Beachy Head Marathon 2026

 Beachy Head Marathon 2026

As Andrea said, that was probably the strongest wind I've ever run in.  It was probably the strongest horizontal ice storm I've ever run in as well, in addition to being one of the few times that it felt like my entire body was being lifted up from behind by hurricane force winds.  After a while I just let the wind push me up the seven sisters and back down, thankfully a literal tailwind resulting in several segment PBs across the sisters and their little brothers further on towards the finish line.

I'm very happy to have finished, and I considered giving this post the title "The Marathon That Felt Like An Ultra" because that's how I felt, and that's how I paced it.

And it's also one of the many reasons why I enjoyed this run so much.  The extreme weather was exhilerating because it felt fearful at times, and because it ebbed and flowed.  There were moments of reprieve and calm in amongst the absolute deluge.  You could hear the waves far down below smashing themselves onto the beach and up against the tilting white cliffs.  Everything was at an angle, like we were on a ship at sea.  People (both runners and tourists) were huddled on the ground in the lee of sporadic windbreaks made of gnarled trees or carved out gravel slumps.  Nobody was really properly dressed for the occasion. 

Although I am very happy with my choice of kit, and the Peter Storm polyester longsleeve top under the Salomon rain jacket felt pretty well impervious to wind and rain.  I managed to come out of several hours tromping through mud clean, I think due to the horizontal wash cycle of the rain and hail rinsing me clean several times, and running along stretches of wet grass.  The Hoka Mafate Xs were the right choice in the end, over the Speedgoats, just because they're a lot more comfortable and keep me blister free.  A LOT of people were wearing road shoes and I would've felt sorry for them if my judgy brain didn't keep saying "what were you thinking, you people knew better than to wear those shoes on this race!"

The Leki poles saved me too and I got a lot of jealous stares about those too.  They took me up the hills, letting me run up several of them, and to power up the stairs.  But in addition to that, and for this race very specifically, the poles stabilized me through the slippery mud bits and let me run through those too.  So I'm feeling very self-satisfied right now.  

All of the above are the reason why even through the worst of it I was smiling like a maniac throughout.  My eating and nutrition plan even went beautifully.  I had 500ml of Tailwind that I sipped throughout; four cups of Coke; 3 bananas; one sausage roll (the coffee urn was being refilled at the 17 mile sausage roll/coffee aid station so I missed out on coffee); three gels (one Precision and two Veloforte); one Naak sweet potato puree; one flapjack; and four cookies (I'm probably forgetting something): it felt like a movable feast!

A few more highlights:  friends along the way including ultra legends Dave Watler, Robin Briscoe, and Helen Manchester and Jenni Jones; as well as fellow running friends John Roberts, Phil Rayner, and Andrea Winks, seen both at start and finish.

One of the very best things about Beachy Head is the baked potato, beans, and sausages that they feed you at the end in the cafeteria.  It's a really social event and cooldown as you sip your tea and catch up with friends on how the race went.  

I'm beginning to feel like this is a race I'll do every year.  JR and I are already planning to do the ultra next year, just to say we've done it.  

Chiltern Wonderland 2026

So, I bonked.  Bonking is the same as 'hitting the wall,' that state of affairs most dreaded by marathon runners.  It can be less of a thing in ultras because ultra-runners are usually keyed into the eating side of racing.  Whereas, you'll sometimes get marathon runners bragging that they run without eating/drinking and make it through their training runs 'just fine'.  This is a new-runner error.

Ultra-runners most often eat and drink, and very few would brag about not doing so, as it would be a sure sign of inexperience.  With that said, bonking still happens, as I now know, to my utter chagrin.  

It happened at the top of Cobstone Mill incline, at the top of which is the iconic windmill. I had been eating all day, but due to an ongoing stomach issue, and the fact that eating has been making me feel sick during my last three ultras, I wasn't eating enough.

The first 20 miles of the race were so much fun, I was just running along effortlessly, loving life, power hiking up the longer hills, and letting gravity pull me running back down.  There was a cool breeze of 15mph gusting to 30mph, and it helped a lot in the muggy conditions.

I had also had some chat a friend from a previous Chiltern Wonderland (2025, the year in which I went sub-12 hours, the only time I've gone under 12), but he was running too fast for me yesterday, and fairly soon Ian was just a neon yellow speck on the road ahead.  

At first I thought I had gone out too fast but looking back at my stats on Strava, I never went sub 11 minute/mile, so it was actually slower than last year (the year of my successful finish).  I finished the first half of the race in only just under 6 hours, so the pace was reasonable, and on track for 12-12.5 hours.

To my credit, rather than just trying the 'same old thing' after being quite nauseous in my last race (North Downs Way 50 miler in May), I thought I was being smart, by pacing my eating and by switching to things that taste nicer, like Veloforte gels and Naak purees.  These taste really good.

It worked, at first.  I didn't get bloating or runner's belly like I did the last few times.  But the flip side of those things (eating too much) is bonking, the point at which you run out of glycogen and your body switches to the much more inefficient 'fat burning' mode.

This makes running feel horrible, with stiff sluggish legs, tight chest and discombobulation in the brain as your sugar levels plummet.  It's not a good feeling and you start moving at a crawling pace. I dragged myself into the 25 mile aid station, barely, and promptly let the marshals know I'd be stopping.

I could maybe have continued walking to the next aid station, but it would have been too slow, and there wasn't enough time to recover sufficiently to do so anyway.  Because bonking is, technically, fixable, but you need to be able to get food down, which for me, wasn't happening.

I will need to re-think my races for the next few years because not being able to eat during long ultras is a limiting factor.  I can pull off trail 50km or marathons, but the longer ones may be out of the question for a while.  

It was fun hanging out at the finish line after the 'party' (sweeper) bus had brought me and about 10 other racers back to Goring.  I watched the first through fourth women's and podium finishers come through before Diane came to get me in the car.  Overall, it was a great adventure, one that I'll remember, even though I DNF'd.

North Downs Way 50 miler 2026

 

I found this much more difficult than SDW50 a few weeks ago.  I felt uncomfortable for much longer during NDW50 last Saturday. 

The first half of the race was fine and perhaps here lies the clue to my discomfort.  At 24 miles you hit Box Hill, the first in a series of sharp hills filling the second half of the race (taking in Botley and Reigate and a few very steep climbs).  

I also noticed that the Tailwind mix was stronger than I was used to, and I couldn't stomach it any more after 31 miles, switching to water (which helped a bit).  But the nauseous feeling got worse on the climbs.

On a positive note, I managed to keep everything down, and to keep eating a bit even after the final checkpoint (a couple of gels).  The Precision chews were good up to a point but by this time I couldn't eat any more.  Coke and watermelon were consumed in increasing, and then decreasing, quantities.

It was a bit hot as well around the middle sections, but it cooled down fairly quickly by mid-afternoon, so heat wasn't a huge factor.  It was very cool and raining a bit by the end, so my clothing choices were right on the money.  I had a very thin base layer on underneath a technical t-shirt, and long Injinji socks.

The NDW50 route is about a mile and a half longer than SDW50, which is potentially significant.  For me, it meant really having to run it in at the end so that I could receive the medal after all that work! It was great to see Drew egging everyone on and doing a little sweep as the finish line became visible off to our extreme left in a field.  We had to go around a bit of hedge and lane to finally hit the finish line after Drew had told me I had a 'smidge' over a mile to go, and it was 'in the bag'.  That was music to my ears as I had been doomsdaying a bit that my pace wouldn't carry me through.  I also had a boost when a fellow runner told me his watch had hit 50 miles (he later told me it had hit 55!).

I ran NDW50 entirely on my own, with just a few little chats with other runners along the way.  I saw some familiar faces, said hi here and there, traded an anecdote, and then moved on, running my own race from start to finish.  There was no one with whom I could say I was "on the same page" on this race.

That was fine, and it worked, getting me through.  In future, I will go with 500ml tailwind/500ml water in two bottles from the start.  Feet and brain were both solid throughout, as were my legs, and my recovery was almost instantaneous.  I was walking pretty normally both evening of (Eurovision snack-getting), and the next day, touring around Windsor with a relative from Canada.

As with SDW50, I'd give NDW50 a 10/10 (would do again).  

South Downs Way 50 miler 2026

 

I mean, the takeaway from this race has to be that it is better to run with others.  As compared to the Chiltern Wonderland where I experienced significant dips due to running entirely alone, during South Downs Way 50 I had no significant dips, and I also, not coincidentally, ran the entire race with a running friend.  

Let's just say that once we got synced up (which took about 5-7 miles at the start), we were on the same page, running downhills nicely, walking the steep uphills, and run/walking the flats to the sound of Dave's watch prompt.

We both used poles, and this was a key factor.  We had a crazy tailwind, a howling gale that at times became a side wind or a headwind, and it had a cooling effect as well.  There was no overheating.  We ate well and we kept our spirits up.

For me, there were no feet issues, and there were no food issues.  I felt a bit nauseous at the end, probably from too many gels (a form of nutrition upon which I tend to lean very heavily).  

The worst part of the course was probably the gully 5km from the end.  It was dark, rooty, channeled, rocky, and uneven, with thick brush on either side.  It comes at a moment when you just want to be finished.  Anyway, once we cleared the gully, we kept on running, passing several others walking it in along the way.

As with many of my best days of running (and of life), images of the course are burned into my brain, bright reminders of a great adventure.  This race is right up there with Chiltern Wonderland, Race to the Stones, North Downs Way, and Ultra Trail Snowdonia (runs all completed in the sunshine, btw).  I may be a fair weather (ultra) runner, and in this sense I've gotten lucky (lots of sunny day races).

It's really down to good training, tapering, eating well, and lots of support, not least from my wife Diane who met us at the windmills and at the end, running a ways with us towards the track, and from Dave being on the same page with me, and from the epic volunteers and fellow runners, creating that fellow feeling of positivity.

10/10 ranking for this race, and will do it again.  My list of go-to (do again) races from Centurion is becoming a long (and great) list!

Can running save you?

I recently listened to a podcast at Adharanand Finn's Way of the Runner site in which he interviews Allie Bailey, author of the book "There is No Wall".  Allie has her own podcast called "Running Won't Save You" and she discusses her running philosophy, epitomised by this statement, with Adharanand.  Bailey is insistent that running cannot save a person unless they have already made some fundamental change to their life and way of being. 

But at the same time, Bailey's philosophy, as she explains in discussion with Adharanand, include the idea of a 'most authentic self' that can be brought out during running challenges such as 100km or 100 mile ultras (or indeed 200+ mile ultras that she herself regularly runs).  

Much of Bailey's outlook is both bracing and refreshing.  She is a running coach and from what I've heard she deals in truth-telling and honesty about what one can achieve, and towards what aims one should strive.  This is in turn based on a fine-tuned assessment of what the runner's wants are in relation to established hierarchy of needs.  

So, a runner who espouses the need to run a hundred miler, now that they've cleared the 100km ultra distance is met with a skeptical response: WHY do you think you want to run the hundred mile distance?  Is it necessary?  Is it even doable for YOU, the specific runner of a certain age, capability and motivation level, not to mention experience.

A lot of ultra-runners are moving up the 'distance ladder' very quickly, going for example, in the space of two years from their first (50km) ultra to 100 miles.  

I've heard her talk about 100 mile finish-line mutterings of oddly motivated individuals asking recent finishers if their considering the next level (200 mile) distance after this one.  It's a form of madness for which Bailey has no time nor patience, and it is tied into the addictive idea that running can save you.

The constant upping and re-upping of the distance wager, for example, doesn't map onto being one's most authentic self, actualised and in the moment.  What saves you in that moment is your training and your readiness to take on that specific challenge.

But what has motivated you to take on that training in the first place: to becoming a runner like Bailey who was doing crazy distances even at the same time as she was smoking and drinking to excess?  There were clearly some underlying fundamental issues to work out for Bailey to become her most authentic self on the trail.  Once she did work out those issues she was able to become a better runner.  

A better runner who can now accept a DNF, and say to others that it's a hobby, and nobody is making you do this because it's not your job!  If you want to run a hundred miler, realise that it's only one day, one night out on the trail, an adventure and a potentially defining moment in your life, and that only you can do it, not some abstract idea of 'running'!

Bailey is, therefore, a pragmatist, and definitely not an idealist.  This comes through overwhelmingly in her discussion with Adharanand on the podcast. Not only is she a straight shooter, but she is very funny (as is Adharanand of course), and I laugh a lot when when I listen to the Running Won't Save You podcast.

It's not running that saves you, then, it's having a sense of humour (see Damian Hall here as well), and a sense of proportion.  Yes, there is an aesthetic component to the ethics of running as 'saving'.  You, and your sense of humour and your sense of proportion are the saving grace for the better runners I've known, often those in the mid-pack.

Chiltern Wonderland 50 miler 2025

Coming out of Ibstone Aid Station on the CW50 course

It seems like every time I run a new race I say right afterwards that it was the best run of my life but I believe it to be true because I believe in constant improvement.  And indeed I am certain that my skill as an ultra-runner has improved a lot since last ran a really long ultra, from my first 100km non stop last year, to my unsuccessful attempts at the 100 mile distance, incorporating all the learnings from those races. 

So: I lubed up.  I layered the lube under my pits and in between the buttocks and down between the legs.  I used the Body Glide blue bar, with Squirrel's Nut Butter or Body Glide cream toppings.  I know that sounds weird but when you consider that the reason I DNF'd my NDW100 attempt this year was chafing, then you see how I must learn from that to avoid a similar outcome this year.

The other thing that worked brilliantly this year, and that does include lube-based insight and learnings, was my foot strategy.  My feet were perfect.  As I said when I got home on the Saturday night after finishing CW50 in under 12 hours: "my feet are in mint condition."  They were!  I hadn't tied my laces too tight (learning 1), and I lubed my toes into Injinji ultra crew socks and my Hoka Mafate X gravel trails cruisers.

I mean, my feet were brilliant.  The other thing is: my pole didn't break.  The Leki poles have now outlasted the Black Diamond ones by over a year.  They held up through multiple stumbles over roots in this race, mostly at the end in the dark when we were approaching Goring. 

The poles saved my legs and 'edged it' through as one Aussie put it when I passed him a mile from the finish line.  I could tell at the end, as my whole body was sore, not just the lower half, with effort distributed across the shoulders, core and whole upper body.  As other runners do, I maintain an intense focus on the ground, never losing sight of the trail immediately in front of my feet over 11 hours and 56 minutes of effort.  As soon as you do, you fall.  And I didn't fall, so thank you poles!

The weather was as close to perfect as possible.  We were at around 17C but it was humid, until it wasn't.  The rain never came either, but we got smatterings of droplets and a shower, followed by a cooling wind, that blew away my mid-race sag.  The other boost I got came in the form of running company and chat as I grouped together with some other runners who accompanied me through the last 3 aid stations and just helped to pass the time away.  Thanks to Ian Cragg especially.

I ran through a hornet's nest and got stung 7 times.  This was just before the iconic windmill, and well before the Ibstone aid station.  It was a bit demoralizing, and I was feeling a bit low after passing Ibstone (over halfway) when it was hot, but then just after that I joined Ian et al, and things picked up.  

Running Grim's Ditch was magical and transcendent, and by then things were both cool and brilliantly sunny.  I mean, it doesn't get ANY better than this in life, feeling like you're floating, flowing along the trails easily (mind you at a 13 min/mile pace, but still: it's running!), pushing through the Ridgeway where you've had epic races over years gone by, knowing the terrain yet seeing as though for the first time and running better than you've ever run before.  

Coming around the end of Grim's Ditch there was another short rain burst, the last one, and it was backlit by a gorgenous late afternoon sun over the fields of dreams.  The wind burst through like a cold sunblast both energising and cooling at the same time. We hit that last aid station and I had saved my Cokes for the last half of the race: another learning.  Reward yourself at the end of a race with a caffeine/sugar hit of coke and wash it down with watermelon.  So incredibly refreshing!  I kept taking the gels too, every half hour like clockwork, and this kept the legs supple, moving, flowing.

I paced out the setting sun, following a headlamp up the rows of wheat in the fading light, down onto the darkening trails at the edge of town.  The edge of darkness ate slowly away at the orange/blue/yellow/purple fading bruise and I just fed myself along those rooty trails into town as the light finally faded at the finish line. I got cheered in and finish the perfect run of a lifetime, around the back of the Goring community hall and into the warm embrace of the Centurion Team and my big shiny reward: a medal and hot cup of tea.  

I shook Ian's hand and said thank you and goodbye (he's sped 5 minutes ahead of me to improve by an hour on his previous year's time), to go find Diane and a cheeseburger.  We went home and watched Strictly and I told stories the whole way home.  

NDW100 2025

Three things went wrong that were within my control; a lot went right, even a greater number of things.  But the balance tends towards the errors as they magnify relentlessly through the course of a race of this length (100 miles).  Let's start with what went well on the North Downs Way 100 (2025):

1. My feet were happy and I had no blisters.  The Mafate X shoes are brilliant.  They have a carbon fibre plate in them, and they have a wide toebox with thick cushioning.  In combination with the Ultra Injinji toe socks there were no issues with rubbing or hot spots or pinching toes.  I also lubed my toes with Squirrel's Nut Butter and I do think this helped.  At one point I thought the big toe of my right foot might be rubbing a bit against the bottom of the shoe, but the Injinji design prevented it from being a problem and after 50 miles (when I pulled out) there was no redness at all.

2. I actually paced myself pretty well.  When people were dropping out all around me after Box and Reigate Hills, I felt really good.  At 31 miles when the crew told me 10 people were already out, I had no problem feeling energetic and stoked to keep going.  Mind you I was in last place (and people groan here and offer commiserations), and this fact was actually a point of pride since it meant I was still in the race and was keeping pace.  It was never really that close as I had 15-25 minutes to spare in these cases.

3. I had crew helping me and without my wife Diane showing up several times (I lost count, it was so many) I wouldn't have even gone 50 miles most likely. Or at least it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.  A few times she popped up on some lonely sections of trail and we had a good little chat about this and that and it helped distract me from a sense of isolation or a long way to go. 

What went wrong:

1. I ran out of time. At Knockholt Pound I, technically, left with a few minutes to spare, meaning I made the cutoff at this, the seventh, aid station.  But the crew there told me I had three hours to make the 10 miles to the next aid station heading into the dark at Wrothom.  My pace up to this point was only just over 3 miles an hour anyway, and I was slowing down into the dark due to being cautious on tricky terrain.

2. Chafing.  This was a deal-breaker, to be honest, and it was an error on my part to wear the shirt that I did, and to fail to put on anti-chafing cream in my armpits.  It has never been a problem before, but the shirt made it a problem.  It is a shirt I have run in before, and it is very comfortable, but the armpits hang down just enough to allow for skin on skin rubbing and after 50 miles on trail with my poles the pain was excrutiating.  In addition, I'll add to chafing an issue I had with the top of my right foot.  I got a bit 'psyched' by one crew member who thought my toe rubbing must be an issue because I'd mentioned it to him (but it wasn't an issue as I intuited which is why I didn't take action).  Reacting to his concern I took the 'reasonable' step of tightening my right shoe laces a bit.  This led to some pain in that right foot, until I re-loosened the laces.  I had the beginnings of a bruise but it never actually developed into that, thankfully.

3. My pole broke at Knockholt Pound.  The button that holds the pole in the extended position failed and I can see that this is a design flaw in the Carbon Fibre Black Diamond Z poles.  There was just too much stress on that pinch point and in the end they let me down.  I've already run several races with these poles and they've been brilliant up until now.  I could have run with one pole (and in this sense only it was within my control) but with the other two factors above, felt it wasn't going to work. 

The last three 'wrongs' added up to a fatal situation for my race.  Still, I'm extremely happy with the day, and it was one of the most memorable, exciting and beautiful days I've ever had on the trails running.  

A few days later and I feel very good, and have completed a good track session.  

I had fun on the trail running with some others.  At the start I was with John who is a coached runner and chatted for a bit very early on in the race.  Eventually he put on a speed burst and disappeared.  Later I ran with Clement an American who chatted with me for over an hour.  We got lost together when some kids moved a couple of the signs around, sending us down an old mountain biking trail that Clement and I had to go up and down a couple of times before finding our way again. 

The whole day was brilliant fun and I think next time I'll just sign up for the NDW50 miler.  The cutoff for that one is 13 hours and it obviously had 6000 feet of elevation, but the course is just so brilliant it'll be hard pass up.  

NDW100 Taper Tantrums: 3 more sleeps

 I COMMIT, I WON'T QUIT!!

With three more sleeps to go until race day, when we line up to run 100 miles along the North Downs Way in Southern England, my mind has been a bit more calm, now that the pre-race Webi-gnar is behind us.  I'm watching lots of videos by the likes of Ben Parkes and Billy Yang and others, where they map out things like their WHY.  Why do they run these races?  Yang talks about Gratitude, for one.  

Yang has some compelling and very thoughtful arguments about the complacency of modern day life, and how there is a pleasure to be had in feeling a certain level of discomfort to balance it out. While Yang's video focused on Leadville 100,  Parkes's video of his girlfriend Sarah Place finishing the Thames Path 100 is a lesson in how an even-keeled approach and determination can result in some very happy vibes.  

There are a lot of videos out there, but the good ones are the ones where you can actually take something away and use it.  Yang's video shows the pre-race meeting where the race director asks the participants to commit to the race, and to promise they won't quit.  Thus the leader of this blog post: I COMMIT, I WON'T QUIT.  In my pocket I'll be carrying a map with this written on it, along with instructions to my self of each thing I need to do at the drop bag locations.

Another inspiring runner of 100 milers is Jeff Pelletier, a fellow Canadian. He has an almost machine-like ability to complete very long ultras, compiled over long experience and consistency in his approach.  He obviously feels all the thing other ultra runners feel, but he EXECUTES and keeps his brain smooth and anti-judgemental.  This is clear from his face and his tone of voice.  It seems he's always smiling, whether in the roots and rain of Quebec's Mega Trail or on the mountain-sides of the UTMB.

I've got my drop bags finalised now and have starting charging up my power pack and headlamps.  I'll top up the watch charge and phone charge on the morning of the race, and then I'll be ready to go.  I've even got my pre-race drink and morning gel for the drive over to Farnham.  Now I just have to keep my brain calm, and carry on.

NDW100 Taper Tantrums: 4 more sleeps

On Saturday the 9th of August 2025 I'll be lining up at the start line of the North Downs Way 100 mile race (Centurion Running).  I'm number 159 and can be tracked here. 

My training block has been perfect: I've hit every long run, and have even gone above and beyond, with several 50km or sub-ultra races strategically run in the 16 week training block, including a Dartmoor retreat and long run; a Snowdon 25km race; the Beat the Sunset 50km near Maidenhead; and a really satsifying South Downs Way 50km race that I finished in a very satisfying (for training) time.  I've averaged 40-50 mile weeks and 9-10+ hours of training per week in the peak weeks.  

That figure includes walking and strength training, two key components on staying strong and getting ready for the rigours of 100 mile racing.  And you are racing, even when you are walking and/or in active recovery mode most of the way.  You are also running, and I'm told by Alex Hutchinson that the average 100 mile racer consumes 8000 calories over the distance.  The average calorie burn for those same individuals is in the range of 16,000 calories, meaning that success equals getting at least have of what you burn in.

It's hard to eat that much on the move.  I struggle with solid and 'real' foods, so when these start to lose their appeal I'll switch from sausage rolls and cheese sandwiches to gels, energy drinks, and my secret weapon, longlife milk later in the race.  These foods just slide right down.  You have to keep up the rhythm of eating too, consuming something every 30 minutes minimum.  I've got high carb Naak powder to supplement the Tailwind provided on course; and I've got high carb SIS and Naak gels, to top up the Precision Gels (also high carb at 30g per gel) provided at check points.  

All of this is fine.  It's the mental game that is the true struggle.  You can't start thinking; you have to just relentlessly execute, and turn off your brain.  The only way to do this is to either distract yourself, or to dial in.  Distraction comes in the form of high fiving people, joking with the volunteers, looking at the scenery, or reciting a mantra.  I'll be using a pacer from mile 82, in part to distract myself from myself.  I'll be trying to keep a 'smooth brain', one without jagged or judgemental emotions.  The smooth brain won't judge: it moves on, leaving examination of complex emotions to be processed post finish (thanks to Sabrina Little's ultra-running philosophy book for this insight).  

You lose sleep running ultras too, both during, and before.  I'm already dreaming of the race very night, especially last night after our first Centurion race webinar to go over course setup and expectations.  It would be nice to figure out how to shut this off, but actually I think my brain is performing a vital function of sorting out some angst and getting rid of it for me before I even get to the start line.  Actually, I slept quite well last night too, despite being on the trail in my brain all night.

I've followed Damian Hall's advice, writing down all the things that are troubling me on the mental side of training, of which he notes, we don't do enough.  Not only do you write everything down, but you also write down what you are going to do about each one of your fears/worries when they arise.  He rightly highlights accountability and letting people know what you're up to.  My strategies in response to his advice are to move through temporary discomfort and try my hardest (be tough); to enjoy the inevitable good moments, and to anticipate them (it never always gets worse); to visualise the race; and to run mile to mile and check point to check point.  

I've got 4 more sleeps; 4 more days to taper tantrum by having weird/bad dreams and writing blog posts. I'll visualize, I'll try to be calm and serene in these days before the big race.  At least I get to fit in two more runs!  I did a 4 miler today (13 min/mile pace or 8:09 min/km); and get a 3 and then a 2 and then a 0 mile day.  

South Downs Way 50km 2025

It was my hardest ever effort by a long way, last Saturday, with a score of 565 (my previous highest being the London Marathon in 2022 at 481) on Strava.  But in terms of PERCIEVED effort, the South Downs Way 50km felt much easier than London.  I think the difference is entirely explainable by social and mental factors.  Runs feel easier when you run with people, and when you feel part of a community.  With Centurion, having now run two of their races and volunteered at one (and registered to volunteer at another), I'm starting to feel like part of the community.  I saw people at SDW50km with whom I'd managed kitchen orders at the Thames Path 100 miler just a few weeks before.  This isn't only a competitive thing, as many of those people are much faster than me.  And part of competition is collaborative in the sense of holding each other to a higher standard, and this held true during this race.

The race conditions were perfect as well, with 20C and fair weather clouds mixed with blue and a beautiful tailwind that stripped residual heat away from my body. 

I had the good fortune of being cheered on by Diane during this race; and I also got to run with Rik, Nic, and Paul of Bracknell Forest Runners (an award-winning team!) for some of the time, and we had some good chats.  

My time was decent, IMHO, in part because I didn't spend more than 2 minutes at any aid station.  

I drank a litre of Naak Ultra Boost Drink (60g carbs) and a litre of Tailwind, with a half litre of Coke and a litre of water to keep me going through four mid-race aid stations.  There was one available drinking water tap as well where I topped up the water. I ate sausage rolls and sandwiches in small quantities as well as a couple of slices of watermelon.

Gels consumed included three Precision Hydration fueling gels picked up along the way (30g carbs each); one Gu gel picked up at Aid 1; two Science in Sport 40g carb gels and two Naak ultra boost 25g carb gels and a Naak maple syrup 200 calorie gel.  High carb fuelling continues to get the job done.

The results are here . It is interesting to note that I was passing people the ENTIRE WAY, and you can see this as I progress from 241-->238-->213-->194-->176 by the end.  Nobody passed me in this race except for that one person right at the end! I passed 65 people, which is a great way to run a race, mentally speaking.  

It is my favourite ultra running course, and I will run this race as many times as I can in future years.  Every year. 

Beat the Sunset 2025

 

Yesterday I did the 50km Beat the Sunset race in Maidenhead as a kind training fun for another 50km and subsequent 100miler coming up later in the summer.  I think I paced it right and nailed the nutrition because today (a day later) I am recovered and have done a 5 mile easy recovery run.  

The course covered areas around Maidenhead, Cookham, Eton and Taplow, and was easily one of the most beautiful ultra courses I've ever experienced, which I was seriously not expecting.  It was mostly flat and mostly along the river, but it seemed that around every corner was an endless wheat-field expanse fading off into a horizon filled with lush forests and blue skies.  It epitomises what Theresa May described as her 'fields of wheat' childhood idyl (and which until yesterday I viewed skeptically).  I mean it seriously challenges the imagination as to how they fit so much wild beauty into that quandrangle of space between roughly Windsor and Maidenhead and the area just to the north.  

I had energy and strength throughout this race, and did not go off too fast.  I maintained pace through scorching heat by drinking a lot, and by refilling my bottles only after draining them twice.  Even then I found I was dry by the next aid station.  The stations were extremely well spaced, coming in at 10km, but with the last one somehow only 7.5km from the finish (so nice when you're tired at the end of a 50km not to have to do 5-6 miles, but only just over 4). 

Because this was a training run I tried (unsuccessfully) to keep to my 100mile pace (for my upcoming North Downs Way 100miler coming up on 9 Aug 2025), which would have put me finishing between 7 and 8 hours.  Instead I finished in 6.5, in part because I read my watch wrong.  It gave my a cumulative, instead of current, lap pace, and it was consistenly below 8min/km.  I read it as thinking that I was currently running sub 8min/km, when in actually that was my average, which included my 4 minute walking breaks.  It was a run walk effort of 11min run/ 4 min walk, meaning that my run segments must have all been well below 7min/km.  In a hundred mile effort I literally NEVER run that fast.

Anyway, it was a good training run, and it was even splits.  It was a good training run for my upcoming 50km with Centurion Running in two weeks on the South Downs way because my increased pace also increased my effort on this flat course, mimicing what will be an increased effort in two weeks due to the upcoming race having significantly more (4500feet) elevation than the one I did yesterday (only 500feet).  The hills on Beat the Sunset were pretty easy and nonetheless I walked them, and ran all the downhills (as one is supposed to do in ultras, according to unwritten rules of the ultra-running world).

I sped along passing the people the whole way (after the initial waves cleared and adjusted), and had a strong finish easily beating the sunest by just under 3 hours).  I saw several other Bracknell Forest Runners, all of whom appeared to have a great day despite the heat.  I certainly enjoyed myself and often achieved flow or a zone-out daydream state of mind (whichever one you choose to call it).  I would definitely do this one again!

Postscript: You can. see me running with poles, which I went back and forth on before the race.  I'm so glad I went with poles, and I'm pretty sure I was the only one in the race to do so.  I am sure they helped me run faster and stronger and more consistently, and added to the pleasure of the day.

Nutrition included 2 SisSport 40g carb gels; and 2 Naak Ultra Boost 25g carb gels; 8 mini sausage rolls; 2 bottles of Tailwind and 2 bottles of Naak Ultra Boost 60g carb drink; 2 bottles of Coke; and several bottles of water or over 2 gallons of liquid.

Ultra Trail Snowdonia 25km 2025

 

It was another sunny day in Wales, with the UTMB event pumping out the music at full volume on the start line through a weekend of racing.  Distances ranged from 25km (my race) to 100miles.  I wisely chose the shortest distance, a sub-ultra distance in what is an ultra-running event.  In terms of effort and sustained heart rate (and elevation) over time, this 15mile run was as hard as the 100km (62mile) run I did last year.  A run of only a quarter the distance hit me as hard something four times as long.  

We ran out of Llanberis in 3 waves (I was in the first), and headed straight up to Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon), which has a gradient often going up to 25%.  It took me 1.5 hours to reach the top, and another hour to get to the bottom on the other side where the first aid station was.  By comparison the first time I walked up Snowdon 10 years ago we took a leisurely 7 hours round trip.   But I'm in much better shape now.  So, after 2.5 hours on the trail I finally got to re-fill my bottles (switching from Tailwind to a weak-solution Naak) at the pump-up-the-music UTMB aid station in the quaint village at the bottom of the Rhyd Du trail from Yr Wyddfa summit.

That hour descent was one of the toughest segments of running I've ever done.  Tripping (and falling) was a constant hazard as the loose boulder and stone-step field of play was often loose, and always uneven.  Many people fell coming down, or twisted ankles, or suffered dehydration.  I avoided all the worst case scenarios, including not falling off a cliff, because there's one section along which a foot-wide trail perches along the top of a several hundred foot drop-off that I'd seen on a video a few days early, and that was only worse in person.  Using my poles to tap my way along the top of the cliff face (along a dragon's back spiny ridge 3000 feet in the sky) at one point it was so narrow that one of my pole taps missed the trail, and tapped off into the void.  Luckily I hadn't leaned too hard on that iteration, and quickly recovered my balance. Meanwhile the waves behind me (waves 2 and 3) were running along the spiky edge inclined to my left, whizzing past but not quite bumping me.  There's no way in hell that segment could come anywhere close to passing a health & safety review.  I honestly don't know why it's open to the public.

So, I cleared my worst fear (heights) quite full of courage and driven by the sheer need to just get down and by the time I got past the worst of it my knees and quads were screaming, rubbery and just plain unreliable feeling as I got down to somewhat more even and level pathways (it's all relative because there's really nothing even or level there).  What followed was typical Wales: often very boggy and muddy even on what should be dry sunny hillsides.  The water is constantly seeping out of everything, and it was as we ascended another pass, and gently descended down to Llanberis. 

Meanwhile we had to cross back over the valley and then navigate back into town along the paved road to the 'finish line' which is a long 1km section that lasts forever because you're right next to the finish line but you have to curl back around (as with so many ultras).  

My effort rating was 300 over 15 miles, as measure by Strava, and I maintained zone 4 heart rate close to 150 for the entirely, often going up to 170 or more.  My nutrition was 1 liter of water, 1 liter of Naak, and 1 liter of Tailwind, wtih 3 precision gels, 2 orange slices and 2 banana segments.  My preparation of trail tempo, hill reps, and weekend long runs with elevation worked well for this race.   It was well worth it, and I would absolutely sign up again!

The Way of the Runner retreat (2025, Dartmoor)

I'm still experiencing a relaxing buzzy sort of vibe from my time on Dartmoor this past weekend.  The whole thing is already sifting down into my memory comfortably as one of the most exhilerating things I've ever done, a completely fantastic retreat from start to finish.  

First there is the running. We had an excellent cross-section of weather conditions and on our first two runs (Friday evening shortly after arrival, and Saturday morning after breakfast) we had cool mist on the mountains, the backdrop for a heightened aesthetic seemingly perfectly coordinated for photographing the Dartmoor ponies.

(all photos by Adharanand Finn or Damian Hall)

Dartmoor runs from town begin with elevation gain, and that means a short jog up the Tor.  All the runs started this way, and I loved it right from the get-go, that pulsing, 'tip-tap' (as Damian put it) rhythm as you grind your way up across the sheep tracks and desire-lines to the top. 

Looking down over Ivybridge, Tom set up a 'jump shot' perfectly, and then we had a lesson on how to get down, with sage advice on foot placement and decision-making on tricky downhill terrain.  I took that first hard downhill really slow but once I got my head around it I was flying. 

By the time of our third run (the second run on Saturday, where we joked about doing 'double run' days and being 'hardcore') the weather had started to clear and you could see the tops of the Tors and Beacons very well from down below where Damian Hall led the hill-stride session. 

The hill-strides were up a not-too-steep hill and were meant to be done using an endurance (not sprinting) strid to better enhance your form and efficiency in endurance (ultra) events.  After a nice long warmup, we did seven reps in total, 6 * 20 seconds plus a bonus round of 30 seconds, and then a cooldown to the lodge.  I definitely sprinted a couple of the reps due to the inherent competitiveness of running with others.  

The beauty of doing the hill-strides with Damian was that he'd just given us his slide show beforehand and so we had all the images of his Barkley Marathons experience in our heads and were inspired and confident to ask him even more questions.

Before hill-strides we'd had a session on movement with an expert, and we threw balls at each other and did wall-facing squats and various stretches and exercises.  I learned that my ankles need to move (they do), and that this is a key part of running on the moors (and just generally).  It felt like a crazy (in a good way) yoga/pilates/dodgeball warmup that got me primed and recovered for the subsequent Damian session and Sunday long run the next day.

Sunday Long Run with me in my orange and yellow outfit

The fourth run, the Sunday long run, is the centrepiece of the whole retreat, taking the runners on a tour of ancient forests and wide open grassy mountain settings.  We did a massive power hike up a mossy boulder pile and that slowed us down a bit, but because the runs were such a beautiful mix of fast and slow, it all balanced out.  After gaining the height of the Tor, Colin or Finn would invariably steer us to the best and, importantly, the most fast and fun, way down to the bottom.  

It felt like flying, running down those hills and then they'd go back up again, but this time just enough for a quick pause before heading off flying again, the terrain often forgiving and even and fast so that you could just let your feet go.  It's the same reason why I said my run last year (also a The Way of the Runner event), when I did the Dartmoor crossing in one day with Finn and Colin, was the most fun I'd ever had on a run.  It's because they'd designed the route to be exquisitely engaging and unforgettable, like a thrilling roller coaster ride.  It's my Disney Land and Middle Earth all rolled into one, a combination of all the fun things in life together at once.

At the top of the boulder pile past the ancient forest

We even got a coffee break on the long run, and I had a Mars Bar and a Coke (in addition to the two gels and Lucozade I'd packed, practicing my ultra-nutrition strategies), and talked about running and eating with Damian before we headed off into the idyllic pastoral second part of the run which ended up with everyone swimming in a wild river (except for a couple of spectators).  It was fun to watch and a nice break. 

After the long run we were buzzing and stoked, and for lunch we had Ugali which I figured out is made of maize (I think) into white fluffy balls served with dal made of lentils poured over the top.  This dish was accompanied by kale or chard. 

Ugali

Every meal was vegetarian, and incredibly flavourful and nutritious in plentiful portions. After Ugali and a nap and a few cups of tea we went into Finn's slideshow about Kenya, Japan, and Ultra-running.  We got to see a big cross section of images that haven't appeared in any of his books, including Finn with short hair, and Finn running a 24 hour race (one image per hour) slowing down and then speeding back up to the finish.  There were great shots of histrionic Japanese runners in the famous ekiden races.  The Kenyan stuff was the star of the show, however, with the vibrant colours and scenes imprinting on the mind of the viewer at least as much as reading the books.  They'll stay with me for a long time.

We had a pub lunch after that, and socialised a bit more, and then I disappeared again (fully intending to come back up) down into my beautiful cool sleeping room and fell asleep to get up 9 hours later for our final early morning (6am) run on Monday. This was not to be missed because of the sunrise and the great weather. 

Final early morning run with views from Dartmoor

I would absolutely do another retreat again with The Way of the Runner and will be telling people about this for a long long time.

Susie Chan's Trails and Tribulations

Susie Chan's book Trails and Tribulations is in many ways the opposite of Allie Bailey's There is No Wall, though both authors start out describing their wild, partying, pasts.  On the back of Chan's book it says "You Never Regret a Run", while on the back of Bailey's it says "Running Won't Save You."  While on the one hand I have regretted a run in the past in which I got injured by pushing too hard through a niggle, on the other hand in many ways running absolutely did, and continues to, save me.  The thing I like about Chan's book is that it is actually about running!  

OK, so I have regretted a run but just one out of thousands completed in my nine years as a runner.  Chan goes through her own journey of starting out running for health (both physical and mental) reasons and quickly ramping up her efforts from her first race which was a half marathon, to her second one, which was the Marathon des Sables!  This is quite a jump, I have to say!  Chan is an accomplished marathon runner and can easily knock out a sub 3:30 marathon time.  My own goal was once to hit sub 3:30 so I can relate!  I never made it but we can dream.

The remarkable thing about Chan is that she is a dedicated volunteer and supporter of other runners and has volunteered at the Autumn 100 mile race many times.  She mentions Centurion's races quite a few times (and in this she is I think also in line with Bailey again, in their dedication to these events, as part of their community). One of the most resonant stories was her first 100 miler along the Thames Path and how after reaching mile 91 and overhearing her husband saying on the phone that it would take 3-4 more hours for her to finish, she went into flying feet mode to polish the race off in quick time.  That's hard to do.

Hard to do: the Marathon des Sables four times (once with her friend Sophie Raworth); a 12 hour treadmill distance world record; finisher at Badwater Ultra 135 miler; the accolades continue to pile up, and she still seems like a fun runner.  I like best her descriptions of runs that felt fun the whole time (including the Death Valley ultra), though I have to say I think the social effect of reduction of perception of effort has a lot to do with this.  It makes me wonder how an anti-social runner like Bailey does it?  I see Chan's strategy clearly, and I can honestly say I don't have that kind of support network, but I would like to have those fun all the way ultras nonetheless.  

My takeaway then is build your running networks and give back to the community by crewing and pacing your fellow runners; don't smoke while running; never regret a run; and stay positive.  I mean this, staying positive is incredibly important and it's all too easy to get sucked into cynicism when you start to see yourself (delusionally) as some kind of sub-elite.  Unless you're running 2:20 marathons, you're not sub-elite! To end this review positively, Chan has given a polish to my toolbox of mental skills for ultra-running: it never always gets worse; use the community; give back; eat; realise the pain is temporary; and stay positive! 

Autumn 100 2024

I can't imagine the conditions being better next year. In fact, they're more likely to be worse, as the weather this year wasn't really that bad.  Just a bit of rain on the day, and a few days of rain in the week before, but also a few days to dry out, and clear weather for me at the end of leg 1.  It was glorious when I pulled the plug, and that's probably part of the problem.  I looked around like I imagined Ken Fancett to have done when he almost DNF'd (as he told Elson on the podcast about Fancett), seeing everyone around me taking in the sun and lolling around by the riverside. I felt my manky, sore, wet, eroding, pinched-toe blistering feet and my trashed hips and my calves coated in thick mud and made a mental calculation of the damage I'd do if I kept pushing, and then I sat down on a bench in the sun and mentally called it off.  I sat there for a few more minutes and another runner sat down beside me.  He'd just pulled the plug too.  That was it!  I was done, after have run a marathon across tons of slippery mud and clay.  

I told a fellow club runner the next day that one of my discoveries of having begun the Autumn 100 is that I'm a 'fair weather runner.'  He laughed: "YOU!!?? A fair weather runner??!!  No way!"  It made me feel a little bit better but then he wasn't there to see, as I did, those lead runners coming back at me as I neared the checkpoint at the end of the first part of leg 1 at Days Lock.  Those men and women at the front are really impressive to see running along on the mud, balanced perfectly and speeding along almost as if it's not there, a kind of hovering mud-dance. 

The checkpoints were brilliant and I came alive during my brief interactions with the marshalls, who told me I looked fine.  I felt fine, I have to say, at least when I was at the checkpoints.  Those were a short 3 minutes though.  

Another great thing that happened is that I was in last place for around 10 miles or so before I passed a flagging runner.  I actually told the guy behind me to go ahead, pass by me as I'm pacing myself, and he said "I'm the sweeper runner," which made me laugh.  We had a good chat and he reassured me I had lots of time, ten minutes to spare at the next checkpoint.  So I had someone to run with!  

My pacing and nutrition were perfect, and by the third checkpoint I was on pace to the minute.  I checked in at 1:08, excactly as planned on my race plan.  I had downed the exact number of gels I needed to get down at that point, and supplanted them with sausage rolls and wraps as needed.  My stomach and legs were in good shape.  My hips and feet, however (and I guess you could say these count as part of my legs) weren't cooperating.  My use of poles helped in that final 6 miles to struggle on to the end, so that was a success as well.

I think the main overall failing for the day for me was my sock choice.  I purchased for the day a pair of DexShell waterproof socks, a pair of Injinji socks, and Injinji sock liners.  However I had never practiced running with liners and waterproof socks together so I didn't wear them on the day.  I think this was the fatal error.  What do you think?  Let me know how you did...

How do you train for a 100km race?

I had this question last night at track, and it got me thinking.  The answer I gave was short because my training plan was actually pretty simple.  Once a month, in the lead-up to the race, sign up for an ultra and run it as a training run.  Don't race it, but use it as an opportunity to get in a long run.  By doing this you convince yourself that you will be able to go the distance on race day.  Of course, practice your nutrition and pacing for your given goal (100km) race. 

With those ultras under your belt as a physical and mental base, you don't need to do a lot of 20+ weekly training runs. I find that those, if done too frequently, tend to just grind you down.  Instead, focus on weekly time on feet and mileage.  I count gym time as time on feet and, honestly, in addition to running practice ultras, the other big piece is doing strength training. I do hard/easy alternating weeks in the gym, with up to 5 strength sessions in a hard week.  On the easier gym weeks, you can ramp up the running mileage to make up for the time on feet short-fall, aiming to get 8-10 hours of training in per week.

Aside from the above (ultras as training runs and gym), you just go about your business as normal: do the Monday night runs and track with the club, and lead Sunday runs in the forest, and then run three more times per week totalling six times per week for an average mileage between 40 and 60 miles per week.  My highest mileage week was 62, and I didn't run more than 20km in one go that week.  My longest run overall through the whole training block was a 33 mile run across Dartmoor, in harder than race day conditions.  

Completing my first 100km non-stop took a long time to work up to. I would say it took me 5 years to finally reach my goal: from my first ultra in 2019 when I did part 2 of Race to the Stones (5h 30mins coming in 10th place overall), through my unsuccessful attempt last year in 2024, until this year's concerted effort to get organised and mentally optimistic with the explicit goal of completion.  So, it does take some time, and it's by no means easy.  But if you train right and are smart, you can make it look relatively easy on race day!

Race to the Stones 2024: 100km non-stop

I put my wife Diane right at the top of this blog post because she was the key piece of my ultra puzzle that I set out to solve in my most recent attempt at the Race to the Stones 100km non-stop.

Selfie at Base Camp (50km)

Just to run through the main things that came together (in addition to providing Diane with a detailed set of 5 checkpoints, in addition to the race's 7, where she met me, using the What3Words app and Waze): there was excellent weather, cool and partly cloudy, with significant portions of the day in optimistic sunshine; there was excitement at the start line due to lack of rain, and just the great general vibe you specifically get at this event; pacing at an 11/5 run/walk with low HR throughout (walking uphills); running downhills; the use of poles to maintain rhythm and power up the hills; and finally: eating enough (see me with food in my hands below).

Eatin a banana at base camp

My food situation went well, and I ate enough to get through (as opposed to last year where I crashed in part due to lack of an energy plan).  Base camp supplied vegetarian chilli with rice and garlic bread, vegan lemon meringue pie, and tea.  This was a full reset before heading out into part 2, and I had already set up a base level of calorie consumption that was borderline gluttonous and that had my stomach just a little bit upset.  I ate 8 mini sausage rolls, 5 bananas, half a Kendal's mint bar; six gels; and a litre of tailwind.  There's probably more that I'm forgetting.

On top of the big hill just past Foxhill

The first part of the course is spectacular, with all kinds of varied features.  The second half is simlarly stellar, and all kinds of names ramble by: Hackpen White Horse; Wayland Smithy, etc. But just the fields and rolling terrain alone are enough to keep you going, as the whole course tends to feel very remote.  You feel like you're 'out there' in the wilderness, alternating through the swaying wheat fields and remnants of forest. 

Heading into the night past Foxhill

One of the 'firsts' for the day (aside from finishing my first 100km non-stop) was doing a few hours of ultra-running in the dark.  I had trepidation going in, but was well prepared, and learned from last year to have a good headlamp, and to get your base warm layers on while it's still light.  Last year I was too slow and it was pitch black when I hit Foxhill (45miles).  This year it was a whole other story: a beautiful sunset with full sunshine at Foxhill where I pulled up a chair that Diane got out for me, and donned trousers and rain jacket. This in anticipation of cooling, and rain, and dark, all of which happened in short order (and a lovely cooling ground fog at the finish).

A sample of the ridgeway track

The course is in many places (especially at the end) very uneven.  There's one section 5-10km from the finish that is like a weaving multi-track nightmare rutted ledges that are extremely hard to navigate, especially in the dark.  Another success for the day was having my poles with me which, in addition to giving me that nordic cross-country rhythm, also gave me a lot of stability on these final horrible sections.  

It gets a bit better just before the end of the race which, at night, shows up as an eerie floodlight way off in the distance, with glowing chalk hills and rolling fog just scrolling along at your feet.  As you roll down those hills the excitement builds and you see people you've seen along the course, their faces lighting up, and their feet dancing as the energy levels rise again in anticipation of the finish. 

Ready with headlamp, and base layers (top and bottom)

I ran hard the final two miles, down that last hill, and across the little Avebury boulevard (it's amazing to be back in civilization) with its streetlamps and houses set back from the street, you run out to the cone, which is where in past years they'd take your photo at the standing stone (now we call it Race to the Cone instead), and the marshall tells you you have 2km to go, even though you're almost right beside the finish line, so you run back the way you just came, away from the finish line, hang a left, back across a little remote feeling field (back to that again), and around, and finally you see off in the distance the floodlights looking like a ship anchored offshore in the fog, and it looks like it's 10 miles away.  But by this time I had so much energy I was running an 8 min/mile pace, definitely feeling fast after a 16 hour shift of alternating 11 min/miles, sprinting (it felt like) and chatting to my fellow runners, as we moved across those final three sensor strips, and collected our medals. 

The medal (it says 100km on the ribbon)

I didn't run for the medal, but I do love to get a medal.  I was figuring out 'my why' on the drive up in the morning, when I was having a serious whine to Diane and threatening to only run half because "I don't want to trash my feet". My why was simply to finish 100km all in one go.  I kept it simple and I did it.   My goal was to finish, not to get a time, but I did push, hoping for a PB, which I got.  

To compare what it is like to run 100km over two days versus all in one go (as I discussed with Diane on the way home from Avebury at 2am, keeping the conversation afloat so we could stay awake, staring out at the blinding fog): I think they're both equally hard.  That is my hard-earned conclusion.  The two day 100km is hard because on the mental effort of getting through the night without really sleeping and worrying about the next day's run.  On the non-stop you don't have that, and you aren't as stiff, but you also have significantly fewer hours to make a recovery, which you do to some extent get on the two day.

Strava map shows moving time

The map above shows that I was moving for just under 15 hours, meaning my combined stop time was about 1 hour and 40 minutes.  This was for 7 of the race checkpoints and 5 for Diane's crew points, a total of 12 checkpoints, at each of which I took a few minutes.  Base Camps was 1/2 hour.  The remaining 70 minutes, then, were spread between 11 stops, which I feel is pretty good.  I didn't linger too long, just got a little rest to get the heart rate down, and got the Tailwind and water refills, and ate what I could.  By the second half that was really only gels and Tailwind.  I estimate to have eaten 20 gels total, and to have consumed 2 litres of Tailwind.  For a calorie burn of about 7000 for the day, this in the end is really what got me around (and Diane mixing and handing it to me).  Oh, and two litres of Coke at the RTTS checkpoints as well.  

This year's blister count is 1.  I had only one blister this year due to the dry conditions, of course it was a pinkie toe.  One little part of my body looks like hamburger.  The rest of me just aches, even now, two days later.