The Thames Trot 2018

Foreword

Writing this two weeks after the race has given me time to properly reflect on the experience and move through all the accompanying and conflicting emotions. Anything less and this post would have needed a Parental Advisory Explicit Language sticker.

Plot spoiler - I DNFed at 27.5 miles.

Prologue

Going into the Thames Trot I hadn't really known what to expect: it was going to be my longest ultra at 48 miles and it would be the first time I had done two ultras in (relatively) quick succession with only three weeks since the Country to Capital. As such I wasn't really sure how to train between the races so the first week after the C2C was spent recovering; the second week had some light, low mileage runs; and the third week was spent tapering with very little in the way of exercise. This was not what I had planned but work threw up three of the toughest weeks I've had as a teacher so any semblance of a normal life went out the window.

By the time I was packing for the trip to Oxford, I didn't feel physically or mentally ready for what was supposed to be my longest ever run. My head space was a very dark place and just the faff of packing up made me irritable. Not how wanted to go into the race but I was hoping the run itself might clear my head and let me get some perspective.

Race morning

After a pretty decent night's sleep at Oxford YHA, I trundled out to the train station to catch the minibuses ferrying runners from the railway to the start line. It was dark and cold and raining. Chat in the minibus on the way to the venue was the usual mix of pre-race banter, nerves and references to individuals' race/injury history but one thing was clear - although none of us minded running in the rain once we got going, we felt it was bad form to have to start in the rain.

Registration was slick as usual thanks to Go Beyond Ultra's years of experience making sure everything ran like clockwork. It was nice to be able to stay in the hotel's function room right up until race start and the coffee provided was more than welcome. With race bags loaded into the vans for the finish line and a final trip to the loos it was out into the cold for the start.

Race start to CP1 - Mud!

As this was the 10th anniversary of the race there was a brief speech then the countdown and we were off.

Down the lane, across the lock bridges and out onto the Thames path. Path!? That's a laugh. Thames sodden, ploughed field would be a more suitable name. Now, I'm not naïve. I might not have run the race before but I had done my due diligence of watching the vlogs, reading the blogs and speaking to people (OK, person) who had run it before so I knew there would be mud. In the Venn diagram of all these research materials, mud was the one factor where they all over-lapped. Along with being pan-flat, it's the course's defining feature so I had been expecting there to be mud. But this wasn't the mud I had expected.

From the moment we crossed those lock gates and hit the 'path' the mud was thick and slick. It was almost impossible to run with any kind of rhythm; every footstep had to be planned with infinitesimal precision to minimise the inevitable slip. My mind was in overdrive watching other runners pick their line through the mud, deciding moment to moment whether to follow their line or go my own way. My core was working overtime to keep my legs beneath me and maintain forward momentum. It was running but not any kind of running I had experienced before.

There were some breaks from the mud when the path actually became a path of sorts or it wound itself across riverside fields when you could go 'full fell-runner' and just cut your own route but it was never enough. If you stepped off the path then you were running cross-country and the ground beneath your feet was uneven, slippy and a nightmare for your ankles. If you stayed on the path it was still slick and, if it had been firm underfoot for the frontrunners, by the time I hit it, the path was rapidly becoming a quagmire.

This continued for 10 miles.

CP1 to CP2 - The darkness sets in

Despite the going underfoot being horrendous leading to a ridiculously slow pace and a disproportionately high heart rate my mental state was still pretty positive. It was early in the race, although cold, the rain had abated and I had managed to enjoy some of the scenery on the few sections of path that had let me lift my view for a few seconds from picking my line. And so I hit CP1 feeling pretty good.

Following the same strategy as the C2C, I went through the checkpoint with minimal stoppage time and ploughed on with the next section. And 'ploughed' is probably the most appropriate word. The mud just carried on and on and on.

There were breaks from that relentless enemy but they were few, far between and never long enough to reach that mental state you go to when running for long distances. I never got to a point where I wasn't aware that I was running - where my body just kept on going without the need for conscious thought. Remember, I had been hoping this run would help clear my head of all that work fluff that had got in the way for the last few weeks but it didn't. I was always present, always aware, always conscious of the mud, the physical and mental effort the run needed and I was acutely aware that my mental endurance was much closer than my physical endurance to its limits.

Then the course pulled a fast one.

With a mile or so to go before CP2, the ground firmed up, it even became a gravel path in places and the running got so much easier. The mud cleared from my trainers and my core got a respite from the burning agony of pulling my legs back into line every footstep. My body got a break and so did my head... meaning I hit CP2 feeling quite happy with myself.

CP2 to CP3 - The fat lady sings

And because I was quite happy going into CP2 it meant I was quite happy to leave the 19 mile marker with a view to finishing the race. As the course wound its way between houses and down ginnels along some lovely tarmac, I was lulled into a false sense of security and began to enjoy the run. Neither the tarmac nor the enjoyment lasted long.

I won't go on any more about the mud suffice to say I was soon back in it and it was a bad as any of the previous sections. By the time I got to Oxford Brookes University's boathouse I'd had enough.

I love running and I love the sense of achievement I get from completing these events but mostly I run them for the following reasons:

• along with training, they are a break from the stress of real life
• they give me a chance to see parts of the countryside I wouldn't usually get to see
• they are fun.

The problem was this race wasn't ticking any of those boxes:

• there was no break from mental stress because I couldn't get to a point where my head was clear enough to assess, evaluate and therefore deal with the stress of real life
• at no point could I look up long enough to enjoy the scenery. Even now I can't recollect anything of any interest from the course
• it was not fun.

I'd come to run and this wasn't running so at the boathouse I got out the course maps and my phone, triangulated my position and figured out where would be the best place to drop out. It seemed CP3 would be ideal - there would be marshals so I could officially DNF and it was in a town so there would be transport links to the finish line.

That was it. I made my decision and set off to complete my final few miles of mud-bound hell.

CP3 - A very public DNF

Coming into CP3 at just over 27 miles there was no doubt in mind that I was going to DNF. Three weeks earlier, 44.5km over a hilly course had taken me 4hrs 29mins. Today, on a completely flat course, it had taken me 5hrs 15mins. I couldn't face another 4-5 hours of slog like that. I just had to get up the courage to DNF in such a public place.

Bear in mind that as you arrive at any checkpoint you will be met by marshals welcoming you in, volunteers congratulating you on making it so far and spectators cheering you on. To DNF in that kind atmosphere when you have no real reason to quit - no medical or mechanical that can't be fixed - takes a lot of nerve. I never hesitated.

Of course, I hadn't expected there to be any recriminations. Nobody involved in any aspect of this kind of event would ever question someone's reasons for dropping out. Those of us who run know how hard these events and those that support us running know how hard we train for them. If we're dropping out we have a good reason even if it is 'I'm just not feeling it today' as it was for me.

With my name given and my timing chip handed in that was me done. It was then a matter of planes, trains and automobiles to get to the finish line at Henley to pick up my drop bag (with my clean clothes and car keys) then back to Oxford to pick up my car before making the 80-odd mile drive back home.

I was still home before the last finisher made it to Henley.

Epilogue

As I reflect on the race, from this safe distance of two weeks later, there's a lot to be taken from the experience.

1, I have not felt any need to beat myself up about DNFing. It was my first non-medical, non-mechanical DNF but I don't regret it. Had I pushed on to the end or even just to the next checkpoint I might have seriously soured my love of running (at least for a bit) but I haven't. I still look forward to getting my trainers on and getting out for a run.

2, I don't feel like the course beat me. I have no need to sign up for next year's race to prove something to myself. Nothing is going to change. It will still be the Thames 'Path', it will still be in rainy February and it will still be a mud-bath. That's not going to change so my experience of it won't. Everyone who finished the race thoroughly deserved their finisher's medal but I don't miss having one in my collection. Plus, I got changed at the end with the guys who came in 3rd, 4th and 5th and they all said it was by far the toughest flat race they'd ever done so it's not like I wussed out of an easy race.

3, I've never underestimated the importance of having a strong, mental endurance to complete these events but I have been surprised at how important it is to start with your head in the right place. My head was definitely not where it needed to be and that impacted on me throughout. Not, as it usually does, in the back half of the race where a caffeine gel gives me the shot I need to perk up and keep going.

4, If I do any ultra events so close to each other again then I need a very clear plan of what to do in the intervening weeks to keep myself where I need to be.

Now I just have to figure out which ultra to do next. I quite fancy the Albion Running Hilly 50 Miler. At least in May it will be warmer and drier... hopefully.

So that's it: no finisher's photo; no shot of my time checks; just the obligatory links and stats.

Stats and stuff

Age: 43

Height: 117.8cm

Weight: 79kg

Trainers: Hoka One One Challenger ATR 3

Pack: Nathan VaporAir

Nutrition: SiS Go gels