....and it's only taken a month to finish this off!
Leg 14: Long Bready to Portesham, 4.5 miles, 624 feet up, 634 feet down
I summoned my remaining strength, which took 2.5 nano-seconds, and pointed my feet in the direction of the door. There can be a balanced argument to be had about recceing the route. The obvious plus is that you (fingers crossed) have more of an idea of where you are going. The downside, which I hadn't considered before this point, was that I knew where I was going next, and I didn't like it.
The hill stretched up into the clouds. I climbed. I saw that the friendly guy who had run past me earlier was a long way up ahead, an untouchable red dot climbing higher and higher. The path was stony and uneven, and each time I jarred my foot against a stone I cursed the hill and all it's stupid stones, and the sun that was too hot, and my bag which hurt, and my knee which felt like something had snapped in the back of it, and, and, and.....
Argh.
Sob.
I reached the top.
And came down the other side.
And kept going for a couple more miles.
And arrived at Portesham, the final checkpoint. And also where our holiday cottage was, which was just a cruel twist of fate. A few hundred meters away was a shower, and my bed. My bed!!! Or, 10 km further past that was The End Of The 100.....
Which was it to be???
There wasn't even any competition. It was The End that I wanted, that I'd always wanted, and now was only 10 km away, and I was going to get there if it was the last thing that I ever ever did (at least, the last thing before bed).
But let us not get ahead of ourselves. The final checkpoint was yet to be experienced before tackling that. And here occurred my only food related disappointment from the whole event; that I didn't feel up to the chips that were being cooked and filling the hall with their crispy delicious goodness-y smell. Sensing my physical and emotional distress at this realisation, the man at the checkpoint instead magiced a plate of fresh watermelon and offered me a slice. It was delicious. Cool, sweet and thirst quenching. At that moment, it felt like the elixir of life. If I was allowed only one food for the rest of my life, it was, and still would be, watermelon. My Mum ran off back to the house to get my freeze spray so I could blast my knee. My Dad went off to find Andrew, who had got lost trying to find me. The two lovely ladies who were supporting their husbands were there again, and one of them was so nice to me that she made me cry.
I pulled it together. I had to run past a photographer who was outside the hall, and I wanted to look OK in the photos. I don't co-ordinate my outfits for nothing.
Leg 15: Portesham to The Finish, 6.5 miles, 762 feet up, 870 feet down
As I was running up the high street in Portesham, a big white duck was waddling down the road towards me in a rather zig-zag fashion, in the direction of the pub, and causing all the cars to slow down and wait for him, while he gave them a fowl look.
I climbed the hill that we could see from our house, up to Portesham Quarry. As I got near to the top, a couple sat on a bench called out to me that it was 'easier going the other way.' Haha!
In blatant disregard for this advice, I continued on to the top, and turned a corner. Oh nope, that's not the top yet, must be just over that rise there. Oh, oh no, still not there. Nope, still going up.
Sigh. Ooooh, no wait! Here comes the self clip! Ohhhh, no wait. It's at the top of a stile. Are you having an actual laugh?? At the top of a stile. I ask you. At the top of a stile after 97 miles. And why are there so many stiles on this last bit anyway? What's wrong with gates? Ran in a straight line along the top of the ridge for a mile or so, which was actually quite nice, if I ignored the pain in my right knee. That thing I mentioned before about something snapping? Yeh. I think something has actually snapped. And it feels like it might be something quite important. And that freeze spray has started to wear off. Why didn't I bring it with me? I'm a complete buffoon. Well, I'll just have to get on with it. At least it hurts all the time now, even if I walk, so at least that's not a temptation any more.
To come down off the hill, the instructions said we had to go in a sharp zig-zag pattern down the side of the hill, which reminded me of the duck from before, and I started laughing to myself. Quacking up. I was also having a bit of a panic, because as well as all these self clips I've been going on about on the instructions (which are basically little clips at points of the route where you could technically have taken a short cut by cutting a corner), there are also two 'surprise' clips, which I presume are there to keep you on your toes, and on the straight and narrow for the whole event. Only thing is, I've only got one of these stamped on my card, and there's only about 3 miles left, and there's already a marked clip on this part of the route, so I can't imagine they'd put two clips in the last 3 miles. What if I've missed one? Will I be disqualified? Oh my days. I can't cope with this. It's all too much.
At that point, I was saved, as I arrived at the charming 13th century church of St Bartholomew, which is interestingly located in a farm yard, although, I suppose, the 13th century church was probably there first. I had reached the final manned clip point at St Bartholomew's Church, and as well as saving my blood sugar levels from siking further to the floor, it saved my spirits, as the man at the checkpoint reassured me that I hadn't missed the surprise clip, the surprise was that there wasn't one. Ha. Ha. Ha!
Right then, that's it, now that's cleared up. One more push to the end. There was the inevitable hill, which by now I had become so used to that it didn't stir any emotion in me any longer, and I resigned myself to the climb.
I was keeping an eye on my watch. It was creeping closer (obviously) to 6 pm. My goals for The 100 had shifted, ever so slightly, from before starting to this point:
- November 2015 (on entering): brilliant, I've got a place, I can totally win this and set a record and I can quit work and travel the world as a professional ultra runner/ adventurer
- January 2016 (midway through regular winter ultras): this is quite hard, maybe I'll just aim for finishing first
- February 2016: I am so ridiculous. I'll just try to finish in 24 hours
- March 2016: Well, maybe 26 hours
- Beginning of April 2016: No, maybe 28 hours
- Mid-April 2016: 30 hours?
- End-of-April 2016: Whatever, I'll just try not to get timed out
- Start of 100: yes, number 7 sounds sensible
- Miles 10 - 50: no, I am underestimating myself; repeat steps 1-8
- Mile 55: repeat steps 4 - 8
- Mile 65: repeat steps 6 - 8
- Mile 70: repeat step 7
- Mile 75: Sod that, I'll just try not to meet that man from earlier in A&E (I really hope he's not there either)
- Mile 80: never mind that, I'll just try not to meet him at the mortuary (I really really hope he isn't there either)
- Mile 90: get it together girl, enough of this, back to step 6
- Mile 95: chuffing nora, time's getting on, better step on it if step 6 is still on the cards
- Mile 96: oh my days, how has only one more mile passed
- Mile 97: seriously?
- ................
Ya-de-ya-de-yah. Don't think. Just run. Just do it.
Coming down off the ridge now and into this town, wherever that is. Upwey I think. Oh goody. The end is here. Somewhere. I can see an man up ahead. As I got nearer, I could hear he was singing. It was lovely. I smiled and said hi, and he sang something back. It was beautiful.
Upwey was beautiful too. All pretty old houses and a meandering river and everything. I had a last panic, as the instructions instructed to continue down a lane passing a LH bend followed by a RH bend and under old railway bridge, but didn't instruct for how long there would be until the old railway bridge. After a few minutes (which was magnified to half a millennia in my warped sense of time) I was about to turn back and throw in the towel, when I saw the blessed railway bridge. I was now on the very last point of the instructions. Point 15.7.
Point 15.7 said I had to run along the main road, to the second pelican crossing. I could see it in the distance. there was a little group of people gathered by it cheering. They pressed the button on the crossing, and as I approached the little green man lit up, and I crossed the road to the school. Hurrah!!!! The end!!!
Oh no, wait a minute. It's not quite here, it's up the road, across the grass, up the path, and into the hall.
NOW we're finished!
30 hours and 1 minute.
1 minute. Are you serious? Yes? OK, fine. 30 hours and 1 minute. I'll take that.
I had wondered for a long time what it would feel like to finish. And here's the point where I was expecting to say, modestly, that well, it didn't feel any different, it was a bit of an anti-climax, I was too tired to be bothered etc etc, like you often here people say.
Whatever!
It felt FANTASTIC!!!!
Even through feeling a bit tired and sore, I was so excited to have finished it, although I wasn't able to express it very well at the time. I sat down in the hall with Andrew and my Mum and Dad, and a nice lady brought me a cup of coffee (my first in 30 hours!) and a tub of ice cream. Then I went to the St John's Ambulance people to get my blisters sorted out (we won't even go into detail, well not much, I just had 10 blisters in the end). I really wanted to stay around and cheer in all the other people who were making it back, but eventually the tiredness won, and we headed for home.....
I had a shower, a lovely meal cooked by my Mum, and an enormous slice of chocolate cheesecake. Plus that celebratory glass of wine that I'd been going on about for ages, but I only managed two sips before I started to fall asleep in it.
Clearly I'm too old now to pull two all-nighters in a row.
Bed by 8.30 pm, and slept for 11 hours solid.
When I woke up the next morning I was feeling much less emotional about everything, a bit sore, and a bit confused that it was all over.
For almost the whole day, I swore that I would never do another.
Almost.....
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