The South Downs Way 100, 11 June
Report by Dave Allen
After a good year of running in 2021 I’d hoped to push on again in 2022, but a variety of factors really derailed my progress. A recurring foot injury, together with Covid and the pressures of work have seen my running really fall away. Ordinarily, getting out for a run would be my escape, it has now become something that I really struggle to motivate myself to do. This has manifest in me DNF’ing my last two races due to poor (or a complete lack of) preparation. I had entered the SDW100 last year when I was still full of hope and optimism, and I gave a great deal of consideration to cancelling my entry. Still, a couple of decent runs out in the past few weeks gave me cause to reconsider, and I decided to go ahead and see how I got on.
Because I’ve been feeling a bit sorry for myself I hadn’t really shared that I was taking part in this race. I’d told my brother in law Matt and my wife Ruth, but that was about it. I drove down south on the Friday and stayed in a gorgeous Airbnb (my host turned out to be a runner, which was nice!). I ordered two pizzas (one for supper, one to take along for my in-race scran) and got my head down for an early night. I was up with the lark to get down to Matterley Bowl for race start at 6am, and not before too long, we were on our way. I’m not sure why, given my poor preparation and fitness, but if I’d had to stake money on it then I would have bet on me to finish. My mental approach was simply “go out and have a nice day” and I felt optimistic at the start.
The race was started in two Waves. Wave 1 was for the fast lot, and Wave 2 for the slow- coaches. I was in Wave 2. I was running ‘unsupported’ as it were, as it would be something of a big ask to have friends or family come down to crew for me. So I was relying on the race event aid stations and two drop bags that I would see on miles 54 and 78.
The first thirty miles were absolutely brilliant. I felt fine and was enjoying myself, although the weather was far too warm for my liking. Somewhere after that thirty-mile mark, I started to feel really rubbish. I felt very queasy and getting food down was a chore. Fatigue set into the legs, and the terrain was just bloody awful. Unrelenting hard rock trail that took its toll on the feet and the joints, and required constant concentration as the jagged surface underfoot was lethal. I became consumed by imposter syndrome and I felt very down on myself – “you shouldn’t be
here” / “what kind of idiot turns up to run 100 miles with so little training???” I knew I was going to feel horrible during the race at some point, but this was far too early. Things were to get worse as I (inevitably) caught my foot on a rock and went flying. There was no safe place to land so I tried to tuck in and land on my side as well as I could. This was relatively successful, no cuts or significant bruises to speak of, but the mental toll was horrible! “**** THIS” I inwardly yelled at myself, as I slowly set about moving on again. What happened next was oddly motivational in a twisted way, as I saw a poor lad in front of me suffer the exact same fate as I had just moments earlier, only he wasn’t quite so lucky with his landing. It’s quite a horrible thing to see – somebody tripping and flying uncontrollably towards the rocky ground below. He had cut himself up very badly, with his hands and elbows taking the brunt of the damage. He was very upset with himself, and spending a few moments with him trying to help pull him around actually helped me to drag myself out of my own little misery-hole. I took it very easily from there into the next checkpoint at Cocking, just before which I spied a café selling ice cream, so popped in for a cheeky scoop. That pot of ice cream sorted me right out! There was something so soothing about that sugary icy goodness and it put a right old spring in my step.
The Cocking checkpoint looked like A&E on a Friday night! It seems the rocky path had claimed more than just a couple of victims. One poor lass had fallen and actually landed on her face and was being treated by medics. She sat there with a busted nose, blood everywhere, possible broken wrist and knees all bashed up, and she was still talking about finishing… hope she got there OK!
Out of Cocking, I was steady away until the Washington checkpoint, where I would have a drop bag waiting for me… which I didn’t even bother to find and open. The provisioning at the checkpoints and aid stations had been so good I didn’t really need much in the way of my own food, and I didn’t need any kit changes as everything seemed to be holding together just fine. I had run strongly into Washington and didn’t want to lose momentum, so I didn’t stick about for
too long. It was here that I noticed a lot of people faring far worse than me, which gave me a nice little lift again (I know, I’m a bad person!). I was soon to lose whatever cockiness I may have had though, as the wheels would soon come off, and in fine style.
After a strong few miles into Botolphs the suffering returned with furious vengeance. The queasiness was back, and I was getting frequent bouts of hiccups. My right calf was giving me a lot of pain and my feet were knackered. The hills seemed to become far more frequent, and I slowed badly from here. I have to give a mention to the guys on the checkpoint at Saddlescombe Farm, who were awesome and managed to perk me up for a few moments at least. The piping hot vegetable soup and pasta were great, but sadly nothing was going to undo my queasiness.
The night section is just a blur of misery. I tried to keep myself going with a bit of music (Iron Maiden’s “Killers” album was fairly effective). The queasy feeling would just not go away, hiccups, my right calf was killing me, I could feel the early onset of a flare-up of my old foot problem, blinding headache, unable to regulate my temperature – always either too hot or too cold, blisters developing, etc etc etc… With the benefit of hindsight, I’m lucky that I was running unsupported because if I’d had the option, I’m fairly sure that I would have hopped into the car and demanded to be taken home.
I had been telling myself for some time that sunrise would give me a huge boost and that being able to pack away the head torch would miraculously make everything better… Wrong! No
discernible change or benefit. The last fifteen miles were a long hard slog, but I knew now that I would be completing the race (unforeseen disasters notwithstanding). The final stretch was a total swine! A very long pull uphill out of Jevington just seemed to go and go and go forever and ever. And then when the gradient finally turned downhill, the path was so jagged and tricky that it proved impossible to even muster a trot on such tired legs. I was relieved to finally pick up a tarmac road for the final couple of miles. I actually popped into a service station one mile from
the finish to buy a Calippo
When I set out I would have been entirely happy to complete the race within the 30-hour cut-off, so I was beyond chuffed to cross the finish line in 25:18, which was far better than I ever would have imagined, and especially considering that over a quarter of the starting field DNF’d. Running unsupported definitely has its drawbacks, but it has clear advantages. I was very economical with my time in the checkpoints, and not having a crew means there is less opportunity to faff around. That said, there were definitely moments where a little moral support would have been very well received.
I wasn’t the only Ripon Runner in the SDW100 this year, with Alistair Steele also taking part and finishing with a seriously impressive time of 19:43!!! Well done!
The final word has to go to Centurion Running. This was second of their events that I’ve taken part in and everything about the organisation and execution was just perfect. And the Marshals were wonderful – so a huge thank you to all involved. I do think I’m finished with hundred milers now though!