Sometimes, I really crave a challenge. It had been brewing for some time, but when I started reading adventurer Anna McNuff’s Barefoot Britain, it became clear that the time was now. I thought to myself, “if she can run the entire country barefoot, I can surely manage 100km from London to Brighton over several days wearing shoes”. Within a few hours, I’d booked a day off from work for the following weekend, plotted my route, and found accommodation.
As I live a little further south than the official route begins, I thought I’d even manage to shave a few kilometres from the full 100. I had 38 km to do on the first day, 28 km on the second, and a half marathon to finish it all off on the third. I was running at what Anna McNuff termed “Adventure Pace”, complete with stops to admire the sweeping views over Farthing Downs or to greet the alpacas at a passing farm. I was running to touch the sea.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t make it to the sea. But I did run 100 km. And I learnt some lessons on the way.
- Wear appropriate shoes
Let’s start with the obvious. England is a pretty damp place. So when you’re daydreaming about your upcoming adventure, don’t let the fantasy distract you from reality. After a few sunny days, I was convinced that my lightweight running trainers would be sufficient to carry me to my first stop in Copthorne. And they were perfect – until I hit the trails.
I should’ve known. I was no stranger to just how muddy the Surrey countryside can get. My nice new Asics were no match for the mud – and even worse, they were no match for the washing machine my well-meaning husband put them into after bringing them home. So unless you live in a dry country, always wear trail shoes on trails.
- Enjoy the views
Ferris Bueller said it best – “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Unless you’re a regular mindfulness practitioner, you’re probably just as guilty of speeding through the motions as the rest of us. And given that running can be quite repetitive, Ferris’ reminder goes double for everything you’re running past.
I became aware of how much I was enjoying myself as I ran past Banstead Woods and into Coulsdon – so much so, in fact, that I missed my turn and had to find my way back to the route. I paused to call my mother as I stood at the top of Woodmansterne Road, overlooking the neat rows of houses stretching to the horizon.
But the best view – arguably one of the best of the entire trip – was just up ahead at Farthing Downs. It was a joy to behold – lush fields of soft green grass as far as the eye could see. But then the route turned suddenly and I was running in the forest, splashing through great big puddles of mud.
- Adventure Pace means detours
After Farthing Downs, I made my way to the edge of Greater London. My map seemed to suggest a viewpoint, so given my commitment to running Anna McNuff’s Adventure Pace and pursuing interesting things, I turned right when I was meant to go left and tried to locate the exact spot in Chaldon where I technically ran out of the Big Smoke.
Alas, it was for naught. I ended up on one of those tiny roads with hedges on the sides that have ridiculously high speed limits and barely made it out of the way as one of Surrey’s millionaires sped past in his fancy car. I did take a selfie with the Chaldon sign, dating the village back to the Domesday Book in 1086 (though Wikipedia tells us it’s older still).
- Nothing wrong with a bit of healthy competition
I then ran across endless fields. And up a hill. And down a hill. In fact, painfully down a hill on a narrow trail coated in brambles. And across some more fields with a flock of sheep staring straight at me. And through some chalk mud. And regular mud. And surprised alpacas. And goats, geese, chickens, and horses. Finally, there were just two kilometres to go down a country lane between me and the pub I was stopping in for the night.
Then a runner appeared in front of me, out for a leisurely jog. And despite telling myself it’s not a race, my competitive nature started pushing me ahead – slower than usual, but given that I was 38 km in by that point, it could only be expected. Finally, I passed with a friendly “hello!” and promptly got stuck in front of a puddle nearly half a metre deep. The other runner was braver than me – “straight through!” she yelled, and I was quick to follow. In just a few minutes, I was standing opposite The Curious Pig in the Parlour with soaked trainers, over 40 km on my tracker and a delightful feeling of satisfaction.
- Always book accommodation with a bathtub
This should be a rule for life generally, but especially if you’re on a multi-day run. I had luckily had enough foresight for this, so I was soon enjoying a much-needed soak. I felt like a new woman when I finally dried off and snuggled under the covers for a short rest while texting my husband to bring me my trail shoes. He was joining me for dinner – what was a day’s running for me was a mere hour away by car.
- Your support team makes all the difference
I don’t know if I’d ever been happier to see him when he knocked on my door later that evening – it felt like I’d been through so much since I left to start my run, and I couldn’t wait to share my stories. Well, that and he had brought me dry, clean clothes. And the most important part – lots of hugs.
We had a lovely dinner in the pub downstairs, but unfortunately he couldn’t stay much longer. There was a demanding dog at home who needed his attention more. My wonderful support-team-of-one handed over all the things I’d asked him to bring me – a charger, trail shoes, power bars – and took my dirty running clothes and trainers home.
- Test out your gear in advance
I didn’t have the smoothest night, possibly because I was sleeping alone for the first time in forever, but I was in good spirits when I woke up. It was before 8:00, so I quickly got ready, refilled my new hydropack and…realised it had leaked all over my change of clothes. This should’ve probably tipped me off that I was in for a challenging day, but I just threw it out and figured I’d stop somewhere along the way for water.
- Reconcile your maps
There was only 28 km to go – or so I thought. I started running. I made excellent progress and was already at 14 km or so when I ran into Ardingly. Finally, a shop! I grabbed a water and some juice, gulped it down, and was on my way. Already at the midpoint – I had told the hotel that I’d be in at 15:00 or 16:00, but it wasn’t even 10:30 yet and I only had 14 km to go. I’d be there by noon – easy.
As you can probably predict, it wasn’t easy. In fact, I didn’t make it there at all. The rain started as I left Ardingly. Then, the distance to the hotel started increasing. As in, the more I ran, the further away it got. How was this possible? Had I miscalculated? I couldn’t figure it out, so I kept running.
The problem was that I had calculated the distance between hotels on Google Maps, but planned my route on AllTrails, hence the discrepancy. The direct route shown by Google most likely didn’t have any pavements, whereas the trails didn’t follow a straight line south.
- Know when to stop
At something like 65 km – 25 km that day – I started feeling my ankle. And by “feeling my ankle”, I mean that it really hurt. Had I twisted it somewhere? I hobbled on for another few kilometres. The rain had made the muddy trails even muddier and I was now wading in ankle-deep water with every step. Then, the trail took me to a dead end. The map was showing that I had to be on the other side of a pretty tall and most definitely locked fence.
As I retraced my steps and made it back onto the road, I started getting emotional. What was I doing? Why was I out here? I called my husband. He said he could come pick me up. I wasn’t ready to give up yet, so I asked if he could meet me at the hotel. About half an hour later, as I made it into the village of Scaynes Hill, I called him again. The pain was getting worse. Could he please pick me up?
It was really pouring by that point, so I figured I’d find somewhere to sit down. Unfortunately, everything was closed, but the man at the local petrol station advised me to go to the garden centre “just a minute up the road”. I stopped my tracker at 73.7 km. I was giving up. It turns out the garden centre was actually a kilometre away, but I made it there in one piece and ordered myself a giant soy latte. I called my mother. I cried. I read. I drank a lot of coffee. Then, my husband arrived and I realised I couldn’t get up.
My legs had given up. With a lot of help, I limped out to the car and managed to pull myself inside. As much as it sucked, this was the right decision. We made it home – I took another long bath and started to feel human again.
- It’s not over until you say so
I still had Monday off, but I figured I’d catch up on cleaning and laundry and all the other fun things my friend Harry terms “ladmin” – life admin. I started the day as I normally would. I ordered some coffee and turned on my computer to reply to Slack messages. I was planning to join some work calls – after all, my running adventure was over, right?
But then a crazy idea appeared in my mind. A night’s recovery had done my ankle good. What if I ran to Richmond Park – where it was all supposed to have started anyway – and finished off the remaining 26.3 km? And so I made my apologies to my colleagues and was out the door before anyone could tell me this wasn’t my brightest idea.
It was a beautiful day. I had a wonderful time running through Wimbledon Common and into Richmond Park. I kept the momentum going, and by the time I was running out of Richmond and back towards Wimbledon, I had just four kilometres left to go. Which was, of course, when my right knee decided it had had enough.
I could barely take a step without sharp pain shooting through my leg. Walking was fine, though, so I figured I’d walk it off – and, worse comes to worst, walk the remaining 4 km. It was a bit stop-start until mid-way through Wimbledon Common. Finally, I settled into a rhythm that didn’t seem to aggravate my knee too much and made it all the way out of the park and to a nearby Tesco for some juice. Just one kilometre to go, all downhill.
Sounds great, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, downhills are the worst when your knees are in pain, so I braced myself for every step. It was all worth it at the end, though, when I hit my target just before Wimbledon Station – and then the 164 pulled up at the bus stop to take me home.
I’m not sure what I was expecting from this experience, but I’m happy with the result. I might not have touched the sea, but I ran further than I’d ever run in such a short space of time. And learned some important lessons along the way, like remembering to enjoy the process and appreciate just how fantastic my support-team-of-one is.
It may be my first running adventure, but I suspect it won’t be my last.
Swordfoosh 
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