I could have run all day... on the South Downs Way

For much of the time when I’m running, my attention is taken up by how my body is feeling. My feet in my shoes, heart in my chest, my calves, quads, hamstrings and knees. But on occasion my thoughts are taken completely out of myself, drawn by something captivating or striking. This happened to me around midway through the 2019 South Downs Way 50 ultramarathon, when I unexpectedly came face to face with an international opera legend. Unexpected, because why would one expect to see an operatic superstar during an ultramarathon, and because even if I had given Dame Kiri Te Kanawa a thought any time during the last couple of years, I would not have expected to see her in the Sussex countryside (only finding out later that she lives in Sussex, not New Zealand). At one of the many points where the South Downs Way crosses a quiet country lane, I paused to let a slow-moving SUV drive past, only to find myself staring into the remarkably youthful face of Dame Kiri, sat serenely in the passenger seat, looking at me with a mildly bemused look. That this was not the highlight of my day gives a sense of what a great run from Worthing to Eastbourne I had.

Turn the clock back nearly nine months, and I was leaving hospital following surgery to fix a torn meniscus in my right knee, having not run a step for nearly nine months before that, missing the 2018 London Marathon, Edinburgh Marathon and Centurion Running’s Autumn 100, and feeling thoroughly sorry for my non-running self. Six weeks later I had the all clear to take the first tentative running steps – a slow 1km plod round West Harrow. From that I built up to a shuffle around Osterley parkrun, and a gradual increase in distance and pace. My rehabilitation was going well, as I completed the Perivale 5 mile race in a respectable 53 minutes, almost a year to the day after the injury had first made itself impossible to ignore. As my parkrun times continued to improve week-on-week, I began to believe I would be in shape to take on the Centurion 50 mile slam (four 50 mile ultras in spring and autumn), as well as take up my deferred London Marathon place. The optimism didn’t last until Christmas, as I felt familiar symptoms in my left knee, and stopped running once again. With more knowledge of the inner working of knees after a year of thinking of little else, I sought medical treatment much sooner this time round, and after regular physio I was back running again. A later scan confirmed another meniscus tear, but seemingly less severe and better placed, so that (touch wood) after the initial flare-up, it has not stopped me running as many miles as I care to.

So it was that on a cool April morning I was stood on the start line of the South Downs Way 50, a repaired meniscus in my right knee and an unrepaired one in my left, waiting to see what the next up-to-13 hours would bring. I had a few hundred miles of training under my belt, and my 5k, 10k, HM and 20 mile runs had all gone well. I felt fit, but fragile. Out of concern for both my knees, I’d avoided any hill-work, and I didn’t know what reaction there would be from the 1750m of elevation ahead. As it turned out I needn’t have worried.

When I ran the same race two years previously, it had been a hot, cloudless day. This time it was overcast with a persistent easterly breeze. Ahead lay 50 miles of running into a headwind, exposed and cold on the hills, warm and humid in the valleys.

I set off with no firm plan other than to finish without a year-ending injury. If I could get anywhere near my previous time of 11h 12m I’d be delighted.

There’s lots of relentless uphill in the first fifteen miles or so, as the course makes it way up onto the Downs from Worthing, to the first aid stations at Botolphs and Saddlescombe Farm. As ever, the Centurion aid stations were awesome, each with its own particular character – youthful at Housedean (beer anyone?), sophisticated at Southease (individual jellies and roasted new potatoes with dipping salt) and charming at Alfriston, where I heard a (only half joking) proposal of marriage from one runner to an aid station volunteer in response to a particularly lovely homemade cake.

I started cautiously, not pushing the pace at all, and happy to walk any steep inclines, conscious of my possibly fragile knees and that I hadn’t run beyond 21 miles in nearly two years. Still feeling fresh and healthy at Saddlescombe, I began to pick up the pace a little, overtaking dozens of runners by the time I reached Southease at 34 miles, having had my Te Kanawa encounter in the meantime.

Despite not really pushing myself, I had kept up a reasonable pace. As is my wont, I had calculated by this point that I could have walked the remaining miles and still finish within the 13 hour cut off. The thought, as ever, gave me confidence. I felt the ultrarunner’s mindset return as I thought to myself “there are only 15 miles to go”.

I had very strong and good memories of the last sections of the course from 2017. I knew there were a couple of sharpish climbs, but also lengthy flat and downhill runnable sections for those whose quads and courage were up to the task. After the long slog uphill out of Southease, chatting to a runner doing his first 50 mile race, I decided to push on, thinking I could get inside 11 hours and finish in daylight. I made the most of the downhill sections, passing lots more runners. In the run into Alfriston, I clocked a 5.08 kilometre. Into Jevington, a 5.17 kilometre. And down the final steep downhill into Eastbourne, I threw caution to the wind and did one in 4.38. I don’t even run parkruns at that pace these days. It felt exhilarating to bound down the gully from the Jevington trig point, now confident that my knees would not give way under me, and that I had the strength to stay upright and moving forward as fast as I dare.

By the time I reached the outskirts of Eastbourne, I knew I was going to finish in closer to 10 hours than eleven. Not only still in daylight, but still wearing sunglasses. I overtook a few more runners on the final run in, and savoured the moment as I entered the stadium for the lap round the track, to finish, arms aloft, in 10 hours 17 mins and 32 seconds, more than 50 minutes quicker than my pre-surgery self had managed two years earlier. During many of the intervening months of frustrating non-running and slow rehabilitation, I had motivated myself by visualising that lap of the track. It did not disappoint. I was not thinking about my tired body or injured knees as I finished. I was thinking of fulfilment.

The only musical film I’ve ever been enthusiastic about is My Fair Lady. In 1987,

Kiri Te Kawana performed the Eliza Doolittle role opposite Jeremy Irons as Henry Higgins in a special performance with the London Symphony Orchestra at the Albert Hall. As much as I could watch Audrey Hepburn all day, she was no opera singer, and it’s remarkable to hear the familiar Lerner and Lowe songs performed by a professional soprano. Listening to Dame Kiri singing I Could Have Danced All Night, I get that same feeling as I did crossing that finish line, to have my second oversized SDW50 medal hung round my neck: I could have run all day.