And this is not going to be a minute by minute journal of what happened - I wanted to resist the temptation of that which I have read on other running blogs.
Here are the bald facts though.
DISTANCE
The Ridgeway is "advertised" as being 135 km or 87 miles long, but I would assume that would be the "direct route". Weaving around and dodging puddles etc adds a fair bit and my GPS logged 143 km.
TIME
I ran / was on my feet for just under 19 hours spread over 4 days. I didn't bother hitting pause for each break or stop, of which there were many,
WEATHER
I never really had any rain or snow while I ran. It was fairly windy but mercilessly the wind was mainly out of the SW to NW quarter, so generally behind me. On the thursday at the start it was minus 5 C, and possibly warmest on saturday afternoon at around plus 8 C. I never felt "warm".
PACERS & SUPPORTERS
I had someone running with me for about 80 km of the route.
Bryan Elliot ran 20 km from Hackpen Hill to Foxhill
Nick Chubb ran 21 km with me from north of Chilton to North Stoke
James Massey ran just under 9 km from Chinnor Hill to Princes Risborough
Bruce Haskell ran the first 10 km on Day 4, to Wendover.
Trevor White ran the last 20 km from Wendover to Ivinghoe Beacon.
Mary Jacob ran the first 23 km on Day 4, to Tring Station.
Kieran Fitzhall ran about 15 km from the Hale to Ivinghoe Beacon
Graham, Siobhan and Sarah from Plumstead runners did the entire 30 km on the last day.
Abi Salmon incredibly weaved around the route on the last day on her trusty bike and took on the might of Ivinghoe Beacon at the end.
Horsemen and women came out! Joss Gray and crew came up from Upton near the A34 to scare us with their horses. Phil Roelich surprised me with flapjack and nuts at Aston Rowant and cantered with me to Chinnor Hill. Karen Bartlett and Margie Gibb were awaiting us on top of Whiteleaf Hill on the last day and Jen Hart eventually found us in the woods above Wendover to trot along with us for a while.
Michael Rogers and Lulu Kyriakou were impromptu photographers at the vital moments on days 3 and 4 and took some great shots.
At the finish there was quite a party, with family and friends, many of the aid station volunteers and Claire Lomas and her mum coming to lend support and cheer me up the last hill.
They were all great fun, provided much needed morale boosts and adjusted well to my snails pace.
FEEDING & LOGISTICS
Some amazing people gave up their time and came along to help me get through this, compliantly following my aid station planning and throwing vast quantities of cake, sweets, hot and cold drinks my way.
Dominic Sancto nursed me to the start on day 1 in the freezing cold and helped on the first day. Andrew Fell helped him kick me up the trail at Overton Hill.
Jennie Smith was the angel at aid station 2 and 3 on day one, when the weather was at its coldest and my morale was at its lowest.
Dave Marson performed an epic role on day 2, getting me to the start and taking me home, as well as manning every aid station and providing beef stew for Nick and I at the end.
Patricia Clifton added a touch of class to aid station 3 on Day 2, even down to designer beetroot juice shots.
On day 3 the Massey family took over, providing all the aid and holding the tape as I ran through the 2012 mile barrier at Chinnor Hill.
On day 4 Janice Hawes and Jean Kennedy, supplemented by Jim, provided vast quantities of sustenance to 8 of us throughout the day. Chris and Sue Trim made the long journey from Ringwood to lend moral support.
REFLECTIONS
I was a little scared, but really quite euphoric at the start.
I had planned this and as it turned out nearly all of the planning paid off. I never felt underfed or watered; I had enough of the right type of shoes and clothes. The weather was consistent with the time of year; I had great supporters; my injuries held off for the most part. I knew where I was going and recognised the terrain.
None of these facts mean anything really, as anyone who runs long distances know. What is written above is just a list of things that can go wrong and make it worse. But long distance running is painful, it is monotonous, it puts you in a long drawn out discussion with your essence about the "why" of it. Long distance running offroad adds the profound annoyance of the underfoot that totally cuts any rhythm from your gait. The Ridgeway is "country" and it is green but it is as far away from sheep meadow or hillside as can be imagined. There is some wildlife of course, but not much. Not enough in fact. Not even many rabbits (hibernating already?) or even the Red Kites over the Chilterns.
The views are good.
Yes the views are very good.
Mostly in the first half it is a poorly maintained rutted track, mutilated by horses, mountain bikes, offroad vehicles and tractors. People actually use it to get around and go to work and the various forms of transport, the "any means", spread across it at will. No-one thinks "oh I'd better leave that part in good condition for pedestrians". The transport pecking order has the runner right at the bottom of the list. So almost every stride is of a different length, every few minutes brings a threat to ankle stability and much motion is zig-zag. Puddles were boggy or at the beginning frozen and lethal. Much of the second half is mud splayed by horses and other pedestrians, with ruts hidden under beech leaves, with the occasional clay field to suck every ounce of strength as it accumulates on even the most high-tech offroad sole. Worst of all, sharp points of chalk and flint stick out everywhere. It follows the "ridge, stupid!
Nevertheless I enjoyed myself. Immensely. That enjoyment was of course about the endorphins, the bloody-mindedness of setting a goal and achieving it, and, I won't lie, the backslaps and compliments of others. There is also an immense empowerment that gradually dawns on you as the miles go by and you slowly realise any distance is possible, if you are well trained enough, eat and drink right and are stupid enough to run just for the sake of it. I will do something like this again, probably sooner rather than later and less well supported, and covering more miles by day. It won't be in winter, though, as my fingers were never warm for 4 days and I would like to be able to take the hat off.
Did it hurt? Yes each day ended with sore legs but I recovered frighteningly well.
Maybe age dulls the senses.
Evolved to run. Born to run. Older, greyer, still running. Follow @Nariokotomeboy
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