The Ridgeway Challenge
And what a challenge it was....
I have never prepared as well for a race as I did for the Ridgeway Challenge - an 85 mile (although some say it is actually 87 miles..?) race from Ivinghoe Beacon in Buckinghamshire, to Avebury in Wiltshire. Organised by the Trail Running Asociation, it has become one of Britain's prestigious long distance trail races and offers the title of UK Ultra Trail Running Champion to the worthy male and female winners. All one has to do is get to Avebury via Britain's oldest road (over 5,000 years old!) before all the other runners....
My preparation for this race included running parts of the trail - something I have never previously done. Guided by Ian, we ran part of the second half that we knew I would be running in darkness during the actual race. Worries about me getting lost in the middle of nowhere in the early hours of the morning, ensured that Ian "made me" do it, for which I am extremely grateful - sometimes he does know best!!
Beautiful sunshine and a cold wind greeted us as we gathered at the start, fabulous views surrounding us. Heavy rain in the week preceding this race would undoubtably come to haunt me later on, but as we ran down the first hill on good trail surface, I was glad of my decision to wear road trainers. But was regretting my decision to remove my arm warmers as it was a little bit chilly! Never mind, run faster and I would soon warm up.
The first section of the Ridgeway is on fabulous rolling grassland hills, amazing views all around. I had been forewarned that (in some people's opinion) the first half of the Ridgeway is the prettiest, and I was determined to make the most of this by absorbing all the sights, sounds and smells of the countryside before the cover of darkness removed at least one of those senses...
Everyone has different reasons for running. My reasons are (to me) quite simple. It gives me freedom. Freedom from the constraints and stresses of work, life and "stuff" in general. It gives me a chance to dig deep into my mind, something I cannot always do when surrounded by distractions. I can inspire myself and I can find what I regard as the true me. I do enjoy meeting new new people and sharing stories with them during part of my runs, but it is never long before I crave the solitude of just me, just me and the amazing natural beauty of the British countryside.
During the early stages of any ultra, there are always people close by and it was good to catch up with old friends and make new friends during this race, but it wasn't long until I craved the solo road. My ankle was causing me intense pain as we ran through Wendover Wood, shortly before the first Checkpoint at Wellhead Farm, pain makes me grumpy and not very sociable!
At the Checkpoint, I was instantly remined how amazing volunteers are. Giving up their time to cater for all the runners' needs, always a smile and a cheery thought to share. This was to be the theme for all of the Checkpoints throughout the duration of the race and I think there was a little competition going on for the accolade of "friendliest volunteer of the day". To me there was no clear favourite, but Mr Hot Cross Bun, Mrs Scottish Lady, Mrs Hot Dog Lady, and Mr Ever so Cheery by the campfire, deserve a special mention. You all helped give me the strength to continue the race when my mind was telling me to stop! I offer my thanks and gratitude to all of you and your friends - your spirits gave me strength and a "will" that I thought I had lost!
My memories of the sights between checkpoints 1 and 3 are very vague. Struggling to manage the pain in my ankle, I was switching off from all that was around me, digging deep trying to find some strength to keep running. One foot in front of one another, clock up the miles and just try to get to at least halfway before I quit. I remember going up a hill that was runnable just after Wendover, Coomb Hill I believe was its name. It was at this point that I overtook the leading female runner, something alien to me as I am traditionally a very slow starter in ultra races, and have never been at the front of a race before the halfway point.
The Ridgeway also pushed us up a very steep hill, a muddy slidey one that was definitely not runnable as my feet kept slipping from beneath me! The views at the top were worth the struggle and I was glad that I took advantage of my "enforced" walk break and consumed a homemade cheese and pickle sandwich. I do not know the name of the hill, but will soon find out... I do remember that a local runner knew it well as he came prepared for the ascent with walking sticks!!
There was also a section of trail that was heavily waterlogged, somewhere before and after Checkpoints 2 & 3. I just about gave up the will to live at this point, I agree that sounds somewhat melodramatic, but forcing my way through this slippery sludge reminded me of my recent encounter with Irish bogs, reminded me of my failure to finish a race and every time I slipped and kicked my ankle, reminded me of my vulnerabilities. In short it hurt, it hurt a lot!
If I could have made one change at this point, it would have been my trainers. Swopped my trusty, completely overworn and overused Nimbus and placed either my Mudclaws or Rocklites upon my feet. Hindsight is such a wonderful thing...
Mr Hot Cross Bun, offered some respite at the checkpoint - a jam filled bun and some well chosen words and I was moving onwards, "just get to halfway" ricocheting around my mind, "finish a leader, not a loser".
And then my first miracle, the first glimmer that my fighting spirit could still be found....
As we crossed under the M40, he saw me and came towards me, high up in the sky. He was soon joined by another, then another. Goosebumps over my body, I felt inspiration and motivation deep inside my body. The glorious site of the red kites of Oxfordshire! I was instantly transported back to the first time I ever saw a red kite, the first one released in Hampshire, before it became public knowledge. That day I flew home effortlessly, completely in awe of the beauty of nature. As I watched the kites today, it felt as though they were helping me fly across the ground, my Camelbak offering wings which I could use to rest my ankle.
All too soon, the kites were gone, taking my wings with them. They did however leave a little bit of hope that I might just be able to go a little further than the halfway(ish) point at Goring...
Checkpoint 4 appeared at the top of a long hill, and it was the first time I realised just what an amazing sight the banners around these checkpoints are - a welcoming little beacon and offer of help to all of us runners.
This is where I met Mrs Scottish Lady, who offered coffee, cake and a few wee words of encouragement, words that stayed with me as I continued on my way past Swyncombe church and I think this is when we crossed a golf course. Embarassing confession at this point is that I somehow managed to get a little bit lost! Just a little bit thankfully and soon I was back following the brilliantly way marked route - The Ridgeway is very well marked, and there were only on a few occasions when I wondered off the route....
At this point I must also say that Ian was following my journey with a car full of food, drink and words of support. Plus a camera with a very big lens - if any fellow runners found themselves hurdling a man lying in the road with a camera with a camera pointing in their direction, that was Ian. Forever in a quest for the best angled shot - which he normally gets!! All photos can be found on the TRA website.
The plan was to meet Ian and change into trail shoes just before I hit the Thames section of the Ridgeway as we anticipated very wet conditions....
Hmmm, didn't quite turn out to be the bog that we had anticipated and was in fact completely dry! However there were three significant events on this section of the trail, heading towards Goring..
The first was upon reaching a church gate, which appeared to allow the Ridgeway through the church grounds. This felt wrong, felt disrespectful and I stood for several minutes hoping that I had made a mistake and that the route wound its way around the church. To no avail, the route definitely went through, and therefore so must I. Carefully closing the gate behind me I crossed the grounds, apologising to no one in particular, it just felt necessary to say "sorry".
The second event, was the delightful sight of Ian standing outside the Perch and Pike Pub in North Stoke, with a 1/2 pint of Guinness sitting atop the car! We had joked about this during our pre race meal in this very pub, but I did not think it would happen. With great pleasure I downed most of the soothing beverage, so full of nutrition and goodliness....
The third event, and most significant of the entire race was what happened next. Perhaps it was the Guinness, perhaps it was the reminder of how much Ian loves me, or perhaps it was something else.. Whatever the reason I suddenly believed that I could find the strength within me to finish the race, to run all the way to Avebury.
The pain in my ankle was becoming manageable and I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to continue my quest to inspire as many people as possible. For some time I have been considering retiring from competitive ultra running, regardless of whether or not that is what I do, from this point forth in this race I wanted to prove that you can achieve your dreams. No matter what, dig deep, find hope, find belief and find that special energy to achieve what you dream of. I will never forget the day I was told I would never run again, I refused to accept that, and look at what I have achieved since that day, how many miles I have run...
A change of socks, clean ankle support and back to my road trainers at Goring, fueled up and lights at the ready, I was up for the challenge of taking on the second half of the Ridgeway. I would soon be on familiar terrain, and now the negative switch in my mind flipped over - now I was running home!!
The road section coming out of Streatley feels like it goes on forever, and then some more... I was convinced that I had missed a turn, running on the road did not feel right. I was somewhat relieved to see head torches of fellow runners in the distance, confirmation that I was still on course.
Light was rapidly diminishing and I finally relented and joined all the other runners already using a headtorch. I am very experienced running in darkness and feel completely at home running off road in the dark - this is my "normal" daily life!
Suddenly, and in the middle of nowhere, there was a headtorch coming towards me, accompanied by the familiar voice of Ian - perfect timing as I was completely out of water and very thirsty. Unfortunately, Ian had no water - he had just run over one mile from the road to meet me at this point as he realised that we had misinterpreted the route and the point where it crossed the A34. If I followed the path that we had walked on the day before I would be off the Ridgeway Trail and probably lost!! Ian does not believe I can read sign posts,undoubtably based upon his experiences when I am driving.... Whatever the reason, I thank thee and also the very kind man that filled up my water reservoir from his own supply - I am sorry that I did not get your name. Thank you.
Checkpoint 6, lights blazing and spotted from far down the track, was a welcome sight, as was the realisation that I was now on familiar ground. As I munched upon a vegetarian hot dog I recognised the car park as the very one we had parked in less than one week ago, from where we had walked the dogs. We were now running on the outskirts of Swindon (I think), the town lights could be see far in the distant valley.
Tiredness was now catching up with me and the biting wind on the hills was causing my body temperature to drop dramatically. Ian reacted quickly to my deminishing mind and body strength and pulled out the jacket and buff that I had been carrying, insisting against my protests that I wore them!
Onwards once more and now it was becoming a struggle. Quite simply I wanted my bed. Didn't want to be running across country in the middle of the night, that was for crazy people. Sensible people should be all tucked up in bed dreaming sweet dreams...
One foot in front of the other, drudging onwards to the next checkpoint. Darkness all around, the only company I had were the little bats fluttering around catching their supper. I wished the dogs were with me, my daily training partners and excellent pacemakers. I started dreaming of them, drifting in and out of wooziness as I tried to concentrate on where I was placing my feet. I had already turned both ankles earlier on the course, now would not be a good time to do further damage. I became a little disorientated and could not work out where I was on the route, distances felt longer and I worried several times that I had gone off course.
Checkpoint 7 and Ian insisted I ran with a fellow runner that was also going through a tough spell. It was a good idea and for many miles Matt and I shared stories and experiences, I walked/ ran as he ran constantly, fearful of a knee injury that was seizing up when he stopped or walked. His girlfriend was on her way to meet him at the next checkpoint, this was spurring him on and I tapped into some of his energy!
At checkpoint 8 I had the most delightful peanut butter sandwich and met with Mr Ever So Cheery and the campfire supporters! They were awesome as they cheered the runners and passed on words of encouragement. I learned at this point only 5 or 6 people had passed through, a complete shock to me as I thought there were about 30 people ahead of us! I was also a little concerned at this checkpoint as there was no sign of Ian. He had mentioned an Indian Restaurant on the route, just after the trail joins a busy road before crossing the M4 again, but I expected to see him at this checkpoint. What if something had happened to him...
Not so, my knight in shining armour was waiting in the Indian Restaurant car park, bottle of Dioralyte and Sudo cream at the ready... Unfortunately I arrived too late for the Naan bread that I had been dreaming of!
I caught up with Matt for the last time, just as we crossed the M4, heading towards Marlborough. My strength was returning as his knee was troubling him and it was with deep sadness that I ran away from him and up the hill towards Ogbourne St George and crossing of the A346. I did take some comfort when I looked back and saw another headtorch join his, hopefully a fellow runner.
I knew that once I crossed the A346 I was on the final leg home. Ian and I had run together on the Ridgeway from this point and I had taken in every sight and sound on that day. Two hours from Avebury at that point, ONLY two hours...
I felt very emotional as I ran towards Marlborough. Marlborough Downs to be precise, the place of my first ever ultra - the first time I ran beyond a marathon and loved every single minute of it. Where my love of ultra running began...
I crossed the A346, met Ian and had some more coca cola, dioralyte, crisps and chocolate - what a lovely conconction. Ian left me to continue via car to our next rendevous point, I ran on alone with only some chocolate shortbread for company as I commenced my last ascent of the day to the final checkpoint at Barbury Castle.
As I ran up the never ending hill to Barbury Castle, a huge flashing beacon led the way. I was impressed, what a fabulous idea of the organisers, a huge ball of fire showing us weary runners where our final checkpoint was. I am sure the red kites must have been nearby as I suddenly sprouted wings as I ran up the hill....
There was no checkpoint at the flashing beacon, in fact the source was not even on the Ridgeway trail! I think it belonged to a farm building, absolutely nothing to do with the Ridgeway Race!! Never mind, it helped me up that final hill and I am sure others felt the same way..?
The final checkpoint and I was met with tubs of tomatoes, cheese and kiwi fruits, but no Ian? As I munched on a few delightful fruits Ian suddenly appeared in a terrible fluster. Apparently I had out run him and had arrived too early!
No one at the checkpoint could confirm how many miles to the finish, guesses varied somewhere between 4 and 7 miles. It did matter not as I knew that I had still had many more running miles in my legs...
As I ran through Barbury Castle Hill Fort, I was once again reminded of the similarities between it and Figsbury Hill Fort (where I do my hill reps). I felt so close to home and had to fight my desire to "floor it"... Not yet, it was way too soon and collapsing miles from the finish would not do my street credibility any good!
The last section of trail heading towards Avebury is fraught with potential hazards: large loose stones; deeply rutted tracks; long grass. Lose my concentration and I could easily topple over or turn my ankle again.
I knew to look out for the turning to the right, just after Fyfield Down. This was when the race route separated from The Ridgeway trail and headed into Avebury along the Wessex Ridgeway (I think that is the correct name..?) If I missed this turn I would have to turn around when I reached a road - signalling the end of The Ridgeway.
Panic set in as the stretch of trail I was familiar with suddenly became alien and I convinced myself that I was on new ground, slowing to a jog I feared the worst...
Until.... as if by magic, I spotted the little yellow sign laid down by the Race Director pointing down the very track that I thought I had missed. Relief swept over me as I ran down the hill and finally allowed myself to accept that not only was I finishing this race very strongly, I was finishing as the very first Lady.
No pint of Guinness awaited me at the finish as the pub had long since closed, instead I was met by a small crowd of very enthusiastic supporters and the most delicious mug of tomato soup!!
And so, upon reflection, will I be retiring from ultra running? Yes, and no...
There is one area of competitive ultra running that I have no dreams to pursue. However, the facts remain that I do love running very long distances, I love personal challenges and I love the thought of inspiring others to enjoy running and fulfilling dreams. I am on borrowed time with my ankle and know that one day I will no longer be able to manage the pain. Sometimes I struggle, always I have to fight at some point during every race that I run. One day I will not be able to continue this fight and it will come to an end.
Ankle pain withstanding, I struggled during a large percentage of this race, and know where I made mistakes. I have spared you some of these issues/ errors as not all can and should be shared. I truly believe that I can run considerably faster on this course and that belief has given me a deep seated desire to return next year to prove this belief.
Until then, a different life awaits me. No more chasing vests or quests to seek people's approval. The true me is a chaser of my own dreams and I am a dream catcher.....
