#ultrarunning running mentalhealth runner ultra Autumn100

[andsotheadventurebeginsblog]

Slaying Demons on the Autumn 100.

I sit here 5 days after completing the biggest physical challenge of my life to date with sore shins, suspected stress fractures, and a totally renewed sense of calm. I did it. I ran 100 miles in under 24 hours.

The night before the race I meet up with Dave, who is glorious, and we go and get some dinner and drink way more wine than any real athlete would even consider healthy. I feel calm. Nervous but calm. Tomorrow I do the thing I love doing the best. After fractured sleep we get up, eat and get to the village hall where the race goes out from. There are a LOT of men here. A lot. There are many people I admire, there are women that have run literally hundreds of 100 mile races, there are men who have done it in under 14 hours there are ultra legends and there is me.

Me standing here in a semi trance, feeling sick and feeling excited and unable to worry about my broken mental state because I have to achieve this. I get my number from Lou - a friend of mine from the online running group I am a part of. She is wonderful and gives me a hug and tells me how excited she is for me. I tell her I’m scared. Because I am. Then at 10.10am on Saturday the 21st October I take the first steps on a 200,000 step journey to running 100 miles. I chat to people, I try and hold my nerve and keep it slow. The pack thins out and it’s very slippery underfoot. My legs feel heavy and I realise I am not enjoying this at all. It’s fairly lonely on these runs. You get people that want to chat and people that definitely don’t. At the first aid station I meet Dan Barrett - he’s so lovely and kind to me. I wonder why. We’ve only met a few times. After 12 miles I bump into someone I met running Bournemouth Marathon - he remembers me - we exchange pleasantries and on I go. I’m really not feeling this today. I am 13 miles in and bored and already tired. This doesn’t bode well.

I get to the 25 mile mark in 5 hours. All on time. All as planned. I didn’t like that leg. I get my drop bag and get changed into a new long sleeve top and have a couple of sandwiches. I feel tired and slightly out of it. I feel a bit hopeless and lost. I get confused as to what I need and what I don’t. I try and do the change over as fast as possible and get out for the second leg. I leave my mobile charger and battery pack in my drop bag. I am an idiot. I am not strategising. It seems like SUCH a long way. I have 75 miles to go and I feel rubbish.

I get my headphones out and put on a podcast. The second leg is better - more forest and the ridgeway is beautiful. Theres technical paths weaving through forests and Kites soar over the fields. These are the trails I love - I feel like I am finally starting to get into my stride, but Storm Brian is on his way and he brings rain and 50mph wind that squalls across the open fields and makes the trails into wet wind tunnels. I nearly get blown over a couple of times but I feel stronger. I have fuelled properly. I love sandwiches. At the 37 mile turnaround point are kids in halloween costumes helping with water. They remind me of my nieces and nephews and make me smile. For the first time I know I will finish this. I’m on the way back. The way back to Goring village hall, to my beloved sister who is pacing me for the next 25 miles. It’s getting dark, I get my head torch out but the route is fraught with obstacles in the shape or tree roots and holes and I fall over twice - once into a patch of stinging nettles - once in a puddle. Classy. My phone runs out of battery. No music. My watch is dying - no mileage or time. I manage to catch up with the guy in front about 3 miles from the halfway point and we chat - he’s lovely and time flies by.

The village hall comes into view - another 5 hour leg. Right on time. And I see my mum and her husband and my sister and three of my best friends who have come to surprise me from London. I double take. WTF. What the hell are they doing here?! I am overwhelmed with love and joy but I don't think it shows. I am in a trance like state. They have come all the way from London to see me for nothing more than a few minutes as I hastily try and get changed and get nutrition sorted. That’s amazing. I can’t tell them how much it means to me. It’s so above and beyond I can’t fathom it. My mum looks a bit worried - my sister is very excited. My friends are warm and cuddly and drunk and I love them. I get changed, I get a hot meal I say thank you and then me and my sister are out, back out into the night. It is 8.20pm. I have been running for 10 hours and I have run 50 miles.

I’m walking as fast as I can trying to guzzle down my dehydrated pasta meal, trying to ignore the tell tale warnings my legs are giving me that I’ve run a long way. I have done this part of the route before. But in the daytime. Night is a totally different game. The ridgeway is exposed and it’s so windy and pitch black. The light from my head torch confuses me.  We are running head on into the wind and it’s soul destroying. My sister is brilliant - she has fresh legs and bags of enthusiasm and I feel bad I can’t keep up with her. I am stuffing my face with as much food as I can but I’ve started to feel sick and tired. And then come the hallucinations. I can see people laying by the side of the road in the foetal position. My sister comments on the beautiful horizon. The beautiful horizon is actually a fence. I dodge things crossing the path in front of me - but there is nothing crossing the path in front of me. We get to an aid station at the top of a hill. It’s in a Luton Van because otherwise it would just blow away. I get coffee and snacks and a cuddle from Lou - plus the personal goodie bag she’s prepped for me that includes the all important mini bottle of jagermeister (I am a pro athlete). 4 Miles til turn around point so we press on - my sister is talking to me about everything and anything. We listen to music and start talking utter nonsense. Then we see the turnaround point adorned in lights but we can’t work out if we’re hallucinating or it’s real. Its 11pm. We are knackered.

A quick coffee then back down the ridgeway with the wind at our backs - it’s like a totally different night. The wind makes all the difference and now the stars are out and its very beautiful. We listen to Foo Fighters. We sing along. We’re trying to stay awake and running. We come across a huge puddle. This wasn’t here on the way out. Shit. We’ve gone the wrong way. It’s so dark and so hard to work out where we are. We retrace our steps and get back on track - we lose about 15 mins but I am determined to get back to the village hall. If I can get back there I can do the final leg. We come in at 2.45am. The last leg has taken 6 and a half hours. I have now run 75 miles.

I hug my sister and send her on her way back to my hotel to sleep. It’s now that I pick up my final pacer Lee. Lee’s pretty experienced when it comes to these huge distances and I trust him implicitly. He knows I am knackered. He knows I am confused and does his best to help as I grab my newly charged watch and some food and spare batteries and get changed for the 4th time. We set out along the Thames Path to Reading at an OK pace but now my legs have started to hurt. My shins are burning. I take some codeine and try and get through it. Lee is a dream and a nightmare. In doing his job as pacer, he becomes the single most important and annoying person in my life. He is making me eat. He is making me drink. I don't want to eat. I get pretty angry with him but he’s having none of it. I eat sandwiches, I drink water and coffee. We keep pushing forward. We’re breaking it up by running and walking but the walking breaks are getting longer and longer and I know I have to keep a 14 min mile pace to break 24 hours. We get to the aid station, quick turnaround and then back out into the dark only to find another aid station a mile down the course. Hang on. It’s the same aid station. We’ve come round in a fucking circle. How the fuck have we done that? Nevermind, on we go. Lee is so chirpy, shouting encouragement at the other runners who say nothing back or just grunt. I imagine they would punch him if they had the energy. It’s 4am and I am running through Reading. I am talking to the swans and ducks, I’m telling Lee his music choices are shit. And then we get to the turnaround point. It’s up some stairs. SOME STAIRS.

I grab a load of fruit and eat about 7 pieces of watermelon - the sugar and gels are making me feel terrible and I am just craving fruit. We head back out. We head back to the village hall for the last time. Its is not about 6am. Birds have started to sing and the end is in sight. Lee is doing a great job of working out times and how fast we need to go to make it sub 24. He keeps telling me I am 10th woman but I don’t care. I just want to finish. Then at about 7am it happens - the sky breaks and the sun begins to come up. It’s another day. I have to finish. I am in a lot of pain and Lee is still making me eat. We are walking and running and walking and running and I am using Lee’s poles because my legs hurt so much. We get the the aid station 4 miles from home. We zip in and out. I am on the way home.

The last 4 miles were such a mix of emotion. I knew I was going to do it,  and everything hurt. My skin hurt. My eyes hurt. My legs hurt. I was very quiet but inside my head was raging. I had a little cry. I walked on ahead of Lee and had a little cry, I think with tiredness more than anything else. Those miles dragged and dragged and everyone we met along the way - the early morning fishermen and the people walking their dogs had a different distance to tell us�� “Just 3 miles left” “it’s only a mile!” ARGH!

The one thing I won’t ever forget though, is the feeling that I had beaten the Demon. The Demon that tells me I am not good enough and riots through my head an stomach. That fucking Demon was beaten. Of course there are others in there but the big one was gone and I know I can beat them. I realised the extent of what I had done 3 miles from the end. I am strong. I can keep going physically and mentally.

When I came into the hall and saw my mum, when my sister ran down the last part of the path to meet me, when I saw how proud they all were of me, the Demon was beaten. 100 miles. 23hours 35 minutes. The Demon was beaten.

I am so happy to finish. I am so happy. My adrenaline is high and I pose for the pictures and get undressed and everyone helps me and I am so glad, and I put on my one piece and I step outside. I am shaking and I have to sit down because I think I might be sick. My mum comes with my things and puts me in the car like a baby. She helps me upstairs at the hotel and I just get in bed and curl up, all grubby and sweaty. I find a note form my sister which tells me how proud she is. It makes me cry so much because I love her so much and I am so proud of her.

I just want to sign this off with a thank you to everyone that helped me on this particular journey - my Mum and her husband Jim for their unwavering support. My sister, Janey Wise for her support and pacing and being the best friend and biggest inspiration I could ever ask for. The wonderful David Harvey for his time and patience and training and being brilliant (#withyoueverystep). Lee Stuart-Evans for his advice and pacing and force feeding of an angry toad (me). Tom, Abi, Amy and Lauren for trekking out to see me for 2 mins on a cold October night - thank you, I love you. Lou and Dan from the BBR group - thanks for all your support and encouragement at the aid stations.

This story does not end here.

TBC