Thames Trot 50: My first ultra DNF

It seems like most people feel immense sadness and deep frustration after their first DNF, but as I slipped over in ankle-deep mud for the third time somewhere between Wallingford and Streatley, I was a little bit pleased that I was set to miss the cutoff at mile 28.

"You can carry on if you want though! You just have to sign a waiver and you can be an unsupported runner!," the marshall on the phone kindly offered.

"Oh that's alright... I think it will be better for everyone if I stop."

And by "everyone" I obviously meant "me".

The month leading up to the Thames Trot 50 hadn't been that bad. Sure, I'd taken a month off to recover from a foot injury. Sure, I hadn't really got the necessary training miles in. Sure, I hadn't trained on the right terrain. Sure, I had been horribly ill in the week leading up to the race. Sure, I hadn't recced any of the route (nor looked at the map at all).

But on the morning of the race, I managed to put all those factors aside and give the race my best shot.

In all my ultra races, I'm always near the back - usually chasing the cutoffs, kangarooing back and forth with a few other back-of-the-packers. As the Thames Trot started though, I was much more last than usual. The lady in second last position seemed to power past me effortlessly at mile 2, and my legs were having a hard time staying in 'jog' mode.

It was so cold in Oxford that the footpath ground had frozen solid, which I thought was uncomfortable at the time - but if I knew what would happen when the mud thawed, I'd have enjoyed it while it lasted.

My day was slow and uneventful. A few small things went wrong which I'd learn from. My GPS watch was completely uncharged at the start of the race, which meant that I'd have its bulk on my wrist (with HR monitor strap on my chest) all day for no reason. My smart phone lost its charge extremely quickly and I ended up carrying around a dead phone for half the day. I carried bulky sodium acetate hand warmers in my bag which went unused. I realised at mile 10 that I'd left all my gels at home.

The most excitement I had all day was getting to the check points. Said check points were always patiently waiting for the last runner to come through (me) before they started to pack up the food table.

As I ran past Oxford University Boat Club, one rower shouted "How far are you going?". After I answered "50 miles... hopefully!" he replied with, "I couldn't even row that far!!". Only in Oxford.

The first 20 miles were predictably slow in the mud which had quickly thawed out. The ground was boggy, the mud was sticky, and the paths narrow and winding.

When I reached the town of Wallingford, I was 30 minutes ahead of the cutoff - a cushion I was sure I could maintain. However, one incorrectly rotated Thames Path Trail sign on a bridge sent me into Wallingford town centre instead of back onto the river. After 30 minutes of trying to read my tiny map and asking a few locals the way to Henley ("Henley is miles away!"), I got back on track.

The state of my race instructions just about summed up the conditions - and my day

While I walked a particularly muddy section, I did some calculations and realised I had left myself 15 minutes to cover 2 miles to check point 3. Even on smooth tarmac, that would be difficult for me. But as I looked at the path in front of me, the mud seemed to be talking to me, "Seven minute miles in this? You'll be getting the minibus to the finish, mate!"

As I eventually rolled into check point 3, the marshalls there kindly offered consolation. "I've run the Thames Path 184 mate, and that section you've just done is the most difficult of the lot!". He went on, "From here on, the path is actually quite good...," but any desire I had to carry on and test his claims was irrelevant, as I arrived at check point three way after the cutoff.

In the end, I managed 28.5 miles (thanks to my dead watch, that's just a guess). I got a lift to the finish to pick up my bag, and for the first time, saw some of the fast runners just crossing the finish line. It was quite inspirational. I usually just see the people at the back who are trying to survive the day - these people were actually racing! I saw Craig Holgate and Paul Ali, two well known runners.

I wondered how their race day preparation had been compared to mine. It probably wasn't perfect, but it was probably 10 times better in every area compared to mine.

This DNF has inspired me to take my training back to scratch and start building endurance and speed - both of which were lacking for my Thames Trot effort. Last summer I was a runner as I crossed the finish line at North Downs Way 50, but at mile 28 of Thames Trot, I was a deluded rambler.