I’m really glad to have finally done this running quest that me and my running buddy (Mark Morris) have been talking about for what feels like ages! The Viking way goes from Rutland, finishes in Barton and runs for approximately 147 miles. The trail being part of some of our regular running routes has been a topic of our conversations on various runs. So, given our love of ultra running, it seemed inevitable that we would eventually run it. After the passing of my mother I thought it would be the ideal thing to remember her by. She died of non-alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver cause by an auto-immune disease, so I wanted to use the opportunity to raise money for the British Liver foundation in her memory. Mark also lost his mother in 2016 to bowel cancer, has been raising money for Lindsey Lodge Hospice ever since. So, we joined forces to do this massive challenge together whilst raising money in memory of our mothers.
Mark has been on a run-streak for around 6 years, amassing an amazing amount of running miles during this time. He also attends lots of ultramarathon events, 24 hour events and even endurance events involving running with a bergan for up to 6 hours. He’s no stranger to punishment and this event would be his furthest distance in one sitting. I admire Mark for his commitment to fundraising, his kindness with others and his sheer bloody mindedness to keep going (the latter being a trait shared amongst most distance runners). I’ve never liked the idea of running streaks because your body never gets time to recover and recovery is when you get stronger. But, you have to respect his commitment to keep going.
Anyway, the Viking way. Let’s be clear, this wasn’t an event with regular check points every 10 miles with fully stocked food and first aid stations. No, this was us couple of dickheads just heading out for a run, but with a tonne of support from friends and family who, amongst normally daily things, came down to support us when and where they could.
We headed out at 6am on Friday 1st November with fully loaded packs with everything we would need for a good few hours. We were off, Vikings of TeamBR!
Within the first 10 miles we came to a trail that looked to be quite muddy which eventually led to a massive puddle that we couldn’t avoid. I always worry about my feet getting wet because once they do, blisters don’t take long to appear, not something you want at the beginning of 147 miles! Thankfully, I had accounted for this and purchased some sealskinz waterproof socks. LIFESAVER! Whilst not ideal, I could walk through the puddle without too much fear. Stepping into the water my feet felt cold but surprisingly dry and that gave me some confidence that blisters wouldn’t come about too quickly. As we carried on, the trails got worse, eventually we came to a part of the trail which had been completed dug up and at the end of it, a man sat in a digger who was having the pleasure of tearing up all the tracks. He sat there watching us trying to run through it all with a look of mild amusement in his eyes. Mark was having a bit of a mardy by this point so I continued on to have a chat with the bloke sat in the digger. Turns out, that he was part of the council trying to fix the tracks to stop all the motorbikes tearing the place up and causing big ruts in the trail. The only way, apparently, that he could do this was by making the whole thing worse, before levelling it off. Just a shame it was when we decided to run it then eh?
Our first proper stop wasn’t until mile 60 which was the earliest that my wife could get down, by about mile 30 we had run out of water so we had to stop in at a cafe at Westborough who very kindly agreed to fill up our bottles so we could continue on up to Lincoln. The cafe was on a golf course and as we trotted up you could see the side eyes from some of the people playing. At this point we were pretty muddy, Mark had thought himself funny and decided to paint some of the mud on his face like war paint. So, as you could imagine, there were a few raised eyebrows as we walked into the cafe. They were accommodating enough to fill up our water bottles but were quite happy to see us off on our way again…
It was great to get to that first stop at Lincoln and seeing my wife, Rachel, my kids Archie & Henry, my in-laws, Jayne & Graham and a boot full of grub, hot drinks and fresh clothes. It was amazing seeing everyone at that point, my eldest Archie was awestruck with what I was doing (the kids normally just see me as bald, mardy Dad). My youngest was slightly distracted at my arrival due to having an immediate need to go for a poo, but eventually he came over to give me a hug. Rachel told me I was “ace” which is a rarity coming from her, but her telling me my mother would be proud of me almost made me go a big rubbery one. But before I could let my emotions go, I had a job to do which included 87 more miles. So, I filled up my bottles, grabbed some food, said my goodbyes and then we headed off into the night.
At this point I have to interject my bemusement at the Vikings ineptitude at straight lines. They must have been too busy taking magic mushrooms to be able to walk in a straight line because, let me tell you, we seemed to spend more time going east, south & west than we did going north in the direction of home! The reason I say this is because after you hit Lincoln you turn back on yourself and head south to Woodhall Spa turning going across to Horncastle before then turning north at Futleby. Maybe there were some good shrooms at those places that the Vikings had to stock up on before continuing…
Anyway, we headed off to Woodhall spa along the river Witham, there were plenty of nice fireworks going off that we had the pleasure to watch during that part of the journey. We eventually arrived in Woodhall Spa to be met by Bex Cross and her husband Jerry. They had chairs out and had laid out all our kit for us to be able to select what we needed, I flopped into the chair and took off my shoes. Bex’s immediate comment was; “that’s trenchfoot”. I may have thought I’d got away with it but I hadn’t. The waterproof socks may have stopped some of the water getting in, but they hadn’t stopped my feet getting wet. I dried my feet the best I could and let them air for a bit. In the meantime, I filled up on food & water before heading out again.
You might have gathered, but by this point it was dark. We were running on head torches and the path between Woodhall Spa and Horncastle was the longest, straightest part of the Viking way. One long, straight, boring path. Making things worse was the persistant drizzle that was being lit up by the headtorch to make it look like white noise constantly in front of my eyes. Given the monotony of the path, the time of night and this blasted drizzle, it’s fair to say that I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Doing some run/walking my eyes were really struggling to stay open. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally came out at Horncastle to be met by Bex and Jerry again.
By this time Mark had got quite a bad blister on his little toe and didn’t want to run much due to the pain. So, we set off with more walking than running. I’d anticipated a finish within 36 hours which would give us, with some walking, enough fat to finish in daylight but this amount of walking was going to impact that finish time. But we headed out from Horncastle to start the journey into some more familiar landscape closer to home on trails that I have run before.
We hit Belchford and started the most hilly bit of the whole trail, not that I mind hills, they do make for some great scenery usually. Our next meet was at Fulletby, Nathan Wilkinson met us there with McDonalds and coffee. Unfortunately, it was brought from Scunthorpe so, as you can imagine it was all a tad on the cool side. I tried one chip and it just felt like eating cardboard, the burger wasn’t much better but I washed it down with the cold coffee which seemed to do the trick. Still, I can’t complain, Nathan had gone out of his way to meet us and bring us some nourishment and that, in itself, earns my unyielding gratitude.
We met Nathan again in Scamblesby, this time with the addition of Donna Fryer who came armed with a flask of warm liquids! By this time it was getting light and my circadian rhythm was kicking in again and reenergizing me. Daylight and warm coffee, we were onto a winner!
The miles inbetween stops now, was limited conversation, Mark was either walking in front of me or miles behind me but generally at the same speed. Not that it bothered me too much, we spent the last 30+ hours either in the same room or running together so I was happy watching the scenery go by and putting one foot in front of the other. Eventually we came into Ludford and met Sarah Clixby who had got her own little rest stop all camped out on someone’s driveway. My nickname for Sarah is “the kitchen sink” because that’s the only thing she doesn’t bring with her. Her thoughtfulness is second to none, she absolutely thinks of everything. Naturally, she had chairs set out and when we sat down we were given home made cheesebread sandwiches, bananas and tonnes of various food morsels. She had talcum powder, towels, first aid kits. Pick something you needed and she had it, it must have taken an age to pack her car with all that stuff! It was quite amusing to see some people coming out of the driveway she had camped on looking quite disgusted at the campsite on their doorstep which seemed to have 2 smelly barefooted men popping blisters on it! My wife, Rachel, also turned up at this point to give me some moral support, although she’s not much of a hugger particularly when I stink of 24 hour old sweat. Restocked, refuelled and refreshed we took our leave and moshed on.
Going through into Tealby we met Donna again, who’d come out walking her dog with her son, so it was nice to have a rejuvenation of conversation. This wasn’t such a rest stop but it was a refreshing change to see someone new and talk. We had some pretty funky hills ahead of us after this but they broke up the monotony quite well.
As we started coming closer to Claxby, I went through my lowest point. I’d come to realise that we were only making 3 miles progress per hour because of the walking and my anticipated finish time was being pushed into early morning. I was really looking forward to getting finished and seeing my kids at the finish line, an early morning finish meant that I wouldn’t see my kids at the finish line. Not only that, I like to travel as light as I can so I try not to carry too much with me and the larger time between the stops was really causing me a problem. Mark kept telling me that we’d finish at 10pm but the math just didn’t stack up and so I found myself sinking into a state of despair that I just couldn’t pull myself out of. When I was at my absolute lowest, Mark’s wife turned up with his kids, which only served to remind me that I wouldn’t see my kids at the finish line. I remember sitting on the boot of her car and eating some soup, feeling absolutely broken. Mark kept saying to me “nobody would think any less of you if you decided to quit” and “if you quit, I’ll quit with you”. Thankfully, this suggestion strengthened my resolve to continue. I rose from that abyssal plain of despair, punched through the surface and breathed again. I was a new man.
All the while, I’d been receiving texts of people asking me where we were, I was wearing mitten glove coverings on top of my gloves and it was a real ball ache to take them all off so I could tell people where I was. I decided that most of the club members knew who my wife was and that we used life360, so they could just contact her to find out where I am. At one point I actually permitted myself the faff with the gloves and looked at my phone and saw that Louise had messaged me asking where I was about 30 minutes ago. Funnily enough, we met her at the next stop (turn’s out that she’d contacted my wife, my plan had worked!), she’d loaded up with water and Lucozade sport, so we filled up, took a bottle and headed on to Caistor. By this point I was the total opposite to a few miles before and I was happy, smiling and flying high. I’d given up on the image of seeing my family at the finish line and resolved to finish in a dark car park with nobody around, save a few chavs smoking weed in a modded up corsa hidden in a darkened corner of the car park.
As we headed into Caistor Mark did something I found strange, for the duration of the journey I had been navigator, following a GPX loaded onto my watch. At this point Mark was walking in front of me but turned off from the GPX route. I called him to tell him that but he said that there was a Viking way sign down towards the way he was going. He was indignant that I had suggested that the route went the other way. So, I followed his lead, which led us through all the steepest hills in Caistor (my way didn’t, just saying…🤣). It may have been the lack of sleep, but I was beginning to get the impression that he was trying to make me quit, which only further strengthened my resolve not to! Thankfully, hills have never been something that bothered me so I went up them without barely a thought. We met his wife again in Caistor marketplace, I surprised her with the complete change that she had seen in me since a few hours ago, filled up on some great tomato soup and headed out again into the night. It was pretty dark now and had been for about an hour so it must have been around 5 or 6pm. Leanne looked at me and asked what time she thought we’d be finished. “Well, we have 25 miles left and we’re doing 3 miles per hour without stops, so I reckon about 2am”. Her sideways glance at Mark told me everything I needed to know, she was worried about Mark.
Mark had done another long one about a month ago raising money for his football team and ran from Brigg to Manchester in the middle of a storm. It had been gruelling and he ended up having to call it at 90 miles rather than the full 110 miles he’d planned to do. He wasn’t in the best state by the time he’d finished this run, but Mark’s default answer when you ask him if he’s ok is: “I’m alright mate”, even when he isn’t. Not sure why this is, but it always makes me worry that his refusal to admit he’s not ok will blind him to the state he’s in and make him worse. Personally, I find that acknowledging your situation makes you more capable to deal with it. It allows you to objectively assess your situation and do what’s necessary to correct it. One of my favourite tips to give to people I coach, is to find a trigger (say, a lap beeper on your watch) and every time that trigger fires, give yourself and mental check down by asking yourself some questions; “how much water do I have?”, “Do I need to drink more?”, “When was the last time I ate?” etc. This little stop forces you to evaluate your situation and pulls you out of the negative thought processes or ignorance of an incoming issue.
We were coming into Somerby, Marks toe had been bugging him for some time so whilst I was leading I was trying to make things easier for him by finding the paths that were flatter therefore causing him less rub and irritation, so we veered slightly off the path here opting for the flat road rather than going across the trail. The path in Sommerby is one of my occasional running routes and the feeling of familiarity was pleasing. It was here we saw some more familiar faces and met Laura and Donna. They greeted us and quickly gathered our dietary requirements before zipping off to starbucks with our order and met us again with it all as we came into Barnetby. They walked with us for quite a while at that point as we went all the way through Barnetby. Don’t know what had happened to my guts but I was having some rather noisy flatulance caused by whatever my guts were doing and I just couldn’t be bothered to try stopping it, even in the presence of others. I thought I’d gone through enough so I’m sure they’d forgive me for a few squeeky raspberries. We had started to come out of the other side of Barnetby when I felt a sudden drop of temperature. Temperature drops of that magnitude would be concerning through the night when we would be less supported and more likely to go hyperthermic. Nonetheless, we came out of Barnetby, said our farewells to Laura and Donna, crossed the motorway and headed onto a trail towards Barton.
The trail from this point was feeling pretty bad underfoot, the feel of cracking skin under my feet was getting worse and my headtorch battery was going, as we came out onto a road Mark started to talk about taking a shortcut and going straight to Barton and missing out a chunk of the Viking way. We discussed it for a while, Mark wasn’t happy that we still had 10 mile ahead and didn’t think he could make it. The prospect of cutting a chunk out was VERY appealing, it would mean an hour to get to the finish rather than over 3 (we had just over 10 miles left), it took all my resolve to turn it down. We had come out with the intention of doing the Viking way and that’s what we would do. It would look pretty bad on us if we sat there claiming to have completed the Viking way, when we skipped the last few bits. No, 10 miles to go, let’s do it! The going had slowed down considerably, Mark was falling behind and constantly playing with his charger, phone or headtorch and complaining that they didnt work, he hadn’t got any charge etc. Weirdly, when I offered him my charger, he refused. I started to think that he was going delirious. We were moving at just over 2 miles per hour, the temperature drop had continued and I was feeling the cold. I was stopping every now and then for Mark to catch up which didn’t help my core temperature either. Eventually, I gave a call for support in the clubs WhatsApp group, Nathan immediately asked us to share our location and came straight out to meet us with spare blankets. The path turned off the road and went into another trail section that Nathan wouldn’t be able to drive down so we had to stand and wait for him. Whilst we stood waiting at the junction I could feel my core temperature dropping rapidly, I still wasn’t ready to quit but it was causing me concern, I needed something to get myself warm, a new jacket would be ideal, and I would continue on. I looked at Mark he was looking pale and his eyes were vacant, half a mile back he’d been tripping out that people were laid on the side of the road or seeing animals that weren’t there. He’d lost his usual smiley face and he just looked tired. No idea how I looked at this point, probably the same, mentally I felt ok but I was getting concerned about the time stood still and my core temperature dropping. I asked Mark if he felt he was ready to call it, I could tell he wanted to but really didn’t want to be the person that did, he started to say things like “well, if you want to I will”. As I said, I wasn’t ready to quit and as we stood there waiting Mark said to me “Well, with my foot the way it is and you’re getting cold…..”. So, at that point we decided to call it.
Within seconds of the decision being made, Nathan came around the corner and we jumped in the car to warm up. We both contacted our wives and arranged to meet at Barnetby top and Nathan took us to meet them. Rachel had a look of concern on her face as I got out of the car and hobbled over to her, she hugged me despite my stench of 40+ hours of sweat, bundled me in the car and we were off home to that heaven they call bed….
I was a bit gutted at first not to have finished the whole thing in a oner, but I’m proud of what we did. We raised over £1300 (at the time of writing). I can’t thank the people enough for the support and encouragement we received throughout the journey. I read all the words of support the next morning and I was blubbering like a baby, perhaps it was the exertion. People have been so nice and kind that I still feel a little emotional writing about it now. We have decided to do those last 10 miles as a club, which will give me that finishing line I was hoping for, my Dad is going to join us along with Archie at 3 miles left and Henry is going to join in for the last half. I’m looking forward to that bit even more than finishing it with 137 miles in my legs!
