to get the odd glimpse through the trees of Lake Garda far below us and it's an amazing view. 

It's not too long before we see our first bit of snow. Unfortunately though, it's blocking the path. Slightly annoying. I take a tentative couple of steps over it and realise that it's a no-go. It's about seven or eight metres across but is sloping down a valley so goes on for quite a while below us and there is nothing to grip onto if our footholds in the snow don't hold so we don't particularly fancy a slide down there. 

So instead we start to make our way down away from the path as there is a large group of trees at the bottom to avoid the snow with. It's a bit of a scramble and we end up whipping ourselves with quite a few branches to get around the bottom of this snowy level but we do find ourselves on the other side of it eventually, albeit a good ten metres below the path and quite a lot of trees and branches between us and it. 

We carefully push branches aside and make our way through the trees until eventually I see a marker for the path and realise we're back on the right track thankfully. Jess joins me a minute later, knackered and scratched but relieved it's over and we can walk again easily. 

We talk about hoping the path will stay like this and that it was just that one section with snow and that the rest is easily traversable and, for a while, it's true. I'm really hoping to get to the top of the mountain but am aware that if the path becomes too much more treacherous we will have to turn back. I check the time and we've been going around two and a half hours. Which means it's going to be a push either way, forward or back, as to whether or not we'll make it in time. I don't want to alarm Jess at this point and in particular don't want to rush her on terrain like this so don't mention it just yet. 

The path does carry on nicely for a while and on a short section of climbing we sit to catch our breath and Jess notices she's just sat on the hard boiled eggs she nicked from the hotel breakfast this morning. Bugger. Luckily they're okay so we decide to just eat them. 

We carry on and soon enough are making our way across more snow. This time it's small amounts in the middle of the path though so fairly easy to get across by just sticking to the side of the snow and holding on to nearby branches for stability. Back onto the path at the other side, round a corner and we are an amazing view up of the mountain above us. It's now only about a kilometre or so higher than we are but looks above us so impressively it's hard to take it all in. 

There is also, we note, a lot of snow on it. Taking a look at the track on the map and matching it visually it does look like we may not be able to make it as, whilst we're fine now as we're on a ridge, we're soon going to drop off the ridge back into a valley and having to cross it, which is likely going to be pretty complicated without crampons. 

Either way, I'm not yet ready to give up so we continue on for a while, making good progress until we reach a fork in the path. One side goes along at the height we are currently at. The other side points straight up the ridge we are rounding and has 'Valdritta' written next to it. Another gulp. 

The point we are at is actually a flat plateau jutting out from the mountainside and has little snow on it so is a good chance for us to catch our breath and have a gel for some energy. The path goes off to our left whereas the ridge itself rises directly ahead of us and has much less snow on it so I decide to run around the trees just to scope out the route ahead. As suspected it looks pretty unlikely. We're on passable terrain now but only just as there is a huge amount of snow ahead and above and I don't like our chances crossing the valley ahead to go around the mountain and summit. As we are still on passable terrain though we do carry on. 

The path in summer goes directly up the middle of this slope...

Soon enough we're spending more time on snow rather than track and are having to divert from the path to find the safest ways up the ridge depending on whether or not there are branches to grip onto in order to make sure we have something to stop ourselves if we slip. The reason for this is we're now on a gradient of about twenty per cent, so not far off a cliff face, with mostly only snow around so we have to be extra vigilant not to slip. Jess asks me if I think this is all a bit silly and I say I think we're okay so long as we are careful and turn around if and when we need to and don't push it. 

Luckily there are a lot of branches around and sections of trees sloping downwards which we stay very close to and mostly tend to climb over to avoid blank areas of snow that are impassable. It means that we are slowly but surely getting absolutely covered in scratches but the term 'better safe than sorry' has never been more poignant. 

Our pace is incredibly slow at this point as the main thing is to make sure we keep a hold on the branches and get a rare foothold.  After a while we reach a section of mountain scree that has large enough rocks to climb fairly easily (although Jess remembers this differently). I get to the top of this ahead as I'm not wanting to kick any stones down below onto her and make her slip and at the top I see a track marker and sit down. I shout out that we've rejoined the path and that I'll wait here until she gets to where I am and a minute or so later she arrives. 

We sit down and look at the map, the track and look at what's ahead. There is still the top of this ridge to reach and then the valley to cross before an ascent straight up the back of the peak before summiting. Looking ahead of us this is covered completely in snow. 

I ask Jess what she wants to do and she says she is happy to continue up to the valley but will likely want to turn around at that point. It looks like she feels more confident now that we're back on the official path. I take another good hard look at the mountain and tell her...I tell her I think it's time we turn around now. The look of relief on her face is quite something and I realise she was willing to go further only depending on what I felt was safe. Safe is going back down now. I tell her I think we've been fine up until this point but that we're on the boundaries of our limits and that Valdritta is going to have to wait until another day when there is either no snow or we have the correct gear. Which my racing flats are not, sadly. Not to mention the fact that in the last hour we've only gone half a kilometre. Although we have ascended two hundred metres to what we realise now is our highest point of the hike at sixteen hundred and twenty five metres above sea level. Seven kilometres in total to this point.

We look around and, despite the terrifying drop below us there is an amazing panoramic view over Lake Garda far below us and Valdritta directly behind us. We may not be conquering it today but we've got a lot closer than we probably should have expected and it is a point where we can take a deep breath and appreciate what is around us and how lucky we are to be alive and healthy enough to come up here.

Which reminds me... alive. We need to make sure we stay that way. We start off back down the track but the way across the mountain that the actual track goes rather than the way we came. Jess goes ahead and before I can suggest we go the same way she's off, keen to get off the mountain. In truth it's a relief to be making our way down but we're not out of the woods yet. Or back into them in this case. I think about shouting ahead to maybe go back the other way as I think it's safer but guiltily am pleased she's taking the lead as it's been mentally quite draining I now realise. 

So instead, we go back down the rocks here and cross the field of snow to the other side, which is easy enough as it's not a wide field at this point and there are quite a few trees to hold on to. Then we turn back and start to cross it back the other way down to the side of the field we've just left to create a zig zag. At this point I look down and, whilst there are trees to grip on to, there is also a massive field of sloping snow below it. I dig my heels in and look down. This is the first point I feel unsafe. We should have gone back the way we came rather than crossing this field but I'm ashamed to say I didn't make that call early enough to tell Jess, who is now ahead of me and moving across the field like a champ, making sure to be very careful. Whilst she went ahead first and is picking the route, she's only going where she thinks I want to go and the safety is one hundred per cent up to me so I should have realised and made the call earlier. 

It is too late now though, and we are making our way slowly back across this field. The zig of our zig zag at this point is about a hundred metres across and down the slope approximately twenty metres so is pretty steep. The best way to get across is to hold onto the branch you are at before digging a hole in the snow with your heel and moving, inching across slowly until you can reach the next one and let go of the one you are holding on to. They slope down the mountain as they've obviously been pushed over by the snow to the point where they are actually horizontal down the mountain rather than up like a normal tree. It's pretty important to make sure your grip is tight but I'm worried of Jess's as I know the cold gets to her and she doesn't have gloves but she looks like she's doing better than I am up ahead and is slowly making her way across the field. I grab another branch, slide down to its lowest point, dig my heels in and inch across to the next one. I ask Jess how she is doing and she says she's okay but wants to be out of this now.

Soon enough we make it to the other side and it is definitely a relief. That hundred metre section took us about ten minutes and, whilst we were careful, one slip would have been very, very serious and likely fatal. I wish I could say I'm exaggerating this with poetic license but the honest truth is that we shouldn't have come back an unknown route and that is completely my fault for not realising and making the call earlier. Sometimes you really do have to stop, let your brain catch up enough to reassess your surroundings. 

Sometimes, you have to respect the mountain and realise that it has been there long before you came along, and will stand a long time after; so if you don't look after yourself then no one else is going to. Our hearts calm down a bit, we catch our breath and I'll be honest and say that it's a humbling experience for me to take this in. 

I'm really glad we've made it across. There are more sections of snow to come I know but we're back to the path we took up the mountain so they shouldn't be as treacherous. My thighs have scratches right up them where the trees have scratched as my shorts have ridden up and I know that now we are back to climbing through the trees more are to follow but I really don't care at this point I'm just happy we're both off that field and safe. 

I celebrate by slipping over. I stick my hand out which comes down on a small stump that fits perfectly into the palm of my hand. It's stings pretty badly but hey, at least I got my hand on it before I sat on it as that would have hurt a hell of a lot more.

We slowly scramble through the trees back down the way we came, occasionally having to deviate a little to get a better line down than the one we had up, but mostly this section is traversable without any major risks as there were before and slowly the snow begins to thin out. Very slowly indeed, but it is thinning all the same. We slowly get a bit more confident and I mention to Jess that after a particularly hard bit it's easy to get complacent and that is when a lot of injuries can actually happen so I remind her, and myself in turn, to still be just as careful as we were over the field.

As we make our way back down to the outcrop from the mountain where I went ahead to scope out the way ahead I know we're now, finally, back into the woods. Not out yet, mind, but in them all the same. It's another relief as we both know that it's traversable from here without too much effort. I see down to the left though there is a valley with nearly no snow so decide to go down and check if this would be a safer option to get down further. I get past some trees and see that I'm on the edge of a cliff now and decide that perhaps we should stick to the way we know and get myself back up to where I was quick smart. We move down the hill until we reach the spot that Jess sat down while I scoped ahead and stop a minute to catch our breath. To be on the safe side I check the map, as complacency can kill at a point like this and lucky I have as we need to take a sharp turn to the right, which we wouldn't have known if I hadn't checked the map as we're not following the exact path, rather just one as close as possible while still being safe. We move back to the path and keep moving down at an increasing and the snow has nearly completely thinned out by now. 

I check the time at this point and we have around an hour to get down to the cable car in order to, I think, make it down in time to catch the correct one up to the top of the mountain for the paragliding. I've been terrified of it for weeks but after what we've just been through I'm too weary to care now so don't even find the prospect daunting anymore. I don't want to press it too much but I know we still have around six kilometres to go before we're back down at the cable car. I know this is easily doable for both of us on a downhill but I'm also aware that the path is still a bit slippery with leaves, albeit without the imminent danger any longer, but that Jess isn't the trail runner I am so may not feel quite as comfortable upping the pace especially on tired legs after a pretty epic hike.

The ground is, however, soft underfoot and incredibly cushioning at this point so I suggest we go for a jog to try to make up some time. It's going to be better to jog now rather than later when we are back on the path again so I say that we can take a walk when we get back down to that point and Jess says she is okay with that. I explain the rules of safety coming first and that she only need go as fast as she feels comfortable with. I'll go to her pace not the other way around so if I'm getting ahead she just needs to do her own thing and I'll slow down. I want this to still be enjoyable if possible rather than agony for her and most of all I want her to feel zero pressure to go fast or keep up as that's never going to be fun. I ask if she's okay with it and she gives me a nervous grin and we're off. As our shoes have been absolutely drenched by the snow and mine are brand new and shiny white they pick up every bit of dirt available and turn brown pretty quick. Oh well, it's not the end of the world.

It's really nice going through the forest after the epic day we've had so far and nice to be moving a bit more quickly again. We don't see any chamois this time and I make sure to keep my own pace in line with Jess' wherever possible and try to check in that she feels okay and doesn't hurt too much but careful to keep the pressure off if I can. Soon enough we reach the gate out of the national park. Soon enough after this we pass the first people on their day's hike looking puzzled both at the map and subsequently the two runners who are passing them grinning, wondering where the hell we have come from as it can't have been the mountain behind us could it now? That would be silly...

We reach the 'road' again and pass through the shelter and there are more and more people about. I check in with Jess and she's actually still okay with running down and is looking really fresh considering all the hiking and around forty minutes of running on top of it so we don't stop and instead carry on. I keep an eye on the time and we've got twenty minutes left...fifteen. They're counting down but we are making really good progress thanks to Jess being speedy and soon enough we see the cable car station with about ten minutes left to go. We make our way down and hoon into the station...just in time to see the cable car go.

Back to safety.

No matter, I think, we obviously have only just missed the earlier one and our tandem paragliding instructors have only told us to be at the top for quarter past four. The next car is leaving at exactly that time so we'll only be eight minutes late and presumably they gave us a slightly early time and will be on the same car themselves. Presumably. There is a stat board next to the entrance with the weather conditions up top and it's currently five degrees celcius and winds of ten kilometres an hour. I receive a call and it turns out the instructors were on the car that just left and are now at the top. I explain we'll be on the next car and he sounds worried as the weather is turning. Four fifteen rolls around and as we get on I see the stat board is now saying two degrees up top and twenty kilometre per hour winds. 

The cable car itself slowly rotates to give everyone a stunning view of the countryside. Or so the brochure says. In reality it's crowded with loads of American tourists shouting about how many chin ups they can do and has scratches on all the windows so the 'view' is somewhat tempered.

Once we reach the top the instructors are waiting agitatedly for us. They take us straight outside and it is freezing up here. We're now eighteen hundred metres up on a skifield. It doesn't feel as high or scary as expected though, having come up by a cable car rather than our own steam as earlier so despite it being the highest I've ever been I feel like it doesn't really count. Better to consider the hike earlier as the highest slope I've climbed. In saying this, however, the view is amazing. The fog is rolling in and it is starting to snow which doesn't bode well though. There isn't anywhere near enough snow for the skifield to be open but there is enough to stop paragliders sadly and as we stand over at the cafe near the jump point the instructors make the call that we need to wait half an hour inside to see if it clears up and if not we won't be jumping. We get a coffee and hot chocolate, which is lovely, so go try it if you're ever there, and wait. The instructor calls a friend on the ground and the snow up here is rain down there and they go out to take one more look then sadly come back shaking their heads.

Valdritta far in the distance. We got as high as where the fog and snow meet the trees.

It's not to happen today, which is a real shame as I know how much Jess was looking forward to this but the truth is that even if we had been on the earlier cable car we wouldn't have been able to enjoy slamming cold winds and being rained on in the sky no matter how nice the view. The cable car down is still twenty five minutes away so we go for a walk to take a last view and the winds are pretty blistering up here so Jess decides to go back inside to wait. I want to see the jump point which is a ten minute walk away so I jog over and as I pass the last of the tourists coming the other way they clap and cheer for the idiot out for a jog in shorts at eighteen hundred metres when it's snowing. I park the zip on my jackets hood and give them a grin as I pass. 

The view over at the jump point is amazing but it's bittersweet as we should have been seeing it as we jumped and I know Jess is going to be feeling pretty gutted back at the station so, as nice as it is, it's not a view I can enjoy so I head back and give her a hug instead. We catch the cable car down, go get a pizza in the jaw-droppingly beautiful town of Malcesine then head back to the hotel for a warm shower and bed. 

What a day. Whilst both my hike and Jess' paragliding ended up as no-go's, I feel incredibly lucky to be able to even attempt such things and to have seen the amazing views I've seen today under our own steam. You never know how far you can go unless you try to go further.

The next morning the hotel owner asks how we got on...then gives me a leaflet to a race she organises each year running from the town up to the top of the mountain and along the ridge line. Just in case I want to come back for round two...

Smashing the South Downs Way 50

Over three hundred runners surge under the Centurion start line at nine in the morning. Jens, Ross and I, who have just met this morning, join them. 

It's game time.

After struggling with confidence in my running over the past several months today is different. Today I know I've put in the leg work, having just completed in March my first two hundred mile, or to be exact, three hundred and twenty three kilometre month of running. I'm a little nervous I'll feel the fact that I haven't tapered for this race as it's technically a training run for my first hundred miler in a few weeks. I'm a little nervous that this is my first serious distance with my Brooks Cascadia trainers that I've not fully agreed with previously. I'm a little nervous at the fact that despite a very healthy month I've spent the last few days pigging out. Basically, I'm nervous.

I put the nerves to one side. I tell myself that today is different. I tell myself that today is not a day where I'm willing to take no for an answer. I tell myself that today, rather than beating myself up before I even start...today I am in charge of my own fate. Today is the day I will believe in myself.

I can feel the sinews in my legs snap, crackle and pop in anticipation of what is to come and I can't help myself letting out a small whoop of excitement as we cross under the the starting banner. I mention to Jens that it's good to finally get going and not be worrying about it any more. He agrees.

As is normal on a lot of trail races almost instantly in order to exit the recreation ground we need to pass through a gate. Three hundred and fifteen runners trying to get through said gate is a bit of a squeeze so almost straight away we're all stopped and crowded around trying to get through. A quick right turn and we're going down an uneven back road in Worthing and I note that it's quite a struggle just to make sure you don't stand on the person in front and trip them up. Not to mention yourself and probably several dozen others behind you...

We seem to have lost Ross a little behind us but Jens and I continue running together and chatting away. As I was leaving the bed and breakfast earlier this morning two blokes were leaving and I wondered whether or not they were going to the same race as they were kitted up. After sorting out payment, or rather promising to send money as I only had card, I left on the fifty minute walk to the start line. Less than twenty metres up the road however, said two blokes were waiting in a car to offer me a lift. If anyone ever tries to tell you trail runners aren't nice people here is bona fide proof of the opposite as they would have been waiting a few minutes to offer a stranger a lift whilst not even certain I was going to the same place. We then arrived quite early so had plenty of time for me to eat my four banana breakfast and just chill out and chat before the race.

Almost straight away we're out of Worthing and into the fields. Straight away I feel more at home and the nerves start to go. The first couple of kilometres are fairly even with a little up and down and the field starts to thin out a little so we're not having to worry about stepping on the people around us. We round a corner and then see the first decent climb of the day. It looks fun. We slam into the bottom of it and slow to a fast hike. There is absolutely no point trying to run hills this early on in a race as doing that means you inevitably pay for it at the end and it can often cause a perfectly capable person to not complete a race simply as their body gives up later in a race.

So we make our way up the hill and I'm feeling a bit warm. It's always tricky to gauge clothing as the first few kilometres of a run or race you end up overheating but then you want to be dressed for later down the line and not have to bother with changing every five minutes. In this case, though, as we're hiking up a hill it's a perfect time to do exactly that. I manage to hip my bag off, followed by my mid layer which gets stuffed back in my bag and onto my back. All without breaking stride.

We've been chatting about all sorts of things as you do and after a while the conversation turns from just being about running kit and training to why we're here. I explain I'm a Kiwi originally and as is normal he's a bit confused by my accent not being too thick. I explain my acting background and also the fact that it was so damn hard to introduce myself to people when I first moved here as 'Ben' in a Kiwi accent sounds like 'bin' in an English one so people tended to think my parents were unreasonably cruel. This elicits a laugh and we talk about what it's like to be an immigrant as he is from South Africa. Both of us are of a similar mind that it's so easy to get stuck in a rut of just hanging around with people from your own country when you first arrive and only spending time in the pub and in both our cases that has led to trail running as a good measure of escapism from the daily grind. I take a moment to look out over the misty fields of the South Downs and can't help but smile at the choice.

We crest the first hill, having climbed around a hundred and thirty metres in this first three kilometres of the race and are treated with a nice downhill. Sadly it's short lived as it followed by another undulation back up a bit higher before we get our first solid downhill of the day. It's nice to get a bit of pace up, having been climbing for most of this first forty minutes, but it's bittersweet as it's far too early to really enjoy the descent as I so love doing. So we keep a fairly even pace, not wanting to destroy our knees. Once we reach the bottom of this one we're straight back into another hill; only this one looks particularly daunting. We look into the distance at a long line of runners weaving their way up the hill and settle down into another fast hike. I try to make sure I use my hands on my thighs to push myself up the hill and to try and use my arm muscles to take some of the brunt of this ascent. I've no idea how much this helps but even if it makes it two percent easier on my leg muscles then that's two percent I'm going to use.

As we're climbing up Ross comes up behind us to say hello, having been pacing a bit more evenly behind us for a while but now moving a bit more speedily uphill. As it is a hill, though, he takes the opportunity to stop and walk with us. He's feeling good and all three of us are still talking pretty excitedly, having now found our rhythm and started to really get stuck into racing mode, having found our running legs for the day. After a time Ross continues on up the hill and I comment that he's a man on a mission, whilst Jens notes that he seems to be pacing this race pretty strategically.

When we reach the top, having gone straight up around a hundred and fifty metres in two and a half kilometres, it's quite a relief. I then excitedly notice that the flat section we are now running on was also the hardest section of the Steyning Stinger race I did last year. I remember at the time noting that it was worth the long slog up the hill just for the view. Today, the view is still just as lovely having earned it again with fields and farmland roaming off into the distance on both sides of us. As before it gives me a real boost seeing this. Unlike before, though, I feel fine having done the climb and don't feel it was too strenuous. Last time I was destroyed at the top of this hill. Today I'm just excited. What a difference a year can make, eh?

Jens pulls out a little laminated copy of the course profile and checks what we have in store. Jens also has good news. Jens informs me we have about nine kilometres of downhill. I'm pretty okay with that. Again, it's a little frustrating to be moving at a slower pace than I would like to on a downhill however I do need to save my legs for later so begrudgingly do. As we're about a hundred metres away I tell Jens that I'll run ahead to fill up my water as I know he's wanting to head straight through this station, having brought a bladder as well as bottles, whilst I only brought my bottles. He kindly tells me not to bother as he'll stop anyway for food so I don't need to sprint.

As we approach there is a volunteer who very nicely takes my bottle from me and fills it up from a jug. On the last hill I've taken out my SiS electrolyte tabs and put one in the bottle, nearly pouring the remains of my water into the tube, which could have escalated into a fizzy mess but thankfully didn't. As soon as the bottle is full I jump over the the food table, grab a biscuit and a handful of small crackers and head out again straight away. Not too far ahead I see Jens running off but turning around to check for me. As I'm just behind him he slows to allow me to catch up. We cross the road and stare into the maw of a veritable lion of a climb, the track rolling straight down the centre like it's tongue. We slow straight down into a hike and both of us comment that it's a relief to help with getting the food in. I comment that my mini crackers are going to be absolutely disgusting by the end after sitting in my sweaty palm for too long and we're both pretty excited to be through the first checkpoint and a little over eighteen kilometres of the race. Once we finish our food we're both gasping for air having struggled to get it down and keep moving at pace up a hill and joke that eating is harder than the running today.

This climb does indeed become rather relentless and Jens again gets out his course profile map, which he's pretty pleased to have brought as he had wondered whether it may be overkill but is actually proving extremely useful, and points out that this climb is a little over three kilometres and about two hundred metres of climbing. Thus confirming it is indeed a bit relentless. Once again we are joined by Ross for a section of the climb and all get chatting again which definitely makes it considerably easier and takes our mind off the hill. Soon enough we reach the top and are able to get a bit of pace up again and Ross asks about nutrition and whether we are taking anything extra today. We're all in agreement that we want to try to stay off the sugar train if we can until later in the race and don't want to take too many gels or anything like that. They both have some sodium capsules and Jens also has some crushed up crisps but generally I think we are all aiming to rely on the aid stations and play it a bit by ear. The last thing I want is a sick stomach today. 

The other concern I've been having is my shoe choice. My normal Brooks Adrenalines are great but don't have a lot of cushioning. I did bring my waterproof ones for this race but they have quite a small toe box. As I wear two pair of socks and have just got some really thick and cushy ones I just feel like I'm risking blisters if I try them so opted for the uncertainty of the Cascadias. I'm really starting to worry about the decision though as they are starting to hurt, being a different design from what I'm used to running in. I can also feel a hot spot coming on and need to be careful as one blister in the wrong place could easily end my day.

We also talk about goal times again, having done so in the car on the way to the start. We're all hoping for similar times although my absolute bet time is around where they are expecting to finish and I know at some point I'll be saying goodbye and letting them go on to run their own races as I slow down and run my own. For myself, I like to have a three tiered goal. My outside time that I'll be unhappy if I go over, what I expect I can physically do and a dream time that I don't think I'm capable of but hope for all the same. I need to finish the race in under twelve hours in order to catch my train home and would be a bit unhappy with anything over that. Eleven hours I think is fairly realistic and, for me, a sub ten hour finish would be a holy grail of an achievement although damn near impossible. In saying this, we are indeed on pace still to go sub ten so the dream is not over yet.

There are a couple more undulations on the tops of the downs and the wind is really picking up. The weather report suggests it's going to be mind weather with some rain coming in later in the day around seven in the evening. I start to feel the wind a bit after having taken my mid layer off earlier but am not quite cold enough to put it back on. It's been quite hard to gauge this evenly today as it's been quite cold and windy up top but every time we are down in a valley it's nice and warm. So I leave the mid layer off and resolve that I'll put it on later when it gets colder still.

Soon enough we're back onto another downhill section, though and are heading on our way off to checkpoint two at Saddlescombe Farm. We've caught up with Ross again and are chatting away then right near the end of the descent into the aid station there is a steeper section and, without agreeing to do so, we all let rip briefly. There are deep ruts in the trail so Ross takes a line down the left, Jens takes the right and I slam it down the middle. It feels good to let loose, even if only for a moment and also to have people to do so with. When we reach the bottom there is a horse rider whose horse is looking particularly jittery so we give it a wide berth, go through the gate, across the road to call out our numbers and head into the tent. Ross comments that he's pretty glad he didn't get kicked in the face and I wholeheartedly agree.

This one has quite an array of food. I again fill up my bottle, however leave out the electrolytes as I've still only half finished the last lot; although this time I do take the chance to top up my second bottle as that is also down to about half. I scan the table and head straight for the savoury foods. There are quartered ham sandwiches, which I grab two of and a couple of cherry tomatoes and call out to the boys that I'm going to start walking and will see them in a couple of minutes when they catch me. I head off through a gate and there are again horse riders coming through so I hold the gate open for them to pass and as I'm going through Jens catches up and calls out that I'm a gentleman. 

We're straight back into another uphill and are both relieved that the Centurion team seem to have placed the stations quite strategically at the bottom of a hill so you can take a bit of a walk and eat your food. I get through the sandwiches and although the margarine is good for helping to get the sandwiches down with a dry mouth it is a little sickly but, no matter, they go down a treat. Then I pop a little ol' cherry tomato in and I swear a little bit of heaven opens up into my mouth. I gobble down the other one then am gutted I didn't grab more. The food gives me quite a boost and I feel some of the tiredness going away. I also notice that the previous soreness from my shoes is getting better and the hot spot doesn't seem to be developing so it's looking like I may be in the clear on that front as well. There is now another nice downhill section which is then followed straight up by, according to Jens' course profile, the third major climb of the day.

As usual, Ross catches us back up again on the hill soon after and, with Jens a little ahead talking to another runner, I run with Ross for a while. Soon enough, he's feeling a bit stronger and decides to press on a bit further so I run ahead to catch up with both him and Jens and we continue running on up the hill. It's the third climb of the day though and I'm now really starting to feel it so am glad when eventually they slow for a bit but can feel that I am just about at the point where I need to let them go and slow down myself to avoid hitting the wall. Eventually they do continue running along and I'm sad to see them go but glad they're feeling strong enough to do so. I mentally wish them both a good race, knowing it's unlikely I'll see either of them again today.

In an odd turn of events, next to Jens' disappearing back is another runner who I'm sure I recognise. I jog ahead a little to catch up with him and realise that it is indeed Nick, who I ran with for quite a long early section of the Country to Capital in January before being at the same point as I am now with Jens and Ross and deciding to let him continue on. At the Country to Capital I then went into a pretty bad spiral into a wall so I'm pretty hopeful that's not going to happen today. I think I'm easing off at a good point to allow that not to happen.

I say hello and between the last time we met and now we found out we actually know someone in common, myself through work and him through sailing so I fall into step with him on yet another race, although am thinking I'll probably need to let him go again soon, knowing that he's faster than I am. This time around though, he mentions he's tested out going out hard at the beginning rather than evenly pacing and has ended up spending the last few kilometres walking. Soon enough we reach the top and get moving again, breaking into a canter and almost straight away find that things are not all okay. 

Unfortunately Nick's knee has been giving him a bit of grief and seems to cause him a bit of soreness now. Then his knee jerks back and he has to stop. I stop as well, hoping it's just a little niggle but his face suggests otherwise. We walk a minute or two again then try for another run but to no avail as his knee seems to be tweaking in all the wrong places. I ask him if he's okay and he grimaces back at me although I don't see any fear in there so can tell mentally he's still coping okay but probably just a bit on the frustrated side. We carry on walking a bit and I check the GPS map on my phone and mention that we're only about six or seven kilometres from the halfway aid station so he should be able to take it easy until there, get someone to look at it and hopefully get the all clear to carry on.

I feel incredibly guilty doing it but at this point I do ask once more if he's okay then carry on myself down the hill, shouting back that I'll no doubt see him when he catches me back up at some point. I'm extremely hopeful that will be the case and that his knee is alright. I catch up to the next person and run with him for a while, a friendly Brazilian chap on his first sizeable ultra and we spend a few kilometres together although quite happily end up just enjoying the scenery for most of it.  

The next section is pretty steadily downhill for a fair few kilometres and I realise that I'm definitely now onto a section I've run before. In the summer last year I came down to Eastbourne after work one Friday and did a solo sixty kilometres back along the South Downs Way. It's quite nice to recognise the area and in particular to be going down rather than up this hill as I remember it being one of the most horrible slogs at two in the morning last time. We reach a small but really steep climb and I continue on ahead, mentally bidding adieu to the Brazilian guy and wishing him a good race. I reach the bottom at the main road and turn into the farm house that has been set up as the halfway, marathon point aid station at Housdean Farm. I quickly top up my bottles, grab a sandwich and three cherry tomatoes and am off on my merry way once more. 

I go over the bridge crossing the road and on the other side see Laureda, who I know from having bumped into on both the Steyning Stinger and the Endurancelife CTS Exmoor Ultra last year and have kept in touch with since, coming back the other way. I know she has been struggling with injury in recent months so know that seeing her coming back towards me is not a good sign. I give a wave and she gives back her usual big grin, before a look of surprise realising it's someone she knows and then finally a look to say that unfortunately she is on her way back to drop out of the race. 

I stop for a couple of minutes and she explains that her injury has been playing up the whole race and I agree that it would just be silly to continue on as I know that she has a really busy few months ahead with a three month running holiday coming up and there's no point in breaking herself just for this race. She does give a big smile though at the fact that she's got to the marathon point and we say our goodbyes. I'm absolutely gutted for her but know it's the right decision and glad to see it looks like she's made a well informed decision rather than just trying to push through and risk serious health issues.

I carry on back down the other side of the bridge and round into a field extremely vibrant and full of rapeseed and note that for the first real time in this race so far I am on my own without another runner in my immediate vicinity. As much as I've really been enjoying the company it's also quite nice to have a time on my own and do some checks mentally. How are my legs? Fine. Feet? Fine, no blisters and the shoes are feeling comfortable now. Stomach? Pretty good now I've got some more cherry tomatoes in it. Mind? Absolutely resolute. 

I feel amazing and ready to tackle the second half of this beast. I check my phone and let Jess know I'm okay and doing well. The thought that she is keeping an eye on my progress and her unrelenting support and help; coupled also the thought of my families support means a lot and I'm reminded of it at this point. I put it out of my mind though, preferring to run a mental game for now and I'll tap into the emotional reserves later to mentally get me through and provide a boost when I'll need it more.  

I also check the pace calculator that I'm using as a rough guide for the race, which is based on last years results and incorporates the inevitable slowing down of a runner and note that sadly I went through the last checkpoint around ten or fifteen minutes slower than I needed to to reach my sub ten dream goal. But that is the point of those goals and I still don't give up entirely as I'm feeling pretty damn good so can maybe claw that back a little.

The next section is pretty straightforward with a lot of time spent on my own and just enjoying the scenery and being in such a stunning place doing such a nice race. As we're coming away from an aid station there is, you guessed it, another climb for quite a while up to about forty seven kilometres and the wind is definitely getting a bit more full on. I take a moment to put my mid layer back on as it feels like it's about time to do so and continue on my way. At this point up the top here there is a section of paved but broken farm road, with fields on either side and rolling fog coming over us. It's a really nice section to move along with again the bright yellow flowers to the right. It's a fairly nice little mental boost. I reach the end of this area then there is a left turn and it's a few kilometres of downhill running to contend with. I still want to just open up on this section but still know it's really silly to even consider it and to be honest it is starting to hurt quite a bit as my legs continually slam into the ground below. 

Eventually I reach the bottom of the section with a long straight farm track heading off to the side and remember last time I was at this point here on the night run feeling absolutely dead and that I should give up, having only done about thirty kilometres. Today I feel pretty damn good. That last descent has definitely taken a bit out of me, being quite lengthy, but I don't slow and press on down the farm road still running as I know there is going to be a climb at the other end which I can use for a walk and recover. Which is exactly what I do. When I reach the gate at the other end I'm quite pleased with myself for having kept going. The climb following is actually very tiny so I'm soon back on the flat and again go over a bridge which I remember last time thinking there was a nuclear fallout going on due to the dust particles in the middle of the night. As it is then followed by Southease station I reach the gate then go up and over the overbridge, taking a moment to have a quick stretch on the steps on the way up before coming down the other side and seeing another runner just go straight across the tracks. Bugger. Should have been using my eyes rather than my memory on that one clearly.

He takes the piss out of my mistake and within a minute we reach the Southease aid station. I head over and have a nice cup of coke, fill my bottles and get my now usual quarter sandwich and three cherry tomatoes. As I'm fiddling about with my bottles I look up and low and behold there is Nick, obviously having got through the knee pain which I'm really pleased about. I ask how he's doing and he says he's fine so long as he takes it easy, which must have been pretty hard on that lengthy downhill just a while ago. 

I set off again and find the same runner who was laughing at me going over the tracks rather than through them now incredulous that I'm eating a sandwich. I point out my theory of staying off the sugar train as long as I can as, put simply, doing it this way leads to less vomiting and also more sustained energy. I once again check the pace calculator and once again am only ten minutes over where I need to be so it looks like going under ten and a half hours is still possible. I don't dare hope when there is still so far left but it's still going okay so who knows?

We're soon onto another hill, but this time it isn't willing to end after a few minutes like the last couple. I fall in with a couple of guys who are workmates, one of whom has done this before, and we're all feeling pretty good now being into the home stretch with not too much over a half marathon to go. As one of them has done it before he points out that this hill is long. The gift that keeps on giving. This one is about two hundred and ten metres climb over the next seven kilometres, with a smallish dip in the middle. I'm still feeling good though and, dare I say it, am actually enjoying these hills as it's a guilt free walking break. Not to mention the fact that it is using different muscles so doesn't hurt in the same way. We slog away at this section for a good hour or so and just near the top Nick catches back up and plods along ahead, feeling more comfortable doing his running on the uphills and the walking on the downhills. I wish him luck. 

Soon after the dip near the top of this section I'm feeling a bit better so go on ahead and catch up to Nick instead and decide to run with him for a while, fancying some company again. He almost straight away says that he's not a very good running buddy and I tell him I'm not too bothered and quite happy to use the run and walking pace for a while to save my legs for the end. In reality he's still managing quite a good pace. We end up getting quite a good rhythm going, basically a few minutes running and a couple of minutes of walking. I also get him to hold my bag so I can put my jacket on as I don't expect we're going to be going through very many valleys out of the wind until the end so figure it's about time I fully rug up. Nick's a little annoyed with not being able to run much of the downhill section but to be honest I'm quite happy with the pace, feeling like it's quite sustainable rather than still trying to keep going hard and then blowing up.

Again though, we reach a lengthy downhill section and I decide to continue on to capitalise on feeling good so press on ahead. My legs are still in a good place so I allow them to have a little taste of speed on this one and eventually make my way into Alfriston for the second to last aid station. This one is in a church hall so I fill my bottles and then have an epiphany when I realise I'm indoors and that means they have a toilet. There's not even a queue and it's not even disgusting like most toilets are along the route of a trail race. But anyway, you probably don't want to know about that. 

I leave again, grabbing just a sandwich this time as there are sadly no cherry tomatoes, and move along my merry way. I check with a marshal first the distances and I've got around four and a half miles until the next one then it's around five until the finish. Unfortunately I'm operating in kilometres, which normally I'm pretty good with working out the conversions of, however I have just run over one and a half marathons so my brain isn't working that well. It takes a few minutes to do some pretty basic maths. 

I also check the pace calculator and have about an hour to the next checkpoint and another hour to the finish. To be more specific there is one hour and fifty five minutes left to do approximately thirteen or fourteen kilometres. Somewhere around seven kilometres an hour. This wouldn't be impossible normally but as there are still two big climbs to go I'm still expecting to be struggling for a ten and a half hour finish. But things are looking pretty damn good for a solid finish either way. 

It's a pretty solid climb now and I just put my head down and trudge up it, gritting my teeth along the way. At some point along here Nick and I again join forces and this time stick together on the downhill over the other side. Again we give it a few minutes running to be followed by a couple of minutes walking. This downhill section is actually quite steep so it's probably a smart move not to hammer it too much as that, whilst tempting, would probably do a number on these now quite considerably sore legs and make the final section a damn hard slog. So instead we play it a bit safer and coast our way into Jevington and the final aid station. Nick decides to cruise on ahead, saying he'll see me on the next downhill but I expect this may be the last I see of him this close to the finish. 

I quickly go in, fill my bottles and it's clear a lot of runners have followed Nick's lead and just gone straight through as I'm the only one here. I'm offered and accept a cup of tea however it's quite hot and I don't really want to hang around. Especially as I'm informed it's four point three miles to the finish. I try to work it out but neither me nor the aid station volunteer can work it out so I give up and go with seven kilometres. Another runner comes in and asks for one. I offer him mine, which I've taken about one sip out of and he looks at me as if I've flung a dog poo at him and declines. I shrug and put it down on the table, use the bathroom quickly, grab three cherry tomatoes and am off again, not sure if I should have bothered to stop here. The peace of mind at having a full bottle of electrolytes is good though.

Around the corner and I'm on to the final climb. Fifty five minutes to go and seven kilometres if I want to go under ten hours. It's not going to be possible but ten and a half is looking like I almost have it in the bag. There aren't really any other runners around at this point and it's now where I realise that at the top of this hill, the one I can see just ahead of me, I'll be able to see the finish line. I'm the type of runner who likes to run with their heart. Often the thought of the support of my family and friends can be a huge support and boost me through. There have been some points through the day where it has crossed my mind but I've purposely avoided thinking of these things, preferring to run a mental game until I needed a boost of positivity. 

That time is now. This is the payoff moment. On this final climb I allow myself to remember all the help and support I've received lately, particularly from Jess. I think of the events that have led to me getting to this point, with a pretty full on year and a huge amount of issues with my confidence in my running after pulling out of the Wall race in June last year at one hundred of one hundred and eleven kilometres, followed by a disastrous navigational error at the Caesars Camp fifty mile run meaning I did an extra ten kilometres and dropped from halfway up the field to last place, eventually death-marching to the finish just over the cut off. But today is the day I put that to bed. Today I listened to my body rather than doubting it. Today I put that self defeating voice in my head to one side. Today I believed in myself from the beginning. I can't help myself but I get a bit emotional as I crest the hill and see the final trig point, signifying my final descent into the finish line.

I pass by, still feeling emotional but now moving over the top of the hill I feel butterflies in my stomach as I can see the athletics ground in the distance. I turn left down the singletrack and finally it's time to let go and descend like the ape I am. I crank up the pace and take off, arms akimbo. My body flies down the hill but in my minds eye I soar above it. I slam down the track, eventually seeing Nick in the distance and call out to him that we are nearly there then soon after pass another runner and whizz ahead, my shins being whipped by errant vines on the side of the trail. It feels amazing to finally allow myself the opportunity to really descend with abandon. It's a shame when I reach the bottom soon after with heart in my throat.

I ease the pace considerably as I come out onto a street and move back into suburbia. The runner I just passed is not far behind me so I slow a little and start a conversation. I check my map and tell him that we only have two or three kilometres to go an that we're currently at nine and a half hours. It looks like we may make it. We soon reach the final marshal who confirms we only have a little over a mile to go. I turn to him and ask if he wants to just run it in together which he looks quite happy to do. I figure this saves trying to keep up with or race anyone plus we have someone to talk to on this final section. We take a bit of a walking break at one point and round the final bends chatting away. He tells me he hasn't done any races in a few years as he got married and had a child and that, whilst a lot of people make it fit, he didn't want to. I tell him that's commendable putting his child first, that not everyone would and I actually mean it. It's a nice reminder and particularly poignant at the end of a race that running isn't everything and you need to make sure you keep a healthy balance of all the different aspects of your life.

With that we take a wrong turn, the first of the day, which I'm pretty pleased with, quickly rectify it and head in onto the athletics track for a victory lap and cross under the finish banner.

In nine hours and fifty four minutes. Proof that if you believe in yourself...sometimes dreams can come true.

I collect my medal, go inside and am informed by Nici, one of the organisers, that there are showers which is absolutely amazing. I do have a shower but unfortunately have severe cramps as I'm getting out which means that getting dried and changed is logistically a horrible, painful and compromising situation for me; not to mention probably pretty funny for the rest of the people getting changed. To top it all off I get a call from Jess to tell me that she's surprised me and is here to see me finish. Unfortunately though, I was a little early.