Centurion Running Thames Path 100. 5th September 2020.
Time allowed: 28 hours.
(Apologies in advance for the switch between imperial and metric distances. The race uses miles but I work in kilometres – the numbers tick over faster! And further apologies for the blurred memory…it was a long night)
It was 8.45 on a sunny Saturday morning when I walked past Richmond Town Hall to have my temperature checked. “Are you ready?” asked the masked race marshall. I laughed out loud, almost hysterically. He said “walk over there, your time will start and then make your way down to the river and turn left”.
Quite important instructions really for a route that follows the Thames for 100 miles.
A bit of background: I’d signed up for the Thames Path 100 by accident. I’d been taking part in Centurion Running’s ultramarathons since 2016. I’d completed an ironman distance race in 2015 (The Outlaw in Nottingham) and been looking for another challenge and discovered that there were races longer than a marathon. Who knew? The first ultra I did was the Chiltern Wonderland 50, which, as the name suggests, was 50 miles bimbling around a loop starting in Goring and taking in such sights as the windmill from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Having finished 60th (out of 159 finishers) on my first attempt I was hooked and signed up for all their 50 milers that were coming up and I had half an eye on training for their 100 mile ultras. Shortly after that I injured my left leg and kept having what I, and the medical profession, thought were nerve issues. The next three ultras (Wendover, North Downs and South Downs) were completed at ever slower paces until I tried to repeat the Wonderland and got timed out. During this time I had also helped marshall at other Centurion events.
In January 2019 my leg issue was finally diagnosed as being Parkinson’s Disease. After dealing with the initial shock, I have been trying to find out how my medication works. Luckily my consultant gave me free rein to experiment! After some trial and error I have found something that works (of sorts) for now. That’s the problem with a degenerative disease, it never stands still, so to speak. However, I cannot run too fast or I use up my dopamine and “trolley leg” returns. (My left leg has been named “trolley leg” because it has a mind of its own). This means that I have to walk/jog and live with the restriction. After more than 2 years of frustration that almost led to DIY leg removal, I’m happy to run with that (no pun intended).
One of the perks of helping at a Centurion event is being offered a free place in the subsequent year’s race. I had volunteered at the Thames Path 100 in 2019 and said that I didn’t want a place as I didn’t think I would be capable of completing a 50 mile race (one of the qualifying criteria) in time for 2020. Shortly after the 2019 race I received an email asking if I wanted to take part in 2020. In spite of the admin error, just for a giggle I looked at the criteria again. Historical entries counted – including the ones that I had completed. I signed up and decided to use the Thames Path 100 as a fundraiser for Parkinson’s.
Back to the race:
I jogged the steps down to the river, turned left and walked towards Oxford. One hundred miles (or 32 parkruns) to go. One foot in front of the other. And repeat.
I walked for the first ten minutes or so, trying to make sure I was warming up my legs, and then started the odd jog for a few hundred metres. It was a nice warm morning with bright sunshine and I was starting to think about losing a layer into my running pack, which was nicely loaded with the mandatory kit list as well as jelly babies and tailwind (energy drink). The plan was to finish in about 26 hours – so just over 6km an hour.
I was jogging along at about 4km in, just going up a gentle slope and chatting to another runner when I felt a pain in my left calf. Yep, I’d torn it. That would teach me to break my golden rule of always walking the hills. Several unprintable words went through my head. Months of training, planning, and sacrifices were now up in smoke due to my left leg – but this time it wasn’t the Parkinson’s. Gritting my teeth I walked on it for a bit. Then tried jogging which was excruciating and virtually impossible. More unprintable words.
In jest I’ve often used the phrase “if you can’t run then walk, if you can’t walk then crawl”. I didn’t think I’d be putting it into practice! More thoughts went through my head about this being my only chance of a 100 miler and letting down everyone who had supported me. Budgie Johnson was supposed to be pacing me from halfway at Henley and all the effort he’d put in with me during some awful wet evenings in the winter would be for nothing.
I carried on limping. The last few years tribulations have given me a bit of resilience, and I think I get a bit of stubbornness from my mum. She’d been diagnosed with cancer during lockdown and unfortunately it had proved to be terminal. I looked up and grinned. She also had an evil sense of humour and I could imagine her commenting about me trying to make it harder for myself, so I messaged Caroline (my wife who was also my support crew):
“…felt my calf tear. Luckily it’s my left one so not vital, just painful. Def bring ibugel to 1st CP. Onwards! Will check in later x”
She replied: “Ok but that not till 20 miles”
“Yep :-)”.
The limping eased into a forced walk, and I tried a bit more jogging. Really painful but if I changed my stride to a weird glide the pain was reduced. So running as though I’d wet myself it was to be.
While bimbling along this section I was trying to be more Debs. If you know Debbie Pentland, you’ll know what I mean. She’s a member of Portsmouth Triathletes and, in spite of suffering with three autoimmune diseases (including lupus), is one of the most positive people I have been blessed with calling a friend.
I got to the first aid station at 10 miles (the first crew station where Caroline would be was another 10 miles away) topped up my tailwind and then back out on the trail. I made sure that I loosened the tops of my water bottles before I entered the aid station because there was no chance of that being possible after using the hand sanitiser gloop they used!
Due to Covid safety protocols we had a staggered start. Having anticipated that I would be one of the slower finishers I’d started towards the back and so there were not that many runners to talk to. In fact, looking at the results table I was 5th from last until about Henley. However I was looking at all the palatial mansions lining the Thames, including Hampton Court. There were loads of boat clubs out for rowing sessions as well and it was so tempting to try and get a lift!
I was carrying a GPS tracker and this helped Caroline find me at the first crew point. She was carrying the Ibugel which we’d pinched from my daughter that morning – little did we know how crucial that was to be. My calf had gained a really nice big solid lump so it made it very easy to work out where to rub the gel onto. A couple of painkillers as well and I was off.
Amazingly enough I was gaining time. I used an app on my watch to let me know my ETA compared to the planned 26 hours, and I was gaining. I had told Budgie that I wanted to get an hour in the bank so that if (when?) the wheels fell off later we would have a cushion and I was slowly working towards that vital amount.
The gel worked. The relief was immense. I could get back on with the job of putting one foot in front of the other, and repeat.
The miles ticked by. More mansions. More rowers. Some very lovely riverside pubs (oh for a pint!) and restaurants. More aid stations which were merely trotted through because Caroline was doing a superb job of meeting me and topping up my fluids and providing the odd cup of tea as well. I’m sorry to have flown through the aid stations because the crews make such an outstanding effort. Caroline was also posting on Facebook and passing on messages. I’d turned my phone onto battery saving mode as I wanted to make sure that if anything happened I could actually call someone, and so was a bit separated from all that.
The suburbs turned into countryside and about 50 kilometres into the race I was met unexpectedly by some friends who had also brought their son in a pushchair. Yes, I did make them jog with it for a while – but they have been running with me in the past and knew what to expect and it was a real lift to see them in a stretch without any other company for a while.
There is a lot of time on an ultra to be alone with your thoughts. The kilometres tick over slowly and the miles slower still. I was realising that perhaps the Parkinson’s and the calf were actually a bonus. When I’ve been on aid stations I’ve watched runners come in who had pushed too hard at the start and hit the wall with plenty of miles left to go and therefore unable to finish. I could not go fast or my leg would do its own thing, and my calf was forcing me to be even more cautious. I’ve been blessed with long legs and a fast walk which, with the occasional jog, was doing exactly what was needed. One foot in front of the other and repeat.
The day turned to dusk, and I got my headtorch out of my pack. Following the trail was requiring more concentration in the dark. Miles away from Henley I could hear loud music blasting out over the Thames Valley. As I approached the halfway point I could see some sort of show was going on in a field but no idea what, or why it was so loud. Just at that point a voice called out “is that Twig?”. Emma and Andrew had travelled up to Henley, swam in the river and waited to join me and jog into the checkpoint and meet Budgie. Another unexpected but very welcome boost!
We arrived at the Henley checkpoint just over 12 hours into the race, which was at the high end of my best laid plans. Result! Well, sort of for half way, anyway. I went to the van for a change of tops, socks and shoes and a top up of fluids. I also collected my walking poles which were to prove to be very useful. The best part was seeing Budgie’s smiling face and knowing that I’d not let him down.
We headed out from Henley and I warned Budgie that there was going to be a lot of walking. However he was relaxed as I’d put such a buffer in the bank that we would not be worrying about missing any cutoffs. The distance ticked by. It was easier having someone to chat to and joke with. Having spent many hours training over the previous few months we’d settled into an easy rhythm with the odd run (some would argue very odd) here and there as the energy levels and terrain permitted.
We started overtaking other runners. We also passed a few fishermen and other assorted groups on the banks of the Thames. It has to be said that Reading is not the most salubrious place late at night and was a complete contrast to other sections where complete strangers would shout out support as we bimbled along. I’d also started checking my phone and was amazed by the jump in the fundraising.
The night passed on and we trudged the sections of the route that were on tarmac. No way with my calf was I running on anything solid – it really was not good for it. I did lose track at one point of when I’d last taken my meds. Ooops. Must pay more attention in future if I want to get this done! In the valley beside the river it got really cold and the dew almost turned to frost in a couple of low spots. But we were blessed with a virtually dry night – we could not contemplate how hellish it would have been to compete in a storm. The night started to lighten and we had an amazing sunrise with the vivid colours mirrored on the totally flat Thames.
We knew by mile 85 that we had it in the bag. It was just a case of putting one foot in front of the other, and repeat. We passed through Abingdon and put the pedal to the metal (so to speak). We were regularly overtaking other runners now. Just before Oxford another friend turned up. Treena was checking out the path for next year’s race, and accompanied us for part of the final leg into Oxford. We could finally see the last bridge over the Thames before the finish and I knew that I had enough in the legs for a sprint. So, knees pumping, I hoped Budgie was keeping up with me as I ran over the bridge and through that big blue Centurion finish arch.
Finish time: 25 hours, 24 minutes and 26 seconds. £3,320 raised for The Cure Parkinson’s Trust.
Thanks to all the marshalls, aid station crews, James, Nici and the Centurion Team. Several years of hell were laid to rest on that path. Nice out.
