My First Ultra Marathon

Ultra X Spring Trail Series South Downs 50K Race Report

Taper weeks are funny things.

You spend months building fitness, stacking training sessions and gradually increasing your mileage, only to suddenly do less and somehow feel worse. Your legs feel sluggish, every ache suddenly seems significant and you start wondering whether you've somehow lost all your fitness in the space of a week.

Despite knowing this is completely normal, I still found myself questioning whether I was strong enough for the challenge ahead.

My final long run had gone reasonably well. I'd run 40km along the Thames to Benson, which was absolutely stunning. The route was beautiful and, importantly for me, fairly flat, although in reality not ideal when I was training for a hilly event.

Unfortunately, my hydration strategy left a little to be desired. Around 5km from the end, I ran out of Tailwind and promptly developed a stitch on one side, followed shortly by a stitch on the other. Taking just two 500ml bottles for a 40km run wasn't exactly my finest piece of planning.

Still, training is where you make mistakes and learn from them. I was determined not to repeat that one.

Race Morning at Cowdray Estate

Despite the nerves, I was excited. For the first time, I genuinely felt like I could do this. We set off early for the two hour drive to West Sussex. As we approached Cowdray Estate, I immediately knew this was going to be a special event.

The setting was stunning. Beautiful countryside, perfectly manicured grounds and endless views across the South Downs. It all felt very grand and sophisticated.

The skies were blue, the weather was warm and there was a relaxed atmosphere around the start area, mixed with the usual buzz of runners preparing themselves for a long day ahead. People were checking kit, pinning on race numbers, making last minute toilet trips and trying to look much calmer than they probably felt.

The last toilet trip is always an interesting one as the queues are suddenly endless so you worry that you are going to miss the start.

Starting Sensibly

One thing I was absolutely determined to do was start slowly. Race starts have a habit of making everyone feel like an Olympian for the first few kilometres. I wasn't falling into that trap.

I deliberately positioned myself towards the back of the field and settled into what felt like a comfortable pace.

I had also set a twenty minute reminder on my watch to make sure I ate regularly. It's something I wish I'd done during the Ironman because it's surprisingly easy to get caught up in the excitement and forget to fuel. My nutrition had been bang on for the bike section of the event, but for the marathon it went out of the window.

Every time the alarm went off, I ate something. A bit of Precision gel, a chew, some Chinese crackers or a handful of salted cashews and dried cranberries. At every aid station I topped up my bottles and added more Tailwind powder. This race was not going to be ruined by poor nutrition.

The Importance of a Support Crew

At 13km, my support crew and Lola were waiting for me. A few quick hugs, some furry cuddles and a little morale boost before heading off again.

One of the wonderful things about endurance events is how much support matters. Seeing familiar faces can completely change your mood. I knew I'd see them again around 40km, which gave me something positive to focus on later in the race.

An Unexpected Running Buddy

Around 15km, another runner asked if I fancied running together. As it turned out, we'd end up running together for around 15km. He'd completed all sorts of endurance events, so it was fascinating hearing about his adventures and experiences. His finest was having done Marathon des Sables, six marathons in six days in the Saharan Desert. Huge Respect.

At one point, along with several other runners, we managed to miss a turning and added about a kilometre to our route. Thankfully it wasn't any worse than that.

What amused me was that at the start of the race I'd sped up specifically to get away from two runners chatting behind me because I found it distracting and wanted to focus on my own race. Yet here I was happily chatting away myself. Funny how that works.

The difference was that I was genuinely enjoying the conversation. The kilometres seemed to pass effortlessly. Looking back though, there was probably a lesson hidden in there.

Whilst the conversation was great fun, I suspect I was running slightly faster than I would have done on my own. Not dramatically faster, but enough to have an impact later in the day. I also completely forgot one of my carefully crafted race strategies.

The plan had been simple. Every twenty minutes my alarm would go off. I'd eat and then walk for one to two minutes whilst I fuelled. It was a strategy I'd borrowed from Ironman aid stations, where athletes naturally slow down every few kilometres to take on nutrition. Simple. Sensible. Thought through. And completely abandoned.

Yes, we'd walked the hills, but that wasn't the same thing. I'd forgotten all about my carefully prepared plan and instead got carried away chatting and running. It's amazing how quickly race day excitement can make you ignore your own good ideas.

Watermelon - Juicy Delights

The aid stations were excellent. There were jam sandwiches, crisps and various snacks on offer. For me though, watermelon was the real star. I've always found watermelon incredibly refreshing during long endurance events, particularly when it's warm.

Whilst everyone else was tucking into sandwiches and snacks, I mostly stuck to my own nutrition plan and grabbed plenty of watermelon whenever it appeared. Honestly, I could probably have completed the race fuelled entirely by watermelon and good intentions.

The Wheels Start to Wobble

Around 30km, my running companion and I parted ways. I needed to sort out my hydration and didn't want to hold him up.

Shortly afterwards I climbed one of the steepest ascents of the day. The reward was a glorious panoramic view across the South Downs. The sort of view that makes you stop for a moment and appreciate exactly where you are and remind you why you are doing the event. Then reality returned.

At around 40km I reached my support crew. I was delighted to see them. I was also hot, achy, exhausted and beginning to feel the effort of the day.

My legs felt like jelly and for the first time all day I genuinely wondered how on earth I was supposed to keep going for another 10km. Even more worrying, I was starting to feel nauseous despite eating and drinking consistently. The positive thing is that I continued to eat, despite my body having no interest in food what so ever, because I had learned from experience that this was necessary to keep my energy levels up.

As anyone who's done endurance events knows, that's never a comforting feeling. From that point onwards things became much tougher. My knee was taking a real battering on the descents, which surprised me. The climbs had been manageable. It was the downhill sections that were causing the problems.

As I shuffled onwards, one thought kept repeating itself. Why am I actually doing this? For Ironman I had a fighting desire to hear the words ‘You are an Ironman’. I trained for 14 months and put my heart and soul into it. For this event, I wasn’t sure what I was doing it for. Yes, I wanted a new challenge but my reasons for doing it weren’t as strong as for the triathlons I had completed over the last few years and that was a slight concern to me because without mental strength and a real why, you weren’t as strong and resilient.

I also wondered how on earth I was going to run 100km in four weeks? At that moment it felt less like a goal and more like a serious lack of judgement.

Lessons from a Canadian Ultra Runner

With around 2km remaining, I met a lovely lady from Canada. She casually mentioned she'd completed over 100 ultra marathons. One hundred. I was simultaneously impressed and slightly horrified.

Then she mentioned she'd completed an ultra two weeks earlier and was doing another one in two weeks' time. At this point I wasn't sure whether she was human or some kind of endurance-running superhero.

When I mentioned feeling nauseous, she shrugged and said that eventually you get used to it and that I should learn to be sick because you feel much better afterwards.

I wasn't entirely convinced. I wasn't quite ready to embrace vomiting as part of my race strategy. By this point I was feeling pretty rough. The stronger Tailwind mixture I'd been using for convenience was becoming increasingly difficult to stomach. What I really wanted was plain water.

We walked together for a while before eventually picking up the pace again.

The Finish Line

As the finish line approached, I managed to run the final section. At the time it felt like I was sprinting. Watching the video back later suggested otherwise. Nevertheless, I crossed the line smiling.

Fifty kilometres completed. My first ultra marathon. Done. Tick.

My legs were exhausted and I promptly collapsed onto the floor. Lola came over and gave me a much needed cuddle while I recovered. I probably should have stretched immediately. I definitely didn't. Instead, I simply sat there enjoying the moment.

As I was recovering, a runner crossed the line having just completed the 100km event. I sat there in complete awe. Not only had I just completed my first ultra marathon, but people were out there casually running twice the distance. Madness.

What I Learned From My First Ultra Marathon

Once I'd recovered enough to take my trail shoes off, I discovered something else that made me laugh. Both socks had enormous holes in them where my big toes had gradually worked their way through during the race. Apparently my toes had completed their own endurance challenge.

The surprising thing was that despite the state of my socks, I didn't have a single blister. That felt like a major win.

It also gave me another idea for the 100km race. If I was going to be out there for potentially double the time, I'd pack spare socks and change them every 25km. Fresh feet sounded like a very sensible investment. I was also genuinely pleased with the rest of my kit.

My new two-in-one trail shorts had been a revelation. They were loose, floaty and comfortable, with fitted shorts underneath. In all honesty, they were probably a little too big. Did I care? Not in the slightest.

After spending months training and racing in tight Lycra shorts that seemed determined to compress every internal organ I possessed, the freedom was glorious. If I was going to spend hours and hours running ultra marathons, comfort was becoming a far higher priority than looking aerodynamic.

Let's be honest, nobody was mistaking me for a professional athlete at kilometre forty eight anyway. Comfort was key.

The race taught me a huge amount. Next time, I would make my Tailwind weaker and carry plain water. I would stick more closely to my planned pace rather than getting carried away in conversation. I would remember to take my planned walking breaks every twenty minutes when I ate.

Most importantly, I would trust my own race plan. That said, one piece of advice from my running companion turned out to be invaluable.

"Get some walking poles for the Jurassic Coast."

As it happened, that was excellent advice.

Was I Ready for 100K?

Crossing the finish line, I felt incredibly proud. I'd completed my first ultra marathon. I'd learned a huge amount. I'd discovered I was capable of more than I thought.

But if I'm completely honest, there was another feeling mixed in with the pride. Apprehension. In four weeks' time, I'd be standing on another start line. This time for 100km.

And as I sat there with tired legs, a sore knee, holey socks and a slightly unsettled stomach, I couldn't help wondering whether I'd bitten off more than I could chew. Would I really be ready?

There was only one way to find out.

📚 Stronger Every Mile