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vigo tough love 10

As I ambled around the Vigo Tough Love 10 I spent my time contemplating just how I might start this blog post and I could find no appropriate way to say what I was feeling and so we are starting like this.

There’s never an easy way to say goodbye and Vigo almost had me in tears (at miles 1 through to 9 and of course at the end) but that’s more about the course than the emotional end that Vigo Runners provided.

However, let me roll back 450 miles and a day or so earlier to when I was hammering down the M6 to the south with thoughts of my final days in the Kentish sunshine and another ding dong with the mud of the Vigo Tough Love 10.

The last year has left me a tad overweight, incredibly unfit, brutally broken and with nothing left in the tank – so the thought of driving a 900 mile round trip, loading up a van full of the last vestiges of our life here AND running the greatest race ever conceived seemed to be a cruelty that I did not need to put my body through. However, the Vigo Tough Love 10 has provided years of joy to me and one last opportunity to run it seemed like the ideal sign off.

We rolled up to the familiar sight of the Vigo running club on Sunday morning not in the best of moods – sleeping on a child’s picnic mat for the previous evening, having to make a pre-race trip to the local tip and then smacking my head into a car door were not ideal preparation. However, I was greeted in the warmest possible way when the race organiser called out ‘ultraboy’. Somewhat surprised by the recognition I found myself having a lovely chat and suddenly the day felt warmer as I waxed lyrical about my love of the event and my sadness about this (probably) being my final visit.

Post chat I took my place in the queue for number collection and I was surrounded by familiar faces both well known and less so but all welcome sights and I could feel myself getting, as the GingaNinja puts it, ‘totsemosh’. The efficiency of number collection was brilliant by the way, the very minor problem of the previous year had been ironed out – so well done guys.

All I could do really was to take in my beautiful surroundings and the lovely weather but most importantly was the wonderful atmosphere that seems to have grown year on year.

I love small races and small fields – yet even as this race grows it retains all the joy and friendliness that I have associated with it since I first took to the start line in 2014.

Anyways 10.30am rolled around (yes a nice time in the morning for a race!) I ambled to the back of the pack and listened to the safety briefing and sponsor gubbins and this year the bang of the cannon was finally replaced by a sound not so cannon like! But we were off and I started to gently pick my way through the field of runners.

We ran the traditional route round the rugby pitch and even here I could feel my poor old feet and lungs burning – today, I could tell, was going to be a long day. I was very grateful when we came across the first of the log leaps and there was a short queue and here I came across a runner who last year I had met as he was limping bloodied and injured about halfway in – lovely to see him back and looking strong.

The brief stop prepared me for the lovely first stretch of mud and for my part I looked lovingly over the oozy mud. Sadly Kent must have had a patch of good weather as the route was very runnable and probably the most runnable I’d ever seen it. However, let me assure thrillseekers that despite the excellent conditions there was still plenty of filthy action to get you aroused!

It still amazes me though that some runners had chosen to run in road shoes, I (relatively sensibly) had opted for the Altra King MT and I had full confidence that they would handle pretty much anything.

And so it was.

While others picked there way through the sides of the mud I simply bounded through it like a puppy. I was a literal pig in muddy poo, oh how I could have simply lain in the muddiness!

My mood was improving dramatically with every step and I delighted in dancing through the trails and chatting to the runners – mostly me talking at people, mocking my own stupidity for attempting this with so much else going on. But the V10 is the kind of race where you do chat to fellow runners and you do share your trail running stories, it’s all part of that very friendly vibe that reverberates through every level of the event.

As the miles passed by I was reminded once again how Vigo feels so open and crammed in all at the same time – one second you’re in tight woodland and then suddenly you’re in great expanses of green and for miles and miles you feel like you’re in the trail maze. Uphills become downhills and vice versa – it’s an unending smorgasbord of beauty and brutality on your legs and your wits and it will catch you out if you fail to respect it.

It’s a brilliant route and I have lots of respect for the V10m.

But it wasn’t going to be my day in terms of good running so I hiked quickly the harder hills and gave it ‘the beans’ where I could. Vigo really was going to test my mental, emotional and physical endurance today.

The good news was that as the naughty thoughts of failure flickered across my mind my favourite downhill was upon me! The downhill sits around halfway through the race and I always feel you’re entering a tunnel of trees – here you see the cautious not wanting to risk anything but as an old hand I could turn the volume up to 11 and simply go.

And go I did.

More than usual I really hurtled down the trail and found myself coming over the log at the bottom with such enthusiasm that you’d have thought there was a 4 pack of cream eggs waiting for me!

Instead, at the bottom, was another of the brilliant marshalling team. I carried on through the open field and saw the climb up to the halfway hill of horror, weirdly behind me I could here the sound of runners – running! ‘Running?’ I hear you cry, ‘up a hill?’

I’ll be honest I knew that walking up this hill would save me for later in the race and both knees and feet would thank me for not running up the tarmac climb. But I was mightily impressed that many at the back of the pack where showing a lot more grit than I was!

Once clear of the summit I returned to running and cut gently through the swathes of delicious Kentish countryside while grabbing greedily at the proffered jelly babies (nice ones too – haribo rather than bassets I reckon). The only problem was that conditions were a little too warm for me and I’d already dispensed with my undershirt but the ground, due to the glorious conditions, was much tougher than anticipated and therefore my King MT in the final 5km were a little hard going and my Lone Peaks might have been a better on the day choice.

Still I bounced merrily along the final downhill and prepared for the long, slow slog up the final hill. Most might call this heartbreak hill or some other such valentines related nonsense but I simply refer to it as, ‘friend’. The final hill reminds me of the many good times I’ve endured clambering to the top, breathless with joy, exhaustion and excitement, it’s a fine climb and one that gives this race a special place in all our hearts.

As I slowly clambered upwards I laughed and joked with the other runners and recounted my history with the race and just how happily willing I was to travel from Scotland for this event.

Near the top of the hill there was a tremendous amount of encouragement for all the runners and as ever there was a marshall to give you that final shove if the hill had gotten the better of you.

At the top I shared a slurp of water with another runner and we both set off – having a little chat and bimbling our way to the finish. Then with less than a mile to go my toes curled in under my foot and the worst cramp I’ve ever experienced – I’ll admit I let out a series of howls and expletives. I tried running but there was nothing, I stopped to try and stretch but the magnificent pain just forced itself deeper into my foot.

Bloody hell I was so near – it cannot end like this.

I stood for a few moments and started to stretch my toes out but the little buggers were like claws and refused to open. Sod this I thought as a marshall approached and asked if I needed help – thanking him I said, ‘no’ and with one final effort I pushed the afterburner button and thrust myself forward into the trees. I knew I was going to make it but the question I had to ask myself was ‘how do you want to make it?’

The answer I concluded was with a roar.

In the distance I could see the two young cadets guarding the entrance to final run in and despite their warnings of the log I hurled myself over it – all prepared for one final blast down the runway to the finish line.

But then I stopped.

There was my family and the GingaNinja said to me, ‘she wants to run with you’.

Let my assure dear reader – this was going to be the perfect end to my Vigo journey. ASK grabbed my hand and told me, ‘we’re going to win dad’.

I’ll be honest I could have come last and I would have won today – this was brilliant and in the distance I could hear the call of the PA system cry out my variety of known names but on a race day, on a day like this, I’m definitely ultraboy!

ASK and I hammered those final couple of hundred metres home, I watched as she strode across the line and behind me and all around me I could hear the cheers of the remaining runners and the gentle congratulations of my daughter. Cuddles ensured and photographs taken and a medal was placed proudly round my daughters neck.

I may have run like the old man I’ve become but this remains the greatest race in the UK, my greatest race and what happened next is proof of that…

But we’ll get to that later.

Key Points

Distance: 10miles (10km option available)
Profile: a hilly calf destroyer
Date: Valentines weekend
Location: Vigo, Kent
Cost: £20
Terrain: Muddy and damn fine fun
Tough Rating: 3/5

Route: I’ve written several times about the route and I’ve waxed lyrical about the up and down nature of running around Vigo and this lovely part of Kent. I suppose the reason I really love this route is that in February it has everything, it’s wet and it’s dry, it’s hard and soft, you’ll come out of the event covered in mud, maybe even a bit bloodied if you get lucky and you’ll not have a single minute when you’re bored. This is a route that you’ll finish and immediately want to go back to again.

Organisation: I’m sure that 2018 will one day be remembered as ‘that year’ where there was a bit of a mix up with race numbers. However, having done this a five times now I can say that the organisation has always been first class and 2019 was no different – the team from Vigo Runners and Harvel Hash Harriers really do know how to organise a race and race number collection this year was better, faster and smoother than ever.

The marshalling points are all perfectly placed for directions and support, you always receive knowledgeable people guiding you and there’s a friendliness from all those involved in the organisation that makes this truly welcoming.

Support: The rugby club at Vigo which hosts the start line and provides the facilities pre-and post-race is a great way to ensure that there’s a good level of support to send the runners on their way plus the club itself shows its ongoing community spirit by allowing a load of stinky trail runners in through its doors! The indoor facilities such as the toilets, food options and changing rooms (and ample toilet roll) make this a comfortable wait for the runners, there no standing round in the cold – it’s simply catering well to a runners pre-race needs!

As mentioned the marshalling team are all top notch and you can’t fault them and you can’t praise them enough.

Value for Money: Value for money is always a difficult thing to measure but with Vigo you are getting both an awesome experience as well a mars bar, some love hearts and a really decent medal. Thrown in some really excellent support, a couple of water stations and a route to die for and you get brilliant value in your race.

Social Media / Communication: I’ve started looking at the way races communicate with it’s runners and how it advertises them (and I admit some bias here as my previous blog posts about the event get recommended to be read in their comms sometimes). Vigo Runners get the balance snooty right between too much and too little but I’d love to see more video content, more interaction throughout the year to help further build this ‘must-do’ race. The good news is though is that they don’t do it all through Facebook – they still do email race instructions and this I feel is a positive as not everyone likes or has social media. So basically I hope they keep doing exactly what they’re doing and will continue to build up this aspect of the race advertising.

Post Race Mentions: After I crossed the finish line there was a blur – lots of congratulations (despite this being my slowest ever Vigo), there was me congratulating other runners and there was ASK disappearing from my sight as I had my tuning chip removed and crying as she couldn’t find the GingaNinja.

I was starting to head out when a runner (the name eludes me but then it’s been a mad weekend) spoke to me and we briefly got chatting about her taking on the awesome upcoming Green Man Ultra. Weirdly we also had a selfie moment which was surprisingly odd – as it felt a little too much like celebrity – especially when it was followed by the race organisers coming over and saying, ‘we’ve been calling your name for ages’. I limped over to the starting area and there was the Vigo & Harvel top brass with a trophy and a HAGGIS! To say thank you for the support I’ve shown over my years running with them.

Now firstly, I love Haggis, secondly I love this race and thirdly – thank you so very much for this. I really don’t write the blog for reward, I write it because I want people to go to races that I’ve really enjoyed. And I’ve consistently said this is my favourite race and if this is to be my final time at Vigo then I’ll both be very sad and very grateful for the opportunity of running it and writing about it.

Conclusion: My apologies for this intentionally gushy and rather emotional post about the Vigo Tough Love 10 Mile. In 2019 I loved it as much as I loved it when it was all new in 2014 – it’s an event and a race that will bring you joy and if you are local or from further afield you should make the effort to join in – you will never be disappointed by running the Vigo 10. And while I say this will be my last time, my fifth time will never feel like enough and who knows – maybe next year I’ll discreetly turn up and run a decent time. We shall see. However, if I leave a Vigo legacy it this – I hope that some of you will be inspired to sign-up because you wanted a bit of the joy I felt when my feet slurped through that mud.

Thank you to everyone involved and keep doing what you’re doing. Brilliant event.

In just over a week I’ll be lining up on the start line of the Vigo Tough Love 10 for (what I suspect will be) the final time.

For me this will be a closing of a door and the opening of another, one that has been slowly opening for the last 12 months – but it’s taken a huge amount of effort to reach Scotland and this post is a reminder to myself both how hard it has been and why it has been worth it.

October 2015

We had flown up to Scotland for a friends wedding in Perth. ASK was not much more than a year old and as I bimbled around the town I remember thinking ‘this is lovely’. I did some running through local forests and took a trip up to Dundee – wonderful. I even toyed with the notion of living here but commented to the GingaNinja that, ‘workwise it simply is not practical’. However, that trip cemented into me an itch that I could not quite scratch away.

Then we encountered a succession of events that led to a change of heart about that itch…

May 2016

I travelled alone up to sunny Scotland for the Skye Trail Ultra. Being on my own and travelling at my own pace and exploring and the little books in and around this beautiful location gave me a lot of time to think. The words of Andy O’Grady, Jeff Smith and Neil MacRitchie all rang in my ears about what a glorious place Scotland is.

I remember after the race sitting on the coast – looking across the little cove I was nestled in and just getting a good feeling. Now maybe that was something to do with the joy I’d gotten from finishing one of the toughest races I’ve ever undertaken but it’s just as likely that it was the feeling of freshness I had being around the serenity that Skye exuded.

Then of course the shit hit the fan…

June 2016

The English and the Welsh raised two fingers to the European Union. A giant fuck you to Europe was just the incentive I needed to leave England and with the Scottish being so vocal about their preference to stay in the EU – well it seemed a no-brainer.

October 2017

More than a year after the referendum, with Westminster seeming more and more like a basket case and not wanting to let our daughter grow up in such a negative environment we took a research trip to Scotland to test out the viability of the move.

December 2017

More discussions followed, exploration of job, transport, schooling and running options were extensive – we wanted to go in with our eyes wide open.

Now satisfied that we could do it the decision was made to move to Scotland.

Now it was just the best way to do it and this was the hardest part – we knew that we needed to close down life in England with all haste but because of our child was growing we needed to move her up with life already established in Scotland.

Not an easy task.

January 2018

The first thing that was going to make a significant difference was the passing of a driving test. I mean crikey I’d gotten away with it for 23 years but now I finally I finally had to sit a test.

This started back in the September when Scotland seemed to be increasingly likely and when January came round I took my first test and passed.

The trouble was I was now going to have to gear up for driving solo to Scotland and back for the arduous job interview process and this was to begin just ten days after passing my driving test. Gulp!

February 2018

The first job offer came on the first trip north of the border and although I accepted it I soon changed my mind upon meeting the team and getting the grand tour – I felt I was the wrong fit. Now while I would normally not be put off by this I understood that the months following the initial move would be challenging and therefore wanted the job to not be an issue.

I fretted over this for several days until an event made the decision for me.

That event was the day my beloved spaniel, ThunderPad, died and I believed this was a sign that it was not the right job and so we, as a family, decided not to go at that moment.

It felt like the right decision but it was one I was going to revisit many, many times over as I struggled to find a new role that I really wanted.

I worried that Scotland might not be able to offer the right creative challenge and the marketplace was such that excellent opportunities were few and far between. Job offers thankfully were not in short supply but separating the wheat from the chaff was a tiring process and more than once I thought about packing it in and simply staying put in the Home Counties.

However, I didn’t and this meant life continued on two fronts, my southern life and my attempt to kickstart a new Scottish life.

On the southern front February 2018 brought me to my fourth Vigo Tough Love 10 and another wonderful event. I remember thinking that this was probably my last crack at it and so I spent most of the race just soaking up memories and fun – my finishing time didn’t really matter (and when I do return next weekend my time will also not matter, I’m there to enjoy myself).

Post Vigo the following few months were a succession of trips northwards – always a return trip in a single day to maximise my time and this was brutal in lots of ways. I was eating like a horse to keep me awake on the days where I would be driving for as much as 20hrs before getting up 2hrs later to do the day job. The result of this was that my weight went up. Training bottomed out to near zero and the back injury I was carrying was made significantly worse by long hours behind the wheel of the car. What does amaze me is that I didn’t kill myself on one of those trips – many times I could feel my eyes closing in exhaustion, many times driving badly down narrow lanes not knowing what I was doing and there were many times that Scotland’s rather challenging weather patterns tried to hurl me from the motorway in a moment of windy madness.

It felt a very chaotic and challenging time and I would often find myself in a haze of emotions, often unable to articulate to anyone just how destructive the process was being. I found what little good humour I have was being eroded as I felt the weight of expectation on my shoulders. Sleep, what little there was, was often filled with nightmares of my own making and although I’m not a control freak I disliked not being able to identify a clear route to a successful conclusion.

August 2018

However, by August 2018 I had found a role that I felt was worth making the move for, in a good location and at an acceptable salary level. And so with all the energy we could muster the machine went into action. However, in typical fashion, there was always going to be another hurdle.

The hurdle we faced was ASKs birthday trip to Disneyland Paris. The fact we agreed my new job on the day we were flying, looking back upon it, feels insane.

I remember racing back from Scotland to London that day in time to pick up the family to head to the airport, it seems madness now but this was the reality of the lives as we looked to go north of the border.

What I was clear on though was that ASKs birthday should not be ruined by this.

France should have been relaxing and in many ways it was brilliant but it was fraught with anxiety about looking for a new place to live and the decision we had just taken. I spent as much time looking at flats in Scotland as I did making merry in France.

Added to this I also attempted the Trail de Haut Koenisbourg ultra marathon which was a stunning mistake. A combination of being very ill and also having done no training since March culminated in me completing just 21km of the 100. Embarrassed by my own performance I faux limped into the checkpoint to DNF but I wasn’t carrying an injury – I was just fucked.

August and into September was manic – I barely remember it, life zipped around me and I felt massively out of control again. The GingaNinja was amazing during this period as we searched for a house for me to live in while at the same time starting the closing down of our southern life. I was now moving to Scotland while the family remained in the south east of England – not an ideal situation, but the plan, for better or worse, was coming together.

October 2018

On September 29 I moved into a 2 bedroom flat not too far from Edinburgh when I should have been testing myself on the Ochil Ultra. Still I was there and I recall the huge sense of relief when I was able to start the new job and dream quietly to myself of a life of Haggis and Irn Bru.

While up here alone it seemed sensible to spend some time running and so when I wasn’t working I was out pounding pavements and trails. Sadly not nearly enough though as most of my weekends were spent bounding back to the south to support the GingaNinja in the sale and packing up of the house.

However, I did manage to squeeze in the Jedburgh Three Peaks, Tweed Valley Ultra and The Nocturnal to round off a sadly forgettable year of run performances. However, I had arrived and in the moments where I was not thinking of my family 450 miles away or wondering about how the buggering hell we were going to get everything up here sensibly then I was able to appreciate the beauty and opportunity that Scotland presents.

Christmas Eve 2018

I wonder what you were doing the weekend before Christmas last year? Well whatever you were doing it probably wasn’t what I was doing.

I was due to fly from Edinburgh to Gatwick when the drones were spotted over the airport and suddenly the big move looked like it might be in jeopardy. However, my own bloody mindedness determined that I was going to make it back and I found a way trough to Luton – the UKs shittiest airport (IMO). Hitting the ground running when I laid eyes on my house I set about packing more stuff up – desperate to get as much up, in this trip, as possible.

With the aid of ASKs amazing childminder and two of her children we managed to get through most of what needed to be packed and I even squeezed in my two rather mature monkeypuzzle trees. All that remained now was to get a few hours sleep before we began the 55mph journey to our new (temporary) home.

I don’t recall what time we started, I don’t recall how slow it was – but I remember it was nearly 18hrs to get from Kent to West Lothian and both the GingaNinja and I were destroyed by the months of effort.

I spent the Sunday before Christmas lifting fridges up stairs and constructing bike sheds and trying to squeeze our house full of stuff into one room of a two bedroom flat and a small storage unit! Ha.

However, I got the best Christmas present going and that was my family (and new hound) all in the same place.

And what I can conclude is that it has been worth the effort.

February 2019

And now it’s a week before the Vigo Tough Love 10 and we return to Kent just as the house is about to sell. We are there to say, ‘au revoir’ to Kent and for me to hopefully go out with a bang at my favourite race.

And to the future…

Well blow me, there’s a new house on the horizon, the puppy is growing at a rate of knots and there’s races to be run – The Highland Fling, the Arran Ultra and the Ben Vorlich Ultra to begin with but others will join the list? The better news is that family are settling even if our accommodation is currently less than ideal – ASK especially has adapted well to new surroundings, new friends and new opportunities.

Moving to Scotland happened because of the UK leaving the European Union and me wanting to get away from parts of the UK that could not be tolerant of the EU but it has expanded into so much more.

Scotland I hope is about my work/life balance, my own curiosity, its about new running opportunities, new family opportunities, it’s about finding the beauty in the everyday again, it’s about exploring the world around us, it’s about giving two fingers to all of you who voted ‘Leave’ and it’s about helping Scotland to reach independence from the UK.

These all seem very achievable and to my mind very reasonable.

But there is one thing about England I’m going to miss and as I prepare for my first race of 2019 it’s on my mind – the Vigo Tough Love 10. Funny the word love should be in the title, I must love this race a lot – I’m doing a 900 mile round trip to run in it – and I’ll be a little sad because I know I’ve had good times in England, in Kent and most importantly in Vigo but I won’t be back.

So, however I run next week I will be going out on a (sad) high.

It’s been a weird week, I’ve had so few hours sleep that I can barely see straight, I’ve been working round the clock to meet my commitments at work and to get ready for job interviews in preparation for a move Scotland. Too this add the last ten days being dedicated to the final part of my beloved Spaniels life and well let’s say it’s not been the easiest period we’ve ever had. Theres been no running since the 28th January and to be fair I just haven’t felt like putting on my shoes and getting out there.

The problem was Vigo, my favourite race, my favourite route. However, I really wasn’t prepared for it physically or mentally. With every new thing that layered itself in life outside running pushed me further from the start line. However, when ThunderPad died I knew running Vigo would be a fitting tribute both to him (he loved mud and that part of Kent) and to pay homage to a race that I might be running for the final time (Scotland is a long way to come).

Seems I’d sold it into myself – back to the Vigo Tough Love 10 mile(ish).

Let’s briefly discuss the registration process which had a few issues. It seems the database and the numbers were the wrong way round – it was an admin error and I hope that anyone who ran it could see that guys worked tirelessly to get things working. Yes we started 40 minutes late but that time allowed the organisers to get on top of everything and also for the runners to get better acquainted. Stuff happens and these guys really pulled it out of the bag to get us running. Well done chaps.

But the race…

Was it still the stuff of legend? Was it still the race that I pencil in first when I’m planning my next years running? Is it still the best value and best fun event in the calendar?

I can save you the trouble of reading further and say, oh yes! You’ll never have more fun in your life than doing this tremendous race!

Here’s the overview

  • Pre-race despite the problems with registration the whole team pulled together to get the runners ready as quickly as possible. Well done
  • Arrived and immediately ran into the salty sea dog Gary!
  • Wonderfully wet route
  • The most enthusiastic and determined marshalling team
  • The uphills and the downhills are still the best around and they really do grind you to pieces
  • Beautifully clear Kentish views
  • A fabulous course
  • Mud everywhere
  • My Topo Athletic Terraventure were truly brilliant in the mud once again
  • The 10km runners were split off from the 10 milers pretty early which helped avoid to many pacing problems
  • Cool medal and another mars bar!
  • Incredibly well organised despite the hiccup at registration and there was regular communication from the organisers – they did everything right given the challenges.
  • Very well supported
  • Really excellent value

But the devil is always in detail and this is why it’s still my favourite race.

After the organisers had managed to successfully get everyone through the registration process we were mere minutes from starting. I took up my customary position at the rear and when the sound to go went off I slid my way forward with the other foolhardy souls.

The amble around the rugby field is an opportunity for some to burst forward, usually those who have never run it before or those going for the win. I was quite happy sat in the middle of the pack enjoying watching the surroundings go by. The thing about Vigo though is that if you let it then it will bite you on the bum and as early as the first leap over a log you could tell conditions would be treacherous but runnable.

The rain earlier in the week had sat heavily on the course and made the top layers of mud pretty damn slick and as I looked to avoid the worst of the first puddles I realised this was going to be futile and so sank my foot into the thick wet, muddy water. Woohoo I thought as I felt the freezing cold water pass through my Terraventure.

Splish, splash, splish, squelch, squerch I thundered across the ground watching the runners ahead of me and seeing the sections I should avoid. The good thing about going through the water is that it is probably the most stable section of the course – yes you run the risk of losing a shoe or two but it’s quicker than trying to go round the edge. Despite a bad back, no sleep, a week to forget and the toughness of the route I was making pretty good time and I passed through the 5km mark within 30 minutes.

Parts of the route were also dry enough to run through more quickly and here I made up time for the sections were conditions had caused delay. As I passed the many wonderful marshals I offered my own assessment that they, ‘hadn’t made it any easier since last year’ but with the downhills kicking in it felt like I was making swift progress across Kent. It wasn’t much later – probably 8 or 9km in that I felt the last few weeks really catching up on me and when I hit a fast downhill I knew that I didn’t have full control of my jelly like legs – that didn’t stop me thundering down though but the big road climb in the route did bring me to a stodgy halt.

I stomped up to the top and the water point, wishing I was closer to the finish. I had fluids and a jelly baby followed by a stern talking to myself before I set off again – legs exhausted and a minor hamstring pull. As I pressed on I enjoyed the views and the slightly slower running. It was about 3km later when my Vigo running buddy caught me up and grabbed me from behind saying, ‘let’s get this done buddy’ but even as we pushed on together I knew that I didn’t have the legs – still that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to put up a fight. I flew with all the dignity I could muster through the downhill and into the next field but the sight of the final climb in the corner of my eye made me poo myself just a little bit and I said goodbye to Mick.

The final couple of miles are spent in the knowledge that you’ve got the final ball busting hill to ascend and in the distance you can see a slow and slowing procession of exhausted runners making the best of it that they can. I took my time getting there as I knew there was no way I was doing it quickly and when I arrived I had a little joke with the marshal before giving it about five seconds of thrust! I descended quickly into a slow death march to the top but strangely even though I was going relatively slowly it was pretty consistent and conditions on the hill were such that this was a reasonable ascent. Lovely. As I reached the top I muttered to both myself and volunteers, ‘four times I’ve done this! You’d think I’d learn. Never again’ – there was laughter.

Last year I reached the top and gave it some welly but this year I was in pieces – my legs stumbled to get back into position and once we were moving it was fine. I knew that I was probably less a kilometre from the finish but I wanted to finish strongly and so ambled casually into the undergrowth of the final few turns. Here I met a lovely volunteer who got behind me and gave me a push when I looked like I was about to give up and from here I hit the afterburner – leaping across the log and into the home stretch. In the distance I could hear the sound of Mick shouting out my name and there was a runner about a hundred metres ahead of me. I flew like my life depended on it to try and catch him but he crossed the line a second before me. My sprint finish wasn’t quite as brilliant as it so often is yet unable to stop I charged towards the volunteers – coming to a less than dignified stop some metres beyond the finish.

What a race!

Caked in mud I shared an embrace with my long standing running friend Mick, his brother and also met his friend who described how he kicked on to take the race win a whole half an hour earlier than either I or Mick. Lovely chap and a very deserving winner.

Key points

  • Distance: 10 miles
  • Profile: Hilly, sharp ascents and descents
  • Date: February 2018
  • Location: Vigo, Kent
  • Cost: £20 (£25 on the day)
  • Terrain: Muddy, hilly
  • Tough Rating: 3/5

Route: It doesn’t get any better than this, the first mile or two is absolutely amazing whatever the conditions – you’re flying or falling through the thick oodles of mud. It drains you, it feels heavy but with every fibre of your body you know that this is the kind of race you’re going to adore based on this first section. The rest is simply a succession of ball busting up and down with very little respite but what it takes out you it gives back 10 fold and more. If you love running you need to do this route, preferably in this race.

Organisation: No complaints – even with a bit of an admin error (for which they massively apologised) the team got on with the job and made it happen (and as far as I can tell the chip times look pretty good). I hope nobody thinks different as they really bust a gut to get the race underway as fast as possible. In other terms the race start, the execution of the on course support, the finish line and the pre race marketing and social media meant that actually the race seemed even better organised than ever.

A special mention goes to the wonderful marshals and volunteers at Vigo Runners and the Harvel Hash Harriers who make this happen. I know that some complained a bit about the muddy parking but let’s put a bit of a spin on it – there was free parking and there were awesome cadets and other runners who helped push out the cars when we got a bit stuck! This race had a real air of community spirit – don’t change a thing!

Awards: Pretty cool medal, Vigo also had something different, my first one was pretty generic, the others a little more themed – this latest one looks like it could be a sex toy (if you look at it in the wrong light! Ha).

Conclusion: This remains my favourite race, the SainteLyon runs it so close but this has a place in my heart that just edges it ahead. The ten mile (and new 10km) distance mean this is a very accessible race. The route is hellfire tough, brutal in places but also super fast in others. It’s a race that can be whatever you want it to be and I hope this continues long after I have slipped off this mortal shell. Sadly my move to Scotland means I doubt I’ll be down for every running of this race but I suspect I’m not done with Vigo – my heart will draw me back. If you’ve run it you’ll hopefully know what I mean and be drawn back too and if you’ve never run it then you need to.

In memory of Thai: In my final words I’ll say that I ran this partly in memory of my beloved Spaniel who we lost earlier in the week – he loved the area and no matter how hard the race was I knew that if Thai were running alongside me (during a training run – race sadly not really suitable for Cani-X) he’d have been complaining that we weren’t reaching the next muddy puddle quickly enough. Thanks for keeping me going out there ThunderPad, miss you.

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