Fosse Way Solo Marathon

Running had not been a thing for a long time. In 2024 it had been 9 years. 9 years since the last 10km. 9 years since the previous (and regular at that point) 5km under 25mins. Climbing the only regular exercise since. But it was time to get moving, to unlock exploring the outdoors at a slightly faster pace.

In Dec 2023 I set myself the task of running 10km by the end of January '24. And whilst not the most fun, it proved relatively comfortable. By going a lot slower, basically at an embarrassingly slow pace, it was far easier to go further. Sometimes, that slow running would still result in lying face down on the floor to recover from the exertion.

Ok. 10km in the bag. Now for the actual plan. To plot a route to a marathon. First step, 10km - was complete. Now for the half. Luckily Bristol had a local half - and it was perfectly placed in May - giving me enough time to follow any number of training plans.

Instead of the NHS prescribed couch to 5k, I did what most self respecting millennials would do, I watched many many hours of YouTube - changing my algorithm forever - and consumed all there was to consume on training, eating, planning, and thanks to a good re-motivating week in the Lakes getting rid of the fast becoming dullness of the city runs in Bristol, said half marathon was completed in super hot 23ºC on May 23 2024.

Great, I thought. Step two complete. I learnt how to be disciplined, to build some mental resilience, to get out the door on days I didn’t want to and when the weather suggested otherwise, and stay out until well beyond when my legs or brain was bored or pained. I felt the need to now go further.

And further I went. A 25km trail run from Bristol to neighbouring Bath was booked. A fun route connecting the two cities with a couple of hills in the way. October came, and the run, complete with stunning views, was run.

Step three complete - test myself with incline and distance - and enjoy the outdoors more than the half. In 2024, I covered 876km in 131 sessions - about 92h on my feet, and after a short flirtation with a treadmill at the gym, all but maybe 30km done outside. Next step - marathon training.

Whilst browsing various sites full of marathon listings, throughout 2024 (and being distracted by GeoWizard and Storror’s straight line antics) I slowly became a little obsessed with the ancient roman road, the Fosse Way. A near straight line diagonally crossing England, from Yeovil to Lincoln, a 200mile stretch. And the further I looked through OS maps and google maps, the more straight lines there were to find; the 115km-ish Great Glen Way cutting across an ancient fault line from coast to coast in Scotland being another attractive route (⚆_⚆)

But to focus on the achievable, in Nov '24 I came up with my marathon route; a straight line run of 30km or so in a near enough line from Cotswolds airport in Gloucestershire, to Colerne airfield in Wiltshire, dropping downhill through Batheaston, Bathampton and Bathwick, before completing the 42.2km in Royal Vitoria Park.

Much like the year before, training runs being done in new places was a helpful mental break from the normal local routes; running in Wales, Sheffield, to a new chip short and a train-based trip to Austria and Slovenia presented some sub-zero long runs, including a couple of loops around the iconic Lake Bled. Thanks to the momentum of the year before, the temps and the views made it feel pretty easy.

The training starting in earnest in January was really fun. It was a great excuse to plot new routes across Gloucestershire and explore the countryside. 33km following the estuary upstream from Berkeley to Arlingham (where I learnt the lesson of complex route planning, but enjoyed the way finding despite the stop start), 28km from Gloucester railway station home following the Gloucester and Sharpness canal to the River Frome (where I learnt to avoid running into the wind for 20km) and another 33km from Stroud out to Cirencester Park and back, along the other end of the Frome (where I learnt to not down an apple juice unless I wanted to spike and then crash my sugar levels). I also started to learn that for me, the best way to run is without headphones; which was rough to start with, but so much more in tune with the run and the views because of it. I had a busy enough brain as it is, and the headphones were just distracting. It became so much easier, and more enjoyable, without.

The Marathon itself.

Having bumped the date from a Saturday to Sunday to run in 6°C cooler temps (about 16C, rather than above 20C) , the first 20km flew by. It was a route I knew from scoping it out on a training run. It was basically a straight shot along a flat dirt bridleway section of the Fosse. Easy breezy; 2hours in, feeling good and fresh, meeting my planned pace of somewhere between 6:05min kms to 6:15. Naturally, I made sure to commune with the local tree spirit on my way.

I met my 'crew' for a water and food top ups at 20km at a local pub. There wasn't time to enjoy their hospitality, sadly. I had dropped water with a gel taped to the bottle in three places on the route to ensure if I missed a meet I had backups, but naturally that meant I had to collect them along the way. Carrying each bottle for 10km was perhaps not the best idea in hindsight with one arm compensating for carrying 300-500ml of water at a time. The next 10km, from 20km-30km was make or break, with basically all of the 400m elevation in the next 10km and a bit of way finding as the Fosse's dirt path giving way to narrow country lanes alongside farmland, after which I'd be refilled again.

The rolling hills of 20m down, 20m up were agonising, and a real mental test. The biggest ascent was around 80m over a 500m stretch, and if it wasn't that much, it sure as hell felt worse. Gentle jog down, power walk up was the plan. The power walking was dropped after the first couple of hills. The worst being an 8:16min km at Doncombe Hill. I swore at every hill. Every hint of an incline. And I swore at potholes. Many, many potholes.

There were two mistakes made on the day. The first, stopping for too long, and the second stopping easting at first sign of nausea. Being pretty exhausted, and having the opportunity to talk through the hills with the 'crew', I stopped for 10minutes. Despite taking on more water and refills and having some much needed salty crisps, the stop was far too long, and starting again was a real problem. I had been stretching whilst stopped, but the stop was too long and I allowed my joints to seize up. I managed to get going, and find Oakford lane which would lead me 6km under very welcome tree cover down to Batheaston. It was during this 6km off near constant downhill that my legs lost the ability to propel me forward, and I stopped being able to eat without feeling nauseous. I didn't yet know it, but was about to learn the meaning of bonking. I stopped again to fill water at a fountain in Batheaston, and at that point, I'd seen the last of my sub 7min km pace. Everything from here out was a slog, and a mental battle to keep moving forward.

Once at Batheaston, I had a pretty easy route to follow the river along a pedestrianised path. I'd been on the go for nearly 4 and a half hours, at least 30mins longer than I'd hoped during planning, and was beyond the distances covered in training. Seemingly going against the flow of people waking out of Bath, and with toddlers overtaking me on balance bikes, I started to learn why people talk about the marathon test being between 30-40km. My reserves were running low, and I just drank as much as I could stomach in the slow plod along the river.

The worst was yet to come. Somewhere in the mental fog, around crossing the Avon near Corn Street, I convinced myself that a marathon was 41.2km, not 42.2km. Realising at around 40.95km that I was indeed wrong, and I didn't have a minute or two left, but closer to another 10 minutes of running, my brain basically gave up. The last kilometer was a real mental battle to not stop entirely, and despite trying to jog the last km I shuffle/walked the last 500m. This is where I'd imagine having a crowd of people at a finish line cheering people over the line would really help, and going solo is a terrible, terrible idea.

My shuffle eventually got me to my finish line - Bath's Royal Victoria Park, where instead of finding a burst of energy to get over the finish as I had 9 months prior at the same park for my 25k trail, I walked to the park entrance and sat down on the wall, and contemplated the universe, and the whether my knees still existed.

A pub was found. Carbs were consumed. Chocolate medals were given. The post-run assessment was good. A job well done. A real challenge; physically and mentally, but it worked out, a supported solo marathon completed. The time was slower than hoped, but the hills were harder, the bonking worse, and thankfully, the views were better than expected. I did the thing. I did the hard thing.