A Good Plodder On-er

My running dream since 2018 has been to finish the Centurion North Downs Way. This is a 103 mile trail race through over the North Downs Way in southern England from Farnham in Surrey to Ashford in Kent. It has a strict 30hr time limit and various cut offs on the way.

The first year I tried in 2018 was not a great year for my family. My father had slowly died after a horrible illness and then my husband was diagnosed with testicular cancer which had spread to his lungs. He had gone to the doctor at the outset of symptoms but as he was not in the usual demographic for testicular cancer it was misdiagnosed for a long time. Fortunately he is well now and although treatment was brutal it looks like it worked and he has had a complete cure. In fact as I had breast cancer years ago I now refer to us as the one boob one ball couple. The race was after my husband’s second round of chemo. I should have deferred my entry but I think we were both trying to pretend everything was normal and he was kind and encouraging and stayed with me the night before at a hotel to support me.

Follow the PINK signs they said. It was very clear and very easy. I had stopped to take a stone out of my shoe and was separated from the pack of runners for a while. I saw a RED sign about 4 miles in that looked nothing like the centurion signs and just followed it. I kept running, I saw no other runners or signs for miles and miles and far too slowly a nagging doubt came into my brain that perhaps I had gone wrong. I chose to ignore that doubt for far too long and when I eventually turned round I had run about 6 miles in the wrong direction. The race would have been challenging anyway but an extra 12 miles made it impossible. I got to the first checkpoint at what should have been just over 6 miles after about 18 miles of running. Funnily enough I had missed cut off. There was just one poor guy packing up when I arrived. Of course I knew I had missed it, I knew their policy around cut offs was strict but all the stress, sadness and anger of the last 6 months just spilled out and I did something I very rarely do I cried. I did not just cry I sobbed. I uncontrollably sobbed as he took me to the next checkpoint. I sobbed as I waited on the grass for my long suffering husband, who fortunately had not left the hotel, to collect me. I sobbed while other competitors and supporters came up to me to see what was wrong. I sobbed as a kind man not knowing how to help this puddle of a woman randomly gave me a jar of honey as a gift. I sobbed all the way home.

2019 I was ready. Surely I couldn’t mess up like that again. Well not quite as badly but I got to the 50mile cut off and then again went the wrong way. I was close to cut off and by the time I got back on path the signs had been taken down by the sweeper (the person who walks the course behind all the runners and removes the markings). I got totally lost and had to phone to be collected by the Centurion team who not only found me but were kind and sympathetic and took me to the finish where I took various trains back home. Fortunately on this occasion I did not cry.

Enter 2020, the pandemic had cancelled all races that year but finally races were allowed with strict rules around contact and distancing. Marshalls were not allowed to fill your bottles for you at aid stations. There was a lot of disinfecting and distancing as I’m sure everyone remembers. I had trained adequately and was ready. What I wasn’t ready for was the 30degree plus heat. All was going well for the first 30 miles and then I just melted. I failed to keep myself hydrated, I think I probably had heat stroke. I couldn’t stand properly I kept leaning to one side. I remember lying down in a ditch on the side of a road and another competitor encouraging me to get up again. We waifs and strays helped each other limp on and unsurprisingly I timed out at 50miles. Frustratingly it was cooling down by that point but it was too late. Even if I had made the time it would have been stupid for me to go on in the state I was on and I’m sure I would have been pulled out by the race medics. Enter once again my (thankfully recovered) husband to pick me up in the night and take me home. Luckily for him I was so out of it that I think I was pretty quiet on the journey back.

2021 and I think “This is my year” (spoiler it wasn’t). This year my husband and son, desperate for this obsession to be over, offer to crew me. This involves meeting me at certain permitted spots and give me food, drink, moral support and kicks up the bum as needed. After the heat of 2020 it was mercifully a lot cooler and I was slow but making cut offs but in the dark the rain that had been so welcome earlier started making everything so much harder. Being back of the pack I was going over the muddy, slippery, churned up quagmire of all the runners before me. I fell down several times into brambles, getting caught up in wet undergrowth and having to clamber up again and again. Although I made it further than ever before I was timed out at 67miles (should have been 65 miles I think but I had popped in a couple bonus miles).

My last attempt in 2022 my son and husband crewed me again. Nothing went wrong I just slowed down and could not make the pace. I made the 50 mile checkpoint with seconds to spare. The amazing volunteers ran with me offering me food and refilling my water bottles. The sweeper runner caught up with me shortly after and was willing me on but I was falling further behind and felt it was unfair to make my husband and son wait through the night for me to limp on when there was no way I could make the next checkpoint. I withdrew from the race. They drove me to the next checkpoint where I went through the now familiar routine of handing in my race number and went home.

During this period I have also DNF three 50mile centurion races. The North Downs Way 50 miles, The South Downs way 50 miler and most recently the Wendover Woods 50 miler. I won’t take you through every painful step but thought my most recent experience might in some way explain why despite these constant disasters I keep coming back.

Wendover woods was a weekend of camping and racing with distances of 10 miles to 100 miles with some kids races and talks about running thrown in. It was an opportunity to meet like minded people and learn more about running. For me this is pretty intimidating. Because I am autistic I find social interaction difficult especially in an informal setting when I don’t know people. I am either very awkward saying very little or I over talk. Having a tent to go to is great as you have a hideout close by so can venture into the social area with a quick getaway. Autistic people are all different but I want to interact but I only want it in short bursts, I want to be able to stop on my terms and I find it all very scary so this is ideal. I learned about green runners (greenrunners.com) a group of runners trying to limit their impact on the environment. I bought a shoe repair kit from them to extend the life of my running shoes and listened to tips and tricks on running in a more sustainable way. The race director now recognises me and wished me luck. The course was 5 laps of really tough running. The uphill climbs were brutal and I timed out after only 2 laps. As races were running concurrently people doing different laps of different races were crossing the line at the some time. Not long before I finished, a lady doing her final lap of 10 overtook me. I pulled my cap down as I crossed the line to avoid seeing the people cheering me. They did not know I was timing out and that I had only done 2 laps. I was deeply, deeply ashamed. At this point the race director came and talked to me. He spoke to me with respect despite realising I had only done the two laps. When I awkwardly apologised for taking a place and failing again he emphatically assured me that I was always welcome and that it was ok just to keep coming back and giving it my best shot. It felt really genuine and encouraging. The fact that he had lots of really good athletes out there doing outstanding things but he still took the time to talk to the person who had just failed AGAIN was hugely to his credit. When I got home I posted a thank you on the event’s facebook page and got an overwhelming show of support from the community. If you are lucky enough to be physically fit and have the privilege of being able to afford the time and costs all you need is the will to try.

I am not totally delusional. I am going to get a 50miler under my belt before I try the North Downs Way 100 again but I am off to book another race and THIS TIME I WILL FINISH.