Back in January I had a massive fuck it moment. Now, I’m not someone who goes in for all this new year resolution thing, but I do like to set goals and challenge myself a little. So, when a running friend sent a message out on our Whatsapp group about the Atlantic Coast Challenge at precisely the moment I was sat there pondering over the type of challenges I could do, it felt like a message from the universe. And so I signed up, there and then, acting on impulse, knowing full well that if I thought about it too much I’d talk myself out of it.
What Is The Atlantic Coast Challenge?
The Atlantic Coast Challenge is a multi day ultra event in Cornwall organised by Votwo Events. Set over 3 days, the challenge starts from a point just outside Padstow following the South West Coastal Path and ending up at Lands End. How you get there is up to you. You can run, jog, hike, walk, hell you can even crawl if you have to, but basically it’s a marathon a day across wild and rugged terrain with a whole tonne of ups and downs thrown in for good measure. Remind me why I signed up to this exactly!?!?!
This isn’t something you can just rock up to and hope for the best. You need to train, you need to take it seriously and you need to commit. The furthest distance I had run before was about 17 miles. This was going to be a total of 80 miles over 3 days. Shit just got super serious. But hey it was January, the event wasn’t until October, I had plenty of time. And so I forgot about it. Well, not entirely, it was still lurking at the edge of my brain, but I was regularly running about 15-20 miles in total across each week and I had some big hikes planned for in between, so I wasn’t worried.
The training started to ramp up around about the summer. As I said, I’d already busted out some pretty hefty hiking miles – myself and a couple of friends had hiked all around the Isle of Wight over the space of 3 days, and I’d also hiked the length of the Serpent trail with a friend over the course of the year – so my endurance fitness was feeling pretty good. But I wanted to get a bit more long run fit and that meant increasing the weekend run and at some point introducing back to back runs so that I got used to running with tired legs.
Frustratingly, about halfway through the training I developed sciatica. It was quite literally a pain in the backside. There was a point where I really didn’t know whether I would even make it to the start line. However, being the organised control freak that I am, I took charge of the matter and put a plan in place. I saw a physio (shout out to the amazing Body and Mind Physio in Petersfield whoop whoop!), started weekly Pilates, did stretches twice a day, had a running gait analysis, did strength exercises, I rested, and I didn’t sit for long periods of time. Slowly but surely the sciatica started to ease, but my confidence had dipped. I’d missed out on some long runs and I was uncertain whether I’d be capable of doing that kind of distance. But I wouldn’t know unless I tried. So, with just a few weeks to go until the Atlantic Coast Challenge, myself and two friends who were also signed up to it, decided to run/walk from Petersfield to Hayling Island, a total of 22 miles. We alternated between running a mile and then walking a mile, which worked out great – a chance to get some miles and time on our feet whilst also being relatively gentle on my back and restoring my self confidence.
I’d done the training. I’d got all the gear. I’d mentally prepared myself for the biggest challenge I’d ever taken on. This was it. I was as ready as I was ever going to be. Cornwall, let’s do this!
Day 1 Constantine Bay – Perranporth (26.2 miles)
We were very fortunate to be staying in a lovely house in Porthleven that friends of a friend owned, which meant we had a fab base, comfy beds, and lots of home luxuries. When you sign up to the Atlantic Coast Challenge you have the option of staying in a static caravan in St Ives Caravan Park which is the event head quarters and where you have to register each morning. But honestly, give me a warm, comfy house every single time. It’s like the difference between camping and glamping, and I definitely know which one I prefer.
I woke up on race day at 5am. It was still dark outside and I felt like how you feel when you wake up early and go to the airport. You know, a little bit sicky and full of anticipation. But of course, I wasn’t flying somewhere hot and tropical today, no I had 26 miles looming ahead of me. It was time to get this shit done!
Thankfully I’d managed to have a decent night’s sleep, which was a minor miracle as despite sleeping like a log in my own bed I do have previous when it comes to not sleeping well in strange beds before big events, and not gonna lie, it was a concern. I did wake up at 3.18am with weird anxiety dreams about getting stains on my wedding dress, being late for the race, and my dog being eaten by piranhas, you know the usual kinda stuff, but I was able to get back to sleep until my 5am wake up.
I forced some porridge and a decaf coffee down, which I really didn’t want, but knew it was important to get some fuel in me. I had a million wees and poos, packed my kit, double checked my kit, had another wee and then left the house at 6am to head off and get registered. Registration was at St Ives holiday park, and it was there that we picked up our bib number, GPS tracker, listened to the briefing about the day, and obvs squeezed out another wee. Once all that was done, it was back into the car for about an hour’s drive to the starting point, Trevose Head lighthouse.
Now, I’ve not done something like this before, but I have done a couple of half marathons and the Great South Run, so I’m not a complete and utter virgin when it comes to running events. I was expecting a marquee, a start line at the very least, maybe a whistle or a gun shot, something, anything to signify it had started. But there was nothing, it was literally turn up and go. And that’s kinda the thing with the Atlantic Coast Challenge, it is a challenge, not a race. It’s not about what time you do it in, it’s just about doing it.
So off we go. The sun’s out, there’s no wind, it is a perfect day for running. But my head is playing tricks with me. I’m a bit of a one for this. I try to have words with myself, to be my own cheerleader, to shut that chimp back in its box, but it gets me every time. I’m an over thinker, a catastrophiser, a ‘what if’ girl and all I could focus on was the enormity of the whole race. Not just that day, or getting to that first checkpoint, no I was dwelling on the entire 3 days worth of race and how far away the finish line was. And it was doing my head in. I couldn’t get my breathing right, I felt sick, my pacing was all out of whack and all I could think was if I felt like this now, in the first 6 miles, how on earth was I going to manage a trillion million more!?!
But I plodded on, because even one step forward is a step forwards. I think what didn’t help was that I partly knew the terrain. We’d stayed in Mawgan Porth a few years back on a holiday family and so I knew what was coming up, and even that felt like such a long way off, let alone Lands End. However, once I’d got through Mawgan Porth, my mindset started shifting and I began to feel happier. Suddenly I could relax into the run a bit more. By walking the hills and running the flats I found a pace that worked for me. The scenery was stunning, loads of beachy coves, cute little bays and the people were all really friendly. There was no competition between other runners, everyone would say something as they passed or run with you for a bit and have a chat, and the public would cheers us on and help point us in the right direction if we looked a bit lost.
Day 1 ended on possibly the longest beach in the entire world. We got a little lost in the sand dunes for a while but managed to get back on track and trekked across the beach, the finish flag just in sight in the distance. The reward at the end was a delicious cup of homemade lentil and tomato soup, which I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to manage, but as soon as that first sip hit my tummy it was like being given some kind of life giving elixir combined with an enormous cuddle, exactly what was needed after my very first marathon.
Day 1 Rundown
- Start – Constantine Bay
- Checkpoint 1 – Mawgan Porth
- Checkpoint 2 – Porth
- Checkpoint 3 – Crantock Beach
- Finish – Perranporth
Day 2 Chapel Porth – St Ives Holiday Park (26.2 miles)
I woke up feeling much more positive about things on day 2. I knew what to expect now. There was slightly less of the unknown. And sure I was aching, and tired, and still a little bit apprehensive about whether I could do this, but I knew I would give it my best, and that my best was totally good enough.
Another early start, although we did have the luxury of an extra half an hour in bed as today’s starting point wasn’t as far away as yesterdays, so we could start a little later. Yet again I’d slept brilliantly, partly due to me taking some Kalms tablets before bed, but also because I was so flippin’ knackered!
It was a lovely bright and sunny day, but also very windy, I lost count of the number of times I had to grab hold of my cap to stop it from blowing away. I thought I’d come up with a genius idea of attaching it to my hair with hair clips, but when I needed to shed a layer because I was hot, it ended up being a right old faff as my top wouldn’t go over my head with the hat on. In the kerfuffle, I managed to somehow lose my buff. Now, if you’re a runner you’ll know how useful a buff is. It keeps your neck warm, you can use it to wipe sweat away, it doubles up as a tissue (hey, don’t judge me, wiping your nose on a buff is way nicer than clearing your nose by doing that hideous snot rocket thing that I saw a lot of people doing that day!) Anyway, I realised when my nose started running that I’d lost it, but there was no way I was going back to look for it, because umm hello I’m not adding on miles to an already milesy run. Well, how surprised was I when quite a few more miles in, my friend spotted my buff draped over some railings. Some lovely person had obviously spotted it, picked it up, run with it, overtaken me, and then left it there. It was a small thing, but it made me smile.
Let’s talk checkpoints. Votwo make sure each checkpoint is really well stocked. It’s a like a veritable buffet. Snacks included: jelly beans, mini cheddars, flapjacks, chocolate bars, peanuts, bananas, crisps, sandwiches, and there was also water, squash, cola, plus I think some even offered hot drinks. So, there was a lot of choice. More than enough choice. My body had other ideas though. I thought mini cheddars would be my go to snack. I’d trained with them and they’d worked brilliantly. It’s nice to have something savoury in amongst all the sweet stuff. But when I tried eating them on this run, my mouth was having none of it. They felt like the driest thing to ever enter my mouth, and as I tried to chew and then swallow, it was as if my mouth had forgotten how to work. Jelly beans… same. Flapjacks… also the same. And don’t get me started on the jam sandwich. I thought it would be good, to get something a bit bulkier in me, but imagine a two day old sandwich that’s been left to fester in a kid’s school lunchbox and that’ll give you some idea as to what that sandwich tasted like. It was grim. Through process of elimination, I worked out that the most palatable items were bananas and twixes, so I stuck to those and that was pretty much my ‘lunch’ for two days. I wanted to eat more, but my stomach was just having none of it, and it was an effort to even force the bananas and twixes down. I did make sure I drank plenty though and had electrolytes in my bottles, which seemed to be enough for me (I’m pleased to report that post race my appetite has come back with a vengeance and is definitely making up for any lost calories!).
The highlight of the day was seeing seals at Godrevy. It was a real pick me up moment, something very much needed after the 3 bitches (3 vertical ascents with steps as big as your waist, one after the other, absolutely relentless). There was yet another long beach today. I take back what I said about yesterday’s beach, THIS was the longest beach in the world… or at least it felt like it. And this one came with the double whammy of not only stretching for 4km, but also ran alongside the finish line. OK what’s wrong with that, I hear you thinking. Well, I’ll tell you what’s wrong with that. Yes, the finish line was right there over those sand dunes, but there was a sneaky extra checkpoint thrown in to make sure you didn’t cheat. And that checkpoint went past the finish point, down the remaining stretch of beach, out into an industrial estate, round a housing estate and then back into the caravan park from the main entrance. Physically tough. Mentally brutal. We staggered up what felt like the longest driveway to get to the day 2 finish point and was greeted with a cup of pea and mint soup. Two days done. One to go.
Day 2 Rundown
- Start – Perranporth
- Checkpoint 1 – Chapel Porth
- Checkpoint 2 – Portreath
- Checkpoint 3 – Godrevy
- Checkpoint 3a – Hayle
- Finish – St Ives Holiday park
Day 3 Lelant – Lands End (28.5 miles)
Day 3. The final slog. This was the long one. It was all building up to this. Not only did we now have two marathon’s worth of tiredness in our legs we also had to deal with our longest run so far. And it was raining. To be honest, we’d got off lightly so far with the weather, but this was going to make it extra tough today. And boy was it tough. My legs were tired, my feet ached, and my toenails were shot to pieces. I’d taken off my socks the previous day and was convinced my toenails were going to peel of with them they felt that broken. Thankfully they didn’t, but the jury’s still out as to whether they will all survive or not.
We started nice and early and thank god we did, because today was brutal. The rain overnight had made the course pretty much unrunnable. It also turned out that there were cut off times. Something which I had been completely oblivious of, because they were such generous cut offs, that it was never going to be a problem. But today it was. The overnight rain had made the ground dangerously slippery. Like literally mud skiing with walking poles. There were also massive boulder fields we had to clamber over, which at points involved sitting down on my arse and sliding down them they were that big. To top it off, the first checkpoint was 16-17k away (all other checkpoints had been spaced out about 10k in between). This was soul destroying, completely and utterly soul destroying.
To give some perspective about how tough day 3 was, there were a group of older guys, one of whom had done this race 15 times (15!!!), who said in all those 15 he had never seen the conditions as bad as it was this time. It took us 6 hrs to get to checkpoint 2. 6 bloody hours. That’s not far off how long it had taken us to do the whole of the other days. Plus something else we learned the following day when we checked back on the results, was that out of the 311 people who signed up to day 3, 164 didn’t finish. That’s how tough it was!
We made checkpoint 2 with just 20 minutes to spare until cut off. That really put the pressure on. It was by far the best checkpoint – literally just on a rock in the middle of nowhere. Bananas and twixes have never tasted so good. Snacks consumed, drinks drunk, it was time to try and ramp up the pace. There was no way I was going to let a time cut off be the reason I didn’t get to finish this. It was head down, battle on through the rain. This wasn’t a day for taking photos, this was a day for getting through it. Tin mines, rocky outcrops, waterfalls, the landscape was absolutely stunning, but in my mind I was feeling the pressure to get to checkpoint 3. And they were going to be strict about this, as that final stretch was too dangerous to do in the falling light.
We made checkpoint 3 by the skin of our teeth. But we’d made it, we were allowed to continue. So, on we plodded.
Spotting Lands Ends is both a blessing and a curse. You’re relieved because it’s finally there, but it’s still so far away and you can see how many hills and coves you have to get around first before you’re even close to the elusive finish line. Not gonna lie, it was a complete and utter headfuck.
I managed to run the last few hundred metres to the finish line, a sudden burst of energy and such intense relief that this was over. I was absolutely done in. Everything hurt and I looked and felt like I had aged about 30 years. My trainers were hanging on by a thread and they smelt as though something had crawled in and died in them. I was handed my medal and a Cornish pasty. I’d done it. Me, Bex Stafferton, just some average mum from Hampshire, who’d had a bit of a fuck it moment in January and signed up to this epic challenge. Me who bloody hates the hoo har of events, not that fussed by medals, loves the sofa. Yep me. I’d only gone and bloody done it!
Day 3 Rundown
- Start – Lelant
- Checkpoint 1 – Zennor
- Checkpoint 2 – Brandys (rock outcrop)
- Checkpoint 3 – Cape Cornwall
- Finish – Lands End
Post Race Ponderings
When I crossed that finish line, I swore to myself that I would never ever do something like this again. This was hands down the toughest thing I’ve ever had to do. It had broken me. I would choose to give birth ten times over rather than go through that again. And yet as I sit here typing this post, a week on, still a bit achy and my blackened toenails hanging on by mere threads, I’m wondering what my next challenge could be. Because it’s addictive this running lark. It’s a bloody miracle I’m even running at all to be honest. I hated running and going for walks as a child so as an adult I had myself marked as someone who just couldn’t run. Joining the runnyhoneys, my local running group, changed that. I ran my first 5k with them and the rest, well the rest is history. I am now a marathon runner, an ultra runner, and I have just qualified as a run leader. I think it’s safe to say that I am indeed a runner.
And what about the sciatica? Well, turns out I needn’t have worried too much about that. My back didn’t bother me one iota while I was down in Cornwall. So, if you’re looking for a cure for sciatica, I’d recommend running 80 miles! I think what actually happened, is that my body hurt so much everywhere else, that it made me forget all about my back and the sciatic pain. It was the least of my worries.
So, what now? Well, after I’ve done lots of sitting and lots of eating, perhaps I could be convinced to sign up to something else. I mean, now I’ve done this epic challenge, I kinda feel like I could literally take on the world. If I can do something this tough and get through it, even when everything inside me is screaming to give up, I don’t think there’s anything I couldn’t do. But maybe I’ll just do a bit more of that sitting and eating first!
Author Bio
Becky Stafferton is a full-time content creator, web publisher, and blogging coach. She continually strives to promote a realistic, sustainable and positive image of how to lead a healthy life. When she’s not writing she can be found running through muddy puddles, making lists of lists, having a good old moan, talking in funny voices to her dog, renovating her house in the country, and teaching others how to make money from their blogs.