Before starting this race recap I have to say a big thank you to Caroline (for putting up with, and crewing me) and Budgie (who paced me and made sure I got to the end).
Background: The Thames Path 100 is a race that does exactly what it says on the tin; a one hundred mile race alongside the river from Richmond to Oxford following the Thames Path. There are some diversions away from the river due to damaged paths and structures which await repair, so the overall distance is nearer 103 miles. There is a time limit of 30 hours with pro rata cut-offs at each of the twelve aid stations. The organisers are Centurion Running, and I am aiming to do the “slam” of their four main 100 mile races (Thames Path, South Downs Way, North Downs Way and Autumn 100) as well as the Winter Downs 100 to top the year off in December.
[For those that don’t know, I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease just over 6 years ago. If I take more meds than prescribed I can jog a bit. Some of the symptoms include fatigue and apathy – so every day is like fighting jet lag just to try and keep up.]
Anyway, back to the race report.
I may have said “never again” to running a 100 mile race a while ago, but this year could be my last chance to attempt this distance (and the slam) due to the progression of Parkinson’s. I’ve dropped my hours at work since the start of the year which has reduced the stress in my life and given me more time to train. The training itself has been pretty good with lots of longer runs with hills – in fact, I’ve run further this Spring than ever – however it’s been offset by a noticeable reduction in the time that the meds are effective, which has been worrying in case they stop working during the race and leave me moving like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz. In the run up to the race (no pun intended) I had toyed with the idea of trying to complete it in under 24 hours but decided that with the main aim being to complete all the races this year, it was best to not try anything stupid. (Says the man running five 100 mile races with a degenerative disease…)
I travelled up to Richmond the day before but due to signalling issues most of the trains were cancelled. Luckily I checked early enough and managed a workaround – after having a bit of stress looking at the red triangles all over the timetable. I was staying in a hotel near the start so it would be an easy stroll to registration at the Old Town Hall the following morning. I wandered down to the river and sat and listened to the busking singer. I was joined by Shelagh who was also doing the race. We’d shared lots of miles in 2023 doing the 50 mile slam and would hopefully share more miles during this race. After dinner it was back to the hotel to run through the kit yet again to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything, before trying to get some sleep.
After wrestling with the air con overnight (on – cool but buzzing fan, off – peaceful but toasty) I woke for the final time just before 5am and resigned myself to getting going. I was nervous which I put down to being the first race in the slam (so pretty important to start off on the right foot – no pun intended) however nerves and Parkinsons don’t mix. Luckily I had already put the Tailwind powder in my bottles and just needed to top them up with water. In order to exercise I have to take more medication than prescribed so I was planning on taking 2 pills every three hours starting from 7am. This would give time for the first lot to take effect before the race started at 9am.
I emerged from the hotel about 7.30 and wandered to registration via St Mary Magdalene church which I used as a moment to calm my nerves and get a bit of perspective. I am incredibly lucky, after being diagnosed over 6 years ago, to be able to even think about taking part. I put a grin on my face – which stayed there for pretty much the rest of the race.
Race registration at the Old Town Hall was an oasis of calm. The organised team checked my race number, gave me my number bib and attached a tracker to my race pack. I left my drop bag that was destined for the finish with the van and hoped that we would be reacquainted after I crossed the finish line and not any earlier.
I wandered up and down the river trying to warm up and stretch out my legs as much as possible. Five years ago my race had nearly ended when I tore my calf muscle not long into the event and I was determined not to repeat it.
The start area began to grow busier as time passed. Shelagh joined me and we felt good about the adventure awaiting us. It was going to be a warm day so we planned to make the most of the shade, walk the hills (or what we called a hill) and play the sunny sections by ear. We were joined by Jade who was doing the 100 mile slam AND the 50 mile slam this year – I saluted her commitment!
All too soon we were gathered for the race briefing by James Elson, who covered the important details in his usual dry style and then we listened to Ed Catmur’s father say a moving few words which again brought home to me how lucky I was to be taking part.
Another runner turned up just in time – Dave Phillips was attempting the Thames Path Fastest Known Time (FKT) from the Thames Barrier to the Source, and joining in the race too. He arrived two minutes before the start – perfect timing!
Shelagh and I realised that where we were stood in the sunshine was right at the sharp end of the start, so quickly made steps to the side when the race started and let all the keen runners make their way past as we set off steadily.
It was nicely shaded as we headed off wiggling our way between south east and south west until we passed Thames Ditton. We also shared the path with the Richmond Parkrun and there was a lot of mutual backslapping as we jogged along. Unfortunately I misjudged a step and bounced off a fast parkrunner – I did apologise but I think he was a bit miffed (I couldn’t quite catch what he said but I gather from others around me that it was a bit fruity). I kept reminding myself about the last time I’d run this race just after mum died – and to keep looking up.
Soon we passed Hampton Court Palace and stopped for the obligatory selfies (a fair bit of the time during the race was spent working out how many millions the residences that line the Thames would cost).
At just over two hours and 10.5 miles it was into the first aid station at Walton on Thames – and my word it was a busy one! Everyone wanted water but I hadn’t realised exactly where the station was and hadn’t prepped my tailwind packets. Rookie error which cost me a few minutes. Shelagh in the meantime had headed off, but I slowly reeled her back in after I had topped up.
We were towards the back of the pack, and, as usual in these situations, started regularly flipping places with other runners who would then overtake us again. We gave some of them nicknames, eg two guys in black t-shirts and shorts were “men in black”, two young (relatively speaking!) American “dudes” who were always positive with their loud acknowledgements were christened “Bill and Ted” and a lady who rejoined us after a gap because she got lost was obviously “Dora”.
The interaction with the public was fantastic too with nearly everyone shouting out words of encouragement, the kids handing out high 5’s or random ice lolly stations popping up. One little old lady did ask “is there an organised walk to Oxford?” which was a bit harsh – we did explain that we would try to jog at some point too! Each time we passed a pub or restaurant with an outside crowd we would get applause too – we did think about posing with some food at each one to make it look as though we were really stuffing our faces on afternoon tea but missed the opportunity. I was also trying to vary my jogging with some skipping and sideways and backwards running. It gave some relief to the quads and hips which were going to suffer from the monotony. I did get a funny look from a runner ahead as they turned a corner ahead of us to see me in full flight while skipping along.
At Staines (20 miles) it was the first of the crew points where I could meet Caroline and swap my bottles over. Shelagh’s crew also had iced lollies which were much appreciated.
It was a warm day and as the miles ticked over we stuck to the plan of jogging in the shade, avoiding overheating in the sun. Our pace was fairly steady too. It was great to chat while passing the miles.I had set up my watch to aim for a 26 hour finish, and the indications were that we would make that but I always allow for the unexpected plus going a bit slower in the night. We passed through Windsor and Cookham but Shelagh was starting to struggle with blisters and at Marlow (mile 42) she told me to go on ahead as she was holding me up. I was initially in two minds about this but did as I was told. It felt a bit strange to be on my own for a while. I grabbed a quick sip of coke as I passed through the aid station at Hurley and the lady who filled up my cup gave me a big morale boost as she said I was an inspiration for doing what I do as her father had Parkinson’s too.
I felt pretty good as I trundled towards Henley, which is effectively the half-way point at mile 51. Keeping the pace slow in the earlier heat of the day meant that I had lots in the tank and passed quite a few runners on this leg. Just before Henley the path leaves the river at Aston and goes past the village pub – well, hotel to be precise – but it was so tempting to stop for a beer!
After crossing the bridge into Henley at about 8.30pm it was busy on the towpath which was unsurprising as it was both an Aid Station and Crew Point where I was met by Caroline and my pacer, Budgie. In view of the predicted colder overnight temperatures I put on my extra top layers and leggings. In hindsight I put them on too soon as it didn’t get colder until well past midnight so I slightly overcooked myself. At this point I wondered if a sub24 hour finish was possible. After all, we had 51 miles to Oxford, a full tank of gas, half a pack of wet wipes, it was dark and I was wearing sunglasses. We hit it.
Unfortunately one of the aforementioned route diversions came into play immediately and rather than following the nice wooden walkway as it curves round the middle of the river for a couple of hundred metres we instead headed into town and ascended (what felt like) the steep climb through Harpsden Wood before rejoining the river after Shiplake.
The path from Shiplake into Reading is easy underfoot with grassy paths. It was a lovely evening with stars out and only a gentle breeze. I was calculating the possibility of achieving the sub24 result – it would be tight but possible.
It was on the approach to Reading that the wheels partly came off. Due to Parkinson’s related stuff I had to stop and do a clothing change that took a while as Caroline had parked a distance away which held up the unexpected pit stop extras.
WARNING: IF YOU’RE OF A MORE SENSITIVE DISPOSITION THEN SKIP THE NEXT PARAGRAPH
Reading, Bloody Reading
Something was trickling down the back of my shorts. I felt the top of the backs of my thighs and then shone my torch on my hand to see it covered in blood. Bugger. Piles. The inevitable consequence of the constipation that I’ve had for years and caused by Parkinson’s slowing my digestive system is piles. They’re uncomfortable to run with at the best of times and in spite of dietary changes, potions and lotions they had decided to flare up 58 miles into the race. I could feel the blood soaking through my shorts – if I couldn’t stop it at Reading then my race would be over. Caroline and Budgie headed off to the van while I stood grumbling under my breath for what felt like forever. As soon as Budgie returned with my spare shorts I ran up the stairs into the toilet praying a cubicle was free – and it was! I then cursed as I realised it would be a lengthy process taking all my layers and shoes and gaiters off. Luckily with a bit of TLC I stopped the bleeding, got cleaned up thoroughly before retrieving Budgie from his marmite sandwich fest in the aid station.
After grabbing some fresh bottles off Caroline we were off again, with the river curving its way through Reading. After running through meadows we were brought back to the railway line as the path threaded its way between the two, until finally just before Mapledurham it cuts through a housing estate and finally emerging back into the countryside as we headed towards Pangbourne.
The crew at the aid station were bouncing around like Tigger and a real boost to morale as we topped up and then headed off up the hill into Whitchurch. Yes, hill. Whitchurch is usually the only major ascent of the race – apart from this year with the Henley diversion.
After climbing the road through the village we turned north west through some very rough paths with lots of roots and awkward sections with steep drops into the darkness. After treading warily we eventually returned to the softer going of the riverside footpaths. As we approached Goring we caught up with two irishmen who were having some really loud banter – which was a bit of a shock to the system at nearly midnight. We did ask them to keep it down near the aid station, and they duly obliged.
We trotted into Goring Aid Station and bumped into Jo Robinson who was tucking into some food. We afforded ourselves the luxury of a hot drink for Budgie and then headed off back into the darkness. We skipped past the Aid Station at Wallingford as Caroline was waiting for us just over a mile away at Benson (80 miles).
It was at Benson that I had a minor wobble. I’d been pushing it since before Henley and neglected my carefully planned nutrition strategy which also meant that I was slightly dehydrated as well as under-fueled. I also realised that I was running low on dopamine as the left leg was not quite doing what I was asking of it. My fuelling strategy is based on Tailwind as it contains enough calories to propel me at a pace my meds can cope with – as long as I stick to the plan. And in my eagerness to push I’d not drunk enough nor topped up the calories any other way (usually giant skittles). Caroline shoved jelly babies into me while I regrouped. I’d gone too fast and not drunk enough. Back to Plan A – finish. So it would be a bit of plodding while the meds got my dopamine levels back up, and just get to the end in one piece. After all, I’d look a bit of a knob if I failed the first of the five.
We left Benson and headed off to Clifton Hampden Aid Station (87 miles), a place I knew well as I had been on the station crew several times. I also knew how cold it could get along that part of the river but was feeling quite comfortable. Right up to the moment where I didn’t spot a small stump in the darkness which I kicked with the big toe on my right foot. I don’t think Budgie was prepared for the absolute torrent of foul “Essex Boy” invective that spewed from me. All I knew was that it bloody hurt. Gritting my teeth I plodded on while cursing under my breath, Eventually the pain subsided and we admired the sun rising over the Thames. Budgie had noticed that I was clipping more obstacles (rough patches/roots/rocks etc) than I used to, which is probably to be expected with a degenerative disease. He did also apparently point out the stump that I kicked but I just didn’t hear him! Parkinson’s was also the reason that I was carrying the poles from the start – if the meds didn’t work and therefore my legs would be doing their own thing, the poles would enable me to carry on at a reasonable pace without lurching off into the river.
It always feels further than it should to get to Clifton, and indeed after what felt like an age we finally left the river to wend our way up into the village hall, where we were met by the John Fanshawe and his team. Rather than push on, I gave myself a few minutes to pop to the toilet and also savour a cup of sugary tea.
As soon as that was downed we headed back down to the river and jogged off towards Culham (91 miles). The end was tantalisingly close.
At Culham I had a lie down – the lack of sleep for weeks was catching up with me and It would have been lovely to snatch a few minutes but Caroline kicked me back onto my feet and we headed off to another diversion at Abingdon (93 miles). I was lusting after an ice cream at this point but all the shops were shut so I just had to live with my disappointment!
We were onto the final stretch now. Budgie was really suffering with blisters at this point but refused to stop and pushed through. We were just past the final Aid Station at Lower Radley when I tripped and fell. I was actually surprised I’d made it that far without falling as my left leg trails a bit due to Parksinsons. I nearly fell into the river but luckily landed on my back in a patch of nettles instead. The legend that is Kenneth Fancett stopped to offer a hand up but I was a bit discombobulated and lay there gathering my thoughts. After a few more minutes I felt my ribs where I’d winded myself but they seemed ok so got up with the help of Budgie and some random stranger and we carried on towards the finish, with the back of my head buzzing from where it had been stung!
Finally the finish line was in sight and it was a welcome relief to turn onto the cultured grass of Queens College for the short sprint (well it felt like one!) to the line after 26 hours 8 minutes and 38 seconds.
After finish line hugs with Caroline and my sister it was nice to relax and be pampered by the finish line crew – with Ian Robertson waiting on me with some fine food.
I kept checking on the tracker as Shelagh was still trundling along ahead of the cutoffs. She finished in 29:30:51 in spite of some horrendous blisters which was a fantastic result.
There were 300 runners that started the race, and I finished 122 out of 216 finishers.
So that’s the first out of the five 100 mile races completed – mostly in one piece. My achilles are about twice the normal size and taking a while to recover, probably not helped by my post race Parkies symptoms going off the charts with tremor, rigidity and really disturbed sleep – which is why it’s taken a while to type this. I also learned that my meds (when they work) do a fantastic job but that I shouldn’t overestimate what they can replace and to play sensibly in future. Caroline and Budgie did a fantastic job making sure that I got to the finish. The next race is the South Downs Way 100 on 14th June so my mission, should I choose to accept it, is to make the start line at the scenic Matterley Bowl.