Round the Isle of Wight Ultra Day 1

Saturday 21st June - 40 miles

It seemed like a great idea at the time. Two days jogging around an island during an annual yacht race, spectacular scenery, accommodation and food provided and a t-shirt and medal for finishing. The reality however was that this would be the hardest challenge, both physically and mentally, that I had ever faced. It was still a great idea though.

The day had finally arrived for us to head to the Isle of Wight. We arrived in Southampton on the Friday lunchtime and took the Red Funnel ferry across to Cowes. All the competitors were due to stay in a local school ready for the early start the next day. We made our way there and reserved a spot on the floor in the school hall. The facilities were fantastic with clean showers and toilets and I even managed to find a gym mat to use as a mattress.

Having set up camp we headed down to the centre of town to mingle with the yachting set. We found a cosy pub showing a World Cup match and focussed on pre-race hydration with the help of London Pride and Sol. A carbohydrate rich dinner was in order and we found a wonderful Italian restaurant which supplied us with tasty pizzas (I went for the rather bizarre chicken liver topping). 

After a wander around the Yacht village we headed back to the school and registered our places, receiving our numbers and maps. That done, we joined the other 80 people taking part in trying to get a restful sleep in preparation for the two long days ahead. It was an uneventful night apart from the mouse that scurried past every few minutes.

Everyone was up by 6am for the breakfast of cereals, fruit and pastries along with hot and cold drinks that were laid on by the organisers. People began going through their pre-race rituals, pinning on numbers, applying Vaseline and sun cream, stretching and studying the route.

There were three groups all starting at different times. Walkers set off first at 8am followed by regular runners at 9am and an elite group at 10am. We were in the regular group and after a short briefing which advised us to keep the sea on our left at all times we headed down to the centre of Cowes. There wasn’t a cloud in the blue sky and the temperature was already in the high teens. It was going to be a scorcher.

Cowes is divided in two by a river. The only way to cross from one side to the other is via a chain ferry. This was the starting point of the race. We had stayed in West Cowes and now floated across to the East. As the ferry arrived the front went down and with a cheer we set off with 40 miles ahead of us.

Day one would take us from Cowes on the north coast around in a clockwise direction in the opposite direction to that in which the yachts were travelling. We would make our way around the east coast and most of the south coast finishing in a holiday camp where we would spend the night. All our kit would be taken there in a van. Four checkpoints were set up to provide water and food to fuel our bodies as well as encouragement to keep our spirits high.

The start of the course was a long uphill climb along the main road. This set the pattern for the entire event. We had been given instructions and a map to follow. Almost every line read ‘head uphill’ or ‘take the road uphill’ or ‘after that make your way uphill.’ But more of that later.

We made our way steadily through Ryde along local roads and paths being sure not to go off too fast so early in the day. A steady 11 minute mile pace seemed slow but with many miles ahead we wanted to conserve energy. The miles flew past as we chatted and took in the scenery. Soon we were in Seaview and at the first checkpoint.

By now the temperature was in the twenties and the heat was causing us to sweat profusely. This made it all the more important to ensure we were well hydrated. I had chosen to wear a waist belt with two small bottles and a camelback which could take over a litre of water. By the time we arrived at the first checkpoint in Seaview they were empty. The volunteers filled these up while I chomped down marmite sandwiches along with handfuls of pretzels and sweets.

At this point I felt fresh and was running well. So far we had hardly needed to walk and were already at a quarter distance. We continued along the coast to Bembridge and for the first time the south coast of England slipped from view.

It was at this point that we had our first sighting of the yachts. It was incredible to see over 300 boats stretched out in a line across the horizon from the north to the south. There was no wind which was good news for us but not for the crews as they struggled to make headway.

We stopped to take in the scene before heading up Culver Down. It was impossible to jog up and so we walked to the top. My legs were starting to feel tired and so it didn’t take much prompting for me to climb into an oversize deckchair for a comedy photo. I could have stayed there all day but with 25 miles still to go I climbed out and we pushed on.

A long downhill took us to the next check point in Sandown. By now it was past midday and the heat was getting uncomfortable. Thankfully I had bought a cap and shades, having learnt from my previous Ultra a few weeks earlier. I soaked my cap in water and ate as much as I could manage. Again bottles were replenished and we encouraged each other that we were half way through.

I felt ok but not as fresh as I had hoped I would at this stage. My muscles were tired and my shoulders were stiff from carrying the water on my back but there was no going back.

We continued along the seafront dodging pedestrians and looking in envy at the hundreds of people sitting on the beach and playing in the sea. It was the perfect day for a sunbathe, ice cream and a cold beer but that was out of the question. People watched us run past with incredulity. I don’t blame them. I started to question, not for the last time that weekend, what I was doing and why.

We arrived in Shanklin and from here things got tough. We had encountered a number of uphills during the first 25 miles but they were flat compared to the terrain that we now faced. We had managed to jog about 70% up to that point but this became 30/70 in favour of walking from this point to the day’s finish.

A mere 156 steps took us up away from the seafront and once at the top of the flight we had to ascend yet further. Steep narrow roads were followed by even steeper tracks and trails as we headed higher and higher. The sun continued to blaze down and we kept reminding each other to drink.

By now we were hardly talking. The only words we used were ‘Let’s walk’ at the bottom of a climb and ‘push on’ when one of us felt we ought to start jogging again. During the first 20 miles we had been waving to passersby, greeting them and smiling. Now if anyone attempted to communicate with us all they received was a grunt.

From the top of the cliffs we headed downhill again into Ventnor. By this stage I was dreading the downhill as much as the climbs as my thighs and glutes screamed out in pain. The bottoms of my feet were also beginning to feel bruised and we were slowing considerably.

We had managed a marathon distance but it had taken me longer than my first (and slowest) attempt at that distance and even longer than the 35 mile ultra I had completed just three weeks before. The heat and the hills were taking their toll.

The checkpoint at Ventnor was a welcome one and I scoffed down pretzels and flapjack with cups of Ribena. We were taking longer at each checkpoint and it was getting increasingly difficult to get going again. There were just 14 miles to go and one more checkpoint.

The next stage was the hardest of the day for body and mind. Again we were climbing for the majority of the seven miles, crossing fields and almost getting lost a couple of times. We were now on the south coast and I spotted St Catherine’s Oratory known locally as the Pepperpot. Our family had spent a week on the island a few years ago and stayed a mile from there. It was nice to see a familiar sight.

Eventually we reached the final checkpoint at Blackgang Chine. Here we met a woman who was having to quit due to the heat. She was feeling dizzy and sick and the volunteers called for a pickup. It took all my strength not to ask to join her in the bus back to the camp. I decided that I would dedicate these last seven miles of the day to her and finish on her behalf.

Off we went along the cliff tops through grass covered fields. Looking back on it the views were stunning with blue sea to our left, the white cliffs of the Needles ahead and rolling green hills to the right but at the time all I could think of was reaching the finish. We could see it in the distance but as the coastline was heavily eroding we needed to take a few inland detours to get there.

With just a mile to go we were faced with a crumbling sandy cliff which we had to descend and ascend the other side. It took forever. But then we were in the campsite adjacent to the camp at Brighstone. I tried not to look at the holiday makers relaxing in the sun with their picnics and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

We had been on our feet for over nine and a half hours. As we turned the corner we were greeted by cheers and applause and staggered across the line. Day one was over, 40 miles covered, and I was spent. How on earth was I going to get up and do it all again the next day?

After a massage and shower we helped ourselves to a dinner of pasta and mince and a couple of beers. Having refueled and watched Ghana hold Germany to a 2-2 draw it was time for bed. As I lay there I could hear clapping as some people were still coming in 14 hours after they set off.