I got there at just after 6 and checked out what everyone else was doing. Being a complete novice at this sort of thing, I was also here to watch, listen and learn. The atmosphere was easily the most relaxed I’ve ever encountered before a race. Everybody else seemed completely unfazed by what was before us. I have rarely felt as nervous, but did my best to hide it.

Just before 7, we lined up for a race briefing. Being delivered by a Yorkshireman, it was short and to the point. “It’s very muddy. You’ll get s**t up t’eyes, but you’ll have fun. Off you go”. And off we went.

The first few hundred yards were on road, then we swung off down a canal towpath. It was dark and likely to remain so for the first half hour. Some had headtorches but most of us didn’t. We had to navigate by a series of Wainwright style strip maps. I had reckoned on being able to get into a group for at least the first hour or so, (preferably all the way round) with some people who knew the route. In the event, I found myself in the lead group of about a dozen. The pace felt comfortable and I could stick with it until it got light enough to navigate.

We trundled along in a chatty group over a variety of terrain – woods, muddy fields, farm tracks, tow paths. The pace was a shade over 10km per hour. This was precisely what I had hoped for, being the speed I had calculated I could maintain without hitting the wall. We started picking off the backmarkers from the 6am start after about 1 hour. I could only admire them. At that pace they would need to keep going for 16 or more hours. Rather them than me.

We duly arrived at the first of 7 checkpoints at 12k, in 72 minutes. I had originally planned to carry a camelback, but I had noticed that nobody seemed to be bothering with fluid. When I had asked another competitor about this he had informed me that we were well looked after on the way round. We road runners are obviously pampered because these guys considered a drink every 10k as plenty! I was pleased to see that everybody actually stopped to drink, eat and have a chat with the marshals. There were jaffa cakes and chocolates in abundance and we all dived in. After about 2 minutes we were off again.

It was turning into a beautiful, mild, sunny day. The sort of day that makes you really glad to be outdoors. Some people had ditched some layers and were down to shorts and vests and looked as if they meant business. I concluded that they had just treated the first stage as a warm up and now that it was light, the hammer would go down. Instead the opposite happened, people started dropping off the back of the pack. I had become engrossed in conversation with a guy called Jeremy who had done ultras all around the world. About 8k into the second stage I suddenly noticed that our original group of 12 was down to just 3, me Jeremy and Martin. Arriving a CP2 at 23km, it was confirmed, there were 2 guys abut 3 mins in front of us (I hadn’t notice them slip away either). I was a little concerned about this. Were we going too fast? The pace felt OK, but I was a novice, how was I to judge?

After 3 beakers of orange squash and a handful of jaffas, we hit the trail again. We soon reeled in one of the runners in front of us and dropped Martin. At CP3 Jeremy and I were told that we were heading the field. What happened to the other runner in front of us? At around the 40k mark Jeremy announced that he had to back off a bit. I was on my own. This was a double blow, as not only had I enjoyed his company, but it meant I had to navigate solo – simultaneously run and read a map.

I went through the “marathon mark” after 4 hrs 6 mins. However you cut it, that is slow running. I was still feeling strong and beginning to believe that I had not misjudged the pace. CP4 came up at 45k. I was definitely leading. I never entertained the idea that I might win, but I was starting to wonder if I might be the first solo competitor home – a typical winning time was about 7 hours, and I was on course for about 8 hours. Could I hold off the 8am starters? That’s when things started to go wrong.

Misreading the map, I set off down a wrong path. After about 3 or 4 mins I realised my mistake. I dithered for longer than I ought: should I retrace my steps; or, should I try to cut cross country and pick up the official trail further on. The trouble with Wainwright maps is once you’re off the route, they’re next to useless. In any event, I felt missing part of the course would be cheating. After agonising overlong, I retraced my steps. Although only a small set back, it had annoyed me and I struggled to put it out of my mind. A sign of fatigue?

At CP5 (54km), my fears were confirmed, while I had gone sightseeing, I had been overtaken and was 6 mins behind the leader. In a way this was a blessing, I no longer had the pressure of trying to hold a lead and could concentrate on simply finishing at my own pace. Fatigue was now setting in, and the idea of walking for a bit was becoming very attractive. Before the race I had decided that if managed to run to 60k, I would consider it a “result”. As I plodded towards the 60k point, the first of the 8am starters (Jez Bragg) came past me and he was motoring. I had thought that I would be able to tag on for a few minutes to each of the 8am starters as they overtook me, and let them navigate, but there was no chance of sticking with this guy. I thought that he would be the first of a succession of fast runners, but in the end only one other overtook me.

Having got to 60km, I was now free to walk, but as CP6 was a mere 2k away, I might as well run it. It would have been too embarrassing to walk when leaving CP6, so again I made myself run. Anyway it was only another 2 k to the 40 mile mark. By a succession of such small goals (and too ashamed to be seen walking) I managed to run all the way to CP7 (72km). Only 9k to go, and according to the officials, the flattest and easiest stage. My tiredness seemed to have plateaued, and as I’d run this far…

On I plodded, now at a very stately 12min per mile pace. A new worry began to present itself – it was starting to get dark and the last 3k looked quite tricky. The gods smiled on me at this point. I was overtaken by a relay runner, but by one who was going slowly enough to stick to for more than a few minutes. And he was local and knew the way. I probably put in my fastest km of the day – and it hurt, but it saw me safely through the hard bit. I was right to be concerned, I later discovered that quite a few people went wrong on this section.

By the time I reached the last km I was on cloud nine. I had run all the way and exceeded my expectations. It got better when the results, adjusted for start times were published. I had finished in 8 hrs 42 mins and was 9th out of 164 starters. That really did take me by surprise.