I’m still taking it all in but I did it. The North Downs Way 50 is in the bag and honestly, I’m so happy it’s done.
This race has been hanging over me for 11 years. The one that got away. A DNF that stayed with me, quietly whispering “not yet.” This year, I finally stepped up again. Older, with more miles in the legs, and a body that I wasn’t sure would ever run pain-free again. But after months of strength work and a careful return to training, I lined up at the start. Nervous. Emotional. Doubtful.
The Start
I didn’t start like a loon (growth!), but I was a mess of emotions. I think I wasted far too much energy just overthinking the day ahead.
Fuel and Fails
Nutrition mostly went to plan but solids didn’t sit well. The Marmite sandwich made a quick exit (sorry, Puttenham), so I abandoned that idea. Gels were the hero of the day. Still, the stomach stress sparked a wobble in my confidence.
Box Hill Blues
By the time I reached Box Hill, I was deep in the pain cave. I climbed slowly, painfully slowly, but made it to the top, grabbed a Calipo, and reset. Crackers and salt started going in, and I felt glimmers of hope again.
The Bladder Situation
Running with a full bladder? Nightmare. Every step felt like my insides were bouncing off my bladder wall. A very unfun addition to the journey.
Low Point: Box to Reigate
I ran low on water, and the thought of calling it at Reigate crossed my mind more than once. But I made it. Tomatoes, crisps, another “Calipo!” I was still moving.
Trail Magic
Somewhere after Reigate, I picked up a trail buddy. We had been leapfrogging each other, and eventually decided to run together. It made such a difference. He was strong on the climbs (note to self: work on hills), and I found my legs again on the descents. We kept each other going.
Caterham and Beyond
More tomatoes. More crisps. More gels. Caterham was carnage; so many runners dropping; but we moved through. The steep ups and sweeping downs were brutal and beautiful. I channelled every single-leg squat I’ve ever done (thanks Pete!).
The Final Push
By the final section, we had just two hours to get to the finish. The time plan had long since disintegrated. With 4.5km to go and the clock ticking, my trail buddy pushed the pace. I was hanging on, legs in rebellion, emotions on edge. That cruel final loop around the field nearly broke me; you can see the finish, but you can’t have it.
The Finish
Ugly crying. Panic attack brewing. Asking every single person if I was going to make it.
And then “I did!”.
Crossing that finish line, I had all the feels three minutes before it actually happened. The relief, the pride, the release. Eleven years after that first attempt, the NDW50 is finally mine.
What I’ve Learned
- Pacing wins over panicking
- Gels over sandwiches (this time)
- Hill work needs to be my friend, not my enemy
- Emotions are part of the journey, not a distraction from it
- Running pain-free; no knee, no hip; is a huge victory in itself
- Getting a coach who prioritises strength, keeps you accountable, and teaches you how to run slow and steady in that low HR zone is a game-changer
- Having friends who’ll plod through winter miles with you at your pace just for company? That’s gold
- Having a support network that cheers for your silly goals, listens to the panics, and shows up every step of the way? That’s everything
Thank you to everyone who’s been part of this journey. NDW50 — finally finished. And what a journey it was.