The Oner - Part II - the Hardest Day
I woke early before my alarm on start day, feeling ok but wishing I had slept longer given I would not be seeing a bed again for over 24hrs. I wandered down to breakfast at the hotel, noting with surprise the light rain falling down, a quick check of the forecast assured it would clear up. As I waited to be seated I spotted a couple of guys having breakfast who looked like a hazy reflection, so I greeted them with "off to Portland?" and joined them. It was Matt and Matt, a couple of mates one of whom was doing the event, and the other here as crew. It was good to chat rather than eat alone.
I felt increasingly excited and slightly anxious as I drove across the causeway, after years of thinking about being part of this event, and the training and preparation of the last few months, here I was. The atmosphere in registration was friendly and not at all intimidating, I found myself wondering why I felt so relaxed ahead of the greatest physical challenge of my life. I figured that my long term ambition had been to get to the start line of this event, and anything that happened after that was simply adventure. As I thought that though I realised how badly I wanted to finish this one though, no pressure but a great desire to make it.
After the mercifully short briefing we piled in to minibuses for the 45 minute journey to the start at Charmouth. I chatted to Ben sat next to me, a CCC veteran who was doing the race again this year. He was doing the Half-Oner as had had some injury problems. We exchanged Strava contacts and hoped to catch up again at CCC.
The start was wonderfully relaxed. We strolled across a field and through a style to start on a small path leading down to the coast. Without major fanfare, a brief countdown, an airhorn, and we were off.
The pack spread out pretty quickly. I was immediately conflicted between pacing slowly mindful of the long day ahead, but also aware of the need to make my "last finisher" splits. I carried a copy of the split times taped to my map case. The important times were highlighted in yellow - I needed to be close to those to be confident of being in with a chance of a finish. The Checkpoint cut-off times were there just to warn me if/when I might be pulled out - I knew if I was anywhere near those times I had little chance of finishing.
We reached West Bay pretty quickly, The checkpoint was surrounded by people enjoying the weather and it was pretty odd flying in and out amongst them. I was just a minute inside my split time target there, so it was a rapid turnaround then I headed out again.
The route to Portland from West Bay is really varied. There were sections of deep mud on the paths, and then the energy sapping section along Chesil Beach. It seemed a mammoth journey just to reach the Portland causeway. I had planned to take the first third fairly easy, and then to arrive on Portland feeling fresh. The solid concrete of the causeway felt great after the mud and shingle, but as we passed the 42Km mark and headed for the island I felt pretty done in, much worse than I had hoped to feel.
I was glad I had done a couple of recon trips around Portland. Some of the geography is confusing, but I like the island, the views looking west as the sun started to go down were amazing. I entered HQ for the first time planning a short stay only, then headed for Portland lighthouse.
It was dark when I next entered HQ. I treated myself to a sock change and a pasta meal, and sorted my kit for night-time. As I left Portland I decided to try and pick up the pace on the long flat section that runs from the causeway all the way beyond Weymouth to the coast beyond. I found myself alone, put on some music, and enjoyed the solitude as I ran on through the night. Weymouth was in full evening swing, and a strange place to be running through. I was glad to leave town and head out once more alone along the flat promenade to the east.
I felt increasingly excited and slightly anxious as I drove across the causeway, after years of thinking about being part of this event, and the training and preparation of the last few months, here I was. The atmosphere in registration was friendly and not at all intimidating, I found myself wondering why I felt so relaxed ahead of the greatest physical challenge of my life. I figured that my long term ambition had been to get to the start line of this event, and anything that happened after that was simply adventure. As I thought that though I realised how badly I wanted to finish this one though, no pressure but a great desire to make it.
After the mercifully short briefing we piled in to minibuses for the 45 minute journey to the start at Charmouth. I chatted to Ben sat next to me, a CCC veteran who was doing the race again this year. He was doing the Half-Oner as had had some injury problems. We exchanged Strava contacts and hoped to catch up again at CCC.
The start was wonderfully relaxed. We strolled across a field and through a style to start on a small path leading down to the coast. Without major fanfare, a brief countdown, an airhorn, and we were off.
The pack spread out pretty quickly. I was immediately conflicted between pacing slowly mindful of the long day ahead, but also aware of the need to make my "last finisher" splits. I carried a copy of the split times taped to my map case. The important times were highlighted in yellow - I needed to be close to those to be confident of being in with a chance of a finish. The Checkpoint cut-off times were there just to warn me if/when I might be pulled out - I knew if I was anywhere near those times I had little chance of finishing.
We reached West Bay pretty quickly, The checkpoint was surrounded by people enjoying the weather and it was pretty odd flying in and out amongst them. I was just a minute inside my split time target there, so it was a rapid turnaround then I headed out again.
The route to Portland from West Bay is really varied. There were sections of deep mud on the paths, and then the energy sapping section along Chesil Beach. It seemed a mammoth journey just to reach the Portland causeway. I had planned to take the first third fairly easy, and then to arrive on Portland feeling fresh. The solid concrete of the causeway felt great after the mud and shingle, but as we passed the 42Km mark and headed for the island I felt pretty done in, much worse than I had hoped to feel.
I was glad I had done a couple of recon trips around Portland. Some of the geography is confusing, but I like the island, the views looking west as the sun started to go down were amazing. I entered HQ for the first time planning a short stay only, then headed for Portland lighthouse.
It was dark when I next entered HQ. I treated myself to a sock change and a pasta meal, and sorted my kit for night-time. As I left Portland I decided to try and pick up the pace on the long flat section that runs from the causeway all the way beyond Weymouth to the coast beyond. I found myself alone, put on some music, and enjoyed the solitude as I ran on through the night. Weymouth was in full evening swing, and a strange place to be running through. I was glad to leave town and head out once more alone along the flat promenade to the east.
It was pretty tough keeping running on the flat for several miles, having been on the go for hours. I mostly kept on though, always aware of the need to keep time in the bank.
I don't recall details of the ongoing run through the night. It was tough, with much ascent, and long sections of steps. Once or twice I seemed disorientated, and junctions not clear, but I avoided any major difficulties.
After passing Harry's Rocks I dropped down on to the beach, which was by now quite busy - being late morning on a pleasant Spring day. All of us making it that far must have made a strange spectacle and I imagine mothers pulling their children towards them - keep away from the strange zombie man on the beach. It was so hard, and I was keeping an eye on my watch. I had less than an hour to go until cut off now, I could not afford to stop and rest. I kept moving, walking determinely along the sand towards the chain ferry and the finish.
Then suddenly it was there. I had finished, with 25 minutes to spare. I was exhausted, sat down by a fence and felt instantly faint. I had some drink, rested for some minutes then got up and shuffled in to the silent waiting mini bus with a few others, all of us utterly destroyed by what we had just achieved.
The Oner lived up to expectation. It was the hardest single physical achivement of my life, constantly fighting the cut offs on a brutal unrelenting course. I doubt I will do it again, but the Oner medal is one of my proudest posessions, as are the memories of the event.
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