September 13th 2019: Running length of Wales - Offa's Dyke
Starting on Friday 13th September, I was to run the length of Wales by tracing the Offa's Dyke route that snakes over the peaks and countryside around the Welsh/English border. There are so many hidden gems along the way and so much beautiful scenery. What a route!
Getting going
As I headed off, the sun had just set over the Severn Estuary and the first few miles were steady going, obviously at thus stage there is an awful long way to go and there are no prizes for getting to 10 miles first. As I left the town behind and my head torch lit up the tracks and trails ahead, the running settled down and I could feel a group starting to form of five or six runners, as the miles ticked by this was down to me and two others, Shawn and Lee. We kept each other company and on the straight and narrow, moving at a steady pace through the wet undergrowth to the first couple of checkpoints at Monmouth and Pandy. We caught the first light and cracking sunrise as we reached Hay Bluff before descending into the famous town.
Moving on to 60 odd miles I was conscious that I was still only in the "warm-up" phase, so when Lee decided to lift the pace, I let them go at their own pace and dropped back - after all, they were doing the 100 mile race and not continuing to the North Coast. From here on in I was on my own. So far, so good.
Consolidation
I felt like I deserved a treat and coming into Knighton I spotted a corner shop and grabbed a Calipo - as I trotted into the check point someone came running out to say that I had visitors - what a great uplifting surprise to see that my wife and daughters had some out to cheer me on. All smiles and energy!
Now with long runs it is normal to have ups and downs, the most important thing to do is to understand why that is and respond accordingly. Do you need sleep, rest, food, fluid, salts, change of clothing or footwear etc ? The list is long, and sometimes you have to run through the list to eliminate the options. It was a hot day and by 3pm I came to the conclusion that I needed to rest my legs, just for a minute or two, drink some water and eat something under the shade of a tree. After all, I had been on my feet for 19 hours straight at that point. That had the desired effect and soon I got a second wind and was re-energised.
The feet had been, since the early miles soaked through and this would continue through to the last 30 odd miles. That only confirmed that the feet not only would take a battering, but also were likely to suffer from blisters. Over 150 miles on your feet, in wet shoes.
What a beautiful, hot day it had been. Unfortunately I wasn't on photo taking duties - but the whole experience and scenery will remain clearly etched in my mind. If I had just taken one photo per mile and spent a minute doing that, I would have lost more than three hours! As well as lengthening the journey, that could delay or require more food, sleep or simply just get me home later.
As the sun set I kept on going to make it to the 100 (ish) mile point at Montgomery. Earlier in the day I hadn't been sure, but now I was clear that I would get 2 hours sleep there. There was to be about another day or so to go at the current pace and rather than wait until the morning, I would sleep for a couple of hours of dark where it is harder to navigate and the terrain negotiate. I wise move...but if only that break was two miles earlier...
Not in the plan
I had read somewhere that there are something like 200 stiles to be climbed along Offa's Dyke and doubtless a similar number of gates. I didn't have a problem with 198 of those. OK, I slipped on one wet one and really whacked my right shin early on - this bothered me in the second half of the challenge. You try to avoid these things, but they can happen, you deal with it and carry on.
Mentally you are prepared for pretty much any mishap, but when, two miles out from Montgomery, I landed badly, coming off a stile my left ankle gave a loud crack and sharp pain shot up my leg. There was only one realistic outcome. That is it. No more. Sometimes after a running injury, after a few moments you find that things aren't as bad as they first seemed. This time, they felt worse - I couldn't even stand on it. By the time that I'd calmed down and hauled myself upright it was clear that I needed to get myself to the next checkpoint - so slowly and tortuously I hobbled - making it as the clock struck 12.
One thing at a time
On reaching the checkpoint, there was only one conclusion, my race was over. However my mind struggled to grapple with this - I had only just got started there was such a long way to go. What about all of the people who were urging me on, those who sponsored me for charity. I'd wanted to do this for so long. The support at the checkpoint told me, you've still completed the 100 - but that rang hollow. It hadn't been what I'd set out to do. Once I'd assessed the situation, taken some pain killers, there were some things that I would have to do regardless:
- Eat
- Drink
- Top up my pack with food and drink
- Sleep
I resolved to do these things. I would wake up in 2 hours time and go from there. I hobbled into a dark corner and stretched out with my head on a spare layer and elevated my feet on my pack in an attempt to control the swelling. My ankle looked like an elephant's.
Two hours later, I woke and got up - The ankle was no better. I resolved to head out onto the trail and assess the situation for myself. I was going to finish this on my terms.
The end of my challenging race - the beginning of my personal challenge
I didn't really think of quitting, but knew that this might have been the outcome. After a couple of steps it was clear that I could put no force through my ankle. Running was out of the equation. But what if I set a steady walking pace? Would my ankle tolerate much? Even if it meant heading out for half a mile and turning back, I resolved to find out. So I gingerly set off hobbling in the light of my head torch. Where there was a slightly better footing for one foot, my left foot was to get it, where one foot lead, that was my right foot. I was like a cat with nine lives. I had lost 8 and was nursing the ninth. These kinds of strategies can work when the end is in sight...but nearly 90 miles out?
One step at a time, one mile at a time. Once you can do one, why not another?
This was to be how I'd find out and a fragile confidence that I wasn't quite done was taking hold. One mile in, on hard ground, my left foot went down a badger set. I gingerly removed it. Fortunately it had gone in deeper that the ankle and I held on to my ninth life, by a thread. If there was to be a way, I'd find it, a chance no matter how small I'd take it.
After a couple of miles I started to do calculations in my head - if I could keep going then a steady walking pace would still get me around for late on Monday night. This pushed my projected finishing time out by about a day. It was still on for now. I resolved to make solid navigation choices and keep ploughing on at a steady pace, no slack time. Inevitably I was able to walk on some terrain better than others. Hard, uneven, or downhill were particularly painful and at times I practically slowed to a crawl. No amount of painkiller could hide that. Inevitably when painkillers started to wear off I would have a particularly painful section - again and again. These calculations were constantly being rerun and adjusted in my head and I vowed to continue. I would go from "Plan B" to "Plan Z" and was not beaten.
So things progressed - Once more I had the boost of a family visit at a checkpoint, they decided that this was to be the last before they drove back home, but Becky had an idea. She managed to source me a walking pole to use as a crutch and they found me a couple of hours later to get it to me. This was just as well as I'd tried out various branches with ranging levels of effectiveness and had just chucked the last one in a bush in frustration when they showed up!
Amazingly, at Chirk Castle 16 hours after turning my ankle, I was still in 3rd place, this wasn't to last much longer!
Events take their toll
The next checkpoint was by the famous Pontcysyllte Aqueduct - this was 138 miles in and when I was practically within sight of it and with the sun going down I had my first navigational "challenge". Eventually I found a way and got into the checkpoint, where I had my ankle and blisters expertly taped by the superb medical support. I'm told that I should get precautionary X-rays on my ankle and right leg when this is done - it might be more than just ligament damage. They accept that I am not stopping - that is my choice...Things were starting to look messy and the heavens had just opened outside. I ate, drank and carried on, across the aqueduct now feeling slightly light headed (not a good idea that high up) and out through the woods into the hills.
Third night out, 2 hours sleep, in the think mist and rain. I could barely see my hand in front of me at times. The imagination starts to kick in at this point. I tell you what, if someone had presented me with some artistic materials I could have had some fun! In hindsight I would have got a little sleep before heading out onto this leg, but I didn't and paid for it, I was less sharp mentally and made a couple more glaring navigational errors and lost a lot of time. By the time I started the long descent into Llandegla I was pretty beaten up, cold, damp, tired and in pain. To top it all off the long steady descent was pure torture with my injuries and it felt like the whole field ran past me as I crawled down hill. I had to regularly stop to ease the pain, before continuing. To make matters worse, I was practically asleep on my feet and am sure that I had dropped off a couple of times. I had ground to a halt.
Recharge and reset
At that checkpoint I desperately needed to eat, warm up, reset, get some rest. Fortunately that was exactly the conclusion that the support team had come to and made sure that I did just that before going any further. Thank you so much for that! After what I think was a couple of hours rest and fresh blister dressings... by now my feet and ankle had so much tape of that I could pass them off as an Egyptian mummy's. I creaked upright and slowly, very slowly began to move again. I believed that I would gradually get going again over the next mile, but it would have been comedic watching me move in slow motion - unable to do anything more.
The next leg was to be my "home leg" - the one that I know best over the Clwyddian Hills and, thankfully, the rain had stopped. No surprises for this section. I knew what was coming and was prepared mentally - even if that meant difficult downhill sections. The sun was out again, and the scenery beautiful. I sighted Moel Famau 26 miles from the end and knew that I was getting closer. I was able to tip my hat towards my family home from the top. Just a marathon to go.
I saw the Clwyddian Range how I'd hoped, in daylight and full glory. Just before the steep descent to the base of Moel Arthur I was loaned a couple of running poles - Ash could see how much I was suffering just moving forwards and offered them to me. The final 19 miles were about to made a little less tortuous and I was so grateful. Thanks Ashley Poles.
I was still moving well up hills, but down hills were still painfully slow. My poor right leg was now in a lot of pain from essentially taking the strain for the last 80 odd miles and it was now a toss up over which hurt the most. I had no choice, I continued to load my right leg - in doing so I practically crawled down hills and even then would suffer a painful "hangover" for a while on both sides after a stretch of downhill or flat. But nothing was going to stop me now - I was limping down the home straight!
One final effort
I got my last pleasant surprise at the final checkpoint, Bodfari, where my parents met me - I'm glad that they made it as they'd narrowly missed me at Chirk and Mum had been the inspiration for raising money for Alzheimers Society due to her condition. I'm sure that she would have been proud had she been aware what was happening.
I make this a shortish stop and get back out for the final few miles to Prestatyn. Its funny, when you know that you are there, the drive that you have sometimes eases - that said, I'm was into my fourth night and its not really suprising that I found myself battling fatigue. I staved off sleep and a trip to A&E for a few more hours. I did drop off a couple of times on my feet and once on a grass bank before taking my final emotional steps towards the rock that marked the end of the route with tears in my eyes.
Many of the brilliant support that had helped me on the way at checkpoints and fellow competitors gave me a rousing ovation at the end. Half of the small field didn't make it to the end. Even if I had touched that rock 30 hours earlier I wouldn't have learned as much about myself.
I couldn't be more proud to have finished this and found a way to succeed - against all odds.
My fundraising pages can be found here:
Alzheimers Society:
https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-portal/fundraiserPage?pageId=1042732
Street Support Network:
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/andy-quicke
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