Gower Bach 34-mile ultramarathon

Wow, what an event! It’s hard to know where to start. Perhaps I should start by saying thanks to all the friends and family that sent supportive messages during the event and also donated to our charities, the Motor Neurone Disease Association and Alzheimer’s Research UK. Times are tough for everyone at the moment, so we are blown away by your generosity. As for the Gower Bach…

This was by far the longest run I’ve ever attempted and the most challenging terrain, comprising thick gelatinous mud to start, miles of sand, huge sand dunes, steep wooded trails containing rocks and that were covered with mud and wet leaves, and last but not least, narrow paths along cliff edges.

The early stages of the race are etched clearly in my memory, as the beautiful morning sun lit up the salt marshes of north Gower, an area I’d never visited before. The months of hard training meant that the first few miles passed enjoyably, chatting with fellow runners, hearing about their journeys into ultra-marathon running and cursing the long stretches of sand as we approached the start of the remarkable, 3-mile-long Rhossili beach. At this point, we were running directly into a stiff breeze, but my legs felt strong and I was happy to act as a windbreak for a chap running the 50-mile version of the race as he had already done a marathon distance by that stage. I was left incredulous by the ability of the 50-mile athletes.

For anyone who knows Rhossili, the climb up from the beach is a bit of a heartbreaker and represented the start of my difficult middle section of the race. We were now running along the southern part of the Gower Coastal Path, high up along the cliff tops that undulated relentlessly while the wind constantly nagged away at your physical and mental strength. Each magnificent bay, of which there are many along the Gower coast, required a descent, often down steep wooded hillside or sand dune, followed by a nasty ascent up the other side. By the time I approached halfway I was feeling pretty done in and was quite frankly intimidated by the prospect of doing the same again. Thankfully, there was a wonderful checkpoint in the village of Port Eynon, where the volunteers had opened the village hall to provide all sorts of sweet and savoury snacks, as well as hotdogs, of both the meat and vegan variety, and the best cup of tea ever served in human history.

With my tea levels suitably refreshed, my spirit and legs seemed to lift. As I mentally settled into the challenge, It became a matter of just chalking off one mile at a time. Target distances slowly came and went... twenty miles, only ten miles to go, a marathon distance complete, then thirty miles done. All of these miles were extremely tough going, but by this stage I was running with a small group of people who were similarly paced and we provided unspoken motivation to one another to keep moving, to run whenever possible, to run just that little bit further.

The final four miles of the route would ordinarily be considered a straightforward, even pleasant to run if it were not for the previous thirty miles. My overwhelming desire was to get to the finish as soon as possible so that I could finally stop as by this stage every part of my body was fatigued and I had significant chafing around my nether regions which burned with every stride. Thankfully, this final section passed quickly and I was soon turning off the coastal path and heading inland toward Mumbles. A young lad standing alone at the side of the path congratulated me and said, “it’s only 500 metres further, honest”. I cracked on and soon heard the whoops and clapping from the finish line. In ever-darkening twilight and constant light rain, I turned into Mumbles cricket club and ran past the noisy supporters to cross the line in 8 hours and 36 minutes. It was a massively satisfying experience to overcome a route that even the most seasoned ultramarathon athletes described as hard. There were fist pumps with all the people I’d shared the previous eight hours with and a nice moment when the 50-miler who’d sheltered from the wind behind me along Rhossili beach, came over to say thanks. He’d needed a little support at that stage and I was glad I was able to help.

(left) The feeling of satisfaction in completing a huge challenge after months of hard training is priceless.

While sitting in the cricket club waiting for Christine and Julie to finish, I chatted to the chap who came fifth in the fifty-mile race. He’d recently lost a friend to motor neurone disease during the pandemic. We agreed that MND is the most horrific disease and the exchange once again reminded me just how lucky I am to have my health and the ability to participate in these events. No matter how sore and painful my legs would be - and they bloody well are 48 hours later - they will get better. Christine and I both long for the day that the same will be said for people diagnosed with MND or Alzheimer's. Until then there’s no finish line.