Thames Path 100 Mile race – Richmond to Oxford non-stop – 3 rd & 4 Th May 2014.

I am writing this laying on the sofa, feet up, ankles swollen like tennis balls but feeling pretty content. Why?

March 2013 – it was below freezing all day, snowing at times and my first attempt at the Thames Path 100 ultra-marathon beat me. I dropped out at 48 miles due to what felt like hypothermia. But I promised I would be back. So I have trained all year, doing a few other marathons and smaller ultras to keep me going, all with the aim of being at Richmond town hall 2104 to try again.

Stage 1 -The start to Walton (11 Miles)

11 miles along the Thames on a bright sunny morning. (Couldn’t be more different to last year) Feeling good, keeping an easy pace 10 minute mile and chatting to other runners, none of us really wanting to talk about the next 90 miles or so that lay ahead. I had a pace schedule in my head to get me to the finish within the 28 hour time limit and I hit Walton aid station 20 minutes ahead of the plan.

Stage 2 – Walton to Wraysbury (11 to 22 miles )

On such a lovely bright morning the Thames path was busy with other walkers/riders/dogs and it seemed every few paces I had to dodge out of their way. But I kept the even pace going and arrived at Wraysbury aid station in a fraction under 4 hours. Last year this aid station was in the sailing centre, this year it was a gazebo on the lawns and I took the opportunity to just sit in the sun for 5 minutes, adjusting my kit, and making the most of the fabulous spread that Centurion Running always provide at aid stations. Lunch of cheese and ham sandwiches, water melon, oranges and jelly babies seemed to go down well. Ah well, better push on…..about 80 miles to go.

Stage 3 Wraysbury to Dorney. (22 to 30 miles)

The first indication of a problem with my left ankle. Up to now everything felt perfect, no aches and pains, no blisters but as I stopped at the aid station by Dorney Lake I felt my left ankle tightening up. Nothing too much to worry about …yet. Still right on my plan for a 27.5 hour finish.

Stage 4 Dorney to Cookham. (30 to 38miles)

I reached Cookham in 7 hours and 38 mins, almost 30 mins up on my target time and still feeling very good. For the past 10 miles or so I had been running a mile then walking a half mile then repeating and this pattern seemed to be working really well for my legs. The sun was still blazing down and Sharon met me with an ice cream which I washed down with jelly babies and salted peanuts!

Cookham to Hurley (38 to 44 miles)

Most of the tow path had been dry with a few puddles but no significant mud and I still felt surprisingly good. I started to feel a bit of tightness around my lower back and stomach so arranged to meet Sharon in my support car at Maidenhead and switched from wearing a waist belt with bottles to a rucksack with bladder. I checked my phone messages for the first time and realised that lots of people were following me on the website or via Facebook. Thank you one and all because it really did give me another lift.

Hurley to Henley (44 to 51 miles)

One of only two “hills” on this course is in this section, up through the deer park of a very grand stately home. I had sort of teamed up with another runner called Paul on this section and we took it I turns to lead every few hundred yards. Paul said he was from Yorkshire and was used to training on the moors. From this point I kept very quiet about the “hill” which to him I am sure was nothing more than a gentle rise !. I jogged into Henley spot on schedule (10 hours 45 mins) just as darkness fell, met Sharon and did a quick change into night gear – long skins, dry long sleeved top and Montane jacket. The aid station team pushed a bowl of steaming pasta into my hands which was welcome as the temperature was just starting to drop.

Henley to Reading (51 to 58 miles)

Within 10 mins I was off and heading for Reading. I suddenly realised how dark it had got. There was no moon and as I fast walked along the bridge between Henley and Shiplake the only light was from my head torch. Henley aid station had been packed with runners and crew, but within minutes I was on my own again. My left ankle was still tight and the pain was spreading to the top of my foot – unusual pain that I have never experienced before but nowhere near enough to stop me maintaining my 12 min mile run / walk pace.

Sharon met me2 miles further on at Shiplake with a steaming hot pot noodle and walked with me though the village for half a mile until the path drops back onto the river bank again. It was good to have someone to talk to and just confirm that I was right on schedule for a finish of about 27 to 28 hours. After 11 hours running and walking your brain starts to get a bit confused…. And my Garmin watch battery had died so I now had to rely on mentally calculating my pace to stay on target. Around this point I knew that I would never ever try this distance again so I had to finish this one.

As I got to Sonning bridge at mile 54, I heard a familiar voice shouting “come on then, what we waiting for?” My mate Tom was waiting for me, can of coke in one hand, chocolate in the other. Now in my plan Tom was going to meet me at a couple of points on the course where we could walk together for a mile or so as Tom is NOT a runner. This was not one of those points. We headed off towards Reading with me wondering how on earth he was going to cope with the next 4 miles to the Reading aid station. But he did! In fact, we ran/walked for the next 8 miles, chatting about life, families, work and everything else – he ran when I did and walked when I did – a perfect pacer!

By the time Tom left me and Sharon took over pacing duties, we were though Reading aid station at the 64 mile point. Tom headed off in the car for a break at a nearby hotel, Sharon and I jogged back out into the blackness of the Thames bank. As we got to Medmendham Lock we were both shocked to see hundreds of pin pricks of light reflecting back from my head torch – Cows! As I said earlier , it was pitch black with no moon and perfectly silent – and there we were running across a field being watched by hundreds of cows and their calves – none of them moved, they just watched silently. Centurion running, who organise this race mark all their courses with reflective tape and glow sticks – apart from the cows the only light was the glow stick hanging on the next gate or stile. VERY SPOOKY.

Whitchurch to Streatley – (67 to 71 miles.)

As we arrived in Whitchurch aid station my left ankle was really starting to play up with shooting pains now going up and down my leg every time I landed on it. For a few seconds as we left the warmth of the village hall I considered quitting but after a stern talking to by the wife, we moved on. This section is the shortest on the course, I think mainly because of significant hill that has to be navigated. I say significant because living where I do we do not have many hills. (Paul if you read this – sorry I know it is not the Yorkshire moors). Well, it was not a big hill like those but having completed 71 miles on tired aching legs, any hill is significant. This was one part of the course I had been dreading ever since I had recced this section last month.

But having Sharon with me, keeping me focused on the time and pace we raced through it and suddenly arrived at Goring Bridge for another switch of pacer.

Streatley to Wallingford. (71 to 77.5 miles)

Just as dawn broke I started feeling very tired – and fell over – right in the middle of a very big muddy puddle. Tom hauled me out but I was plastered with wet, stinking mud. Normally this would have been hilarious; I could see Tom trying not to laugh, but not this morning. Physically I wasn’t hurt but mentally I dropped to a bit of a low. And the pain in my left ankle seemed to have spread to the right one as well now. I was cold, tired and facing a constant mental battle to keep moving. By the time Wallingford aid station came into view I almost dropped out again. Somehow I dragged myself out of the chair and back onto the road towards Oxford.

Wallingford to Clifton Hampden. (77.5 to 85 miles)

Sharon ran the next section with me – this was the “bonus miles” caused by the diversion around the closed lock at Benson and added an extra 2.75 miles on to the total distance. But the diversion was all on tarmac roads and I used this to put in a little running section to pick up the pace a bit. Just to give an example of how vital a support crew are on a run of this distance, at one point on this section a blister on my toe burst causing such pain that it made me forget the stabbing one in my ankles. Within minutes my amazing crew were on the case. Tom pulled up in the car, Sharon had my shoes and socks off, my toe covered in plasters and clean dry footwear on and I was ready to go again.

Just after Benson, Tom and Sharon took a well-earned break and went off in search of breakfast. I plodded on towards the next aid station. It was just getting light and my scrambled brain was struggling to work out where I was or what time it was. The sun was rising to my right but I couldn’t picture this part of the route on the map – was I going the wrong way? Surely the sun should be rising on my left ? Which way was the Thames flowing – should I be going up steam or down? I had been awake for 26 hours and running for 20 of them and although I am used to working night shifts, that is usually in a nice warm office with plenty of tea and cake.

I desperately wanted to stop and sit down but didn’t dare – I don’t think I would have got up if I had. The pain in my ankles was getting worse but with only 18 miles to go I was just starting to believe that I might just finish this thing. At one point on this section a friend Martin, who attempted this course with me last year but had dropped out at the last minute this year, rang me. The sound of my phone ringing made me jump a mile – I was busy negotiating a field with yet more cows (and cow pats) and singing Meat Loaf songs out loud to keep myself awake at the time. Martin told me I was doing great, that he was willing me on and was jealous of me for getting this far. I would have paid a lot of money to swap places at that point but the call lifted my spirits and made me more determined to finish.

Clifton Hampden to Abingdon and Lower Radley (85 to 91 then 95 miles)

These two blocks are all a bit of a blur. Sharon and Tom ran sections with me, appearing as if by magic at various locks and roads, urging me on for a mile or so before swapping over. My mind was in a total daze, my ankles hurting like hell and just wanting to stop and sleep. We must have been keeping a good pace up because we started to overtake people who looked worse than I was. I kept badgering my pacers about the time and asking them to assure me that I was on track to finish inside the cut off time of 28 hours.

Lower Radley to Oxford (95 to 100 miles). Tom walked with me out of the last aid station telling me that I could afford to do 2 miles per hour and still finish. Reassuring but as I didn’t know how fast I was moving at the time I was

still panicking about it. I seemed to be asking every person we met on the trail how far the next lock was, had they seem the finish line etc. To have come this far and missed the cut off would have been awful. Sharon took over as chaperone for the last 2 miles and I can recall her saying “you have 2 miles to do in 3 hours – you could crawl that “. For a few seconds I almost contemplated doing just that. To take the weight off my feet and stop the pain in my ankles would have been heaven. I couldn’t run any more – we tried a few short jogs but nothing more than 50 yards or so at a time. I shuffled on as best I could, moaning all the way, trying to swing my arms to keep momentum going forwards instead of falling over backwards. It seemed like eternity until I could finally see the houses and spires of Oxford town in front of us. A walker passed me in the opposite direction saying that the finish was 500 yards away. I again asked Sharon for a time check still not convinced that I could do it. Her reply was “26 and a half hours – you’ve done it”.

The Finish.

What do I remember about the finish? Big white centurion flag on the tow path, turn left into a grassy field, red and white tape making a finishing funnel towards the pavilion, big blue banner over the finish line, crowds cheering. Come on John, at least manage to run over the line. Nicki the race organiser standing on the line with a hug and my prize buckle. A chair! Paramedics to look at my ankles, ice packs magically appearing on them. A bacon sarnie and hot coffee. A hand shake from James the race director. And it is over.

What a journey. I’m sorry if this report has been long winded but I needed to write it for me. It has helped me remember the day, the event in great detail. The excitement, the pain, the enjoyment, the sense of achievement. Would I ever do it again? No way. Would I recommend it to anyone else? Without a doubt.

Thank you to everyone who texted, supported me on Facebook or twitter – it meant so much to know you were there. Centurion running – you and your team were fantastic throughout especially the volunteers at the aid stations.

My final thought is for my crew – Sharon who has suffered my running for many years and was there every step of the way. Tom, who despite not being a runner managed to cover about 20 miles with me. Thank you guys, you were awesome and I couldn’t have done it without you.