21:13:48 of grit, shingle, sunset, and Pepsi
By Andrew de Bere
Section 1: Easing In
No coffee for me to start the day, so breakfast consisted of a banana and then off to the start for a 07:00 start. The first section was 25km with around 600m of elevation, and easy going thanks to fresh legs. I wasn’t tempted to get carried away and go too fast. The early kilometres involved a fair bit of queueing, with the usual wave congestion and gentle jostling for position, but this soon eased as the field began to spread out.
I ignored the first aid station at 11km apart from checking in. The scenery overlooking Corfe Castle across the valley was stunning, which kept me in high spirits. The 25km aid station was a check-in, a quick flask fill and straight on. The day was still relatively cool at that point, though the temperature was beginning to climb.
Section 2: ‘This Was Not in the Brochure’
Then came the second section.
33km. 1100m of elevation.
Stunning scenery, but it absolutely defenestrated my planned pace. Four big (brutal) climbs hit me hard. While I recovered quickly each time (once I’d got up them), the technical terrain made it nearly impossible to find a rhythm. Most of the challenge is technical, by the way. I think I knew this, but now I ‘know’ this.
At the 33km mark, I was starting to feel a bit depleted. I’d glided past the earlier stations with barely a glance, so I had hopes for this one, but it only had water. No electrolytes, no SIS, just a quick water top-up and move on. I’d already had to hydrate more than anticipated due to the rising heat, and by this point, I’d used up most of my Tailwind stock, apart from what remained in my pack bladder. Worse still, the water at this station tasted absolutely revolting. I’d been banking on a bit of replenishment, and the idea of having to ration what was left of my Tailwind was more than a little unsettling. Fortunately, the next checkpoint had a better spread, and fresh pineapple has never tasted so good.
Somewhere before Weymouth, I hit a low and struggled to focus on pace and technique. The route passed a holiday park with a huge outdoor bar and a big screen showing the FA Cup. I’m not even a football fan, but the sight of people lounging in the sun with pints almost derailed me. Enter Roger, who checked in just in time. A stretch of flat road helped me refocus on form, pick up the pace, and get my head back in the game.
59km: A Boost from Home
Meeting Sophie at the 59km aid station was like switching batteries. Her support, a bit of care, and something warm to eat gave me just enough lift to keep going, though my feet had other ideas. The meatballs with rice were delicious, but I only managed a small portion. I refilled my flasks, re-stocked with Tailwind, picked up my headtorches, and swapped in a fresh charging pack.
One small oversight: I’d forgotten to put my watch into low-power mode. It was already down to 18%, so I had to dig out the charging cable, plug in, and let it top up while I sorted everything else. At that point in the day, even simple tasks, like eating, felt mentally exhausting.
I ended up spending longer than planned at the aid station, probably close to an hour, and struggled to get moving again. I didn’t dare take off my shoes. Some things are better left untouched, but my feet were reminding me that sitting down had been my only act of kindness so far. And hanging over all of it was the knowledge that I still had some way to go.
Section 3: shingle
The final section, a mere 41km, was more forgiving in terms of elevation (around 600m), but still presented me with challenges of its own. I took a couple of paracetamols to placate my feet and pressed on. The terrain was less technical, which finally allowed me to get into a rhythm and start focusing on my pace again, though it still demanded concentration to avoid tripping.
Somewhere near Chesil Beach, the sun began to set, and the reflections were spectacular, but I’d decided early on: this was not a photography trip. The memory would have to do.
As the light faded, the temperature dropped sharply, and a heavy dew crept in as if from nowhere. Nothing like wet feet to start the walk in the dark.
I had debated taking two head torches. I’m glad I did as the thought of changing batteries in the dark while tired was not my idea of fun. Another highlight: full-fat Pepsi. I never drink fizzy drinks (unless tonic is involved), but in that moment it was absolute nectar and gave me a good energy boost. Cheers for the tip, Roger.
Then came the shingle. Four kilometres of it. Fine, soft, endless. I reduced stride length, put some music on, and dropped into my head. It worked, just.
The Final Push
At 95km, I reached the last aid station. So close that it almost felt like I’d reached the finish already. Then, a cruel surprise. A climb straight out of the checkpoint, glowing green markers stretching uphill like taunting fireflies. It nearly brought me to tears. Objectively it wasn’t the hardest of the day, but at 95km, it felt biblical.
The descent from the top was a gift and pretty much continued all the way to the finish.
Around 97km I missed a course marker and walked half a kilometre into a freshly ploughed field. A marshal was out adjusting signage, as clearly I wasn’t the only one to have taken this route. I had the choice: retrace my steps or tackle a barbed-wire fence with a one-metre drop on the other side. I chose the fence option, which would have been easy in the daylight but less so in the dark, cold, damp, and tired to the bone.
Still, I made it.
And then, there was Sophie’s smiling face at the finish line, the obligatory photos and her whisking me away to a comfy bed in a hotel.
The Verdict
I finished in 21:13:48, missing my most hopeful 20-hour goal but proudly in the top 50% of participants. Over 200 people withdrew from the full continuous challenge. I didn’t. I crossed that line sore, grateful, and proud.
This was almost certainly the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I loved it. Massive thanks to Sophie, who believed in me when I had doubts, and to Roger, whose ‘My First Ultra’ course and coaching made a daunting goal feel genuinely achievable.
Rookie Errors (and what I’d do differently)
Blindly following the lost
In the very first section, I blindly followed a participant who turned out to be just as lost as I was. Classic rookie move. I ended up walking an extra kilometre before realising and backtracking. Next time: trust the course markers, not the confidence of strangers.
Underestimating the technical terrain
I’d trained on hills (lots of Butser love), but the sheer relentlessness of the climbs and descents, combined with rocky, uneven paths, caught me out. I never quite found rhythm in the middle section. Next time, I’ll endeavour to add more training on technical ground, or at the very least, a closer study of the route in advance.
Assuming all aid stations are equal
At 33km, I was banking on electrolytes as I was low on Tailwind and hit a water-only station. Not ideal when you’re already running low. Lesson learned: always carry more Tailwind than you think you’ll need and never assume the aid tables will have what you’re hoping for.
Not checking course signage closely enough
97km in a ploughed field is no one’s idea of fun, especially after four kilometres of shingle. Fatigue makes fools of us all. A tiny mental checklist, ‘have I seen a marker in the last 100m?’ would have saved an awkward barbed wire and drop negotiation that, in daylight, would’ve been laughable, but at that point felt like an assault course.
Fearing my feet
My feet were sore, but I couldn’t bring myself to take off my shoes. Probably wise, but still unsure if I made the best decision to ignore them.
Forgetting low-power mode
At 58km, I noticed my watch was down to 18%, as I’d completely forgotten to activate low-power mode. Cue some fiddling with cables, charging and switching settings, and hoping it would make it to the finish (which it did easily). Next time: prep the tech properly and do it before the event starts.
Mild regret
I stand by my ‘not a photography trip’ rule, but still, that light over Chesil Beach, and the Jurassic Coast on a glorious sunny day, deserved a lens. Another day perhaps. For now, I’ve got the memories.