It first happened after the descent down the steps to Porthkerry and the run across the boggy ground towards the steep climb to the caravan park – that weird twitch in the right calf, that uncontrolled quiver that meant that someone else had control of the muscles in your leg. 24km was way too soon, not even half way and not the time to be suffering with any sort of cramp. My feet weren’t right either. Familiar socks, familiar shoes but most definitely unfamiliar rubbing of my toes. I wondered if the tricky descent had pushed my feet into the toes of my shoes and whether tightening them might do the trick? The noose hanging from the tree fitted my mood beautifully. The climb up to Porthkerry Caravan Park allowed me to drop my heels and stretch out my calfs. I stopped to tighten my shoes hoping that the rubbing was simply down to that and fixing it soon was the best way forward. Sarah disappeared into the distance at this point, her little head bobbing up and down as she ran through the caravans and that would be the last time I saw her for hours.

It’d started well, even before the actual start. We’d ran 30k, well over half of the first half some weeks earlier and then more recently ran 37k, a very generous chunk over the second half. We knew the route and its challenges and were pretty much prepared. I can’t speak for the other four but my kit was textbook and weighed in just over 3kg including fluid. Following the absolute delight in consuming a little proper food during our recent recce run I’d even added some mini pork-pies, a porridge bar and a Snickers for good measure. There was 1½ litres of Tailwind in the bladder and a scoop of Tailwind in an empty running flask if needed later in the course to avoid having to access the bladder and waste valuable time. Jane dropped us all in Penarth.

The run across Barry beach coincided with Parkrun so we all had extra cheers but no ice-cream.

The start was on the pier, it had just stopped raining and it was blustery and a little chilly. Hundreds of runners huddled together all trying to remain on the leeward site, some in singlets and shorts (I’ve no idea where they’d stashed their compulsory kit) others all Gortex and trekking poles and suspicious sandwich bulges. As soon as we were all tagged onto the pier we turned round and were released back off on our way. I’d seen Emma and Caz pass me onto the pier but didn’t know whether Scott and Sarah were in front or behind me now so I just ran at my pace. Out of Penarth and off to Lavernock, our first switch onto the trails and plenty, but not too much, mud from the previous rain. The pace dropped as the narrow trails dictated the speed and you had to run to the pace of the runner in front. The farmer’s fields were a bit claggy but we were through them promptly and off down the hill to the Captain’s Wife. A familiar voice behind me meant I’d found Sarah, or technically she’d found me. It was plain sailing through Swanbridge apart from the pebbles on the Sully beach front and then we were out onto tarmac and the first checkpoint at the edge of Barry. The pace was solid, if anything a tad brisk. Trail shoes on asphalt aren’t fun and we now had a slog around the docks and up over Barry Island, Jackson’s Bay, Nell’s Point and round to Barry beach. Just after Nell’s point was the first punch for the route check and it was missing the bit opposite the teeth. I had thick enough gloves on to just push it through to my gloves. Others adopted whatever method they could to punch through the card and record their essential proof of transit. The run across Barry beach coincided with Parkrun so we all had extra cheers but no ice-cream. To avoid short-cutting, another punch was situated at Friar’s Point. This one had its punch assembly intact and that helped for a swift departure and less queuing. Across the point, around Barry harbour and heading for Cold Knap the 21km came up at just under the 2 hours, a happy pace for the first half-marathon bearing in mind the surface, the stopping and the earlier crowding – if only things were to continue in this fashion.

Cold Knap hill was the first real off-road climb and my legs could tell I’d already ran a half-marathon. The lethal steps down to Porthkerry Park were still lethal. Slightly muddy, different heights, different widths and different slopes. Dunno why they didn’t go the whole hog and paint them different colours just for a laugh. I believe it’s where someone had a bit of a tumble last year – it’s no surprise.

And this is where we came in… Out of Porthkerry Caravan Park and off toward Rhoose. At 26.2km the unthinkable happened and a massive spasm in my right calf brought me shuddering to a halt. This could not be happening at half distance – there was still a long way to go. I gave my leg a massage, a stretch and a bit of a pep talk and we were off again only to feel the cramp return 500m further on. I gingerly dropped down to Fontygary Park and then half ran, half walked the length of the park finally dropping down to Aberthaw nature reserve and the wall.I used the reduction in pace to sample one of my delightful pork-pie snacks. Even that was a disaster. Having bitten off little more than a centimetre I struggled to chew it but finally managed to swallow it and wash it down with a sip of Tailwind. Deciding to abandon the pie I tossed it for the gulls on the pebbles but actually achieved such a pathetic throw, barely in control of the pie that I managed to bounce it off my left shoulder and left it in the middle of the path, on the edge of a puddle, a sad testament to a failed attempt at race nutrition. At this point something should have clicked but it didn’t…I pressed on around the bleak footpath that skirts Aberthaw power station. I was passed by a few of the runners from the shorter course looking young, fresh and infuriatingly cramp-free. At some point, even now I struggle to remember where, my left calf joined the party and at points I struggled to actually walk. I’d been carrying a left knee injury for best part of a month and was heavily strapped. The pressure and discomfort of the strapping had masked the arrival of the cramp in the left leg. I got to the weird point of standing and holding kissing-gates open for following runners just to justify the blessed relief of standing there waiting for a least one of my legs to follow the instructions my addled brain was attempting to give them. To add injury to insult my feet had clearly blistered and so I sat on the rocks at Summerhouse Bay and applied blister plasters to my injuries and naively thought that the cramp in my calfs was somehow as a result of a dodgy gait brought on by the sore feet.

Almost every runner that passed me as I sat there enquired after my wellbeing but not a single one of them offered me a piggy-back. I wondered whether I should wait for Scott, he’d give me a lift for sure. It soon became obvious that even though my feet felt a little better it was making no difference to the cramp. I experimented a little by running slower to see if I could still jog rather than run but it was of no benefit – I didn’t get any further jogging than I did running and that was going to set the blueprint for the rest of the afternoon. Whilst holding open a kissing-gate around Stout Bay the familiar form of Scott could be seen ambling his way towards me. We had a brief chat, he gave me some salt and his usual words of encouragement and then I let him (as if I had any choice) potter off into the distance leaving me wallowing in my crisis. Dropping down to the café at Llantwit Major Beach I came across Michelle and her welcome support. I wish I could have looked strong and bouncy but on the bright side the photographs she took of me were thankfully free of the tears of frustration that must have been rolling down my cheeks at this point.

Scott was by the lifeguard station with his shoes off as I rolled up. I used the facilities and when I came out he was gone. All that remained was a memory of his presence and a lingering whiff of toe ointment. At Tresilian Bay I tried to eat my porridge bar. Like the pork-pie earlier it was like ash in my mouth, it still hadn’t clicked why my mouth was so dry and I had no saliva. Two attempts washed down with Tailwind and I gave up. This time I didn’t attempt to throw it away, I just tucked it into my pocket just in case I found a later opportunity to eat. By now I’d established a pattern of running and walking which pretty much involved running at a normal pace until one calf cramped enough to stop me. At that point I wobbled around like a new-born foal, hopefully heading in the right direction, preferably not towards the cliff edge, waiting for the cramp to ease. After a minute or so, providing I could run again, the process could be repeated. Even at my much reduced pace I was still catching people up and then very gradually pulling away from them. I can’t say it cheered me up a great deal but finding others facing similar struggles does tend to lessen the ordeal a little.The steep climb up from Atlantic College sowed the first seeds of retirement in my head and I made the decision to simply keep plodding on until I was overtaken by Caz and Emma. At that point I’d be last on the road and could then weigh up my options depending on how much further I had to go. Arriving at Nash Point a dog walker shouted, “Just two more Parkruns to go.” I’m quite familiar in measuring things in Parkruns and two didn’t seem too bad. There was a café just past the lighthouse and it even featured a happy lady with a ukulele singing jolly, running type songs. I filled up my spare water flask but chose not to sing along possibly ‘cos I wasn’t actually that familiar with the lyrics which seemed to be an adaptation of “She’ll be coming round the mountain”. Another steep climb up to the headland and then it was along the cliffs for a little more running, walking and occasional weeping. Drop into and climb out of Ffynnon Fair and the last cliff edge stroll until Dunraven Park and the smell of home.

A weakness of the mind you can deal with but having no legs to run on was always going to affect an ultra marathon.

I caught up a struggling runner and we chatted for a while as I walked off my latest cramp. For a moment I felt that competitor bond and eyed him up for piggy-back duties, then I spotted his green wrist band meaning he was doing the shorter race. Without belittling his achievement it dawned on me how far I’d come and what a challenge it was and with that I pressed on with yet further resolve. Unfortunately this wasn’t something I could mentally beat. A weakness of the mind you can deal with but having no legs to run on was always going to affect an ultra marathon. I re-filled my water bottle at the park and stumbled my way down to Dunraven Bay and then finished my legs off on the climb up to Southerndown. From there on it was an undulating gradual descent but with the challenge of running (walking) across a transverse slope that continuously aggravated the tired ankles. Finally, after what seemed like a mere 54 km the finish line appeared and put an end to the agony of not only being unable to run but also of having a pocket full of uneaten pork pies. My watch said 6:30 roughly an hour over target but at that stage just a finish was welcome.

I even managed a little smile for the photographer at the end.

It’s odd that for some, let’s say those whose goal is simply to complete a marathon, just crossing the line would be considered a success. I didn’t want to just run an ultra, I wanted to run it around my target pace if not a little faster. Walking the climbs was acceptable but walking on the flat was not and that’s what I’d ended up doing. Despite finishing in the top third of the field I still felt I’d somehow failed – that’s how weird these events have become and how self-critical you get. Luckily Louise was at the finish and had a solution. Louise had beer. She also had pasties and some more beer. Ryan and Samantha turned up too and they’d also brought some beer. Sometimes friends know exactly what to do…

For me it wasn’t as good a day as I’d hoped but even so, five of the Irongang were now Ultra Runners. Sarah 34th , Scott 57th , me 99th , Caz 199th and Emma 200th out of a field of 312 finishers. Whether we’d done better or worse than we’d expected we’d all done it and that was really all that mattered.Would I do it again? No, not until I can walk again.Would I do it again when I can walk? Totally. Would I start the course dehydrated and not drink enough during the race? Possibly.

Would I still like a beer at the end? Absolutely!