It was great to have the Coronallacs gang back together. We spotted the Montserrat mountain range on the way back from that Andorra trip so it was fitting to explore together.

Matt & I met Tom at Barcelona-El Prat airport after a very early start. Overcoming the usual border control and hire-car faff we had more success than the start of the Coronallacs trip by managing to stop for lunch en-route.

Montserrat is around an hour by car from Barcelona airport, maybe less if follow directions better than Matt (he loves a round-about). Once in Monistrol de Monsterrat we dropped our bags to the accommodation, got our kit on and headed up the mountain.

Matt had three routes to recce for the trip which we’d do over two days. Both took us from town running up the mountain and making for 4800+ ft each day. We’d maybe also have time for another run Tuesday evening or Wednesday am.

Climbing to the top was steep and rocky with occasional ropes or rebar to aid you but also very easy to follow and easy going with no exposure.

Around two thirds of the way up you reach Santa Maria de Montserrat Abbey (Monastery) and town where there is also a train and cable car station. There will be the option to use the train rather than climb all the way on the Running adventures trail weekend.

There’s a few taps to fill up water flasks around the trails including in the town which is very handy to reduce what you need to carry and keep hydrated in potential heat. We had great running weather; sunny and around 20°c it felt warm and a bit sweaty when going up, but on more runnable sections it was great and there are sections within forest offering shade so all in all a great balance.

We took some forest trails around the edges of the iconic rocks and met our first Ibex of the trip. I was loving the forest single track which would often pop out to breaks in the trees offering epic vistas.

Monday’s run made for some very tired and hungry boys and once back we quickly washed up and headed out to dinner at one of the small restaurants (Bar La Roca) in the old town.

I impressed and horrified the guys by following up my main course (steak egg and chips) with a hamburger chaser (which was served in a baguette). Hungry work is trail running. What a great feed. In total our bill was 50ish Euros for the three of us, for four meals and some beers. Unbelievable value! I imagine you’d pay significantly more in the more touristy area by the Monestary.

During the day we had noticed a triangular gap in some of the rock and wondered if it would be accessible and if we could find it... we could! Roca Foradada and soon found a route on wikiloc. It became a top contender for one of our extra runs.

The next day we had plenty of running to do but an easy start aiming to leave the house 9/9:30 which we we did after a solid breakfast of ham, eggs and toast. None of my Coronallacs food issues on this trip.

We headed back up the mountain this time a different route up, a fire trail to start turning to steep steps, complete with handrail in parts and soil pipes running down from the town, familiar for us St Martha pipe goers back home in Surrey - but on a much grander scale!

Back though the town with the Monestary, a fill of the flasks and onwards up a mix of single track trail and steps all the way to Sant Jeroni (1236m) the highest point in Montserrat. I loved this viewpoint, it has a big compass at the top and views of surrounding Montserrat rocks as well as Andorra and the Pyrenees in the distance which you can see are still covered in snow.

Next we had a few summits and viewpoints on the agenda, some had trails closed (being actively worked on) and some with tricky terrain and little to add on the vista front so may be chopped from the guided route. Exactly why we recce.

A few spots were a little busy with visitors which I guess comes with the trails being so accessible but it was never long until it felt like you were remote again with the trails to yourself. It’s also fantastic to see many people enjoying the mountain range.

One of my favourite parts of the day took us south on the range and traversing single track for miles aside the mountain eventually returning to the Monestary with tired legs. A stop for more water and an ice cream in town gave me the energy I needed to enjoy the descent back to town.

Once back to the house we’d been about for about 15 miles, lots of vertical gain and 5 hours. It was 2/3pm so we decided rather than go out to eat we’d make a quick pitstop; a sandwich (and crisps, coke and whatever other snacks we’d purchased yesterday at the convenient local supermarket) and then head back up the mountain. This time in the car to explore the 5ish mile route Matt plotted to Roca Foradada. Also meaning we’d be back at a good time for another proper dinner. Dinner and food generally is high priority for me on these trips. Fuel the fun and keep grumpy Andy at bay.

We parked up the spot planned which happened to be aside a helicopter which was flying rock (and other cargo) up and down the mountain via a winch.

The trail was much lesser trodden, more remote. We passed a few Ibex along the way. One really startling Tom as he spied it on the trail just a head of us. Despite being a daunting encounter to meet a muscular Ibex; one with huge antlers, none posed a problem and just wanted us to pass or get out of our way, a bit put out by us trying to get a photo and often hoping off the side of the trail.

The route was a marked trail most the way then it deviates off up a scramble to the viewpoint. One part with a rope to aid a climb but actually if you spend a bit more time looking around there are easier safer paths. We met people on their way down as we climbed up and also at the top, just two other small groups.

The spot was awesome and well worth the run/hike there. We got some great photos.

The undulating trail to get there had taken a while and a lot of effort so on the way back we chose another trail which eventually joined the road and gave us around a mile of road running, it was safe enough and worth it to make us much much quicker. I was running aside Tom and I think both of us were keen to stop running. I found us at 7min mile pace and at one point 6:24 uphill which made a dramatic change to our pace on the trails. Between the two outings today we’d spent about 9 hours on our feet.

Another local restaurant, another steak and another exceptionally reasonable bill finished of the day well.

Wednesday was travel home day, needing to head to the airport at midday.

Despite having considered creating a VK route for the morning (in anticipation of Zegama VK I’ll be racing in May) we took the more sensible option of exploring a flatter route and the surrounding town a little better. We will be staying in the same town on the trail weekend we are recce’ing for so the more we learn, the more prepared we are in September. Our legs were pretty cooked so it made for a nice easy run and gave us plenty of time to prepare to leave.

It was great few days exploring the trails with Matt & Tom. Plenty of camaraderie and banter; which we slightly lacked in Andorra, since then there was so much fatigue and little food. No such problems on this trip, runs, food and laughs 10/10 recommend.

If you want to join us in September check out the details: Running Adventures Montserrat trail weekend.

I dropped Paul a message from the car at 6:40am as I was leaving the house. The car read his reply a moment later;

“Grand - I am awake, reluctantly so...

Which immediately made me laugh. This whole thing was HIS IDEA after all.

I picked him up just before 7:10am at the spot he suggested, near his house but more en-route.

“MORNING SuuuUuNSHiIiiNE” I said, as he got in the car.

“It’s a bit bloody chirpy in here mate, radio on, you all lively. I need to wake up.”

We got to Newlands Corner, parked up and registered with plenty of time to spare.

As we stayed warm in the car others were warming up, running up and down the car park. I told Paul; we should do that too, he wasn’t keen.

We’d decided this event was going to be a “full beans smash” - we may or may not spend time on the course together depending how things work out. An exciting and also dreadful prospect, spending the best part of an hour at high heart rate just holding on.

We walked to the start with 10 minutes to go, we wanted to be near the front to avoid getting stuck behind others on single track before the race spreads out.

No encouragement could get a warm up from Paul as others continued to pace around us but I put in the occasional chirp in and bounced about a bit, both to warm myself up and wind him up. Playing my enthusiastic role vs his tired grumpy role; which was amusing us.

There was a fella in a “onesie: blue and pink leotard” in the crowd at the start. We quite manage to understand why before we were OFF.

It was a quick pace off the blocks, as mentioned; from cold, no warm up, my breathe immediately struggling. Paul was 10/20 meters ahead from a minutes in, I decided I’d find my rhythm rather than try and keep on his heels since I was already panting.

We were probably 3/4 of a mile in and I was feeling a bit more comfortable and curious of the pace, I checked my watch and it was 6:20min/mile. This was definitely enough for now.

The course took a left up the first climb, single track, steep and muddy. I hiked up hands on knees rather than run and kept pace with those running in front. Watch beeped; for the first mile, 7:02min/mile. Good! I had hoped my average pace at the end would start with a 7...

Paul was in and out of sight now depending on the course line of sight. At the top of the climb it got harder; flattening out but thick mud, waterlogged, thick mud, On an awkward single track, remnants of brambles on each side. If you tried to take a less muddy edge you’d get caught or just slip down into the middle. Energy zapping.

We popped out the woods to the grassy hill the course went right and down then a sharp vee of a left turn. I could see Paul and his group at the front tracking back as I approached the corner. A little further on they disappeared through the hedgerows - he was maintaining a rapid pace I wasn’t gonna be matching.

The course went down through fields than along the sandy track towards St Maratha’s, round the back and up another steep climb up to the back of the church. Again it was hands on knees pushing up for me, my lungs were already doing all they could today. I would completely blow up if I tried to run up.

Once up it was back down towards Halfpenny Lane where the course split, straight on for the 15k and left for the 10km. I was grateful to be turning left.

Back up to the Church and down again to the sandy track we’d ran a moment ago. Watch beeped; mile 4, 9:45min/mile, still good, there was a lot of climbing in that one and the previous two were just over and under 8min/mile.

There were plenty of runners coming towards me now and I realised I was doing better than I had in previous years as I don’t remember running back against so many runners on their way out.

I was keeping a good pace, it was mostly a decent or flat now with no significant ups until the last mile and the bumps there were I kept running well. Legs and lungs were both desperate for it to stop though.

I hadn’t seen Paul since just after the first mile, he must be doing really well.

I got to a road and started climbing up, a bit confused at where I was. Then the road turned to more mud and gravel eventually realising I was on the final climb. There was a guy who had been breathing down my neck for some time and he passed me as I turned to a hike rather than run.

The road turned a corner and I saw how much longer the hill still was! I decided I couldn’t hike that far, I needed to speed up, not give up! As I started running the guy in front turned left into a hedge. Oh, maybe it’s not so long. At least it’s not the course. I kept running we were back to the grass hill below Newlands corner car park. Watch beeped; 10:10 min/mile. I didn’t know what this meant for my average pace but also didn’t care I just wanted to get to the finish and recover.

It was just the off camber hill, which I hate running on, back a bit and then into the woods and up a gravel path that takes us to the start and finish line, left to go.

The guy in front, who’d just passed me on the hill, lost his footing and kinda ran into a hedge, as I passed I checked he was alright and he said something about wrong shoes. There were no right shoes today, I had my mutants on which are great for mud but even these couldn’t cope today, the tread was clogged up to flatten any grip.

Well, I was up a place up now, whatever that meant. I used passing him to keep some motivation to keep on and kept running on the off camber, grassy hill, “worst bit of ‘trail’ in the Surrey hills™” (at this point in the race I doubt many people would argue with that).

I turned into the woods I heard panting behind me so gave a little extra effort. On the gavel track he passed me, I kept pace then realised I didn’t have the energy to race and switch motivation from passing him to just getting to the finish and being done.

As I came to the finish line Paul was waiting at the side, I smiled and laughed and shouted “YOU BEAST, you ANIMAL” at him! He had played it off like he didn’t expect to do well, the whole week and especially this morning then went off like a rocket and kept it going all the way 👏

Mate; “no, no there’s some contention...” he started trying to explain before I’d even crossed the line.

I crossed the line and Paul explained. He’d been running with the guy in the leotard the whole way he said and they missed a turn! They came all the way up the gravel climb to the car park and back to the finish the wrong way. It must have been the same spot where I looked up the hill and started running again since it was so long but then saw a runner ahead take the left. I could easily have missed it if I didn’t see the runner and had my head down.

He said they’d have been 2nd and 3rd place! 😮 and to start with we thought they’d add some time to the result to compensate.

We checked the live results and he wasn’t listed, disqualified 😔 at the same time I realised I was placed 7th (should really have been 9th if their result counted). I had no idea I was placing high at all, since there were plenty of runners ahead but of course some would have been in the 15k so I had no idea I in the top 10.

I was gutted for Paul but also amazed at his performance and kept telling him so.

Despite obviously being dissapointed he took it well. He said he thought maybe he’d get top 10 today but never expected podium so I think despite not being ranked in the results realising he was up there was also a win. He’s keen to go back next year.

We finished up with a full English and debrief at a cafe in Guildford. Good times.

Back in September ahead of a run together I told Matt I had something BIG I was thinking of doing to discuss with him. On that run we played a guessing game and he eventually got to the Winter Downs; “Yeeeeeah boi!” Was the sentiment I remember from his response.

I told him I thought he might think it was a bad idea! I’ve got form for being grumpy when spending excessive time on feet (see 5 hour limit) and if I don’t get 3 proper meals a day, etc etc. We agreed on paper, a terrible idea BUT that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.

He asked the date and then immediately and very enthusiastically volunteered to drive me to the start at Amberley Museum.

About 20 minutes after that run I booked my place.

A 2pm start time initially sounded great for getting a proper lunch before the run but when you start to factor in logistics of travel and registration it was actually a bit awkward. Rather than stop for food en-route we settled on a sausage and bacon baguette cooked at home. We did a final kit check and got on the road.

On the journey I asked Matt if he had any advice:

Registration was quick and easy and the cafe at Amberley Museum was the perfect spot for hanging out before the start. We didn’t have much time to kill thanks to eating at home and leaving a bit later.

At 1:40pm runners were called to the race briefing near the start. I said my thanks and goodbye to Matt, as I walked down the steps from the cafe he shouted “don’t fuck it up“ loud enough lots of people heard and got a good laugh. Internally “don’t fuck it up“ was was already my motto. I’d prepared as best I could and the weather was favorable. I felt if I failed it would most likely be because I fucked it up with bad choices; running too fast or not looking after myself well enough.

In the briefing race director James Elson asked if it was anyone’s first hundred miler. I put my hand up, I didn’t see any other hands so am unsure if I was the only one. It would also be my first 50 mile, 100k or first anything further than 34 miles.

Nobody seemed keen to be near the front, I didn’t mind though, I was well up for this. I kept a few steps back for anyone that was keen but no takers. I had one concern. I didn’t know where we were going, I knew it was out the museum across the road and up a hill but that was it. I didn’t wanna be looking at my watch for the route and tripping people up. There was enough enthusiasm from others as we started that it didn’t become a problem.

The first section of the south downs had some wet and muddy parts but James had mentioned in the briefing conditions were good and that was the worst we’d have for a long while so when I got to it I knew it was worth skipping about to keep the shoes and socks dryer. If I thought it would get worse anyway I might have splashed though so this was some good intel.

I was cruising along nicely and mostly* enjoying the company of other runners as we all got into the race. I was enjoying the downs and the sunset. The orange glow through the woods at cocking was fantastic. Portsmouth city lights became visible in the distance, twinkling away adding to it.

*with the exception of those that would hang in your blind spot, breathing down your neck, using you to pace them and not talking. I let a few go and dropped a few others and probably resulted in running a little faster than I should at times.

Messages were popping up on my phone from Jenn and the kids and the Running Adventures WhatsApp group. Niall and Vanessa had volunteered at aid stations this year and I think it’s a race we’ve all enjoyed following over the years. I sent a few pictures and it was great to be sharing the experience in some way.

The first aid station was 30 miles in at the Sustainability Center, where I planned on proper food “dinner” and in the meantime I was eating well along the way. As the miles grew the desire to reach the aid station became greater.

I made a couple of minor navigation errors around Queen Elizabeth Country Park. We were in pure darkness at this point. Once the wrong choice at a fork in the trail and another up a bridge when we should have used an underpass. A guy overtook me at the first error and so we ended up making the second error together. We were chatting while moving towards Butser hill. He also saved me after we’d separated. I was taking a gel whilst climbing and realised I’d dropped the glove I took off. I had to run back down searching and as we met again he was waving it, having noticed and picked it up for me, thanks man!

Suunto race (watch) is amazing for maps but it has one MASSIVE flaw. When you have a route loaded there’s a notch at the bottom of the screen displaying distance remaining. No one wants to see that on ultras. It annoyed me in Andorra when miles just don’t seem to reduce. Rather than have it counting down the whole route I made sure I added waypoints to my GPX for the aid stations so it would count to those instead. It didn’t solve the problem because from about 6 miles out I was desperate for a break and the counter was mocking me, not reducing. I’d try to ignore it but without having recced the route and being in the dark I needed to look at the screen often. I’m sure sometimes it even jumped up.

I felt cooked when I finally reached the Sustainability Center. Tired legs and a hungry belly. I was happy to see the volunteers on the road and be guided in. Poles left by the door, and disposable covers over your muddy shoes and you’re in; sit down. The volunteers are really helpful, they’ll offer food and drink somewhere to sit, get you your drop bag and refill your bottles.

Pasta was on offer with tomato sauce (and cheese if you want it, I didn’t) I scoffed two bowls of pasta like I hadn’t eaten in weeks. I ate the roll from my drop bag and basically made a mess of the table by trying to do too much at once. Eat, drink, charge (watch and phone top ups) change into warmer clothes and take a look at my feet.

My right heel had been rubbing from about 10 miles in but I didn’t want to take my shoes off and mess about on trail so ignored it. I had a blister, I struggled to find a big enough plaster so bandaged it. My left foot had something sharp digging in the ball of my foot every so often but I couldn’t find the cause in my shoe. I changed socks, reorganised my pack and cracked on, I think I spent 20-30 min there.

As I left I was really surprised how good I felt, I could run fine again. The only other thing I changed was my music. I can’t remember what but it worked and combined with the food, socks and clothes change I was having a party. I felt great. I was practically dancing along the trail.

A few miles later I felt something dig in my left foot again and realised something may have gone through the whole sole, it had. I managed to pull a tooth shaped stone out the sole. I’ve kept it as a souvenir.

This next stint was shorter, about 18 miles to Bishops Sutton and there I’d see my friend Vanessa too. She’d already put a picture of my Waitrose drop bag in the running adventures group chat “someone’s doing well“, very fancy us Surrey folk you see.

I’d googled drop bags during the massive amount of time I had on my hands in the weeks resting pre race because otherwise if I was using a random assortment of backpacks and satchels someone on a forum suggested the insulated zip up shopping bags and job done. Great idea.

I don’t have much to say about the bit between the Sustainability Centre and Bishops Sutton other than it started feeling great, having a party, moving well and again as the counter on my watch got less it slowed. I felt fatigued again but also extremely tired. I had moments where I was running and my eyes would close, just for a split second. It happened many times and I actually enjoyed those split seconds. Maybe I should sleep at Bishops Sutton?

I had pondered sleep before the event; Could I get some sleep and perform better for it? Would I need it mentally? My only recent reference of going through the night was driving home in one from our family holiday in Italy. During this I had three 20 min naps on the side of the road and it did the trick for me mentally.

I got to Bishops Sutton and saw Vanessa - she got a sweaty hug. The set up was different to the Sustainability Center which had tables and chairs. This was a big hall with chairs in a line and space on front to faff with your kit. I looked at my foot again and realised there was blood soaked through my sock and into the heel of my shoe since I’d done a shit job bandaging it. Luckily it hadn’t hurt at all though.

I started faffing again with my disorganised bag of assorted plasters and found one big enough. At the same time Mario next to me said hey do it properly here you go and gave me bits out of his proper blister plaster kit. Thanks man! He needed some salt tablets. I was able to help him with those. Team work.

I was thinking about sleep. I had a coffee along with my food. The coffee wasn’t intended to replace sleep, I was thinking I could nap 20 min and it would kick in to help get moving. I debated in my mind and with Vanessa. I’d been in the aid station 40min by now and didn’t want to leave, I figured sleeping would only make that feeling worse. I decided I should get my arse in gear.

I started walking trying to get my body back into a rhythm. It was really cold outside now at least in comparison to the warm hall. I was feeling sick but not surprising when I think about it. At the aid station I had:

• a bottle of lucosade

• a coffee

• a ham lettuce tomato roll

• pasta with tomato sauce and olives

• a bag of crisps

• a corner yoghurt.

It felt like a lot for the space of time and the hour of night and I reached a few times walking but managed to keep it all down.

I ran a little, got a stitch, walked some more and realised well, I’m not sleeping. Walking is more progress than sleeping and I always planned a lot of hiking during the night so I accepted that a purposeful hike would be the approach.

I met another runner, Lee, in a field. He said his eyes kept dropping and asked if he could join me and chat to help him stay awake. This was welcome. He had a van waiting at Alton High Street where he could sleep if he needed it. I led us a few miles while we were chatting and he asked if I was local because I seemed to know where I was going. I took it as a compliment since I had no idea where I was but confidently could follow the route on my watch in the dark at 2am. Feeling like I was helping someone else took my mind off me and was just what I needed.

I got us running a bit. I felt proud when I managed to run, like Matt said I should. We separated a couple of times but ended up catching one another up each time and slogged it out.

The temperature had dropped! At 4am Jenn had called to check I was alright, I was and it was nice to talk but then I said I had to go because my hand was freezing out of the glove.

We reached Alton and I left Lee at his van. He insisted on giving me a can of coke and a croissant. It felt like great team work during that section and that we helped each other a lot. I took a selfie of us and sent Lee the pics I’d snapped of him that I thought were good ahead of me on the trail (they weren’t really).

The next milestone would be Farnham and the plan was more of the same. Purposeful hiking and to make it there for sunrise.

A little further down the high street my Dad appeared “bloody hell, you look great!” he said.

What are you doing here? You didn’t need to stay up all night!

We had talked about maybe using his van to sleep if I needed to but ruled it out as I figured the aid station would be timed ok if necessary.

We shared a quick hug and he checked if I needed anything, which I did but not something he could help with - a toilet! Typically in the worst spot for it having been out of civilization for ages when I could have gone anywhere. I kicked myself afterwards for not remembering it’s the one spot where you are ok to have someone walk with you for a bit. We could have walked and talked a bit longer.

It was great to see Dad and have encouragement even if I did feel bad it was so brief. I’m also regret not getting a selfie with Dad and everyone else who supported me.

Back when I told Dad I entered a 100 mile race in the middle of winter his response was “what?! you are going to die!” So I think he was there in case I needed to sleep but also if I’d realised I was an idiot and ready to go home.

Instead he started to see it. To believe I could do it. Dad has never liked or understood running but when he accompanied me to UTS in 2023 he was a huge support and loved tracking me and the race as a whole. When we spoke during the week before the Winter Downs I could tell he was keen and willing to support but I didn’t really think I needed it, I figured the aid stations were enough. I definitely didn’t want someone meeting me at every opportunity, I wanted the challenge of self sufficiency. I didn’t want anyone to have to stay up all night tracking me for maybe needing some sleep in a van but he did it anyway, thanks Dad!

The hike to Farnham continued. I had a good chat with a 200 miler (Mark, I think) leaving Alton High St and we met a few times after that too.

Warmth wasn’t a problem in my layers. I’d planned well and looked after myself. What was a problem though was the mud.

The section from Alton to Farnham was incredibly muddy to the point where bits I wanted to run I just couldn’t because I’d be on my arse. I used my poles to help march through with little grip under foot. The other downside was eating, poles and gloves keep your hands busy. It’s hard to eat and move. You’re in the middle of a muddy field so don’t want to put your bag down and faff with anything not already out, plus you’ll get cold very quickly.

Whilst I was breaking the journey down into smaller milestones I was still in the section between Bishops Sutton and Puttenham aid stations. A 30 mile gap. 30 miles from the start to the sustainability centre didn’t seem a big deal. But when you’ve got 50+ miles in your legs it’s a big gap.

I got out of the muddy fields and onto muddy roads. I was getting low, I didn’t expect the section to zap me so much, felt like I’d waited forever for sunrise and thought when it came I would feel a boost which didn’t immediately come.

My phone alarm went off at 7:30am which pissed me off because I had to get it out my vest to silence it and I was sure I’d already turned it off the day before. A few minutes later it happened again and I thought I might have only snoozed it but it was my friend Paul calling me from the Alps to check in and see how I was going. I told him at one point it looked like I was on for finishing between 2-4pm but now it was getting later and later as I was so slow. He said I sounded good and it didn’t matter, it’s your first hundred and it’s winter. 30 hours would be great.

It would and it didn’t matter - I’d even told Lee this during our time together. “Nobody gives a shit about your time other than you or me and it’s bullshit anyway, it just is what it is”.

Mostly I wanted to finish, no matter what time, I knew I’d be disappointed not to. Ideally I wanted to get myself home in bed at a sensible time Saturday evening. When I booked the race that’s what I imagined and in the run up I felt I’d be ecstatic if I achieved that. No specific time, just in bed Saturday night rather than Sunday morning.

I was snapping the beautiful sunrise across a misty field when a guy in a centurion jacket and beanie appeared and asked how I was doing and asked if I needed anything. He said he had to drop out Thursday due to injury. He said this is your first hundred isn’t it?* and told me I was a mile away from Farnham and to get myself a coffee as we parted I think he walked into one of the driveways on the muddy road.

*I since wondered how he knew, if he was also at the start or maybe he didn’t say it at all and it was just in my mind.

You arrive in Farnham through the University to the back of Waitrose which was open and the perfect spot to refuel but I was so muddy I didn’t think I should go in. I went through the town and poked my head into a coffee shop at the bottom of Castle Street and got a coffee to go at the door instead.

I walked out of the town and reached the crossroads where I was greeted by Jenn and the girls also with a coffee in hand for me. I hadn’t expected them to come out and cheer me on, it was a lovely surprise but I had a hard job not tearing up and being positive I felt so low and with so far to the next aid station to fix myself. I could see they were so excited but looked a bit deflated by me feeling emotional - Jenn Said how brilliantly I was doing and they were loving following we had a big hug and I put on a brave face and I marched on with my coffee.

I took a minor detour to the BP garage on the dual carriage way to use the facilities and then joined the queue to get a sausage roll from the bakery but it was about 5 people deep with a lady at the front doing what seemed like her weekly shop so I thought fuck waiting and left. I’d just finished a coffee anyway, hopefully that would perk me up enough.

Matt said he’d come to Puttenham to cheer me on too and I thought it wasn’t far. But now seventy something miles in every one of those miles takes a long time. I kept thinking if turn a corner and be there but wasn’t. I guess that’s a benefit to reece-ing the route, although this part of the NDW was local to me I didn’t know it. But still I was happy to be on the North Downs Way and out of the mud.

I reached Matt (and Louie). I’d lifted my spirits a fair bit. Matt said I was doing well and gave me praise and enthusiasm. I didn’t appreciate what a little support on route can do until experiencing it. I probably hadn’t appreciated how alone I’d been for hours also.

I continued on towards the aid station which I knew from the re-race webinar was about a mile past Puttenham at the cricket club. I’d been busy thinking how I could switch things up and trick my mind to perk up more. I decided I’d take some layers off - the sun out and warming the day up but I’d have been cold with less layers moving so slow. I’d take my trousers off back to the shorts underneath. I’d take anything out my pack that I could, besides the mandatory kit. So far I had carried more snacks and water than I’d used on each section so now I would lighten the load and go minimal. Maybe I’d even put my vest on? I’d put an upbeat album I really liked on.

I got to Puttenham aid station. No need to put the overshoes on here, they’d put matting down on the floor, plus it was less muddy now. The volunteers got me a bowl of pasta and a cup of coke along with refilling a single 500ml bottle for me. I’d just take 500ml of water and a bottle of lucozade for the next section. I ate my roll I’d made the day before. Emptied what I could from the pack. I took my shoes and socks off - at each previous station I swapped just my socks but now I decide to swap shoes too. The very used 500ish miles tread but very trusty la sportiva akasha’s I brought for UTS a couple of years ago. They got me through a lot of the 496 challenge in 2024 and up and down volcanoes in Lanzarote with no bother on sharp rocks.

I opened the last of the 3 cards the kids put in my drop bags. One card in each, collected at each aid station. They’d written one each with messages of encouragement. I’d messaged the kids as I collected them and it became a part of my challenge. I needed to collect all three cards, then I needed to get to the finish for the kids to collect me.

The volunteers were chatting with me and the other runners and at one point implied I should get going, only joking about I don’t think I’d been especially long but I said I’d decided I’d be gone at midday and it was about 11:52am. I brushed my teeth and ditched the toothpaste and brush that I’d also carried since the start in my drop bag. Stuck my headphones on and got going.

As soon as I stepped out of Puttenham aid station I felt like a new man. Layers were off, pack was lighter, I had food in me, the sun was out, my music was good, I felt excited. I walked. I cautiously tried to run. I COULD RUN AGAIN. There were 19 miles to the finish (which I was disappointed to discover at the aid station because in my mind it should have been 16) but I felt good. I didn’t expect to feel this good. I knew it wouldn’t last but I thought fuck it let’s go - I’ll run and smash some miles for as long as this feeling lasts.

I reached the lady who’d left the aid station ahead of me. When she left I wished her well and assured her she wouldn’t see me again. I told her I was surprised but I was going to enjoy it.

I was running through sandy tracks I knew - I was buzzing. I met Gemma who came out for a run to support along with Treacle. She said I was flying since Puttenham and seemed as excited about it as I was! I crossed the river Wey to the park and spotted Jamie Rutherford snapping photos - he was running to get in front of me and I was (almost) going too fast for him (he was also wearing wellies, a coat and carrying camera’s). I carried on past another runner that left Puttenham aid station and said hello. Across the road towards Chantries Wood I was loving it!

I came up the trail beside the woods and heard someone on a bike shouting behind me and it was my friend Dan! I paused. He said he couldn’t believe he’d caught me and had been tracking me, have I even slept?! How long have I been going now?! Since 2pm yesterday! I was so happy.

Over the road and up to St Martha’s I knew exactly where I was familiar trails, I was really enjoying myself. Matt had told me Gemma was going out to see me and that Paul was planning to ‘give me some abuse’ at St Martha’s. The route took me round the back of St Martha’s church and I thought maybe I’d missed him. I got across to the big off camber field near Newlands Corner and slowed it to a hike. I hate running that bit at the best of times, as I reached the end Paul appeared with his two kids. We had a quick chat and I offered them a sugary percy pig tail each.

Coming up towards Newlands corner car park Arlo phoned me asking where I was at the same time as Arlo on my headphones Centurion marshalls were asking me if I had a crew and I said no, but there here to support - and between the two talking to me at once I was very confused. She just needed to check me off as ‘ok’ and let me know the crew point was off route but I could head over if I wanted. Meanwhile I had no idea where Arlo was. I carried on for a moment, him still on my headphones and he came running towards me shouting excitedly a little further up Dad was there too shocked I’d picked up the pace so much. They were really excited to catch me and I was enjoying being cheered on.

I crossed the road for the long rail along the NDW ridge. There were 12 miles to go. I called Dad to make sure he did know I was going to be ages yet - like 3 or maybe 4 hours still I imagined them driving on to Juniper hall expecting me to keep the same pace. If I’d even been doing the 10min miles that it felt like in my head it wasn’t going to last much longer. It was fine, they knew, they were going home.

It didn’t last much longer (my pace). I get bored on this part of the NDW like I get bored on any long straight trail really, I was also tiring. I was still “hiking with purpose” and running a bit. I made some sort of grunty noise that must have been very loud because the runner ahead, a way ahead, stopped and shouted back to check if I was alright. I was fine.

We carried on, Petra a bit ahead of me and it was nice to have someone to follow, after a while we ended up closer and shared some miles together chatting which was nice. I remember mentioning I keep reminding myself to look up because it’s so easy just to stare at the mud in front of your feet. Now to our right the sun was getting lower and coming in through the trees. We could see Dorking in the distance.

Petra mentioned a crew point at Denbies and in my mind that meant we’d be going down beside the vineyards. I left her when she met her ‘supporters’ at the top of Ranmore Common. Now it was a long straight road, then following down the sometimes steep tarmac I’d not expected to be on. I followed it round where I thought I must be descending to Denbies and then my watch buzzed to tell me I was off route. I turned a corner I wasn’t supposed to and descended a few hundred meters of hill I didn’t need to and started climbing back up. Petra came running along the top, she was flying. I laughed and shouted “it’s not this way” and realised that it was her crew and the crew point at Ranmore, for some reason it was labeled as Denbies. Anyway I stopped assuming I knew where I was going and paid more attention to my watch.

For a while now I’d been wanting to speed up and run a bit, I was conscious of either Jenn or Dad and the kids would be waiting for me. The problem was my right calf had got really tight along the back and up behind my knee. I was worried if I pushed too much it might spasm or completely lock up and I’d grind to a halt and have to spend hours crawling the final miles. So I keep just plodding on in a march with my poles taking longer than I wanted.

I reached the dual carriage way where I knew we needed to follow up one side to an underpass and then back down the other side to get to Box Hills steps and up. The underpass crossing wasn’t visible on my watch, just two long lines making it seem far but I didn’t mind. There were two-point-something miles to go and I figured the longer this bit was the shorter the climb and descent were.

I was slow to climb Box Hill steps but they were fine, I used my poles. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it might be at the end. Once at the viewpoint you cross some grass into the woods, I knew I’d come out by a tower and there would be a view of Juniper Hall at the bottom. The woods seemed to go on for longer than I imagined. It was now dark and had been since descending to the dual carriage way so I was in the dark woods following my watch by head torch. I was getting really confused. I didn’t get lost or go off route but I started thinking I was dreaming.

Eventually I reached the tower and the view to Juniper hall. The hill down was steep and slippy with mud and my legs did not appreciate it one bit. I took it easy. I reached the flat and got back to a run or probably more accurately a hobble and saw Jenn and the kids waiting aside the arch cheering me on! I gestured that I’ll just run through and back, it was only about 10 meters further than them but I didn’t know where the finish line was. I ran round and into their arms for a big hug.

The finish line itself was a bit of an anticlimax with the exception of seeing Jenn and the kids, it was very quiet but how can any finish line compete with all those miles you’ve just crossed.

I finished about 17:40pm Saturday. Plenty of time to get home, eat, have a bath, get to bed like a normal evening and wake up Sunday morning wondering what the hell just happened.

In 2024 Centurion introduced the Winter Downs 100 which chops the 200 mile loop down the middle. The 100 miler start at Amberley Museum on the South Downs and finish at Juniper Hall in the North Downs.

If the event didn’t sound daunting enough by distance it also takes place in the middle of winter, this year starting on the 10th and 12th December respectively. This isn’t far from Winter Solstice and means around 16 hours of darkness in every 24h hours.

On top of the darkness comes unpredictable weather. Predictable in the sense it’s likely to be bad, but; it could be incredibly wet and muddy, it could be crisp and frozen, 10 degrees or in the minus figures, sideways rain, wind and hail or anything between.

Combine all this with my previous leanings; I love running but I don’t like being out “all day”, I like skyraces and mountains, I have a 5 hour limit, etc etc… The idea of me entering the Winter Downs 100 sounds like a terrible idea. It is. It’s an extremely questionable idea to say the least.

I hate the winter months in the UK. I struggle with the darkness, I struggle with my mental health. It is ALWAYS a challenge.

It’s a lot easier to be carefree in summer, lack of money? Oh well the sun is out. Struggling to find the time? There’s plenty of daylight left after work. Everything is better everything is easier.

I could try to run a hundred miles in the summer and it could be much nicer… but quite frankly I’ve better things to do in the summer. The middle of winter with only 8 hours of daylight and grim weather - there’s fuck all to do then. Why not get out in it and try to run a hundred miles (actually 96 miles if the gpx I have is accurate and I hope it is).

The attraction for me is the adventure and the challenging conditions. Saying FUCK YOU to winter.

There was also the chance I would be rejected.

My longest run to date is, I think 34 miles, it was Ultra Trail Snowdonia in 2023 and accompanied with 3,000+ meters of elevation but still that’s the longest single run.

Centurion’s website say’s applicants should list their relevant experience on entry and they’ll vet applications about 6 weeks before the event. This meant I would definitely be training for the event well before knowing I was accepted but if not, silver lining; I’ve been out training which would be good for me and I would get my entry fee returned. It would still be a win, kinda.

I haven’t entered many events compared to a lot of people in this sport, one or two a year maybe. I think this probably supports my application though - I’m genuinely out self sufficient and not relying on aid stations or anyone else. This is what centurion wanted to see; that you’re able to sustain yourself for long periods of time, in challenging conditions.

I think the experience I submitted largely relied on our trip to Andorra earlier this year being relevant. Aside this I mentioned a few notable outings - Yorkshire 3 Peaks in biblical weather and some solo adventures in Italian mountains.

Anyway, the chance of being rejected somehow made the decision easier to enter. I’ve not been rejected and it’s less than two weeks out so I guess I am in.

Training

Another reason for entering, was I felt I was on my way with the training. I entered WD100 on 12th September at which point I was training well for the Mournes Skyline. I figured this was a great base and the Mournes was 9 weeks ahead of the Winter Downs.

The plan was simple. Have a restful week after the Mournes, then ensure I hit two long runs per week ideally on back-to-back days but failing that as close as I could get them together.

It’s been hard and it’s been grim at times, especially the first week when I did both long runs alone. I didn’t plan a route on day one so ran 10 miles in one direction down the canal then turned back and ran the same 10 in reverse. In the dark. In drizzle. Boring and soul destroying. I under fueled and slightly overheated, I chaffed my chest.

Next was a little better a lumpy route in Ash Ranges - I loved the route but I was soaked to the bone and got cold. I’ve since re-waterproofed my rain jacket.

Gradually weeks got better, I fixed mistakes. I met up with Matt, Paul and Roxy for many runs.

What’s been hard every time is getting out the door. It’s dark, it’s wet, it might be cold too. Once out I enjoyed most of it and on the rest days I’ve been happy to be home and warm for the evening and watch a film or read a book and enjoy the comfort - perspective shift!

Training ‘finished’ last weekend when Matt, Paul and I spent Friday evening running the backyard at Peaslake - 3 hours to do as many 5k loops as you can. We smashed it and it was great fun but I was tired as fuck on Saturday. Sunday I joined Matt and Running Adventures for a guided ultra and took my full Winter Downs kit on my back.

I maybe could or should have planned a few more sessions but decide it was just 19 days out and I needed a rest. This was confirmed last Wednesday evening when I struggled through 16 miles in the Surrey Hills with Paul, far from recovered from the weekend.

I built some confidence in training and now in tick over weeks come the waves of self doubt. There’s parts I’m genuinely really excited about like going all through the night, hopefully having a cloudless sky full of stars and silhouettes of trees against it. A lot of route I’ve never run before (zero recces). Seeing the sun come up.

Regardless of how the event goes it’s helped me be focused and stay on top of myself the past few months so that’s a win so far. This post was supposed to be me writing my ‘why’ but it turns out it’s more of a ‘why not?’.

Since then I have been keen to do more Skyraces, I feel like I found my thing. I love pushing hard, gnarly terrain, sections of scrambling and a relatively short time needed. It hits all the spots for me.

I had been looking at the Lake District and St Sunday Sky Race but this year the date didn’t work. I was available for the weekend of the Sky Run the Mournes though, albeit, in the end, making for a very busy time around the race - with a mountain bike enduro event the weekend before and a work trip to Oslo during the week, landing back home Thursday evening and then flying to Dublin Friday afternoon…

We flew to Dublin rather than Belfast (which is closer to the Mournes) as I went with my friend, experienced ultra runner, ski-mo-er and all round mountain goat, Paul.

Paul was keen soon as I put the idea out, a day or so before I signed up back in July. Teamwork from the off and Dads for the win. My Dad drove us to Heathrow and Paul’s Dad picked us up from Dublin where we then borrowed his car for the weekend to head up to Newcastle to stay a night ahead of the race.

Our accommodation was in the perfect spot, less than a mile from the event making registration easy and a relaxed start to the day.

We headed off from Donard Park up a climb through the forest. We were probably in the front third of a few hundred people in our race.

If I was alone my approach was going to be the same as the Copper Skytrail; empty the tank, give it all, see what I could do. The plan changed being with a friend. We didn’t discuss a plan but I figured we’d go round together and for me that didn’t actually mean much of a change (to giving it my all) since I am normally hanging on to keep up with Paul.

We climbed together - hiking with poles to the foot of Slieve Donard. Slieve Donard was becoming ominous. It had been mentioned a few times by Paul but also by other friends who know the Mournes. At 850m it’s the highest Peak in the Mourne mountains.

But we weren’t ready to climb it yet. It was saved for the final climb of the race, at the end of the loop an out and back to the summit before descending back down to the start and finish at Donard Park. With Slieve Donard to our left we climbed a style over the wall and run into some single track carving the side of the hill. I ended up stuck behind someone. I couldn’t help but overtake at the first opportunity so I could run at my own pace.

I tend to speed up when I get to some fun single track or technical train and the guy in front had been moving slower than I wanted to move. Give me a fire road and I will plod, struggle to motivate myself - single track, I enjoy it, I go faster.

Paul didn’t follow though, not right away at least. A few times I pushed ahead and he seemed to hold back. I decided he was telling me something. One overexcited wanna be sky runner sprinting off like an enthusiastic puppy and a more seasoned, very experienced long distance runner (who has also spent time in the Mournes before) going easier, intentionally slowing me down predicting I’d blow up? I might… I took the hint and we balanced out.

The undulation became relentless steep downs aside the wall reach the bottom and straight back up. Some sections steeper than others and some with scrambling. It was as dry as it probably gets but there was plenty of mist and lots of sheer rock, I was grateful to be wearing mutants on my feet which dug into the grassy sections and stuck to the rock. They gave a lot of confidence.

“Woody the parachute” On one particularly steep descent, steepest of the course I’d say, Paul and I had been taking it reeaaaaally wide. Zig zagging to shallow out the gradient. At the bottom I noticed a guy to my right straight lining it down aside the wall, grass and rock, steepest line you could find. A tall guy, extending his arms and poles to drop big chunks at a time.

Paul, in front of me clocked the same and said “hey, I think you forgot your parachute there buddy” confused, the guy looked up then, nooo, his concentration broke. He slipped down. Half his body length, down on his arse and wrist. Immediately Paul apologised, clearly not the intended result. We checked with him to ensure that he was OK, he was, though a little disgruntled. He followed us up the next climb and I realised I knew of him through Instagram since he’d been active in all the skyraces I follow, we chatted a bit and he seemed to perk up.

Further on, around 7.5miles into the race, a runner came flying towards us with the pace of a scolded cat. I heard a guy nearby say something confused “are you alright, are you lost mate” as he continued past, a blur.

The penny dropped when a nearby Marshall let us know he was the front runner. On his way back. On his way back, already! He must have been about 13 miles in. It was Manuel Merillas who went on to win the race in an incredible 03:23:36.

For us 9.5 miles and 2 hours 15 minutes since starting we reached the aid station. It felt like we we’re going well - maybe we’d be finished within 5 hours?! - our best guesstimate before was 6 hours. The race was listed as 22miles 2,700m+ but the route on our watches showed just over 20 miles. We stuffed our faces with what we could, biscuits, banana, I tightened my laces which had started failing to hold my feet in place through harsh descents and we quickly moved on.

A short road climb and then back into wild, to undulation, up and down, hundreds of feet at a time. Relentless. I was enjoying every moment but it was relentless. We went on strong for a while but about 15miles in we were beginning to flag. Our earlier prediction that we might be done in 5 hours was going to be way out since the second half packed a much bigger punch, not that it mattered.

We attacked the steepest section again, in reverse, now a climb. The same one where “Woody the Parachute’s” accident occurred on the descent earlier. We had been yo-yo’ing with him since and there was now a running joke about us being bastards (actually I think just Paul). He was sat half way up the climb having a rest and it was entertaining when we met.

The now ominous Slieve Donard was getting mentioned again. Paul knew what was coming and he started sharing calculations - “I reckon we’ve got about another 500m when we’re here”, “another X there”. I joked to him that’s why he’s good at his job, he must just love numbers. I didn’t want to think ahead. I couldn’t dream about the pint after like Paul was because if I did I knew from experience my head would want to be there and I might struggle. I’d done a grand job at keeping charge of my mind and enjoying being in the now the whole race.

Before we knew it we were climbing the final ascent, Paul a fair way ahead, my climbing energy spent. The sun came out. But it didn’t ‘come out’ we just got above the cloud, It suddenly got warmer. We fist bumped at the top and it was all downhill now.

After the race Paul asked me if I had any low points and I was a bit surprised at the question because it obviously implied he had, which I hadn’t thought about. There were times he was a bit behind but I just figured he was pacing sensibly - there were plenty of other times it was the opposite way around, predictably and increasingly more so as it went on. (See earlier comment about enthusiastic puppy vs experience).

I really didn’t feel like I had any lows, I’d been looking forward to the event, had never been to the Mournes before so it was new and exciting. I had dreaded the busy week before it. A lot was going on in the lead up but it all went well and now I was here I was loving it.

I’d say there was just one real contender for a low point. The first part of the descent from Slieve Donard was where I struggled most. It was technical rocky steps, with a length and drop that was not compatible for my body or brains fatigue. I couldn’t quite get the foot placement right and nearly crashed a few times so had to take it super slow.

At the same time Paul was LOVING this part. He flew down the steps. When the ground became less of a gradient we were running together again and we’d take turns in towing each other along in the descent back through the forest to Donard Park. This section should have been easy but I suppose nothing is easy after 20ish miles and what ended up around 3,000m of elevation.

A few hundred meters away from the finish we’d been overtaken by another runner but he didn’t overtake and disappear, he overtook and stayed 20 paces ahead. I was feeling jovial. Paul and I were aside one another. I looked at Paul and said “let’s take him” - “what?!” said Paul. “let’s take him”. “No mate, no no, no.” “Comon”, as I started picking up the pace. Paul did too. “comon”, “let’s go comon” we kept going... A sprint finish, catching and entering the gantry with the fella who over took us. As it turns out I think he was even in a different race (there was multiple distances) and it was never about position or bettering but made for a bit of stupid fun at the end of a long race.

We met Woody again at the finish, once again he said what a bastard Paul is for trying to sabotage his race. I don’t think they’ll make each others Christmas card lists but they won’t forget one another.

Next came the best stage of all, across the car park to O’Hares for a couple of pints of Guinness zero and to bask in our sense of achievement.

The most notable are on recent family holidays. Probably because the opportunity has an expiration and of course I'm supposed to be part of the family holiday, not just off running up mountains.

2024 Emboixar on Montgo in Spain. I plotted a gnarly steep climb and ventured during a family holiday. I had been struggling to follow my gpx for a while. When I reached a rock section I would struggle to climb it was really wide and one side I could see a way up but it was way off route the other side was exposed and tricky but with a rope dangling lending a clue. I didn't fancy it much. I couldn't see how it was attached. Giving it a tug, it felt solid but I certainly didn't fancy going back down this part if it proved to be a dead end.

I turned back. It was day 1 of a family holiday and I didn't want to ruin the trip by making a stupid mistake and getting hurt. Later I researched. I borrowed a gpx file from Wikiloc, read some hiking blogs about the route and went back assured. But it took about a week to get the chance. In the meantime it was very much in my head.

Returning I was able to reach the rope having followed tail markers all the way to it this time and was confident it was correct. The exposed part made it scary and the climb took a stretch to feet and hand holds but that was the crux and the rest was plain sailing. I was buzzing having completed it. I Leveled up!

Limone Extreme

Later the same year (2024) I was keen to explore the Limone Extreme route. I'd been running on the opposite side of the lake the year previous, following Malcesine Baldo Trail race routes and had discovered the Limone event. I'd have loved to enter in 2023 but logistics and expenses didn't allow it. It had been sitting in my mind for nearly a year.

There were some epic pictures on the Skyrace website and write ups and I wanted a piece. Mostly a ladder climb in the rocks stood out with Limone down far below.

I found the time to follow the Skyrace route, it ran along the lakeside a few miles from Limone then a gnarly climb started - steep and traversing an often exposed cliff side, it was epic and I'd not experienced anything quite like this before. I found old race markers along the way and followed the route to a tee. I loved it. One problem though. The ladder. Where was it?

Well of course it wasn't in that route. It was in the vertical kilometer race aka Cima Mughera. I learnt quickly after, more blog reading, learning, gpx finding. I suss'd it out but I felt I'd used up my trail time on this trip. It was near the end of the trip too.

Then Sunday evening I discussed it with Jenn (who wanted me to end the obsession) and squeezed some time to do it. I drove to Limone, the other side of the lake from where we were staying - arriving a little after 7pm and knowing I had around an hour and a half of light to use. It was hot, around 31 degrees in temperature even at this time in the evening. I pushed up the trail quickly as I could to make use of light whilst remaining cautious in respect to the tails scrambling and exposure.

I reached the top in an hour and a half just as the sun was setting just as I had hoped. Magical. The silhouettes of the mountain peaks around and the golden light, what a place and time to be. I put on my head torch and descended into the darkness of the forest and back to my van. At the time without a doubt the most rewarding run I'd ever accomplished.

Now we're back. I ran the same loop last Tuesday evening, at a similar time in the evening to last year. Jenn and the kids accompanied me around the lake and went for dinner while I went off to play. With experience under my belt confidence was no issue and I loved every moment. It was cooler than last year, closer to 20 degrees. I took some photos and videos to share on the way up, again descended via the forest, this time not needing the head torch.

You'd think that should be scratch itched. But I've been obsessing. I was much quicker this year, by 28 minutes. Is it due to the kinder temperature? experience? fitness? chance? Or perhaps wanting to get back to the family quickly to remain in the good books.

It got me thinking... How quick could I get up, no photos or videos or pausing on the way, just focus and effort? I won't be getting an FKT, it's a vk race route. Remi Bonnet holds the Strava segment. Killian is on the leaderboard and other elites. But I want a marker for me. To compare myself in future years to see what I can do. The weather looks kind tomorrow and my alarm is set for 6:30am :)

Our packs were at their heaviest again all now with 4x full 500ml soft flasks - adding about 2kg. We overtook some hikers who kindly moved aside for our group as we gained elevation. It kept me moving at the back since I didn’t want to start yo-yoing with them. Even though they had nothing on their backs we continued to build a gap. We had done very little running but probably were moving better than I imagined the whole time.

I'd said to Matt on the way up I think we deserve a hug at the top. Once we got there it had left my mind as we took in the views satisfyingly and knew it was literally all downhill from here and metaphorically hopefully I could stay up. The food had hit my stomach during the climb and I was starting to feel much better.

The beginning of the descent was really fun, some gradual and easy to make progress, then a small patch of really steep rocky gravel. Hike up to a ski lift then a off camber single track traverse across grassy mountains which was harsh on the ankles but with great views and the winding roads around we could watch the cyclists climbing and even hear them chatting far below us.

Further round as we were descending close to the road it suddenly got darker! I looked at the ground and it was a giant bird shaped shadow, a huge wingspan. We processed the thought at the same time looking up in amazement at several eagles circling. We all tried to capture it but no photo could do the moment justice.

We ran some roads and then into a bike park and long undulating forest tracks. There was about 7 miles to go and we were only covering around 2/2.5 miles an hour by now so it was going to take a while.

I kept my chin up until we descended a really rocky path that just hurt my feet, then happy to have it over we eventually popped out onto a road, dirt track, road where we managed to break into a jog, walk, jog walk. Exposed to the sun again.

We had a town in sight in the distance but couldn’t understand how there could be 5 miles left. It wasn’t THE TOWN. We got close and broke right, ugh more slog.

Matt asked if I was glad I did the day after all and at this point I was pissed off - I can’t remember exactly what I said but it wasn’t the response he wanted. We’d done the mountain part now and I felt like this was an unnecessary commute. I think I said I’d have been happy for a bus from the bike park or maybe my hesitation to answer was enough. He said he’d ask again at dinner.

The distance didn’t seem to go down. We kept moving and my watch kept showing the same mileage. We had a nice bit of woodland single track then popped out under a road intersection, past a concrete yard and along a river under a bypass. Bullshit.

We rubber banded mostly Tom and Matt ahead and me catching up. Matt asked me how I was doing and I answered too honestly again. I said what I'd been thinking - something about “I should remember I have a five hour limit for enjoying these things”. I knew I’d fucked up right away, he barely let me finish a few words before he moved ahead. I realised I’d barked at him and felt bad.

Gradually as we slogged it back to town I realised I wasn’t being what the guys needed. They were suffering too, I hadn’t appreciated that. We all needed to stay positive and I wasn’t doing my part. I maybe needed Matt to tell me yeah it is shit but get the fuck on with it. I probably needed shaking. Or maybe I’d only ever realise this in hindsight.

Some things aren't supposed to feel good at the time. A lot of it did feel good at the time. Some things are supposed to be hard as fuck at the time, horrible at the time but feel amazing afterwards. I had forgotten this.

I felt at times that I didn't have a right to be there, I was out of my depth. The only thing I didn't have a right to be was down about it. I had a few bad hours, during two and a bit amazing days. Never a bad day. I was doing something we get to do a handful of times in a lifetime, a proper adventure with friends.

Maybe I’ll stick to my 5 hour limit in future or maybe I’ll take this learning and get better at it. (It’s a 5 hour limit with diminishing returns after that by the way, not BOOM 5 hours, arsehole mode, but generally if we hit double those 5 hours I’m going to struggle - we had 2x 13 hr days)

The special prize.

I neglected to mention in my previous posts that over the course of the days the subject would turn to us wondering what the special prize might be from the tourist office. The most comical I came up with was a “50p off Burger King voucher” (we drove past a lot on the drive into town and were salivating about BK).

We made it into town and struggled to navigate to the tourist office. Using google maps at this point and our phones were very confusing and we were frustrated at running in circles.

“Do you remember us?!” Matt said excitedly to the man who’d briefed us two days ago.

“Yes” he said, uninterested, at least to our excited expectations of a fanfare. “Do you have the stamps?”

We faffed and thumbled getting our refugi passports out of our bags and were presented with our prize.

The prize? You’ve got 92km and +/- 6,868 m to go around the circumference of Andorra if you’d like to find out.

We made it! All three of us made it!

It was an amazing adventure. I'm grateful to have shared it with Matt and Tom. Thank you guys!

3:30 am. Fuck it. Just get up and get ready. I climbed off the top bunk, collected my bag and slid out the room to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

Despite going to bed at 8:18 pm I felt like I had been trying to get to sleep until around midnight, my legs ached and my brain was busy and highly tuned in to any noise within the room.

While laying in purgatory my phone buzzed. I had had a text from our friend Paul that made me feel a bit more positive:

“Good job pal” - “grind that fukker out - you guys are doing well! hope your having fun 💯”

(my mind was probably improving from dinner and I was better placed to recieve some encouragement than when Matt and Tom tried earlier).

I replied. It was 10 pm, he probably wondered why the fuck I was awake. So did I.

“Get some rest and get the head down. You are well capable and just a case of breaking the day down into sections. On climbing, it’s a privilege and we are lucky to be able to do it… we have won the lottery that our legs and bodies allow us to feel that pain cave and see these incredible places. Muscles recover. You will be fine 🤟 get it done 💯”

I wonderd if Matt had told him I was struggling. (He hadn’t).

I sorted my pack and my clothes. I ate a bar or two. I text to tell Matt and Tom where I was and after 4 am walked back to the room - wondering if I’d set my alarm wrong. I might have made a mistake getting up this early if their alarms were set later.

No, Matt was up. I whispered/hand signaled - “I’m over here”. Tom didn’t see and we met him upstairs a few minutes later.

We’d made a pact to treat ourselves better today. At least I think we did because we didn’t exactly discuss it. I think we’d just all come to a mutual conclusion that we hadn’t looked after ourselves well enough.

We were drinking water, aquarius and Matt even filled a soft flask of orange juice from the breakfast counter.

Tom and Matt finished getting ready in the dining area and we headed out by head torch.

It was nice and cool. We moved along a gravel road and into some woodland, crossing streams - out of the woodland crossing roads, buildings, civilisation, back to some woodland, aside a river, crossing more roads and back to nature again. It was a slight decline or flat, we were moving well, chatting. It was great. We were all really enjoying it. Enjoying the atmosphere, the dark, the cool temperature, the varied and runnable terrain and each others company.

We had briefly assessed the day at last night's dinner. According to the hiking blog we’d been using for reference this was the hardest stage, two big climbs and the most elevation of a stage. 12.93 miles, 5,795ft ascent, 4,839ft descent. The final stage for the second half of the day was easiest though.

We started the first big climb which would take us from 4,722ft to 8,503ft over around 3 miles. Tom marched on strong ahead, Matt and I kept it intentionally slower behind. It was a nice woodland, rocky trail aside a river again, like in stage 1. I was happy.

As we continued to climb it opened up and we started to see light and shadows across the mountains. We stopped to adjust layers and eat, looking after ourselves.

We reached the top of the first climb around 8 am and WE WERE ALL HAPPY! We’d checked the biggest climb off. It was about 8am it look 3.5 hours to get here I don’t know what this meant regarding good or bad progress but we got here, optimistic and feeling strong.

Mountain peaks surrounded us in every direction. It was glorious. Along a ridge and finding our way to the descent. The descent was steep, harsh on legs and technical in places, steep and gravel the path always off camber too. Needing poles stabbed into the ground so not to slip.

The descent became more gradual, traversing some lumpy grass hillside, then some nice single track and finally into the valley along gravel tracks. It should have been easier to move but I was really struggling again.

Matt and Tom were ahead of me for most of this section, waiting, continuing together, waiting, and repeating. I think I was just finding the section boring. It was pretty, beautiful of course but being tired I was struggling to make my brain and body engage. I just wanted the next climb to start.

I was much happier when we reached the final climb. 3,000ft ish in total but the next Refugi was 2,000ft into it and we’d stop for lunch.

Midway up the climb I stopped to text Olive good luck for her performance of Matilda which I was missing - the date was set after we booked the trip else I wouldn't have missed it. This should have been my reason yesterday not to stop. If you’re going to take time out from family, carve time for yourself to do these things come home having completed it.

We carried on to the Refgui del Comapedrosa, slowly with the heat of the day now beating upon us but without too much trouble.

It was a little before midday, we got our final stamps for the ‘passport books’ and ordered lunch - wohoo! I was very tired. Hopefully the bacon sandwich would fix me.

We’d just put our bags back on our back when I realised. “Oh, shall we put some suncream on?!” - “Nah, I think I’m alright” was the consensus, we needed to move and we just got ready. I went along with it.

It was around 1 pm. We had another stage ahead of us and during lunch had reminded ourselves of the distance and elevation. 10.5 miles 4090ft ascent 5127ft descent.

We were booked to stay and eat at refugi borda de Sortney. Regardless of booking you’re supposed to arrive by 5:30 pm for 7:30 pm dinner. It takes time to prepare food for a large group of people and the refugi needs to know before they start. I wonder also if they might have people arrive ad-hoc and potentially want to sell no-shows beds.

We had asked the lady at refugi de Juclá what the terrain was like and it sounded better… timings were going to be tight so we needed to get going.

A climb and a descent, a tricky, wet stream of a descent, deep into a valley ready to start another 2,000ft climb. Halfway up, we passed an unmanned hut, one we’d identified when planning our route for a pit stop. We didn’t stop. No time. I filled my filtered bottle and whilst the day was warm my hand was immediately very cold from dunking in the lake.

The climb was steep, grassy and the sun was beating on one side of my face and body.

We had spread out, Tom ahead, happier than Larry, and Matt and I slowly chipping away behind.

We reached the top of our climb and paused to consider what’s next; ahead we had a big descent, a BIG climb next followed by the final descent to the refgui. Anyone who’s spent long times in the mountains knows the descents don’t come for free. They’re harsh on your tired legs and easy to injure yourself.

During the last climb my mood had changed, I think Matt’s too. My mind was in a dreaded future, catastrophising about not getting dinner and what that could mean for the journey ahead. I was annoyed that we were in another race against time, we got up early to avoid this! Low on energy with heavy packs and a beating sun we were in no state for a race.

In the valley between the descent and the next climb I told Matt I’d managed to cheer myself up. I had managed to bring my mind back to now and became present, stopped thinking ahead and enjoyed where I was. Tom entertained us brilliantly with some stories and our minds were occupied nicely.

It didn’t last, we spread out again and I was left with my own thoughts.

We we’re in a huge basin, surrounded on all sides and had been climbing gradually traversing an edge. Whichever way you looked there was a huge climb and I wasn’t sure which we were being lead to. We chipped away. Slooooooowly. BUT WE DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO BE SLOW. I was depleted. I text Jenn: I didn’t know how I could possibly do the same tomorrow. She told me: “if we were stuggling that meant it was epic”.

It was 6:20 pm at the summit. We were already 50 minutes late to the refugi. Tom was chipper and with 2.69 miles to go said “we can make it” (for 7pm, as had been discussed as our adjusted goal) Matt and I doubted it - I suggested he could run ahead.

I was following Tom at the start of the descent and it was steep windy switch backs, I started having fun, maybe I could move fast? but then I stopped for a photo and Tom disappeared in the distance and Matt also passed and dropped me by the time I put my phone away.

Matt and I hobbled along within speaking distance and Tom had disappeared. I told Matt that Tom was running on for us, the earlier one of us arrived the better our chances.

I skipped an opportunity to fill my water flask in a stream with a mile to go, really thirsty but wanting to push on, a few minutes later I was regretting it. No miles are fast in the mountains. I should be taking my opportunities.

At some point during this stint. I said it out loud, to Matt. The thought that had been bouncing around in my head the last hours. With my degree in hindsight, probably the last thing he wanted to hear. At the time, with a poorly functioning brain, I even thought it might be welcome news to him;

“I might not go on tomorrow mate.” - “what? what are you going to do?!” - “I’m going to look at options for a taxi from near to Sortney.”

Tom text: “are you guys OK?” - I replied that we were 0.2 miles away and within a few minutes we met Tom at the counter of the Refugi - he had arrived 30 minutes ahead of us! Tom saved the day, the owner wasn’t happy with us but we’d secured our room and most importantly dinner. Thank you Tom!

He suggested we drop our bags to our room before dinner - Matt and I weren’t doing anything but ordering a drink and sitting down. Tom seemed a bit shocked at the state (and attitude) of us.

We sat outside and almost immediately got called in for dinner.

At dinner Matt told Tom what I’d said (about stopping) - we didn’t talk much about it.

I remember Tom saying “we’re doing well, the two stages should take 20 hours hiking and we’ve done it in 13” (and a half) and Matt said “imagine how you’d feel about it in future if you stopped now” - the latter (at the time) I didn’t care about, at all. The former did make me think maybe we (I) wasn’t as shit as I was thinking.

Looking back to my messages with Jenn I told her:
“I’ve never been so fucked” - “Tom was a hero” - “It's brutal elevation but also really tough terrain so sometimes even flat bits are slow...” - “I need to look at options for tomorrow I think I'll be so so slow and fucked” - “I might be sunburnt” - “I'm honestly so depleted I feel like crying and this is after eating”.

After dinner, we went to our bunk room. We were greeted by some room mates who warned us they were getting up early.

Matt (or maybe Tom? but I think Matt) lit up! “I’ll stop you there!, what time? - we’re getting up at 4am!” - ah OK. They had alarms set for 5:30 am. Realising they were sharing the room with lunatics they started asking what we were doing and Tom got his map out and we had a brief chat about their days. They were nice.

We had a shower and went to bed. None of us sure if two or three of us would be starting tomorrow. It was 8:18pm.

Outside we didn’t need the head torches because dawn was giving us enough light. We had a 1100ft + climb ahead of us to the highest point on the trip.

It was cold, around 6℃ (Feels like 3 ℃). Warm enough if you’re moving but I’d packed with heat in mind so only had a long sleeved tee over my t-shirt and the breeze cut through. I had warm evening or emergency layers but nothing just the right balance.

In 45min of easy hiking we’d reached the summit - Collada dels Pessons 9,232ft (2814m) above sea level. The highest I’ve ever been by foot. We stopped to enjoy, take some photos and generally celebrate what we were doing - it was stunning!

We took it easy down the descent, easy was the plan for the day after the rush yesterday. We started early and should have plenty of time today for the two stages.

We traversed miles of grassy trails full of rocks, streams and lakes in nature that felt untouched.

One thing that hit me was the sound. Silence! unless close to a stream there was complete and utter silence. Nothingness, almost like watching a film on mute but less. I had never heard such silence before if hearing silence is even a thing. It was amazing.

The terrain started to change into a ski resort, seemingly abandoned during summer. Gravel paths appeared and we were able to increase the pace but it was short lived before we had a distraction;

Is that a bird over there on that rock?

My first thought was confusion. I couldn't see anything around and I thought it was a bit early for Tom to be hallucinating. He pointed it out and Matt and I clocked on - there was a big eagle sitting on a rock!

Opposite we saw something else “there’s a penguin” I jokingly said, trying to make out the fat shape. It was a marmot! I’d never seen a marmot before. I didn’t even know how to say the word; “Ma’m-MUT”, I think.

We moved on from animal spotting to run some single track cutting into the hillside and leading us towards a supermarket en-route.

It was about 9:30 am and we weren’t expecting to pass this (supermarket) during opening hours. This was great news for getting some food and drink. At the time I was confused how we’d managed to misjudge the distance and time to get here when scrutinising our schedule previously.

Leaving the supermarket break it was climbing time. Up the road and into a steep grassy climb.

Immediately the air felt thinner and colder, again. I felt like I was breathing fast, panting. Turning to look back it was amazing how tiny the supermarket town had become so quickly and we could see the mountains we’d descended in the distance behind. The terrain was easy to move over but the climb was the longest of the day so far (about 2,000 ft over 2 miles).

The top made for some amazing views as we were about to descend again. The terrain was all good and from what I recall we were moving well although no miles were fast.

An unessecary out and back?

I’d identified on the map that the next refugi was an out and back and slightly off route. Sliding around the suunto app on my phone it looked like maybe 0.7 miles each way. A mile and a half of time we could get back… that’s a lot in the mountains.

We had clocked onto the fact that we weren’t doing well for time. OK, just, but not as comfortable as expected and we started to discuss the idea of skipping the refugi to make up time.

The idea of falling behind only became worse as the terrain became much more difficult and slow moving.

We agreeded we’d stop for a break either way, but debated:

• Matt definitely wanted to skip the refugi and gain time.

• I was split, I really wanted lunch but also could have eaten what was in my pack and I wanted to gain time.

• Tom definitely wanted to stop at the refugi, partly as I think he seemed most keen at collecting our stamps and getting that ‘special prize’ from the tourist office.

We reached the point of the trail that deviates to the refugi. We could see it. Nothing like 0.7 miles, how did I get that so wrong? BUT. It was a steep climb we could do without and we weren’t even sure what food would be on offer.

“Let’s visit it”. Matt had the genius idea to dump our bags by a rock to save lugging those up and down the climb to the refugi. We decided nobody was likely to take anything but made sure go pro’s etc were out of sight and to keep our passports on us.

We skipped up the climb/scramble to the refugi and ordered some food. No pizza as they were cooking for a big party, sandwiches only but combined with cold drinks it was worth it.

“Did you hear what she said?!”
said Matt, referring to the lady at the refugi counter.

”Yeah!” she said “WOW, you’re strong!” upon realising we’d arrive from I’Illa.

She didn’t know we’d started at 6am but it made us feel great.

Day 2, stage 2 to come…

It’s 15:38 pm at the tourist office in Les Escaldes. We were on the 7am flight to Barcelona, we were delayed by the queues at passport control, hire-car faff and the drive took longer than expected. We hoped to start by 2pm.

“It’s ok” we said. “We’ve booked and we’ll be quick!” - we received a dismissive look that said we’re idiots (fair) and he handed us each a map and ‘passport book’… “collect your four stamps at the Refugi’s and bring the books back and we’ll have a special prize for you.”

We only planned to stay with two refugi’s because we were tackling the (normally 5 day) hike over 2.5 days but we’d pass the others during the day with a stop for lunch.

He gave us some initial directions and we asked no questions. We were late after all.

Ahead was stage 1 to Refugi de L’illa - 8 miles, 4700ft ascent. No worries.

Through the town into a steep steady climb, it was hot and our packs were heavy. We didn’t get a good lunch due to the delays (a couple of croissants) but it’s all good, we’ll get a good feed at the Refugi. We hope.

Most of the trail was a rocky woodland beside a stream, my favourite kind of trail. Half way up I realised we wouldn’t make it for 6pm, I emailed the refugi to let them know we were coming and be there by 7 latest and sorry for the delay, hoping we could secure ourselves dinner. We were on track to be earlier than that but I wanted to set expectations with time to spare.

The trail flattened off and opened up to a picturesque meadow with a couple of miles left but less motivating for me to move fast and I could see a way ahead with no buildings in sight.

We met a hiker who asked if we were heading to the Refugi de L’illa and told us there was no water for showers and maybe we wanted to turn back to one of the unmanned hut’s we’d passed. And miss the chance of dinner? No thanks.

I joked to Tom that the refugi might have told him they were full but there was space if the three of us didn’t turn up… I think he (the hiker) had nothing but good intentions but I was still confused at the suggestion.

The trail got a tad steeper, a tad rockier, our pace had slowed a little and by this point we were fatigued, moving as fast as we could, hungry, heavy packs (did I mention the heavy packs yet? #2) We turned a corner and the Refugi was in sight!

We entered tentatively. A little unsure if we’d be scolded for our lack of punctuality. At the entrance we clambered, taking off our packs, hanging our poles, removing our shoes for the crocs provided and generally being a nuisance in the way for people passing us to head outside.

We crossed the boot room to the reception window - “oh you’re Andy - welcome! don’t worry we’ve got dinner for you - we’ve got no showers but water and I can show you your room”

The lady who greeted us couldn’t have made us feel any more welcome - she was fantastic! She showed us around and the table we’d eat at and then to our bunk room. We spent a few minutes changing our clothes and setting up our beds before heading out to the main room for dinner.

Food was my biggest concern for the trip. I don’t do well when I’m hungry. I’m a moody bastard when I’m hungry. I also don’t like cheese. It’s not a dietary issue. I just hate the smell and taste, since I was a kid. I’ll eat pizza, mozzarella but that’s all.

I knew on this trip I couldn’t be fussy. I knew I’d be so tired I probably wouldn’t care but I knew I might not like it. Mostly though I was just worried about not getting enough food. I needn’t have been concerned about dinner.

We were set up at a table shared with two young girls who had also hiked from Escaldes-Engordany, over a more sensible time than us, using just this leg for a hiking experience as they travelled Europe.

Water and wine for the table, a big bowl of (mostly) chicken noodle soup to start, with a few random things thrown in (hotdog?). A huge dish of pasta bolognese covered in cheese on top (it was ok I could avoid the top layer) and custard for dessert.

Our bellies were full and we were feeling good again.

I caught the host and let her know that we needed to pay for our (on tab) drinks because we’d be leaving very early in the morning. She kindly offered to make us a sandwich to take but she was super busy tidying up - I could see that, I had picked a bad moment.

She said come back at 10:30 (it was maybe 8:30pm at the time), Matt looked horrified. I said “ok, we’re going to bed soon but I can get back up.” In the bunk room Matt said “I ain’t staying up until 10:30!” and he meant it. I didn’t want to be rude or a pain so we gave it 45min and I popped out to the main room. Our sandwiches were ready and the (other) host sorted the bill. I also collected our first passport stamps - I let him know how much we appreciated it and how great dinner was.

It should be noted they did tell us they don’t normally offer take out breakfast, you could see how hard they were working over dinner, they were just being very kind and I felt super grateful.

Lights out. Bedtime. In our sleeping bag liners with the provided pillows and duvets. Bags at the ready to scoop out the room in the morning, aiming to disturb our roommates as little as possible when our alarms go off at 5:30am.

We planned to start the next day at 6am to see the sunrise at the highest elevation we’d reach - Collada dels Pessons (2,814 m).

It’s always hard to feel like you’ve trained enough for these things. I started the year with an injury which prevented any serious running for a few months, lifes been busy and no matter what you’ve done you probbaly never feel you’ve done enough.

It was going to be taper week but I’ll be honest I haven’t earned a taper… last week was 10 miles and 2,200ft of elevation running and a bike ride of about 10 miles. So it worked out well that my buddy Paul suggested a hill session last night.

We met up in Shere for 12x up and down of “Shere Drop” - about 400ft a go. I was hoping Paul would arrive earlier than me and had a couple of laps in the bank like last time so I could do a little less. We arrived together and in for a penny…

Paul was a little easier to keep up with than last time. I’d like to credit it to my fitness having improved, which it may be in part but I think it was largely more balanced between us due the fact he had a recent 53mile / 21,345 ft Snowdon adventure in his legs.

The first half of the run we were cruising up and down with a good catch up on the events of weeks that had past since we saw each other last.

It was mid twenties in temperature and I’d been a bit slap dash with throwing drinks in my van before leaving - luckily Paul had some extra water spare and a bottle of coke for me.

Once we got to 8 laps I was fully committed for the 12, having found the rythym and still not exhaused our catching up but most importantly only a few more to go.

The last 3 laps I was no longer just hot and with a thirst no river could quench but the legs were burning too. I suppose I did well that they gave me no jip to this point. Chatting with Paul about it he confirmed my suspicions. This it the bit he does it for - laps 9/10/11 where you’re really doing the work - the rest is the warm up, 2+hours as it may be, but warm up it is.

Repeats 11 and 12 the coke was repeating on me. What you dream of during a lap, the idea of getting back to our car aid stations for a guzzle of coke/water is a fine balance of replenishment and avoiding overindulgence.

During the final ascents my concern was flipping between avoiding totally overheating and the suggestions from my body I was about to vomit. Meanwhile Paul had stowed his poles to maximise the sessions impact on his legs. The man is a beast.

We made it and vomit free. Celebrating wth the lemon lucky saint’s we’d been dreaming of for a few hours…

Job done. Strong, final session in the bank ahead of Andorra next week for me and Colorado for Paul. Good times! I’ve earned a rest now.